I watched my dad from the shadows of the hallway. My heart raced like a wild stallion in my chest, the sound of its hammering echoing in my ears as I peered through the crack in the bathroom door. Dad's eyes were squeezed shut, lost in a world of depravity, his hand furiously working his cock. It was thick and veiny, a stark contrast to the innocent pink fabric of my panties that he held tightly in his other hand.

As if sensing my presence, he brought the lacy material to his face, inhaling deeply before pressing the fabric to his mouth. His eyes shot open, and he glanced around the room, but he didn't see me. He dropped the panties to the floor and reached for my bra, his gaze fixated on the tag '30F'. His murmurs grew louder, more insistent, his voice thick with desire. "Fuck, so big and so young," he groaned, his hand moving to cup his own cock through his pants.

With trembling hands, I stepped back into the hallway. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, the ache in my own pussy becoming more insistent with each passing second. I clutched at my chest, the fabric of my shirt doing little to contain the soft mounds of my breasts.

My breathing grew shallow, matching the rhythm of Dad's strokes, and I felt the wetness pooling between my legs. He was calling my tits dirty names, and for some reason, it was turning me on more than any romantic encounter I had ever imagined.

He got his phone from the pocket of his pants and opened a gallery. It was a photo of me from last night - I was wearing a tight white corset that hardly contained my breasts. He stroked harder now looking at the photo, his hand a blur as it moved along his shaft, and his eyes were transfixed on the bra that lay open on the counter. He picked it up, the cups stretched wide to reveal the lacy pink interior that had cradled my breasts only hours before. He brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply, and whispered, "Fuck, you're such a slut." I bit my lip, the sting of pain mixing with the ache in my chest as my nipples tightened into hard little pebbles.

"So fucking huge and so fucking perfect." He turned the bra over in his hands, his gaze lingering on the embroidered 'F' and '30' that adorned the band. His cock grew even harder as he said it, the veins bulging and pulsing with each heartbeat.

My breath caught in my throat as his eyes closed again, his hand moving faster and faster. "These dirty, fucking cow tits," he groaned, his thumb brushing against the fabric of my bra. "I bet they're so full and heavy. I bet they're just begging to be squeezed and played with."

I watched, my own hand inching down my body, my fingers finding the damp fabric of my panties. His words painted vivid images in my mind, images of him taking those same tits in his hands, kneading and squeezing them until I begged for mercy. "18-year-old whore with a rack that could make a grown man weep," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in my very soul.

My hand slipped under the elastic band, my fingertips brushing the slick folds of my pussy. He was right; my tits were huge, and they did feel heavy and full. It was a secret power I had always been aware of, but never truly understood. Until now.

Dad's eyes remained glued to my bra, his cock standing tall and proud in his hand. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice a dark caress that seemed to reach out and stroke me through the wall. "Such a young, tight body with these massive tits. How does a girl this age even walk around without knocking things over?"

He chuckled to himself, a low, sinful sound that sent another shiver through me. I could feel my pussy clench around my fingers as I stroked myself in time with his movements. "But that's what makes you so perfect," he continued, his voice a purr that seemed to resonate deep in my core. "So ripe, so eager for a real man's touch."

My cheeks burned with a mix of shame and arousal as his eyes devoured the image on his phone. "Look at this," he murmured. "It's like a fucking miracle that your tiny waist can handle these monsters." "And that blonde hair," he said, his voice trailing off into a moan.

His hand tightened around his cock, and I could see the precum glisten at the tip.

Without thinking, I slipped my hand into my panties, my middle finger sliding into my wetness with ease.

He brought the panties to his face, inhaling deeply. "You smell so sweet," he groaned, his hand starting to move again. "So... fucking... sweet."

He looked down at my panties, now wrapped around his cock, and began to stroke himself.

"Fuck, fuck," he chanted, his hips thrusting up to meet his fist as he stroked. The fabric was soaked with his precum, and it clung to his shaft like a second skin. His thumb found the sensitive spot just beneath the head, and he rubbed it in slow, deliberate circles, his breathing growing ragged. "I can't believe I've been living with these tits under the same roof and I haven't tasted them yet."

The sound of his voice, so raw and needy, sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through me. I pushed two fingers inside myself, my thumb finding my clit and beginning to rub it in time with his strokes.

His strokes grew, the sounds of his hand working his shaft growing louder, more desperate. "I'm cumming," he panted. "Oh fuck, I'm cumming." And as the first rope of cum shot out, painting my panties and my bra in front of him, my pussy clenching around my fingers as I watched him, his eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.

l"I can't believe it," he murmured, his voice hoarse and thick with lust still looking at the photo on his phone. "You're so fucking beautiful."