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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.

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.

That Saturday passed like a blur as Sarah did her social duties with her friends, but in the back of her mind her guilt was steadily building. What she had done last night was not okay. But it was a moment of weakness, a mistake of her youth, so with one and done there wouldn’t be a problem, right? Her night’s rest seemed to disagree. Six times she woke that night, each time with the desire to visit her father again, but she managed to persevere. She had to watch her video from last night a few times before her lust could be controlled, but she got through the night, minus quite a few hours of sleep as a cost.