What I Saw When My Father Came Out of the Shower Changed Everything

In my house, it was my mother, my father, and me, since I’m an only child. They both worked shifts at a packaging plant, and whenever they could, they arranged their schedules so they wouldn’t overlap, so that one of them would be at home with me. They did it when I was a little girl and, although I was already twenty-one, they still did it out of pure habit.

The apartment was small: two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen, a living room, and a single bathroom we all shared. That bathroom was the critical point of our coexistence. Early in the morning, it was normal for two of us to end up inside at the same time, one showering and the other washing their face or combing their hair in front of the mirror.

Luckily, it was spacious. The toilet was tucked into a separate nook, and between the sink and the shower there was plenty of room to dry off without getting in the way of whoever was shaving. Even so, we all tried to be as modest as possible and to look at one another as little as necessary.

With my mother, I never had a problem. Since we were both women, we didn’t do anything to avoid each other; we were used to seeing each other naked and even helped one another put cream on our backs. My parents weren’t embarrassed with each other either, logically enough. The only delicate overlap was when my father and I crossed paths, and that had become more tense since I stopped being a little girl.

That’s why, until recently, the two of us had tried not to meet in the bathroom unless it was unavoidable.

I say “until recently” because, in the last few days, we’d been doing the exact opposite. As if we’d agreed without saying so, we not only stopped avoiding each other, but both of us started looking for any excuse to coincide, especially when we were alone in the house.

For me, everything changed one afternoon when I went in to leave some clean towels and found him coming out of the shower, completely naked. It was only a few seconds: I dropped the towels, apologized, and bolted. But in those seconds I couldn’t help staring at him.

Even at rest, what I saw seemed big to me, enough to catch my attention. In reality I could only make out his thick dark hair and a heavy bulge hanging underneath. That image left me with a mix of shame and lust, and it was that lust that awakened in me the need to see him again, this time calmly.

So I started taking advantage of every time he went in to shower. As soon as I stopped hearing the water, I’d invent a reason to go in and try to catch him naked. The first few times he covered himself on instinct and I didn’t get to see much.

But by the third time he must have put two and two together. It was too much of a coincidence that I always showed up right when he finished. That day he didn’t cover himself anymore: he kept drying his face with the towel, leaving everything on display. And the situation must have excited him too, because he wasn’t completely at rest. I got so nervous that I only looked for a moment before running off, but it was enough to confirm that he was very well endowed.

That was the turning point. I decided that next time I wouldn’t hold back: I would look at him as long as necessary. And he, for his part, must have thought something similar, because the next morning, when I went in the same way, he was waiting for me. Standing in front of the mirror, completely erect, pointing upward.

I had made up my mind, but seeing him like that almost made me run off all the same. In a matter of seconds I understood that if he was like that, it wasn’t by chance. That stopped me. I stood there staring, mouth slightly open, surprised.

It was huge. The head uncovered, shining. For a moment I stopped looking downward and searched for his face.

He was watching me with a half-smile, pleased that I was doing exactly what he had expected. Neither of us moved. He didn’t make the slightest gesture to cover himself or turn away. In the end I reacted, apologized as always, and left the bathroom with my pulse racing.

My head was a mess. What I had just seen had really shaken me. I had been with three guys in my life and none of them were anything like him, not even close, or at least that’s what my heated mind was telling me at that moment.

I’m thinking about my father as if I want to eat him up.

And there I stopped cold. He was my father. I told myself that under no circumstances could anything happen between us, and that he wouldn’t want something like that with his daughter either. I convinced myself it had only been curiosity on both sides, a kind of slightly intense game, but a game all the same.

I didn’t take long to discover how dangerous it is to play with fire.

***

Yes, he was my father and I was his daughter, but we were also a man and a woman. It was three in the afternoon on a sweltering summer day, my mother was on shift until ten at night, and we’d be alone for hours. All those circumstances made what happened possible.

The heat justified him having showered after lunch. But, looking back, he set a trap for me and I fell for it. At first without fully realizing it; later, as things progressed, I went along with it fully aware of where it was heading.

I was sitting at the living room table, messing around on the laptop, when I saw him appear wearing a pair of house shorts and a loose T-shirt. I couldn’t help looking at his crotch: the bulge was still there, clearly outlined. I tensed up.

That’s why I wasn’t surprised when he sat down in front of me at the table, when normally he would have sprawled out on the sofa. I knew he wanted to talk.

—Look, honey —he began—. Can we have an adult conversation?

—Of course, Dad. We both are, aren’t we? So it will be an adult conversation.

—Good. The question is: did you like what you saw?

—I don’t know what you’re talking about —I said, feeling the heat rise to my face.

—I’m talking about what you’ve been trying to see for days and what today, at last, I let you look at properly.

—If I saw it, it’s because you wanted me to. That’s why you were waiting for me like that.

—Of course. I knew you wanted to see it and I indulged you.

—Then thank you for satisfying my curiosity —I replied, trying to sound ironic.

—You’re welcome. And was it like you imagined?

—No. It’s much bigger than I thought.

—And does that please you or bother you?

—Neither one nor the other. It surprised me.

—Don’t get angry at what I’m going to ask you. I know you’ve been with a couple of boyfriends, because that’s the kind of thing you tell your mother and she tells me. Was any of them as big as mine?

—What a question, Dad, honestly. I’m your daughter. I talk about those things with Mom, woman to woman.

—And why not with me? It’s simple curiosity.

—All right. Without having seen it up close, I’ll tell you yours seems bigger than any of theirs. Happy?

—Very. Would you like to see it closer? Even touch it?

—What are you saying? Dad, I’m your daughter. Have you gone crazy?

—Don’t get upset. Since you tell me you didn’t see it well, I don’t mind showing it to you. We’re comfortable with each other.

—There are lines that a father and daughter shouldn’t cross, no matter how much trust there is. You know what? I’m going to lie down for a while and rest.

—Fine by me, honey.

I got up and shut myself in my room. I was sure he would have noticed my face burning.

***

The conversation made two things clear to me. The first: he had set all that up to gauge my reaction, because he was considering having something with me. The second, more unsettling: after what I’d seen, I was considering it too. I could no longer stop myself from wanting to touch him with my hands, and my body confirmed it: I was completely wet from the tension of that talk.

Convinced that he would keep playing his “game,” I understood that now it was up to me to take the step we were both waiting for. So, without hesitation, I stripped completely, got into bed, and pulled the sheet over myself.

I had already done my part. The rest depended on whether he was in the same mood I thought he was. First, he had to come. Second, he had to lift the sheet and find me naked. That would settle it.

And it happened exactly that way.

He came in, approached the bed, and lifted the sheet. Seeing me like that, he undressed too and lay down beside me, pressing against my back. I was on my side, and without saying a word he took my hand and guided it to him. I grabbed him. He was hard and hot, and my whole body shook.

He brought his mouth to my ear.

—Do you like it? —he whispered.

I swallowed.

—Yes.

One of his hands cupped a breast.

—Would you like to feel it inside you?

With a dry mouth, I answered again:

—Yes.

Then he took control. He moved toward the foot of the bed, spread my legs, and bent them at the knees. I watched him look at me before lowering his head. He started licking me slowly, opening me with his fingers, sinking his tongue in. It didn’t take me long to come in his mouth, and he took it all.

Then he rose to his knees, spread my legs wider, and rubbed himself against my entrance. As soon as he lined up, he thrust all the way in. I let out a cry of pure pleasure at feeling him fully inside me.

He started moving in that position while massaging my breasts and pinching my nipples. Then he brought his mouth to mine and we kissed deeply, tongue to tongue, panting. It was, without a doubt, the best thing I had ever felt, and the fact that it was him made everything multiply.

It was too much. I exploded in a second orgasm, this time with no control at all, shouting things I never would have imagined saying to him. When he felt the contractions, he quickened.

—I’m going to come, honey —he said in broken breaths—. Can I do it inside?

Before I could answer, I already felt his heat flooding into me, and between moans I told him yes. He emptied himself completely, pulsing, with a long groan that died against my neck.

When we were done, he collapsed beside me, and between gasps he said, half joking:

—Well, now you’ve seen it up close. More than that: you’ve had it all the way inside you. Now you’ll be able to compare sizes.

I played along, laughing.

—Yes, that’s true. Now I can tell you without any doubt that it’s the biggest I’ve had. And that from the very first day I caught sight of you in passing, I didn’t stop until I got this to happen.

—I knew it —he answered—. That’s why I did everything I did. I was sure you wanted it as much as I did.

***

We rested for a while, holding each other in silence, until I turned toward him.

—Hey, one thing. I’ve had it inside me, but seeing it properly, seeing it really, I still haven’t. If you don’t mind, let me look at it up close and taste it a little.

—That sounds perfect to me —he said, leaning back against the headboard.

I positioned myself between his legs and finally studied it calmly, just inches from my face. I took it in both hands and started slowly, running my tongue over it before taking it into my mouth. He brushed my hair away from my face to watch me better, and that attention lit me up even more.

I went up and down without hurry, feeling it harden again. One of his hands gently closed over the back of my neck, not forcing me, just keeping time with me. The thrill of knowing what we were doing mattered to me more than anything else; I had never felt anything like it with anyone.

When I felt he was close, I didn’t pull away. I took him in all the way, down to the last drop, and then I sat up slowly, looking him in the eyes with a smile.

—I’m not going to tell Mom about this —I said, still breathless.

—That would be best —he replied, laughing softly, pulling me in to lie beside him again.

We stayed like that, tangled together, while the afternoon sun slipped through the blinds and the clock moved on quietly. There were still hours before my mother came back. And the two of us knew, without saying it, that that afternoon was not going to be the last.