“Curious Yes, Begging No.”

“Seriously, your cock is huge and not even fully hard.” I was my turn to sip, “I was just curious.”

Dad raised an eyebrow disbelievingly at me, “You going to zip your dress up by the way?” He asked.

I frowned, “Why, it’s not cold and you have seen it all anyway.” I said casually gently running my hand over his thigh. “It’s fine Dad. You had a sexy woman in your lap and neither of us were wearing underwear, of course you would get hard, it’s only natural.”

He sort of nodded and then stopped, “Wait, you aren’t wearing underwear?”

I laughed, “I barely wear underwear Dad, I find it horribly uncomfortable.” He frowned.

Then his eyes opened wide and I saw his crotch lift in arousal, “I’m sorry Kimberly, that means that when you were on my lap…” He looked seriously horrified.

I couldn’t help but laugh, “Not like I haven’t had that before.” I said to him, “Anyway, I can see it was an interesting experience for you. You jumping to attention?” I teased sticking out my tongue.

My father seemed relieved with my casualness, “You are really alright with it?” He asked hesitantly.

“Well if you had have slipped in it might be a bit different, it would be a bad time of month.” I want to continue but dad interrupted.

“Period?” He asked.

“Nope, the other thing.” I said, “But I don’t think you could ‘slip in’ if you are as big as you seem.” I finished.

As my suggestion of the ‘other thing’ sunk in I saw his cock pulse again and could see a wet patch forming under his tenting robe.

He blushed again, “Completely natural Daddy. But I think you must be mostly hard by now so come on. Give me a peak, I’m really curious to see how big you are.”

He shook his head, “We had this discussion last week young lady.” He said a little forcefully. I took another sip of whiskey.

“We could wrestle some more if it would make you more comfortable.” I said mischievously.

“Kimberly Ann.” He roused, putting his whiskey down. “This is what I meant when I said you were begging for it.” I smiled, “I mean begging for my,” He paused and I laughed, “You know what I mean.”

“Prude.” I accused having another sip.

“I am not, you are my daughter.” He explained.

“So… if I was not your daughter you wouldn’t be such a prude?” I asked, goadingly.

“You,” He began, “are a terrible daughter.” He picked his whiskey back up.

“I don’t know,” I began with a knowing smile, “You were curious about nipple piercings and tats and I let you check mine out. I think that is a very nice thing for a daughter to do.”

As I had hopped Dad couldn’t resist, “See, I am not a prude, I was perfectly comfortable with that.”

I had him, “Oh so, you wouldn’t have a problem with me doing the same to you?” I asked. He stopped mid drink realising that I had played him.