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As if she had set an alarm, Sarah awoke just after midnight. Slipping without a sound from her bed and creeping down the hall, she strode into her father’s room again. This time the hesitation had left her completely. With a clean and gentle movement, she swept the sheet of his bed and locked onto her resting father’s member. Crawling up his bed between his legs, she hovered over his crotch, leant down and sucked his flaccid cock into her mouth. She swallowed his thick, soft sausage down to the base, licking the head and breathing in his thick scent. It didn’t take long for his cock to harden, with each throb growing thicker and longer in her mouth until it pushed her back.

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.

“Maybe it was that early night and not as much screen time…” he added when her daughter just sat there biting her lip in contemplation.“Maybe…” she half-heartedly agreed.