To his wife's disgust, however, he'd made up for the lack of fucking and masturbation with a lot of wet dreams over the past years, something his wife couldn't complain much about, since she'd realized that the only way he was going to have fewer wet dreams was if she allowed him to fuck her more often, something she was not about to do.

It sure felt good, sliding his foreskin up and down his veiny cock, watching the lube ooze out and moisten his bulbous cock-knob. His prick looked bigger now than when he'd been a teenager. He'd measured it once, when he was young, and he'd found it to be eight inches, measured along the top edge. Now it appeared a half-inch to an inch longer than that, and certainly thicker – and smellier. No matter how thoroughly he washed it, his wife had continually complained about the disgusting smell.

He was standing in front of the toilet with the bathroom door wide open, squatting slightly, his hips thrust forward, his hand yanking up and down his cock. Pre-cum ran over his grimy knuckles. He massaged his large, sweaty balls with his free hand. His jeans had ridden down to his knees, and the draft that wafted through the house felt good on his naked ass. He shucked off his shirt so he'd feel more naked and sexier, and resumed his ball-squeezing and cock-beating.

Visions of a girl's bare feet, blonde hair, and braless tits started to tease his imagination, but when he realized whose bare feet, blonde hair, and braless tits they were, he refused to dwell on the images. It wasn't right for a man to think of his daughter in that way. Try as he would to ignore them, the images persisted, returning repeatedly to tease him. He licked his lips. He saw Cindy's tits, braless under her blouse, her hot young toes, her silky, golden hair.