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“Here. Like that. You’ll make me cum.” She withdrew her hand and began to paw at my belt buckle. She opened my pants roughly and plunged her hands through the waistband of my underwear, grasping my ball sack with one hand, wrapping the fingers of her other hand around my shaft, stroking me hard. If I hadn’t already jacked off twice that day, I would have cum right there. Mrs. B. was staring me in the face, looking stern, but her face was reddening and her breathing more rapid with her oncoming orgasm.

What was wrong with her? Until last night, she thought she just liked the way her dad smelled. Now she was coming to terms with the fact she had just had a sexual awakening when she smelled and accidentally kissed the head of his dick. What was she going to do now?

Once she’d finally found a good spot, she remembered what she was trying to do. Slowly and steadily, she brought her hand up and over his chest, the light sheet rippling above her the only thing keeping them from the warm autumn night. Again, she brought it down past the end of the hair on his belly and only stopped once she felt that rough patch of hair just above his groin. With only the moon filtering through the sheet above she could barely make it out as she peered over her dad’s waist. Short and curly, much curlier than his armpit hair, pitch-black, though most of his hair was with only a bit of grey poking through.