Teaching Sara Ch. 01

As she got closer to her father's room she heard another groan followed by what sounded like a grunt. Curious, she stepped up to his door left slightly ajar and peeked inside. The bedroom was empty, just the lamp was on by the bed and light was pouring out of the open door to the bathroom. His jacket, trousers and shirt were flung over the foot of his king size bed. She pushed open the door and, very quietly, tip-toed across the bedroom. She felt her heart leap into her throat when she heard an even deeper groan followed by another grunt that sounded almost painful. He must really be sick.

Sara stopped next to the open door and peeked inside the bathroom. She felt her heart pound in her chest. Her father was standing naked in the middle of the bathroom, his feet planted wide, his left hand planted solidly on the edge of the sink and his right arm was frantically moving back and forth. His head was hanging down and his eyes were squeezed shut, she could see the crinkles at the corners, and his lips were tightly drawn over his teeth like he was in excruciating pain. She careened her neck further to the edge of the doorjamb to get a better look. She had seen her father wearing just his Speedo but never fully naked before. He didn't have the hard bulging muscles like the football players at school, but he wasn't pudgy either, just strong and lean. A strange grunt came from him again and she lowered her gaze. He had his hand wrapped around his... Her hand flew to her mouth to cover her sudden gasp. Her father was masturbating! She tried to turn to run but she couldn't, her feet seem to be rooted in place.

She slowly slipped to the floor, scooting closer to the edge of the open door, wrapping her hand around the doorjamb. She knew she should run back to her room but she was too stunned, too curious to move. She had seen a penis before when, in the eighth grade, Bobby Phillips said he would show her his penis if she would show him her titties. She saw his penis but he never saw her breasts. And his penis never looked like the one in her father's rapidly pumping fist. It was dark red and thick, interlaced with dark veins that stood out all along it, his long fingers just barely encompassing what had to be a six inch girth. And long, oh God, it was long, his hand was stroking the entire ten inch length. The head of it added another two inches and was a little larger and tapered almost to a point and dark purple. She could see clear fluid seeping out of the tip and glistening in the light of the bathroom. His scrotum was as big as a lemon and swinging heavily back and forth between his thighs, slapping against his fist.

She heard another grunt come from her father and she scooted even closer. His fist was moving even faster now; pulling painfully--it had to be painful since the grunts had turned to a long drawn out groan--on his thick, angry looking penis, sliding back down to his belly, pulling even harder. And harder. She bit her bottom lip, watching wide-eyed as his penis got thicker and thicker, the head got even bigger and such a dark purple that she thought it was going to explode in his hand! His fist pushed and pulled on the huge mushroom-shaped head, again and again, pumping it frantically for a good twenty seconds. And then a few seconds later her father threw his head back, let out an animal-sounding howl and his penis did explode, spurting a thick, heavy rope of milky white fluid in a high arc that spattered on the mirror. She sucked in her breath, watching as his hand pulled and pushed on the huge head of his thick penis again, and another thick rope of semen spurted at the wall. Again and again, harder and harder he pulled on the end of his penis, each jerk enunciated by a deep grunt and a spurt of thick semen till the spurts lessened and just a thick rope of milky white fluid dangled half way to the floor from the tip of his penis.

She heard one last grunt as he gave his penis a hard stroke, the last of the semen oozing out of the tip and plopping down onto the floor. She ducked back against the wall, her heart pounding painfully in her chest, her breasts rising and falling with each labored breath she drew into her lungs. She couldn't believe what she had just seen! A forty-five year old man masturbating! And he was her father! She heard him let out a long groan. "Oh, God. My Sara, my sweet, sweet baby girl. Why do you have to do this to me?"

Sara slapped her hand over her mouth, her whole body trembling. Her father had just achieved sexual gratification while thinking about her! She heard the water in the shower come on and she peeked around the door, and seeing her father's backside, got to her feet and ran back to her bedroom as quietly as she could. She shut off the light and slipped quietly into bed. She lay as still as she could even though her heart was pounding like a jackhammer and her whole body was violently shaking. She could still hear her father's groans and grunts and his words echoing in her ears. She could still see his penis, long and thick and red, spurting semen all over the bathroom wall, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, she was going to be scarred for the rest of her life!

She could feel a strange tightness in her stomach, an ache she had never felt before. She slowly slid her hand over her taut tummy, but that wasn't where the ache was coming from. Her hand moved lower, over the tiny triangle that covered her vulva and she parted her thighs a little. Her hand slid lower and she sucked in her breath when she felt that the cotton was soaking wet and was starting to seep out and dampen her thighs. Had watching her father made her panties wet? Her and her friend, Chloe, had secretly watched one of her brother's porno DVD one night at a sleep over and that had made her sticky wet and aching between her legs but she never actually thought that... There had to be something morally wrong with her to have gotten so wet from watching her father pleasure himself because she wanted to watch him again and again. She yanked her hand back up, squeezed her thighs together hopping to lessen the ache, and rolled over onto her side, trembling. She closed her eyes and turned her head into the pillow, ashamed with herself and more ashamed that she had actually enjoyed watching.

Worst of all, how was she going to face her father in the morning?