This time, when I glanced in on one of her dance parties, it was far from what I expected.
My daughter was shucking and jiving in nothing but thong underwear, the same type the models wore in the video. Her far less attractive friend was next to her, also nearly nude, mimicking the moves from the video.
I froze and hid behind the doorway into the kitchen, a good twenty feet from the living room. I had a full on view of the proceedings, and knew my wife and son wouldn’t be home for at least another half an hour. At first I wanted to barge in and start yelling like a typical father would, but there was some sick curiosity in me that made me watch a bit longer than I should have. Then, with what I saw, I watched for far longer than a healthy man should. Or perhaps, with a woman with my daughter’s looks nearly nude in front of me, that’s exactly what a healthy man would do.
You’re the hottest bitch in this place.
They would start off the top of the song mimicking the girls from the music video exactly. Same stuttering walks, same clawing motions, same poses. Then around the time the rapper’s verse came up, they did this sort of hip shaking routine with their arms above their heads. I supposed this was their version of improvising. All the while they were laughing and singing, thinking it was just an innocent teen singalong.
Then the beat dropped and it was a raw drum thundering over the occasional looped lyric, and my daughters body did something to me that made me feel something I had never experienced before in my life.
When the drop came, and the music changed, she mounted her back arms on our living room sofa and gyrated her hips in a humping motion. Her ass was slightly on a dresser behind the couch, so her legs were lifted just off the floor. However she was moving her hips, it caused her breasts to jiggle in these tight, controlled circles. Every ounce of her youthful energy and the pertness of her jostling breasts just seemed to flow forth in a beam of light, straight at me.
“Yea baby, shake those tits!” her friend called out, laughing. It was some kind of moral justification for their debauchery, they were just ‘having fun’, lol, lmfao, #funny. With my daughter’s head tilted back, her eyes closed, her brow slightly furled and her puffy lips quivering, there wasn’t any doubt in my mind that she was fucking the air with the intensity of an experienced backroom stripper.
The blood rush to my cock so fast that my face went cold. I was taken back with the way she looked at that moment. It didn’t help that the portion of the song lasted for a full twenty seconds. Her friend danced around and sort of held fort while my daughter took the sexually charged, pop-culture endorsed debauchery to take her mind and body to another place. I felt my eyes sink and my mouth drop open. The pure sexual need spewing forth from her felt like a scorching hot wind blowing into my face. It was the most erotic experience I had ever had in my life.
To save you time, I’ll summarize that they replayed the song in all its glory, and they had the routine down to a science. When the beat was about to drop, I started to rub my rock hard erection through my pants. This time, my daughter seemed to press it to another level, trying hard to get whatever teenaged horniness haunted her soul out into the world as she gyrated in that perfect motion. I came, hard, before she was done. As I sprayed my sorry self, I took a “hi-def” mental image of the pure sex before me. As they cued it up again, I did the smart thing and went upstairs as quiet as a church mouse. It was a good thing I did, since if I had succumbed to temptation and continued to watch, I would have been the first thing my wife and son saw as they came into the house. My daughter and friend must have escaped with their stereo as they pulled into the driveway, as my wife didn’t discipline her or mention what they were doing.
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