Chapter 2: An Eye-Opener

It was early in the morning and I can recall waking up earlier than normal with this tremendous urge to pee. Funny how those type of memories stick with you ... The sun was barely up so my bedroom was only dimly lit by a thin ray of sunlight sneaking past the semi-closed curtains but it was enough I didn’t need bother turning on the lamp next to my bed. It was still early so I knew my parents were still sleeping and in any case I couldn’t take the time to put on any pajamas or even a T-shirt. Shuffling quickly to the bathroom, I hurried as I had to go so bad I almost peed myself before reaching the toilet! I plopped down on the seat, sighing with relief while quietly taking care of business. Flushing the toilet, I cringed at the loud noise it created, fearing it would wake my parents. I dutifully washed my hands and shuffled back towards my bedroom while rubbing the sleep from my eyes, this time much slower as the need for urgency was gone.

Feeling that sense of relief you get after using the toilet, I loved the fresh feeling of the cool morning air against my bare bottom as I slowly traversed the hallway, carefully maneuvering to avoid the squeakier boards in our old wood floors. Just as I was about to enter my room my attention was drawn to sounds like someone moaning in pain emanating from my parents’ bedroom. My eyes opened wider as I worried that something might be wrong. The tone of voice was deep and low so it was obviously male. Was my daddy OK? Their bedroom door was cracked open which meant I was technically allowed allowed to go in so I swiveled towards their room. In my haste I stepped on one of those dang old pine floor boards and my heart skipped a beat as in the deathly quiet of the morning the loud squeak sounded as if blasted out from a bullhorn.

For a moment I froze but the sounds from their bedroom continued unabated so evidently nobody had heard. I inched my way closer, being much more careful now. Just as I got to my parents’ bedroom doorway, the sunlight coming in through the windows was enough to give me a view of the interior of their room - a view just good enough to freeze me yet again in my tracks. Oh my goodness! There was my daddy laying naked flat on his back on the bed with his head resting on a pair of pillows piled up. His feet were flat on the bed with his knees bent and spread wide apart. With no covers there wasn’t a thing about him hidden from view. This early in the morning I was a bit surprised he was all alone with my mother nowhere to be seen. While I hadn’t heard anything earlier she must’ve gone downstairs to fix breakfast or something. Mom was often an early riser so there was nothing unusual about it.

Seeing my dad in bed stark naked in and of itself also wasn’t a big deal as my parents ALWAYS slept naked when just the three of us were home. Once I’d tried to sleep without my pajamas to be like my mom but she’d fussed at me and insisted I wear SOMETHING to bed, even if just a T-shirt that didn’t cover my bare bottom. Over time I eventually wore her down and slept naked just as they did, keeping something next to the bed for when I got up. At the time my boobs were well behind the curve as compared to most of my friends, an on-going source of embarrassment for me. Seeing me bottomless one evening in a short cami which didn’t cover a thing below my waist, my dad grinned and complimented me, saying it showed off my best “ass-sets” - meaning my butt and legs. Funny how those sort of things shape your life as to this day I love being bottomless. By the same token I have a compulsion to wear something on top even though my boobs are now a solid B, almost a C. It can be just a bikini top, bra, or halter so long as I’m not topless. I know, sounds silly but we all have our quirks.

OK, back to my dad ... as I explained what drew my attention wasn’t his nudity. No, it was what he was DOING with his hand that my wide brown eyes locked onto. Wow, my daddy was stroking his dick (although I would’ve called it his “thing” back then), his fingers wrapped around it as he stroked it slowly up and down. Daddy’s eyes were closed tightly and he was still moaning although softer now than before when he’d drawn my attention so I wasn’t able to quite make out what he was saying. When I say he was stroking his dick, more accurately he had his hand wrapped around his erection, and a massive one at that. This was way different from when he would pull out his cock through his boxer shorts and rub it watching his favorite porn star on the TV. Now it was out in full display, nothing hidden from view.

It shouldn’t be difficult to understand why I was so curious when you realize that this was the first time I’d seen my dad blatantly masturbate or ANY man (or boy) for that matter. Well, not to limit it to men as it was the first time I’d seen ANYONE masturbate so openly except when I would watch myself in a mirror. Heck, at the time I didn’t even know that he WAS masturbating. All I knew was that my dad seemed to be thoroughly enjoying whatever it was he was doing. Oh sure, as I’ve said a couple times already, my dad would sometimes stroke himself down there a little while watching TV, sometimes even when I was sitting on his lap, but it was always in conjunction with something else we were doing. He didn’t say anything to me about it so I never really made any connection to me. There was nothing absent-minded this time - it was fully consuming him as he was totally focused on his dick. It was an utterly fascinating sight for a young girl! Just try and imagine the situation if you can. My mom had taught me the way the plumbing between men and women worked, but that didn’t explain anything about what I was watching now.

How long I stood there gawking I’ve no idea. On the one hand I wanted to keep watching to see if I could figure out what he was doing. On the other hand something was telling me that he’d actually forgotten to close the door and I shouldn’t be spying. Even if I HAD listened to that inner voice I was so afraid moving and making another sound that he might hear this time. What had me worried was would he would be mad if he knew I’d been watching. Not just noticing him as I passed by but staring! After all, this was something he’d never done before in front of me and even now it wasn’t like I was supposed to be a witness. Was this what happened when their door was closed? Maybe because it was so early in the morning he thought I was asleep so he didn’t take care to fully close the door.