SEE YOU-- SEE ME DAD (May, 1996)

Now that I think about it, I should have known Dad didn't really get that Connectix camera setup so he 
could telecommute to work.  "Videoconferencing," he'd said.  Yeah, right.

After I'd managed to copy a list of reflector sites off his computer, I'd check them out every once in a 
while.  Some really were for work.  Some were boring: street corners.  One was just a blank wall, and I 
never did figure out the purpose of that.  But two of them were all  sex.

I finally got the rhythm of one of them.  Three nights a week, at 10  PM here in Tampa, I could find half a 
dozen or more Cu-seeme people stripping their clothes off, masturbating, sometimes even fucking.  Blow 
jobs and all that.  Mostly just guys with their pricks in their hands, each pumping so proudly you'd think 
he had invented jerking off himself.  Dad, dad, dad.  Imagine you watching this stuff.  Technology sure is 
cool.

Once I brought my boyfriend over and showed him.  Daddy had just upgraded my Mac for my sixteenth 
birthday.  While those jerky little frames don't do a lot for me, he got caught up in it, giving a running 
commentary about the two women on the screen, occasionally remarking as one of the men would come 
all over himself.  Sticky, white cum that dripped down their chests, on the carpet, that they'd get on their 
keyboards.  One guy shot high enough to get it in his beard.  Tommy got so hard, from watching the 
women I hope, he had to pull off his jeans and free his cock.

I can never decide if I believe him when he tells me that.  I mean, guys must get hard all the time, all they 
do is think about sex, and I don't see them pulling their cocks out at the mall or the movies or gym class. 
So when he tells me he has to do that  I think he's really just showing off, or maybe he's an exhibitionist, 
or maybe he's just hoping I'll suck on him.  That time, when I showed him those people on the computer, I 
did give him a blow job.  Just a quick one, using my hand to masturbate him the same time I licked and 
sucked that lovely dick.  I'm so good to him, sometimes.

Last night, though, I was all by myself, feeling horny and thinking about masturbating, when I checked on 
the channel and saw Daddy.

It was fascinating, although totally weird.  I knew he was in his room, ten feet away.. He hadn't had a 
girlfriend over in a long time, so if I'd ever thought about it I guess I could have figured that he must jerk 
off once in a while.  But I never did think about it until last night.  Boys like Tommy do the hand thing, 
not fathers!

Daddy was really hard.  He must have been playing with himself for a while.  He was naked except for a 
pair of jockey shorts pulled down under his balls and he stroked his dick with his left hand.  I'd never 
thought about that before, either, left hand vs. right hand.  I just watched, saved a few images of Daddy to 
disk, and pretty soon he came.  I could tell it felt good from the look on his face, although it wasn't this 
great  fountain of cum like Tommy does when I jerk him off, it was more like a glass of milk overflowing, 
white rivulets running over his fingers and into his lap.  Maybe it's just him or maybe that's what happens 
when you get old.  I like the way Tommy spurts a lot better.

One of the women seemed to come about the same time as Daddy, but I wasn't really watching anymore.  I 
felt my pussy and it was really wet.  I hadn't noticed it happening, but Daddy's masturbating had got me 
really ready.  I put two fingers on my clitty and rubbed.  Just think, Daddy was in his room, cum soaking 
his underwear, his prick softening after ejaculating in front of his daughter!  I came a lot faster than I 
usually do.

At breakfast this morning he was just like himself.  I don't know why I thought he'd be different, but there 
was no way to tell he'd masturbated in front of ten or ten hundred people.  I wondered what I should do.

I could just forget it.

I could say, "Gee, Daddy, I loved watching you come last night."

I could offer to suck him off or something.  Be a constructive daughter.  Pay him back a little for all he 
does for me.  I don't think so.

I could have done I could's all day - if it had been a normal day, which it wasn't.  Halfway through math 
class we all left the building when someone called in a bomb scare.  By lunch time they still hadn't figured 
out if it was real or not, so they sent us home.  A very good start to the day.  I told Tommy I'd come over 
and we'd do homework together and fool around.

As soon as I opened the door I heard voices.  Dad and some woman's voice.  So instead of making a 
racket, I closed the door quietly and snuck through the hallway so I could see who was there.  Sometimes 
Dad was home when I got home thanks to the telecommuting, but he never had company.

The woman was Mrs. Trefethen.  Hard to pronounce.  You try it: truh - feth! - in.  The next door 
neighbor.  How quaint.

She was pulling on pantyhose and was still naked on top.  Nice breasts, I would say, not too large and not 
too small, no sag, just regular nipples.  She had a little mole under the right one, which was a nice touch.  
Looking at her, I saw she was really rather pretty, especially with her hair all messed up like that.

Daddy just lay on the bed, naked, a little streamer of cum leaking out of his dick.  I'd never seen my father 
naked until last  night and now it seemed he was always naked, always cumming.  Men, and I guess my 
Dad is one.

If I hadn't sneezed, maybe things would have been different.  But it sneaked up on me, I never felt it 
coming, and it just exploded out of me.  Mrs. Trefethen almost jumped back out of her pantyhose, then 
looked at me and calmly walked to the bedroom door.  And closed it.  Cool and calm she was, except for 
the first second of terror.

After she left, I heard the front door slam, Daddy came in to talk.

"You're home early, pumpkin," he said.

I shrugged.  Parents like to state the obvious.  Only they know why.

He talked around the subject a long time, but finally got it out that they saw each other once in a while, 
she was just being "neighborly," in fact her husband knew all about it and thought it was a sort of 
charitable act.  Poor Daddy, a mercy fuck.  Although I didn't believe him about her husband knowing.  I 
felt bad for my Dad.  He told me just to forget about it.

"I don't want to just forget," I blurted.  "I want to watch."

I don't know where these things come from.  But I said it and, having said it, realized I meant it.

Daddy was speechless.

"I won't tell Mr. Trefethen, but I want to watch you do it.  Fuck her."

I tasted every letter in the word "fuck."  Imagine, saying "fuck" to my father!  I said it quick, snapped it 
out, "fuck her," as though fucking was just sex, as though it didn't mean anything.  "Fuck her," I told 
Daddy, and let me watch.

We argued, but there was no way he could win.  We fixed one of the slats in his bedroom closet so I could 
slide a piece of it out, he just sawed it so it lifted in and out.  We each took a turn in the closet so I could 
make sure I could see the bed and I  could make sure no one could see in with the closet lights out.

Now I just have to wait for Wednesday to get here again.

Standing here in the closet, in my robe, I feel a lot worse about missing a day of school than I do about the 
idea of blackmailing my Dad so I can spy on him.  Pretty soon she'll be here.  It seems awfully warm in 
here, and cramped.  I should have brought a chair.  I did bring a camera, a little one in the pocket of my 
robe.  No flash, of course, just hope for the best with room lights.

When they lay on the bed with their clothes on, I started to think maybe I was screwed, like it was her 
period or something.  But now they're talking, and she's making fun of Mr. Trefethen, and she's rubbing 
my Dad through his jeans.

She says today it's five months since she'd had sex with her husband.  That last Saturday night she tried to 
get him in the mood by masturbating right next to him in bed and he'd just kept on reading his magazine.  
She got real loud, she said, she came, and nothing at all.  Why was that? she asked.  Wouldn't that turn 
most men on?

Mrs. Trefethen is hiking up her skirt.  No pantyhose today, not even underwear.  She's going to town on 
her pussy.

"Wouldn't this turn you on, Chucky?" she asks.

My Dad looks at me, or least he's looking in my direction.  He sort of flinched, or shrugged, or something.

"You know it does, honey.  Let me help."

Daddy slides around so he can lick her hand while it rubs her pussy.  He kisses her wrist, then her hip, 
then her cunt.

All of a sudden, Mrs. Trefethen's pussy looks like a cunt to me.  A bad word, a word that begs for nasty 
sex.  A whore has a cunt, or a slut has a cunt.  Nice women have pussies.  I have a pussy.  Mrs. Trefethen 
has a cunt.  And her cunt has my father's tongue in it.

He's eating her, licking, slurping, really gross sounds, and she's pulling his jeans off, and his underwear, 
and she's returning the favor.  Seeing Dad masturbate was weird enough, but 69 is almost too much.  I 
snap a picture.

Mrs. Trefethen just cocked an ear in my direction, but didn't really look.  She lets her head down on the 
bed between his knees, looking up at his balls and his hard cock and maybe his asshole.  Daddy keeps 
tonguing her.

"That's so nice, Chucky, you're so good.  I love how your tongue feels on me.  But you know what I really 
want."

She spreads her legs further.  I bet if the angle were different I'd see pink, see inside her a little ways.  
Daddy climbs on top of her now, finally, and unbuttons her top, his cock poised right over her cunt.  He's 
taking a nipple in his mouth and - he just put an inch of dick inside her.

Mrs. Trefethen is making the most pleasured sound I've ever heard.  Nothing held back, no cares or 
worries, nothing but the resonance of sweet sensations.  Whatever Daddy is doing must be a whole lot 
better than what Tommy does with me.

When Tommy fucks me it's uncomfortable.  It doesn't hurt, but he weighs too much and his cock is too 
long and it feels . . .odd . . .until I really get into it.  Half the time he comes so fast he has to finish me 
with his hand or his mouth.  He does the mouth thing pretty well.

Daddy put it all the way in and she's doing some kind of half moan, half gurgle.  I risk another picture.  
No problem.

"Fuck me, baby, give it all to me, I want your cock as deep as it will go."

She went on this way for a while, while Daddy pumped like a trooper.  Is he just good, I wondered, or is it 
because he's old, maybe he won't even cum, or maybe he like thinks about baseball.

This has always seemed  extra weird to me.  Why would anyone, how could anyone, think about stuff 
intentionally to unarouse themselves while fucking?  But they say guys do this so they don't cum too soon.  
Baseball or homework or something.  I guess I should be grateful,  Tommy comes so fast anyway, I can't 
imagine what if he kept his mind on me.  Two seconds, probably.

Daddy was going faster.  I was going to see him cum inside her pretty soon.  I touched my own pussy.

Holy shit I was wet.  And one touch sent a shudder that bounced around my insides in quite a lovely way.  
I rubbed myself pretty fast and pretty hard.

Mrs. Trefethen was fucking Daddy back something  fierce.  I was really going now, too.  She was saying, 
"Cum inside me, baby, cum anywhere you want.  Fuck me, Chucky, honey, I want your cock, more, I want 
more, give it all to me, cum for me, fuck me."

Thinking to myself, I got as far as "Pretty soon I'm . . ."

It was just like the sneeze.  This giant orgasm just blossomed inside me and spread like lightning bolts.  
Honey lightning bolts, if you can imagine that, sudden but liquid, shooting sharply but soothingly, as 
sharp as a circle, as hard as melted butter.  I squeezed my hand between my legs.  I think I screamed.  I 
know I was still coming when she opened the closet door and I let the embarrassment of it, the pure 
exhibitionism of her watching me come, make the feeling even more intense.  She'd sure got out from 
under Daddy fast 

"What are you doing in there, you little bitch," Mrs. Trefethen yells.  I'd have told her to take a guess if I 
could have talked, but my orgasm was still unwinding.

She gathers up her clothes, shoots my father a dirty look, and leaves.  I assume she got dressed before 
going home.

Daddy is pretty angry.  He's standing in front of me, looking severely at my flushing face, my hand still 
between my legs and he starts to say something.

"Daddy," I'm saying, "you're still hard."

I wrap my hand around his cock.  Perfectly natural.  I'd just come, here was this man with me, he should 
come, too.  Daddy tries to step back but I hold on and fall to my knees.  I swallow as much of him as I can.

I've no idea what he's thinking at this instant, how he went from angry to horrified to moving his hips so 
he's fucking my mouth.  It couldn't have taken a whole second.  I can taste Mrs. Trefethen on his cock.  
My first taste of pussy.  Of cunt.

The next hour is fun to remember but probably boring to read.  I wasn't sure I wanted Daddy to fuck me, 
and then I couldn't wait, and then I had second thoughts.  When he finally put it in me, without needing 
my help to guide it in, unlike Tommy who was totally clueless about where I opened, I had that same 
surge of pleasure that Mrs. Trefethen must have had.

"Fuck me, Daddy, oh, please.  Daddy, Daddy.  Fuck meeeeeeee."

I'm not sure, but maybe he was worried I wasn't on the pill when he pulled out of my pussy and 
masturbated those last fast strokes and came on my titties.  He's very thoughtful, my Dad.  He licked my 
pussy until I came twice more.  The second time I heard him humming "Sweet Sixteen."

The year ahead has a lot of promise.
