She looked down, “Sorry.” She peeked into the refrigerator in a bit of a hurry, grabbed a drink, and went back upstairs. I grabbed the toilet paper and threw it in the trash. I’d never felt so pathetic.
This wasn’t outside the realm of my daughter’s personality. Her whole life she’d been weirdly blunt, rather cold, calculated…very adult for her age. I could never put my finger on it, but as far as her personality she was different from your average teen. And as far as our dad/daughter relationship…she was an adorable little girl, but that was years ago. As she grew older, I always felt our conversations were between her, a doctor in a lab, and me, a guinea pig. Always a little manipulative, very concise, never tender or overly emotional. There was something passive aggressive about everything she did. Yet she never got into trouble, never saw disciplinary action at school. We were distant by the time she was a junior in high school. I wouldn’t say we were “friends.”
Dinner came the next evening, and I was back to glancing at her body. This time she decided to wear a camisole with a plunging neckline. I loved the moles along her breast. We made shitty conversation with her boyfriend, they went downstairs for a few hours, and he was out of my house by 9:30. A couple hours later, I left my sleeping wife to watch my perverted surveillance video.
I fucked something up with the setup, but by pure luck it started at the point where she had her clothes off. I’d pretended in the past that she wasn’t sexually active, that the two of them watched TV innocently in the basement. After her little dance, I assuaged those doubts. As a father, I should care about her virginal innocence, but that part of me was dormant now.
He put his bare cock to her after some very short, very clumsy foreplay.
“You’re super wet,” he said. Apparently she didn’t need much to get horny. I watched as the kid put himself to her far too slowly and softly. It was erotic to watch her in that position, succumbing, taking a dick. Her arms were behind her head and she was concentrating, trying to get into it. The kid had no idea how to rev her motor. If I had a set of tits like those in my face, and they didn’t belong to my daughter, I’d be dehydrated from pleasuring them. This kid seemed to not understand his fortune.
“Do it harder. And faster.”
“I thought you said mine was the biggest you’d had.”
She nodded, “Yea but you have to do it right.”
He overcompensated and started slamming into her, too slowly, and too hard. She sort of moaned a bit, but after a few minutes of the awkwardness, she stopped him. He climbed off her and sat beside her. I figured him to either be a homosexual or incredibly glib to have not cum in her during their coupling. I’m sure in ten years when he found himself hanging drywall and smoking weed in his parent’s guest bedroom, he would regret it.
My daughter brought out a purple dildo from under the futon. He sat and watched like a voyeur as she finished the job, only having half an orgasm from what I could see from the footage.
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