I had to grip the door handle extra firmly as I opened the door to the guest bedroom, making sure my hand stayed steady. There was really no explanation for what I was about to do, and it scared me out of my mind. But I'd tossed and turned with the notion for too long now. I'd always knew what the right thing was. It was just hard defining "right" between what I wanted and what was moral. And now it was time. I had to do face this.
He looked worse than a deer in the headlights when he saw me step quickly into the room and shut the door fast but quietly behind me. He looked like a murder caught red-handed by the most intimidating police officer on Earth. Or maybe as if I was God, and he was...just himself, waiting for my divine judgment.
But he didn't know I felt God's eyes burning me, too.
The situation called for an explanation. Why I was there. Why I wasn't surprised to see him doing what he was doing. Why I was wearing only a robe, and not bothering to have it tied shut. Why the nipples that I know he could see, even in the dim light of the television, where as hard as jewels. But I knew I'd never be able to form a sentence, and he'd understand soon enough anyway. I was quiet, fighting huge butterflies in my tummy while trying to keep my expression neutral, as I quickly walked to the bed and practically jumped onto it. The squeak of the springs was loud, but not loud enough to wake the others in the house.
I crawled on top of him, straddling him, sitting in the way of the TV he'd been watching. When I planned this in my head, I'd wanted to meet his eye, but now I couldn't, though I was facing him. I moved so my face was beside his, so our eyes wouldn't meet. This turned out to have benefits. It allowed him to keep watching the TV. And if he kept watching, the video would explain eventually. I whispered into his ear.
"Keep watching..."
I don't know if he did as I said, but I imagine he was too blown away to do anything but comply. My father got that way when something really startled him. He was always a strong, brave man in my eyes, but there were times, like when my mother died years ago, that he just became putty. The fact that he wasn't pushing me away told me this was one of those times. He didn't move. I couldn't even feel him breathing.
But, my God, he was hard.
Time didn't make any sense. Everything was happening at the speed of light, but I felt like I'd been there for ten minutes. In truth, I'd only been in the room for three of four seconds by now. I knew this because I hadn't stopped moving the whole time, and even now I was still positioning my body, grabbing his naked hips, then sinking myself onto him easily. Too easily. I hadn't been this wet when I'd been standing outside the door, trying to talk myself into going for this. But in just three of four seconds, my floodgates had opened. I squished wetly around him, the sound of his entrance ten times louder than the low volume on the TV. Once I felt him inside, I sunk onto his length as slowly as I could bear, which wasn't very slow at all. My body sucked at him, wanting it all and then wanting more. I ground my body against his hips when I couldn't go down any further. I drew in a sharp breath, the way I usually do just before I climax, though this time I managed to hold back. Next, I sighed a long, strained sigh, communicating my need for pleasure, and the fact that I was already getting more than I could handle. My body shuddered, and then so did his.
I'd had dildos and a couple men bigger than him inside me before, but I'd never felt as full as I did with my father's cock in my pussy. He seemed to reach beyond me, electrifying my hips, my spine, my tummy. When he throbbed, I felt it tickle every nerve ending in my body. I closed my eyes, sat up on him, and threw my head back, fighting back orgasm that would've hit for sure if I hadn't managed to focus and will it away. I wanted so desperately to fuck him, but I knew I couldn't move or it would be over.
Probably for him, too, I thought.
"Marie..." he whispered anxiously, like he knew this was wrong and wanted to talk me out of it. But he didn't.
Ignoring his tone, I groaned back. It wasn't him saying my name that made me hot. It was hearing his voice, confirming his presence and knowing he was seeing me like this.
"Oh, Daddy..." I gasped, my head still back, my eyes still shut.
I felt my robe hanging over my breasts, but it might as well have been a noose around my neck, because I needed them to be free. Needed that more than air. So I pulled my robe off, displaying my nude body to my father. I arched my back so my modestly sized but perky breasts pointed at him with their fat, pink nipples. I ached to see his face as he no doubt looked at them, but I was still too scared to meet his eye.
"Oh, Marie," he said again, and this time he sounded like he was sobbing, or on the verge of it. "My God..."
I felt him shaking, not in any sexual way, but in fear. That helped me, because it reminded me that I had come here to take control of this. I leaned forward and hugged him, my breasts flattening against his hard chest, my head resting over his shoulder, our cheeks touching, my lips at his ear.
"Shhh..." I said as soothingly as possible.
I opened my eyes, seeing only his pillow, and the flashing light projected by the TV behind me. I had forgotten all about the TV.
"Turn it up," I whispered. He obliged. When the feminine groans and grunts had gotten loud enough, but not too loud, I stopped him by adding, "Just keep watching".
And then I started to fuck him.
