John jerks off with his daughter's panties

That night, Rachel settled into the armchair she'd arranged just in front of her bedroom window. Outside, a wonderful view into the neighbor's house and backyard. It was like they wanted to be watched, the way they kept their windows naked of any curtains, the way they walked about, going about their boring suburban lives in full view of the pervy lawyer next door. They all wanted to be corrupted. They needed it.

Rachel sipped the red wine she'd poured for herself. She waited.

Eventually, all the lights in the house went dark, the occupants settled down for bed. Rachel thought back to her rendezvous with John, the way his cock had pulsed for images of his hot little daughter. As the house across the way remained still, Rachel wondered, had she misjudged him? No. She just had to wait a little longer.

A few minutes later, there was an unmistakable motion at Eve's window. A figure darkened it, moving with such caution that Rachel might've believed it was just a trick of the light, if she didn't know any better. Rachel's thighs pressed together, a hungry, carnal pressure building. *What are you doing, Johnny boy?* She already knew, of course. She'd suggested it, planted it in his brain like a little time bomb. In fact, she was impressed he'd even lasted this long.

A minute later, the backyard gate creaked. Rachel pressed her breasts to the cold glass of her bedroom window, peering down to catch John, barefoot and hunched, sneaking around the back edge of his own house. He moved with a guilt unbecoming of a man on his own property, glancing around like he was terrified someone would see his dark deed.

John’s hand vanished into his pocket. When it reappeared, he was holding a splash of lavender and lace: Eve’s underwear. Rachel’s pulse thumped so loud she was sure he could hear it a street away. *Holy fuck.*

Rachel could see his chest heaving, his motion lit in quick pulses by a neighbor’s sensor floodlight. He was going to do it. Right there in the backyard, in full view of... well, her. Did he know? Was he putting on a show just for her? She nearly cackled, giddy at the way even the best men fell. John’s hand moved to the fly of his jeans, fingers trembling, and then he was out, cock stiff and bare in the cool night. He wrapped the lavender panties around his fist and jerked, long and slow, as if savoring the risk of being caught—by his daughter, by his wife, by anyone.

Rachel pressed her phone to the glass and started recording. She couldn’t help herself. The image was perfect: a good husband, a doctor, jerking his cock with one of his own teenager’s panties, eyes rolling back as he leaned into the shame.

She zoomed in, caught the glint of pre-cum beading at the tip, the way his jaw clenched as he squeezed the fabric around himself. She could almost hear the ragged sound he must be making. It was better than porn, better than any fantasy. This was the real thing, and it was hers.

John jerked faster now, a **** rhythm that said he’d waited all day for this. Rachel wondered what he’d been thinking at dinner, whether he’d been able to look Eve in the eye while imagining what it would be like to press her down and plow her through her innocence. She wanted to crawl inside his mind and see every filthy, rotten thought she'd flooded his mind with.

Rachel couldn't look away. She set her wineglass down and pressed her own hand between her thighs, the cotton already soaked and sticky. She humped herself, slow and rhythmic, grinding the heel of her palm into her clit while her eyes were glued to the pathetic motion of John's masturbating. Every third or fourth stroke he’d bring the panties to his nose, huff the scent, and his whole body would shudder. God, he was disgusting.

Within five minutes he was panting, his chest heaving in big, helpless jerks. He gripped the fence with one hand while his hips thrust forward, fucking his other panty-wrapped fist. Rachel wanted to scream as she watched, the thrill of it was so fucking raw. She pressed her fingers deeper, circled her clit without mercy, and then she was cumming, cumming so hard she almost dropped the phone to the carpet.

She steadied herself, breath buzzing in her lungs, and watched for the finish. John’s legs started to give, his whole body bending at the waist, and then he came in a stuttering, miserable arc, spraying panties with a mess that spattered all over his hand. He didn’t slow, just kept jerking until the last milky string dripped off the crotch of the panties and dotted the grass. He slumped against the fence, head bowed, one hand squeezing his cock so tight Rachel wondered if he’d ever let go.

She dragged her own hand out from her panties, still sticky with that wet, trembling aftershock, and ran her tongue over her palm, slowly, savoring the taste. She pressed her bare tits against the glass and snapped a few photos of the spent doctor, his face slack with pleasure and guilt.

The material would be so useful to have when she devised her next steps for John and his family.