Daisy Penelope Bloom, a young American woman living in Liverpool, Britain, across from her best friend Melody Price. Mel's father, John Price, has been away on a year long mission. When he returns, he finds his daughter all grown up, and his daughte...
After Daisy and Melody finished splitting their earnings for the night, they both went their separate ways to shower and get ready for bed. But of course, Daisy decides to bother Mel some more and sneaks across the street. She begins climbing the same tree as before, but as she reaches the top, she pauses.
The sound of huffs and groans drift from John's open window, and she can't help but peek in through the darkness. What she sees makes her heart race: John leaned back against the headboard, one hand firmly gripping his cock, stroking it to a rhythm that matches the moans of pleasure escaping his lips. Her name echoes faintly in the room, as if pulled from the depths of his soul.
Daisy feels a mix of shock and arousal wash over her. She can't believe what she's witnessing, but she can't look away either. Her own hand unconsciously moves to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief. She watches as John's muscles tense and relax with each stroke, his abs rippling under the dim light.
The room is filled with the scent of his cologne, a scent that's now forever linked to the illicit thoughts invading her mind. She feels a warmth spread through her, her nipples hardening as she watches him in his most vulnerable moment.
"Fuck, Daisy," he groans, his hips tensing and twitching, as if a certain scenario is playing out in his mind. "Just like that, pretty girl. So fucking good."
Daisy's breath catches in her throat. She can't believe she's doing this, spying on her best friend's father, but the sight of him masturbating is strangely... exciting. She feels a wetness between her legs, a traitorous reaction to the illicit scene unfolding before her eyes.
She presses her thighs together, trying to quell the sensation, but it only seems to intensify. Her nails dig into the tree to keep herself from falling, but her strength slowly slips away from her as she succumbs to a mind-numbing arousal.
John's eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth parted in a silent moan of pleasure. His face is flushed, and beads of sweat line his forehead.
Daisy's eyes trace the contours of his body, her gaze lingering on the bulge between his legs. She bites her bottom lip, her mind racing with thoughts of what he would feel like, how he would taste.
It's wrong, she knows it, but she can't tear herself away. The tree branch creaks beneath her, and she freezes, her heart pounding in her chest. But John is too lost in his own world to notice.
Daisy watches, transfixed, as John's hand moves faster, his breaths growing shallower. "Daisy, I'm close, babygirl," he whispers her name again, and she feels a jolt of electricity shoot through her.
The ache between her legs becomes unbearable, and she can't resist the urge to slip her hand down the front of her panties, her fingers finding the slick warmth of her arousal. She gasps, her eyes never leaving John's face, and she begins to mimic his rhythm, her own body responding to the silent show he's putting on.
The anticipation is killing her, and she wonders how much longer she can watch without giving in to the desire to make her presence known.
Daisy's chest heaves with each quiet breath she takes, her heart thudding against her ribs like a wild animal trying to escape its cage. She can feel her orgasm building, the tension coiling tightly in her belly.
John's hand is a blur now, his strokes becoming erratic as he nears the edge. Daisy's own movements become more frenzied, her hand moving faster and faster, her thumb circling her clit. She bites her lip so hard she tastes blood, trying to stifle the moan that wants to escape.
John's breath hitches, and Daisy knows he's about to come. She feels a strange mix of excitement and guilt, but she can't stop herself. She watches as his body goes rigid, the muscles in his arms and thighs tightening like coils of steel. Then, with a final, guttural groan, he releases, his cum spurting onto his stomach in thick ropes.
The sight of it sends Daisy over the edge, and she bites down hard on her hand to keep from crying out as waves of pleasure crash over her. She feels her knees go weak, and she has to grab the branch to keep from falling. Her body trembles with the aftershocks of her climax, her hand still buried in her panties.
As John's breathing slows, Daisy quickly pulls her hand away, wiping it on the tree bark, trying to compose herself. She can't believe what she just did, what she just saw. She feels like a voyeur, a dirty little secret that no one should know about. But she also feels alive, more alive than she has in a long time.
The guilt is there, but it's overshadowed by the raw, primal need that's been unleashed within her.
She watches as John's hand slows to a stop, his breathing returning to normal. He opens his eyes and looks around the room, as if searching for the source of the sound that must have disturbed him.
Daisy is quick to move down the tree and stumble across the street, back to the confines of her own home.
"Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod," she whispers to herself, her cheeks flaming as she stumbles into her bedroom.
The image of John's hand wrapped around his shaft, pumping furiously as he called out her name, is burned into her retina. She quickly locks the door behind her, her heart hammering in her chest like it's trying to break free.
She slumps against the cool wood, her legs threatening to give out beneath her. She can still feel the echoes of her own orgasm, her body humming with the aftermath of pleasure she'd never experienced before.
She had to get her head straight. This can't happen again.
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