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With her head now closer she realised what she had inadvertently been getting dangerously closer to. Right beneath his pubic hair her father’s penis lay across his thigh, the business end pointing right in her direction. Sarah had seen a few penises when looking at porn and even her own father’s penis when she was a little girl in the showers at the pool, but seeing it now, so close and feeling the way she did took her breath away. Though smaller than in any of the pornos it was no slouch in thickness department, and it seemed to be barely hard at the moment. And unlike any of the shaved ones she saw in porn it was covered in a bush of pubic hair. Something about it made it seem so real! Which Sarah realised was a stupid thought. Of course it was real. It was her father’s real penis and balls right in front of her face. What was she expecting to find?

One day she definitely knew the effect she had on me, even if she hadn’t before. I was writing an essay on The Grapes of Wrath and asked Mrs. B when she came by if a word was spelled correctly. She leaned over, her silky red hair brushing against my cheek and her breast lay against my left shoulder. My cock stiffened instantly—and uncomfortably. Without thinking, I reflexively reached down and maneuvered my throbbing dick into a more comfortable position. It did create a sizable tent pole in my pants that I tried to push down and hide, which only drew attention to my crotch. Mrs. B blushed noticeably, stood up while stifling a laugh and muttered an apology.

Without another word her dad wrapped his big hands around her left foot and got to work. Gently, but firmly he warmed the soles of her feet, squeezing just hard enough to release the pressure without hurting her. Using his thumbs he pressed along the arch of her foot and squeezed each of her toes while folding them forward and back. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a trained masseuse this was doing wonders in helping her relax.