She Caught Him

Date: March 01, 2025

Sarah stepped inside, kicking off her brown loafers with a lazy flick. The cool wooden floor felt good against her bare feet after a long, boring day at school. Her pink hair flowed behind her, soft and shiny, catching the golden light pouring through the window as she walked.

She let out a tired sigh. Only four weeks until graduation, and she couldn't wait to ditch the dull teachers and immature boys who still laughed at dumb jokes. Her navy blazer hung open, the top button of her white shirt undone, showing off a peek of her collarbone.

Barefoot, she climbed the stairs. Her short plaid skirt swayed with each step, brushing her strong, smooth legs. She moved with a natural grace, her curvy body relaxed but confident. A dark blue ribbon bounced under her collar, adding a cute touch to her playful vibe. Passing her dad's closed study door, she called out, "I'm home, Daddy," her voice soft and teasing.

"Hey, sweetie," Daniel's deep voice answered, warm and muffled. "Movie night tonight, don't forget!"

A smile spread across her rosy lips, her fair skin glowing in the dim hallway. Movie night was their special thing when her mom, Chilsa, was away. Chilsa was probably sipping fancy coffee at some work event, her teasing words still ringing in Sarah's ears: "A teenage girl hanging out with her dad? You're weird, Sarah." But Sarah didn't care. Those cozy nights with popcorn and silly movies belonged to her and Daniel.

Her bedroom door creaked as she pushed it open. Her blue eyes scanned the messy room—bed unmade, books scattered on her desk, a faint lavender scent in the air. She dropped her backpack with a thud and tossed her blazer onto the bed. Then she froze. A single sock hung perfectly centered on her dresser knob. That morning, she'd left it off to the side on purpose—a trap. Someone had been in here.

Her heart pounded as she crossed the room, locking the door with a quiet click. For months, she'd noticed little things—her dresser drawers slightly off, her clothes too neat. Someone was sneaking around, messing with her stuff. Her cheeks flushed as she powered up her computer, the hum filling the silence. She slid into her chair, her skirt riding up her thighs, her knee-high socks hugging her legs.

A few weeks ago, she'd spilled her suspicions to Angie at school. "I think my parents are spying on me," she'd said, twirling her hair. Angie—loud and fearless—had been mad. "That's messed up, Sarah. Take this." She'd handed her a tiny camera. "Catch them." Sarah had agreed.

Now, her stomach twisted as she stared at the screen, the light glowing on her face. She'd noticed it a month back—her panties folded too perfectly, a crumpled thong suddenly smooth. It didn't happen often, but enough to freak her out. And it was always when Daniel was home. Her dad—the guy who'd raised her, watched cheesy movies with her. The thought made her skin tingle.

Three days ago, she'd set the camera—a small, pencil-shaped gadget—on her bookshelf, aimed at her dresser. It recorded all day, linked to her computer. The sock had moved. Someone had been here. Her fingers tapped nervously as the video loaded. She skipped through the morning—empty room, sunlight streaming in—until something moved at noon.

Her heart slammed in her chest as she rewound and slowed it down. There he was—Daniel, stepping into her room in a bathrobe, hair wet from a shower. Her pulse raced as he walked to her bed, his hand brushing the messy sheets where she'd slept. A shiver shot through her, hot and strange.

How could he? Her big blue eyes locked on the screen, shimmering with shock. Her lips parted as she watched him touch her bed—her space. Her body reacted—her chest tightening, a warm ache spreading low. She squirmed, her skirt hiking up, her legs pressing together.

Daniel stood and moved to her dresser. He nudged the sock aside and opened the top drawer. Her cheeks burned as he picked up her blue cotton panties, running them through his fingers like they were precious. Then he grabbed a white lace pair, holding them gently. Her mind spun—grossed out but curious.

He stepped away with the lace, then returned, sitting on her bed. In his other hand, a black thong—hers, from the laundry. "Oh my God," she whispered, her voice shaky. Her face flushed deeper, her breaths fast. She wanted to stop the video, but she couldn't look away. His robe opened, and he wrapped the lace around himself, touching himself with her panties.

A soft "Oh God" slipped from her lips as her body trembled. Heat flooded her, her skirt up high, her underwear damp. She was stuck, watching her dad in a way she never thought possible—wrong, but impossible to ignore.