I can remember the confusion of finding my underwear having been moved. I was 13 at the time and when I showered before bed, I would always bury my used panties deep in the laundry hamper. I do not know why I did this, but I think I had begun to be aware of how wet I got during the day sometimes and was embarrassed. When I would discover them, often the next morning, they would be right on the top. I was bemused, but I let it pass.
Shortly after, I discovered that they were far dirtier than when I put them in there. One morning, I picked up a pair and smelled them. The effect was dramatic and instantaneous. I became dizzy and highly sexually aroused in the space of a breath. The wetness in my panties was not mine, but was fresh sperm. I had never seen or smelt sperm before that day but instinctively, I knew what it was. The burning question was, whose? I recall taking those panties back out of the laundry and wearing them. Stupid, with hindsight, but something in me wanted the "grown up" feeling of wearing panties that had sperm in them. I fantasised that I had been fucked and it led to a really shattering masturbation session. But still, the question would not go away. Whose sperm was it.
There were only two contenders, my dad or my brother. Neither of which sat well with me. My brother had a girlfriend and I would often hear them having sex, so I doubted it was him. My dad had been living alone since Mom died three years before. Could it be? Was my own father using my panties? The implications rattled around my head for some days. I had to know. So I lay a trap that I thought no man could possibly resist. First, during the mid part of my cycle, I wore a pair of panties for two days, something I would never normally do. I also wore them through the night and masturbated into them twice. Then, I put them right on the top of the laundry with the crotch facing upwards. The second part of my plan was more difficult. I needed to see into the bathroom. A small air vent was all that I had to work with, but it proved enough. Standing on a chair in my closet for the better part of four hours was not my definition of "fun" but eventually, I was rewarded. My dad came into the bathroom and locked the door. He went to the toilet and peed. Then he turned and stopped. It looked like he was hesitating; battling with something. Then he lifted the lid of the hamper and took my panties out. By this time, he was hard. I watched as he brought them to his face and inhaled my scent. He started to jack. My heart was beating like a hammer and between my legs, my clit begged for attention. He smelled, licked and sucked my panties before, with a silent agonised look on his face, he began ejaculating right into the crotch.
In an instant I felt like the most powerful person in the world. I could do this. I could cause such an expression by what my body did in my panties. I had the power to give a man an orgasm. It did not bother me in any way that it was my dad. After all, he had looked after us single handed for three years and had not allowed anyone else into his life. How frustrated and lonely he must have been. For the next two years, I would watch his routine and stand on my chair and masturbate with him. I would imagine him licking me instead of the dry material of my panties. I would imagine me taking his cock in my hand and forcing that cum from him. I took to sitting in an exposed way so he could see up my skirt. (Skirts which got shorter and shorter as I grew) I knew he looked, but then, I knew he licked too. Sometimes I would tease him by leaving nothing in the laundry hamper, sometimes I would bury them deep and others I would leave exposed ready for him. Each time, I got my reward. I continued my habit of taking them back sometimes to wear, other times to smell and lick as I masturbated.
When I turned 18 I got my chance and it was a pure and simple coincidence. The day before my period, I sometimes suffer from very bad period pain. When it is bad enough, I like to come home, masturbate and go to sleep with a hot water bottle on my tummy. This day, I decided on a swim first so I went to our pool area. There, stark naked, with my used panties in his hand and sporting a huge erection was my dad. There was no way he could hide what he was doing and no way I could have missed it. He was so frightened, but there was no cause to be. I walked over to him and took my panties from him and said "It's ok, I know. I've known for years." At the same time I reached down and held him. It felt amazing, the cock that made me was now in my hand. I started jacking him. As I did, I said, "You need a fresh pair. Take my panties off." He had no choice really. I felt his strong hands reach under my skirt and remove my panties. I made him hold them to his face while I quickened my pace. Then, I said "It's been a long time since you were touched by a woman and a long time since you touched one yourself." As I said this, I took his hand and placed it between my legs. With a huge groan, he buried his face in my shoulder and shot his load. Even from where we were standing, he made some of it go into the pool. There must have been seven good sized jets, the last of which dribbled onto my leg.
I sat on one of the loungers and leaned back, spreading my legs as I did so. There were only two words I wanted to say to him . "Watch me." As he watched, I masturbated to my own massive climax.
Afterwards, we talked. Inevitably, he felt bad about it, but I was exultant. I won't go all the way with him, but until he finds another woman in his life, I will masturbate him and for him from time to time.
Some will say "incest" others will say "perversion". Perhaps. All I saw was a loving and lovely man in a pit of loneliness that I was able, for a short time, to help him with. I regret nothing. I was not coerced, forced, groomed or whatever other term may be used. I was my own woman. Some will say that at that age, one is not, but I disagree. I knew precisely what I was doing and how far I wanted to go. I revelled in the power I had and I loved being watched. Something that I still do to this day. There are few men who can control themselves when a woman says "Watch me." Many cannot control the impulse to masturbate themselves, or try to screw me.
The following year, my dad found a lovely woman who is now my step mom. I hear them screwing most nights and I know that this wonderful woman has filled a massive hole in my dad's life. She has taken him into the world of anal and more. I still masturbate when I hear them, particularly when they are being very loud. I still finger myself imagining that huge cock burying itself in her pussy and I hear the moment he ejaculates into her. I time my orgasms for those moments. Looking back, I think that if he had tried or suggested doing more I would have gone along with it. But he did not. Each and every "touching" was at my instigation and mine alone. To be honest, I feel a little jealous that my place has been usurped, but it is right this way.
Me? well, I surprised myself. After so many years of doing what I did, and making out with boys, I was to discover that it was not a boys touch I really wanted at all. In fact, my brother's girlfriend was my first lover. (He had dared her to make a pass at me, and got more than he bargained for when she decided that she liked pussy more than cock.) He has someone else now and is happily married. My dad and step mom are comfortable with my sexuality and so am I. Calli, my lover, sometimes likes a cock, but that happens so rarely these days and always adds spice to our sex life afterwards.
I could not have wished for things to turn out more perfectly.