Suzie’s Masturbation Masterclass


Although I’ve written this story from a personal point of view, it’s a complete work of fiction. Any characters depicted herein are at least 18 years old.


“Excuse me, sir, would you like to try our new drink?”

You’re in a superstore. A very attractive, curvy, blonde young lady smiles at you and a offers a small sample of alcohol. She’s wearing a figure-hugging dress, cut low enough to arouse without being indecent. The drink is almost as delicious as she is, you take the special offer voucher and place a bottle in your trolley in the hope that you can recapture an image of her later that evening, drinking her good health, whilst sat next to your rather plump wife and hoping to god you don’t get a boner.

Sounds familiar? Good!

Suzie is my daughter, 22 years old and working for a promotions company. She works hard and is very popular with management and customers alike. She’s confident and, above all, she’s successful; her salary and bonuses reflect her success. That particular drink sold out completely in the four days she was at the store.

It was pure luck that brought her into sales. She was always good at school, popular with girls because they could confide in her, often just a listening ear when problems arose. She was popular with boys for a totally different reason. She won a place at university, studying psychology, but just couldn’t settle away from home and gave up part way into the course.

Suzie was never one to sit around; encouraged by a boyfriend she had at the time she studied massage at a local college. I might add that she was intending to work with a beauty salon, not a backstreet brothel – never Suzie, she picked her boyfriends with great care.

And so it came to pass that a good friend of mine noting her diligence, enthusiam, charm and, yes, her body, told her of a vacancy with the promotions company for which she now works.

Suzie, my Suzie, always a smiley happy girl all through childhood. Intelligent, good at school and always eager to work hard. Today, though a pint-sized 5 feet tall, she’s a keen swimmer, plays several sports when she has time, is a slim size 10 with medium length ash blonde hair, twinkly blue eyes and 32c breasts.


2011 was a bad year. Christine, my wife and my best friend for 26 years left me. She had taken up her interest in art again and enrolled for a course of evening classes to improve her skills. Despite being my best friend, intimacy between us had dwindled year on year. She met a man 7 years younger than her who was also on the art course and started going for a drink with him each Wednesday evening after the course ended. The drinks at the pub changed to drinks at his home and … well you know the routine without me boring you with details. She moved in with him in August of that year.

Naturally I was devastated. Suzie, despite having been at university and later moving in with her boyfriend, realised probably before I did there were problems. I guess real problems started when Suzie first went away to university. Up to then Christine and I weren’t alone in the house. Not having Suzie around meant not having to work together to feed, wash and iron clothes, clear up after her and taxi her around (at one point I threatened to have ‘cash machine’ tattooed on my forehead and Christine already had a sign ‘Mum’s taxi’ hanging in the front window of our car).

The first time daughter Suzie, then 18, came home at term (trimester) end before Christmas, I’d just had a disagreement with her mother, who had gone out in a temper. I was sat on the sofa looking and feeling totally pissed off and I’d opened a bottle of Chardonnay — yes guys I know it should have been beer or whisky but I like Chardonnay — and I was drinking it from a half-pint glass. My little grown-up daughter came and sat on my lap.

“Daddy, don’t look so gloomy,” said Suzie, taking the glass from me and drinking 2 mouthfuls.

“She’ll be back before long. You know you two always make up.”

Perhaps I was too honest and open, but my little grown-up daughter was very good at listening. I needed to unburden.

“Making up isn’t what it used to be. Maybe a half apology. No kiss and no hugs I’ll bet when we go to bed.”

“Oh daddy. Here, you’ve always got me.” She put her arm around me. Without thinking I moved my head to rest on her chest. She kissed me on my cheek.

Suzie went to fetch another glass, a half-pint one, shortly followed by another bottle of wine. Being a student, Suzie wasn’t bothered about labels; any wine would do. There were genuine tears in my eyes as I explained further what I’d just said. There was little intimacy now between Christine and I. When I’d finished I felt I’d really told Suzie too much but, as I said earlier, she’s a very good listener. I had unburdened a lot. We had almost finished 2 bottles.

“Oh daddy, I’m really sorry to hear …” Alcohol enhanced, the kiss on my cheek became a kiss on my lips. Maybe I shouldn’t have but my hand went under bahis firmaları her top, just stroking her side. Christine was denying me everything and I needed to touch. I needed it so badly. Slowly but surely my hand moved up until it reached her bra.

Strangely, Suzie didn’t say a word but kissed me again, full on my lips, trying to ease my lips apart. I relaxed my mouth and so did she. She pullled away, reached behind and unhooked her bra, took another long drink and moved my hand upwards, touching her left breast. The alcohol must have dulled my sense of responsibility for I left it there, slowly circling round a very firm nipple.

Suzie shivered a little. Realising her reaction I quickly pulled my hand away.

My daughter, my dear little grown-up daughter caught my hand and returned it to where it had been.

“No, Suzie, this isn’t right.”

“Sssh, daddy. That felt really good. You have a very gentle touch, unlike some guys my age. I know it may feel wrong but I’m here for you, here to listen and here for you to touch.

My daughter’s breast felt good, really good; warm, soft, smooth and firm. My cock knew that too. For the first time in weeks I was becoming aroused. Her nipple responded to my touch. Suzie shivered again, pleasure messages were being sent to her brain.

She pulled away again, this time to remove her top and free her bra. Both fell to the floor. The movement of her ass rubbed through my pants and against my cock. She had little difficulty in knowing how hard it was.

“See, you’re enjoying this. I’m enjoying it. That’s only got to be good.”

“But … ” I started. She wagged a finger and put it to my lip.

“But nothing. Chill daddy. Mum has been a real pain. You have been good to her all these years. You have helped and supported me all the way and I need this every bit that you do. Now show me what you shared with mum when you were first married.” And with a giggle, “You can remember can’t you?”

“Yes I can! Are you sure you …?”

“Try me.”

I thought for a moment or two. “I guess the first thing that really got me going when I married your mum was her figure. To see her naked in the bedroom. She would pause after getting undressed, stand a while, twirl around, let me see her naked before she got into bed.”

“Like this?” Half pissed as she was, Suzie stood up and started to unbuckle her skirt.

“No, Suzie. What if mum comes back in?”

“Shush! Mum was in a shit mood. It will be at least another hour. Now do you want me to … or not?”

“Oh Suzie, yes. Please. I’ve wanted to look at you for a long, long time.” The drink was doing the talking for me. The drink seemed also to have removed Suzie’s inhibitions.

Suzie’s skirt, helped by a little wiggle, fell to the floor. She giggled — you know like some girls do after alcohol. Her tights and panties peeled off, she stood naked in front of me. I rapidly drew in my breath. What I saw was beyond my wildest dreams and it was going to enhance my dreams for some time to come.

My daughter, my sweet little girl, was now the most beautiful young lady in the world. Ash blonde hair to her shoulders, round face, cute nose, blue eyes and wonderful lips just smiling for me. Lightly and evenly tanned all the way down from her occasional sunbed sessions. Taut, firm breasts with mid brown perky nipples perfectly complemented by the slightly darker areaola, smooth neck, shoulders and perfectly proportioned hips, lightly muscled arms from her love of swimming and tennis, naturally grown long nails with just a touch of varnish.

A tight slim tummy, smooth hips outlining her pussy, short blonde pubic hairs hardly masking any detail, short but elegant and equally light-muscled legs. My eyes were drawn back to her vee, that divine slit only slightly hidden by hair and this didn’t go unnoticed by Suzie.

I could have lovingly gazed at her all evening but she came and sat on my lap again. We worried not about being father and daughter as Suzie taught ME how to kiss. My hands never left touch with her sides, her breasts, her legs and thighs. She swivelled slightly to give me access to run my hand up the inside of her thigh to her sex. I noticed her wetness and returned to run my fingers across that most delicate area.

Coming to my senses again I abruptly stopped, broke the kiss and sat upright.

“Your mother may come in at any time. We must stop. This is wrong.”


Suzie was just buckling her skirt as we heard the front door. Bra quickly fastened and top back on, Suzie was just smoothing her clothing down as Christine walked unsteadily into the room. She too had drunk rather too much.

Nothing much was said by all three of us. Suzie went to her room and switched her TV on. Christine and I strained conversation before she went to bed, shortly followed by me. As I lay in bed the scent of Suzie’s sex was still on my fingers, a dark, deep musky slightly pungent smell. An intensive sexual smell that rapidly brought back kaçak iddaa my arousal. Christine was soon sound asleep, hastened and deepened by the alcohol. I lay on my back, gently stroking, inhaling Suzie’s highly sexual perfume. I tried to cum but the fear of rousing my wife left me unsatisfied.

The air still wasn’t clear the next day. Suzie intervened where possible to get Christine and I talking again which, given both Christine and I had hangovers, proved nigh impossible. That night in bed was much the same as before, except I didn’t have Suzie’s unique female scent to ease me into sleep.

The following weekend came far too slowly. Christine announced she was going Christmas shopping. I took that to mean that it included my usual socks and a box of Chocolate Gingers. She said she would lunch in the shopping mall and call at Emily’s on the way back.

“Expect me home around teatime. I’ll ring, and you can have something ready for me.”

“Like a sharp axe?” I muttered. Fortunately she didn’t hear.

As soon as Christine left I heard Suzie go into the shower. Ten minutes later I could hear the hairdryer and she was soon downstairs. I still wasn’t feeling great, having been ignored most of the previous few days. My dear daughter, however, was in an upbeat mood. Despite the winter cold outside, she had quite a short skirt on and no tights. Smiling, she came over and sat on my lap.

“I’m here to cheer you up, daddy,” she said.

Having my short-skirted daughter on my lap had already cheered me up. She cuddled up and moved my hand onto her leg. When I didn’t get the message, she moved my hand higher. I remembered what she said a few days before about being softer, gentler than her boyfriends I lightly traced a line from her knee, along the inside of her thigh up to her skirt. She opened her legs, inviting me to continue. I paused.

“Da-aa-ad-ee” she said. “Hell! Do I have to spell it out?”

I still hesitated.

“For fuck’s sake daddy! Either I go back upstairs and frig myself off, or you do it. Now which do you want? Your choice.”

This was the first time I’d heard my ultra-cool daughter swear directly at me. She stood up.

“Well?” Her voice moved up a notch. “Mum pisses you off, she’s ignored you all week, she hasn’t let you touch her let alone fuck her.” She paused. “I haven’t had any decent sex since I went to uni. I haven’t frigged myself for weeks. I’m as randy as hell and you, you, you just …” She made to leave.

“Stop honey,” I’d never seen Suzie in this mood, so annoyed before. PMT? Frustration? Just too much work at uni? I don’t know. I patted my lap.

She crossed the room.

“I guess I’m still in pissed off mode and you are my daughter who I’m supposed to protect, not abuse. After your mother all this week … I suppose I’m not in the mood. I know you’re trying to help … but why?”

“Jeez. Wait. How can I convince you?” She was annoyed again. “A few nights ago you wanted to look. You said you’d liked to see mum when you were first married. You always wanted to see me. Your touch was real good, real slow, so confident. We were interrupted. What do you want? A second look? Here!”

With that my dear little 18 year old grown-up daughter started a very slow striptease. A very sexy striptease. When she’d finished she tossed her panties to me. Waited. I put the gusset to my nose, much like I’d done with her mother many years ago. It smelled good. It smelled very good. It brought back memories. I smiled for the first time in days.

“Ok, your bedroom.” At least if Christine had changed her mind and came back early I had a chance. What the fuck! My sweet little grown-up daughter had given me a real invitation. I’d be a fool to turn it down.

She picked up her clothes. I followed her up the stairs, into her room.

“Bed. Lie down. Eyes closed. You open your eyes and I stop, go downstairs, you frig yourself. OK?”

She nodded. Tables were turned. Suzie was laid, stark naked, flat on the bed. I took a moment or two to take a look, to memorise such a beautiful view. My gorgeous little grown-up daughter.

I started to tickle, just above her left ankle, just a very light tickle and teasing her skin — nothing more. I kissed her toes, quickly flicking my tongue between each of the gaps. Gradually I worked up the inside of her leg, stopping at her knee and switching to the right leg. Then without warning I moved up to her breasts, circling all around.

Changing again, I circled around her hip bones, tickling with my fingers inwards to her belly button and below. Then her lower legs, then the inside of her arms, wrist upwards. Changing tack, I kissed and ran my tongue along her slit, poking through her pubic hair into it and savouring the taste. And so this continued, Suzie never knowing where I would go next.

I paused. Wondering if I’d stopped, Suzie opened her eyes. Wrong move!

“You opened your eyes. I’m going.” I started to walk away.

“No daddy, you tricked me. That felt kaçak bahis good … and my toes … wow! Please.”

“My rules. You peeped.” I thought for a moment.

“Unless … unless … hmmm … unless you pay a forfeit.”


“I stay, you frig, I watch.”


“I help. But I’m not in the mood anymore.” I paused. Though watching my daughter fingering herself might just help.

‘Da-aa-ad-ee! That’s real pervy. I wouldn’t even let a boyfriend watch me.”

“OK. Bye honey. Have fun.”

Little grown-up daughter thought some more. “Ok.”

“Close up?”

“No, that’s far too pervy.”

“I want to see where you touch, what you like doing to yourself. Your mother wouldn’t let me watch her.”

Suzie thought for a moment. “Daddy, that’s real pervy … and … ” A pause. “OK, it’s cool, but I’ll be nervous.”

“You try to seduce your father and frigging yourself makes you nervous?”

“I never had an audience before.”

“Shut your eyes then.”

“I always do.”

“No problem there then.”

I sat on the carpet at the end of Suzie’s bed and waited, trying to be as invisible as possible.

Slowly, very slowly at first my grown-up daughter lazily traced her fingertips down her belly, circling her belly several times. Then upwards to her breasts gently pulling at her nipples, enough to arouse but not hurt, sometimes crossing her arms and letting her fingers trail away to caress the sides of her breasts. Suzie seemed to stay here for a while, giving them just the faintest of touches with her eyes closed.

Moving upwards again she lightly tickled under her armpits, down the sides of her breasts again then cupping her hands over and across them, and circling the nipples this time pinching them hard.

She continued down her belly, her hips and across again to her belly button. Slightly lower now to the fine, short covering of blonde pubic hair, stopping, reversing, repeating many times what she had done — going back to the start, repeating and retracing the movements of her sensuous fingers.

This went on for a good 15 minutes.

My girl, my sweet little grown-up up girl was not making love to her sex, her pussy, her neglected cunt. No touches, no rubs … not yet. She was making love to her skin, the largest organ of her body; and the way she was caressing it, the largest sex organ of her body. It was as if every inch of her had suddenly become ultra sexual.

Every touch, every tickle, every smooth stroke with her nimble fingers had its own separate function; each had been well practised, well rehearsed. She knew every small part of her body. Like an orchestra, each part meant nothing on its own. All together it was a symphony of sexual arousal.

What I saw had become a masterclass in masturbation. She was the tutor and I was the very inexperienced student. Every expression on her face showed intense concentration. She was lost in her own world in a quest for complete sexual fulfillment.

I sat hypnotised. I wanted to touch her too, to feel her sex, to smell and taste. But I was helpless to move and almost helpless to breathe, scared of disturbing her thoughts. She never paused, never hesitated.

Eventually her slender, tender fingers traced further down; down to her legs, returning along the insides of her thighs for several minutes more – each time moving slightly nearer to her pubis.

Only then did her legs begin to move apart.

I remained still and quiet, my throat had suddenly become very dry. I could already see dampness glistening when suddenly one finger darted into her vagina. Dipped in and dipped out, solely to take up moisture, lubrication from that magic, ever flowing well. Lubrication to enable her to lightly skate over that nub of pleasure that every girl, every woman has. Some worship it, many are just aware of its presence, some live their lives pretending it never exists.

My little grown-up daughter was well aware, touching and caressing her clit just sufficiently to encourage those tiny nerves within to send messages of pleasure to her brain. Ever so slightly the speed of her touches, the pressure of just a single finger increased exactly in sync with the sexual arousal her pleasure brain was conveying.

She still had her eyes closed, her mind focussed completely on the pleasure she was giving herself. Bit by bit her hips began to move, to raise upwards, gyrate ever so slowly. I watched her face, an intense expression of concentration.

Suzie, my Suzie, my little grown-up Suzie was letting her own sexual energy build from within her. The slight movements became determined movements. Her hips gyrated more and she bucked as her arousal built.

She turned over, her hand working tirelessly, her weight adding to the pressure on her pubis. Her bottom, her perfectly rounded ass moved up and down faster and faster adding more pressure. Her hips began to gyrate again, she began uttering quiet moans of pleasure. Then without warning her other hand moved around and the middle finger touched against the ring of her anus, lightly probing but never moving far inside. Turning onto her back again her movements accelerated more and more and then …

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