Into Dad’s Den.

I took a deep breath as I reached the den, my heart was thumping as I stepped inside, Dad had poured a couple of glasses of scotch and put a blanket on one of the leather arm chairs, he sat on the other, his feet on the footrest.

“Take a seat, have some scotch.” Dad began, “Sure you’re not cold?” Momentarily I considered telling him yes sand stripping off my wet shirt, but I thought better of it. If I wanted to do this I needed to go slowly. So instead I told him I was fine and sat down, my nipples hard at the excitement and the cold of the wet shirt.

To begin with I pulled the blanket up over me and dad and I started chatting. Then after a few minutes I reached out from under the blanket and grabbed my whiskey. I held the glass with two hands, letting the blanket fall off my chest exposing my wet t-shirt and tits to my father. I kept talking as if I didn’t realise, my father’s eyes kept glancing down at my breasts, and I felt a tingle in my nipples as they hardened at his attention.

We spoke casually, about nothing, enjoying our scotch, I expected that Dad was enjoying watching as much as I was enjoying being watched. When scotch one was done I pulled off the blanket and stood up, my shirt was mostly dry by now and only barely see through, “Another?” I asked him as I picked up the bottle.

He nodded and I leant forward to fill his glass, my shirt gaping at the side, revealing a large amount of my breast. I saw him look at my tits as I poured and felt the warmth in my face and crotch. I then poured myself another glass and went and sat back down.

“Dad?” I took a deep breath and a sip of whiskey, “When Mom complains about my tats and piercings you never respond. You don’t agree with her?”

Dad took a sip of his whiskey before responding, “You’re an adult, it’s your body, my thought’s are you can do what you like with it. But you’re not too old for me to spank if you start injecting shit.” He pointed at me menacingly while still holding his whiskey.

I laughed, “Nothing like that Dad.” I settled into the seat before asking the next question with a lump in my throat, “You like pierced nipples though don’t you.” He stopped mid drink, “I mean, I saw you looking. When the tap sprayed me.” He still didn’t answer, “So I checked when I poured you that scotch and you were trying to catch a glimpse of my tits.”