He Showed Her

Date: March 02, 2025

Daniel slouched at his desk, the computer screen glowing dimly as he typed a boring report. The morning crawled by, each second tightening the knot in his chest. Screw it—he shoved his chair back, tugged at his dark hair, and stormed to the bathroom, peeling off his shirt and pants like they burned him.

The shower hit him hard, hot water pounding his muscled body, steam wrapping around him like a tease. He shut his eyes, letting it soak his skin, but his head wouldn't shut up. Sarah. Fucking Sarah.

Her at breakfast, pink hair spilling over her shoulders, soft and silky, framing her pretty face as she spooned cereal. That tight plaid skirt—navy and gray—clinging to her curvy hips, barely hiding her thighs. Those long, sexy legs drove him wild. Her white blouse, one button popped open, flashing her cleavage, and those sleepy blue eyes slicing into him over her mug.

He groaned, the sound drowned by the water, his dirty little obsession growing stronger every day. Emily—his wife—was gone, off on some corporate trip, leaving their stale marriage to rot. No sex for weeks, her vanilla ways starving him dry. And then there was Sarah, eighteen and glowing, a walking wet dream that torched his self-control. He killed the shower, scrubbed a towel over himself, and threw on a loose robe, his dick already waking up as he headed out.

He needed something—anything—to kill the ache. Months ago, he'd found her panty drawer, and it'd been game over since.

Bare feet slapped the floor as he slipped into Sarah's room. She was at school. Perfect. He dug through her dresser, snagging a black thong. His shoulders locked up as he stared at it, then bolted back to the bathroom, her lavender scent chasing him. His eyes caught the laundry basket—a crusty white pair peeked out. He grabbed them, heart hammering. Hers. Stiff with her dried cum.

Oh fuck, he thought, gut twisting. She got off in these.

The stained fabric hit him like a drug, his cock throbbing under the robe as he shoved them to his nose. Her smell—sweet, filthy, perfect—flooded him. Guilt flickered, but lust won. He stumbled out, clutching her panties, hands shaky. A yellow note slipped free, fluttering down. He snatched it, breath hitching as he read her messy scrawl: I see you, Daddy. This is for you. Show me. Check the bookcase.

His lungs emptied, mind spinning. She'd caught him—seen him jerking off with her lace in his hand. Shame slammed into him, but something darker burned hotter. She knew. And she wanted it. His gaze turned hungry, darting to the bookcase. There it was—a mini cam, sneaky and bold, staring him down.

Oh shit, she knows, he thought, panic spiking. But her words—Show me—melted it into raw, reckless heat. She'd watched him cum, moaning his name, and now she craved more. His dick pulsed, straining the robe, logic gone.

He yanked her desk chair to the middle of the room, facing the cam. Sinking in, he ripped the robe open, his thick cock springing free. "You're so nasty, Sarah. This what you want, baby girl?" he rasped, voice rough and needy, spilling it all for her lens.

He grabbed the black thong, wrapping it around his shaft—cool and tight against his burning skin—and started stroking slow. Her crusted panties hit his face again, her scent drowning him. "You left this for me, huh? Wanted me to taste you?" he growled, licking the dried stains, her flavor exploding on his tongue. "Fuck, you taste so good, baby."

His hand sped up, the thong slick with his pre-cum, and he pictured her—Sarah, his sweet little tease, watching this later. Those big blue eyes, all sleepy and wild, pink hair tumbling down as she squirmed in this chair, her curvy body begging for him. "You want this cock, Sarah?" he moaned, hips jerking. "Want me pounding you?" He saw her—lips parted, tongue tasting him, blouse tight over her tits as she gave in.

The thought wrecked him. "Sarahhh!" he roared, cum shooting out, splattering the carpet near the cam. His body shook, ass lifting, stuffing her soaked panties in his mouth—her taste mixing with his sweat as he pumped out more. Another spurt, then another, each one for her, imagining her kneeling there, eyes locked on him, skirt up, dripping for him. He groaned into the fabric, chest heaving as he drained himself dry.

Slumping back, he gasped, "Enjoy, baby girl," staring at the cam, sweat dripping down his chest. The thong hung sloppy around his softening dick, her crusted panties dropping to his lap. He pictured her coming home, finding this—pink hair falling over her flushed face, fingers sliding under that skirt. It sent a shiver through him, his hunger still simmering.

He sat there, robe pooled at his hips, the room stinking of sex. Her note lay crumpled—I see you, Daddy. Show me. He'd shown her, alright, crossed a line he couldn't uncross. What now? Would she freak? Hate him? Or—fuck—want him back? His cock twitched again, and he knew he was screwed either way.