Weekends With Dad

The moment I caught my father masturbating was the moment I knew I would fuck him. Or at least try.
It was April 11, exactly two days after I turned 18. I had only about six weeks left in high school, and was staying with Dad on a lazy, sunny Saturday. The day was unusually warm, allowing me to get a head start on my summer tan.
Dad had been mowing his lawn, and I watched him while I sunned and listened to my iPod. He was wearing gym shorts and a loose tank top, and I remember vaguely thinking that my 41-year-old father was aging well. He ate sensibly, and left for work early three days a week so he could hit the gym. He was nicely built, and barely broke a sweat pushing the mower around in 80-degree heat.
A couple of my girlfriends called him a DILF. Megan, my best friend since elementary school, was the most blatant about it. She told me straight up that she wondered what it would be like to get it on with my dad.
“Older guys like Alex are supposed to be the best,” she told me matter-of-factly. “They last a lot longer, and they’re mature and experienced enough to give us more pleasure.”
My father was a veteran television reporter who worked for one of our local network affiliates. Megan was a self-professed groupie who lusted after him whenever she saw him on TV.
“I’d like to surprise him during one of his live reports, drop to my knees and give him a blow job,” she joked one time. “Do you think he’d stay professional on camera during that?”
I chastised her for being so rude and dirty, though I was strangely proud that Dad had such a hot young secret admirer. But even after that revelation, I didn’t really think of him in a sexual way.
Anyway, I had the music pretty loud, and was not aware of my father’s presence until he intentionally blocked the late afternoon sun from my face.
“Jessica!” he barked, apparently having to repeat himself. He waited until I removed the earphones. “I’m finished with the grass. As soon as I get cleaned up, I’ll start on dinner.”
“Cool, Dad, thanks.” My father was not much of a cook, but I appreciated the fact that he tried. He and Mom divorced years ago, so I usually only saw Dad every other weekend and for several weeks in the summer. Despite living an hour apart, we had a great relationship. He made it to nearly all of my basketball and volleyball games, and called me every couple of days just to chat.
I’m a sucker for old heavy metal, and was listening to AC/DC’s “Back in Black.” When that album finished up, I decided to head inside. On the way in, I had a craving for pizza, so I figured I’d ask Dad if we could get some delivered.
I yelled up the stairs but he didn’t answer. As I approached his room I could hear the shower. I figured I’d just stand outside the bathroom door and ask him my question.
But the door was open halfway and angled so I could see Dad in the full-length mirror. The rippled glass of the shower doors afforded little privacy, and I clearly saw him jerking off.
I jumped back in surprise and shock, standing with my back against the wall like I was hiding from a crazed killer. But it was mere seconds before my curiosity lured me back. I slowly positioned myself to get a view of my naked, obviously horny father.
He was turned sideways and leaning toward the wall of the shower, with his weight on his left arm. His right hand was gripping his rigid cock, slowly sliding up and down the soapy shaft. His was only the third penis I’d seen in my life, but I felt reasonably sure it was about seven inches long and quite thick.
It was in fact his girth that made me want that cock. I curled my fingers as if holding his erection, and I wondered if I’d be able to reach all the way around it. I felt my skin flush with excitement. My pussy instantly warmed and sent a small tingle of electricity up my spine. My nipples began to harden to stiff little peaks.
I was so conflicted! Here I was peeping in on my father like some kind of back-alley pervert. This was a total invasion of privacy. And he was my father!
But I couldn’t help my body’s reaction. As I watched him leisurely stroke his flesh, I ran a hand down and pressed against my mound. I was quickly getting very hot, and could feel my juices beginning to flow.
Then I reached up to rub my erect nipples through the thin orange fabric of my bikini.
My bikini! Dad was beating off with thoughts of me! After all, I had just been lying out in front of him, clad only in a skimpy swimsuit and smoothing lotion all over my bronzing skin. I pictured him walking back and forth behind the lawnmower, allowing his eyes to wander across my firm flesh with each pass.
The more I considered it, the more I was sure.