The house was completely silent: everyone was in bed and fast asleep. John had no intention of arousing anyone. He tread softly as he traversed the old wooden floors of the living and dining areas. In the kitchen he slowly poured a glass of water to replenish himself before returning to his bedroom.
At the top of the staircase he noticed a dim light creeping through the slightly opened door of his daughter’s room. John continued his covert movement as he approached the door: if she had left the television on and fallen asleep he did not want to awaken her. His eyes pierced through in search of any life. As expected, the television was on; however, its contents were beyond shocking.
On the bed was his daughter: clearly awake and very active. She was fully under the duvet with her legs bent-up and her hands nowhere to be seen. The television was beaming out, with no sound, the alluring pleasures of a mature man fucking a teenage girl.
From John’s position there was seemingly no danger of being detected – and he knew it. His daughter was stroking what he could only imagine to be the sweetest, tightest, most delicate pussy one could hope to see. However, this was his daughter. Could he stand there, uninvited, and against all his assumed morality, watch his daughter during such a private episode. He had never before contemplated his family in a sexual setting, but witnessing such an event was quickly warping his mind.