Toni looked up and realized that her father was staring at her boobs.
Mom had told her that since she was out of high school but only taking a few classes at the community college, she’d have to get a job and pay them rent for the privilege of getting to live in the same room that had been hers since she was a baby. Rent and her own phone bill, but Mom added – like she was doing a big generous favor – that Toni would not be expected to kick in for groceries and other utilities. Big of her.
And here was Daddy, staring at her boobs. Like he was in a hypnotic trance or something.
He hadn’t realized yet that she’d caught him looking. If she gasped and snatched the shirt together, he’d know. It’d be awkward. Embarrassing. What would he say? What would she say?
But she couldn’t very well sit there giving him an eyeful … it was Daddy, for crying out loud! Her father!
Oh, yes, Toni knew all about the magazines. The ones he kept in the drawer of his bedside table. Magazines full of tit-shots and beaver-shots, with ads in the back for phone-sex hotlines and escort services. She knew about the videos, too. And the porn on his computer.
The way she figured it, Daddy was a man and men were all alike … men were pigs. Men looked and men drooled and men jerked off in the lonely dark.
Toni picked up another application – several stores out at the mall were hiring, just her luck – and pretended to go over it. She felt flustered and indignant, but at the same time strangely powerful.
So let him look. Let him have his eyeful, the old pervert. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it. Take a picture, Daddy, it’ll last longer.
She leaned way over, reaching for one of the farthest applications, and her breasts bulged into the gap of the shirt. One nearly popped out of its bra cup – the bra was on the skimpy side for someone as endowed as Toni – and she imagined Daddy’s eyes nearly popping too. Was he over there wishing, sending mental vibes, hoping for the next button to slip its hole? Hoping for a glimpse of areola?
This was … almost fun. Wrong, but fun.
Acting like she was concentrating, like she had forgotten he was even there, Toni rolled over so she was lying on her belly, propped up on her elbows, chin in hand as she pretended to study the application. Her boobs were pushed together, Cleavage City.
She twiddled a pen between her fingers, then inserted the end in her mouth and nibbled on it thoughtfully.
Power. Yeah, it was a feeling of power. If he felt guilty, that was good, that could be useful, she could work that in her favor to make him side with her against Mom when they had another of their eternal arguments.
Daddy fidgeted in his chair. As he crossed his legs, Toni glimpsed what might have been a lump at his crotch.
Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like he was going to do anything about it … well, except maybe … next time he …
No. Daddy wouldn’t. Daddy wouldn’t dare. Not thinking about her while he did it, anyway. That would just be too wrong.
But it’d also be kind of … hot.
A warm tingle rose into her cheeks. Great, now she was blushing! And her nipples had puckered into hard little peaks.
What was she thinking?
She squirmed her hips, telling herself to ignore the fact that she was feeling a little steamy down there.
It didn’t help that Daddy was kind of a hunk for a guy almost fifty. All her friends said so. Mom’s friends said so, too. He had that short dark hair salted with grey, like George Clooney. Dreamy blue eyes. A slanted grin like Harrison Ford. He jogged, and worked out four times a week, so he was in good shape and didn’t have a potbelly or saggy muscles.
Mom certainly never complained. Toni heard them sometimes, rattling the headboard in their bedroom on the other side of the wall. By the sounds of it, Mom always enjoyed herself. Hell, she howled like a catamount in heat.
And these were exactly the wrong sorts of things to be thinking about.
God, she was horny. She missed Devin. At the time, dumping him had seemed like the right thing to do. He was a grabby, selfish, sulky bastard who had cheated on her with one of her former best friends. But right now she would have welcomed his hands all over her.
Her jeans were too tight, rubbing against her, creating a friction both infuriating and delightful. There was no way she could finish the applications. Not in this state. She could see herself trying to fill in the required fields, and where it said “sex,” instead of circling “M” or “F,” she’d scribble “YES!” in stark black letters.
Toni started gathering up the paperwork. Daddy glanced up from TV Guide, his features carefully neutral and his eyes not straying lower than her chin.
“I’ll do them tomorrow,” Toni said, standing. “I’m tired. I’ve got to go to bed.”
“It’s only nine,” he said.
“Yeah, well …” She made a show of yawning and stretching, realizing too late that when she did, she caused her tits to jut out, the nipples still erect and making little tents in the denim.
TV Guide trembled in Daddy’s hands. His gaze dipped lower. Toni pretended not to see.
She dropped her pen and bent over to get it. The front of her shirt drooped. In the instant before she straightened up again, she was sure that if he’d been looking just right, he would have had a spectacular view. She almost wished she wasn’t even wearing the bra.
And she was sure that she’d been right earlier. That was a lump in his crotch. A sizeable one. He was wearing sweats, which didn’t conceal much.
Or maybe even because she was his own daughter. Forbidden fruit and all that. The absolute ultimate forbidden fruit.
Toni went upstairs to her room and dumped the stupid job applications on her desk. She thought about Daddy downstairs and wondered what he was doing. He wouldn’t really be fantasizing about her, would he? That would be so wrong. Wrong of him to be down there in his chair with his hand inside his sweatpants, curled around his cock and rubbing, while he remembered the way her tits had looked.
He wouldn’t. Not right in the living room like that. No, he’d wait. He’d get in the shower, all hot and wet and soapy …
Her knees went weak and Toni had to sit down. She couldn’t believe she was being so affected by something that should have horrified and offended her. This was Daddy she was thinking about, her own father! Why was she sitting here envisioning him masturbating? And worse, thinking about her while he did it?
Daddy wouldn’t do that. Daddy wouldn’t dare.
And she’d be right in the next room. Hearing them through the wall. Hearing Mom moan and wail, hearing the headboard clatter and the bedsprings squeak.
Was she … was she jealous?
That was crazy. She wasn’t jealous. If she was, that’d mean that she wanted to fuck her Daddy, and she didn’t. It was revolting.
What did she want, then?
She peeled off the snug, faded jeans. She could see herself in the full-length mirror, the tails of the denim shirt hanging partway down her bare legs, black hair tumbled over her shoulders. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes smoky, her lips full and shiny as she ran her tongue across them.
Slowly, putting on a show for herself, Toni unbuttoned the shirt and let it hang open. Her skimpy white panties were sheer enough to let the black tuft of her pubic hair show through. The crotch of the panties was damp, clinging, outlining the cleft of her pussy.
Toni closed her eyes, imagining Devin as she shed her shirt and bra, then rolled the panties down her legs and kicked them away. Devin … bronze surfer-boy hair, broad shoulders, narrow hips, that lovely long slim cock.
She fell back sideways across the bed, sliding her hands down her belly, pretending they were Devin’s hands. Devin’s fingers, stroking her pussy lips. He had been a bastard, all right, but he had been good for one thing anyway.
As she slipped two fingers into herself, she imagined Devin on top of her, Devin’s cock driving wonderfully deep, moving slow but forceful. Devin’s ass flexing.
Biting her lip to keep from moaning, Toni plunged her fingers wetly in and out of her pussy. Devin … Devin fucking her … so good … his balls slapping her ass on each downstroke …
And then, unbidden in her imagination, she saw the door to her room burst open and Daddy was there, an enraged Daddy dragging Devin off of her, pummeling him, shouting curses, kicking at him as Devin scrabbled frantically for his clothes and then leaped out her window into the night.
With a harsh sound, she yanked her hands away and sat up. Her chest was heaving, her eyes wide.
“Oh, God,” Toni muttered. “God, you’re disgusting to even think about something like that.”
But was it so bad just to daydream about? It wasn’t like anything of the sort would ever really happen. If Daddy had barged in on her and Devin, he wouldn’t have gone into a fury and chased Devin out. He would have stammered and blurted an apology and gone out fast, shutting the door in his wake.
And he never would have …
Toni groaned, and a stab of heat lanced up from her pussy.
Had he been thinking something like that?
What difference did it make if he had? He knew it was wrong. Why else would he have gotten all flustered? He’d been blushing. Ashamed.
She had done that. Had made him hot. Made him hard. Made him think those things.
Without trying, even. It almost made her wonder what she could do if she really set her mind to it. She could probably drive him crazy.
Weirdly, that notion served to make her hornier.
It had to be the power thing. Good old-fashioned feminine mystique.
Naturally, the same tactics would work on older men. Hadn’t her friend Sheila used them to good effect on Mr. Wharton, their math teacher? Sheila had given him the works, sitting in the front row with her knees apart, acting like she was oblivious to the fact that he could see all the way up her skirt, brushing her tits against his arm when asking him about an assignment … by the end of the semester, poor Mr. Wharton had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
But this wasn’t a teacher. This was her father!
And if Mom found out …
Yeah. As if. It had been her boobs.
She heard the shower start in the master bathroom, off of Mom and Daddy’s bedroom.
A cold shower? Or the hot, soapy, steamy one she’d thought about earlier? Was Daddy in there right now, unable to get his dirty mind off Toni? Was he using the hissing sound of the spray to cover his grunts and gasps as he lathered up his cock and fucked his hand?
Was he fantasizing about her? So what if he was? It was only fantasy. It couldn’t hurt anybody. No one would ever know. Even if they were thinking about each other at the same time, that didn’t mean anything. It still wasn’t real.
She came with such intensity that a nova of white light seemed to burst silently in her head, dazzling her vision and making her ears rush with a dizzy swooning sensation. She fell sideways on her bed, thighs clamped on her hand, and curled in the fetal position. The room spun and seesawed around her.
When equilibrium returned, Toni carefully sat up. She felt weak all over, and thoroughly mortified. The idea that she had brought herself off while thinking about Daddy thinking about her … God, it was awful. It had felt so good, but was awful all the same.
The sounds of the shower had ended. Toni listened intently for movement in the next room.
Wouldn’t it have been funny, wouldn’t it have been a good joke on her, if there was a peephole in the wall? Like something she would have expected if she had a perpetually horny kid brother, trying to spy on her while she changed … but what if it had been Daddy instead? What if he’d come up and turned the water on for cover, to make her think he was taking a shower, while he was really hunkered down with his eye to the peephole, watching her through the wall?
Watching her while she …
Oh, God. The light had been on, and she’d been bare-ass-naked, splayed out across the bed for all the world to see, fingers buried in her sopping-wet pussy. What a sight! Ha … if Daddy had seen her like that, he would have kicked down her door and …
No, he wouldn’t. What was she thinking? That he’d have gone crazy with lust, become some sort of raving fuck-beast? Burst into her room, his huge throbbing hard-on leading the way?
And there she’d be, so close to coming that she wouldn’t be able to stop … but maybe he would have yanked her hands away and dropped on top of her …
“Stop it,” Toni told herself. She felt a flutter of rekindled interest way down deep, and forcibly put it out of her mind. She got into a sapphire-blue satin sleepshirt, turned off the light and crawled under the covers.
This was really getting wrong. Twisted. Trip-to-the-shrink and tell me about your parents, Dr. Freud … gross. Like that Oedipus thing, only for a girl … she thought there was a syndrome or a complex about it, but damned if she could remember what it was called. And anyway, it was sick. Daydreaming about having her Daddy fuck her? Sick, sick, sick.
He’d never do it. This wasn’t like a boy from school, or even a teacher. She could tease and tantalize him all she wanted, and nothing would ever happen. A boy from school or even a teacher, push him enough and sooner or later he’d snap and try something. Daddy, though? Her father? She could walk around the house in her birthday suit, could go ahead and let him catch her masturbating, and he would never lay a finger on her. He wouldn’t dare. It was wrong. Sick, immoral, twisted and wrong. The law said so, the churches said so, everybody but the damn ancient Egyptians and hillbillies said so. Thinking about it was bad enough. Looking was bad enough. Actually doing something? Never happen.
Besides, Mom would kill him.
It would, Toni thought, be interesting to see what he would do. Would he have the guts to talk to her about it? What would he say? If she started showing off her body around the house when he was there, all innocent-like … if she arranged ‘accidental’ nudity like pretending to take in a clean towel when she was bathing and then having to flit-fast-run-quick down the hall to her bedroom with only a small hand towel clutched in front of her … if she pretended to fall asleep in front of the television while wearing one of her sleepshirts with the hem all rucked up to show tiny panties …