Lexi had come home early from class, the apartment quiet except for the low hum of the AC. She dropped her bag by the door and padded down the hall in socks, heading for her room to change. The door to her dad’s bedroom was cracked. Soft, wet sounds drifted out—rhythmic, hungry.
She froze, heart slamming. Through the gap she saw him: shirt off, jeans shoved to his thighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her favorite pair of black lace panties was stuffed in his mouth, the crotch pressed against his tongue. One fist pumped his thick cock in long, tight strokes. His eyes were half-lidded, focused on the fabric between his teeth.
Lexi didn’t move. She stayed behind the door frame, watching. Her dad’s cock was heavier than she’d ever imagined, flushed dark, the head shiny with precum that smeared over his knuckles with every upstroke. He groaned around the panties, the sound muffled and filthy. He pulled them deeper into his mouth, sucking the damp crotch like it still held her scent, then spat them out just enough to mutter, “Fuck, baby… so wet for me…”
She pressed her thighs together. Heat flooded between her legs. He kept stroking—slow, then faster—twisting his wrist at the head, thumb spreading the slick. His balls drew up tight. Lexi bit her lip, barely breathing, eyes locked on the way his cock jerked in his fist.
He shoved the panties back between his lips and sucked hard, hips lifting off the mattress. His free hand cupped his balls, rolling them while he pumped. The wet slap of skin filled the room. Lexi’s fingers slipped under her waistband without thinking; she was soaked, clit throbbing as she watched her own father face-fuck her discarded underwear.
His strokes turned frantic. A low, broken moan tore out of him. Thick ropes of cum shot across his stomach and chest, some landing on the panties still half in his mouth. He kept milking himself through it, shuddering, eyes squeezed shut, until the last weak pulses dripped over his knuckles.
Lexi stayed frozen until he finally slumped back, panting, the ruined lace still clutched in his fist. She slipped away down the hall on silent feet, cunt aching, the image of her dad’s cock exploding while he tasted her burned into her mind. That night she touched herself to the memory until she came hard enough to see stars, already planning how she’d leave another pair for him to find.