The caravan settled into the quiet lakeside clearing under a blanket of stars. Jordan, 42 and weary from the drive, watched as his daughter Ivy and her friend Morgan, both 18, laughed over cheap wine by the fire pit. Ivy had insisted on bringing Morgan along, and soon enough the younger woman’s sharp wit kept the conversation lively. “You’re not half bad for a dad dragging us out here,” Morgan teased, her eyes glinting. “Most guys your age just bore us to sleep.” Ivy giggled but soon slumped over, dead asleep from the drinks.
Morgan felt the familiar thrum of being horny build low in her belly. She waited until the only sounds were Ivy’s soft snores, then slipped into her short nightgown and padded to Jordan’s door. Through the gap she saw him standing in nothing but green boxers, the fabric doing little to hide the outline beneath. Her pussy grew wet, dripping with sudden need as she bit her lip.
She pushed the door open. Jordan turned, startled. “Morgan? What the hell—”
“Shh. Ivy’s out cold,” she said, voice low and commanding. “And I’m not in the mood for small talk. Pointing at his cock, she added with a wicked grin, “Take those off. Let’s see if you’re all talk or if that caravan’s got some real heat.”
Jordan hesitated only a moment before stripping, his hard cock springing free. Morgan shed her nightgown in one fluid motion, strong and unashamed. She dropped to her knees, taking him in her mouth for a slow, teasing blowjob that had him panting and sweating. “Mmm, not bad,” she murmured around him, “but I’m running this show.”
She rose, turned, and bent over the edge of the bed, presenting her ass. Jordan gripped her hips and thrust into her dripping pussy, the rhythm building fast and filthy in doggy style. They moved from the bed to the floor and back again, Morgan directing every angle with sharp commands and breathless laughs. “Harder—yes, like that. Don’t you dare finish yet.”
Ten minutes later Jordan groaned, pulling out to spill hot cum into her waiting mouth. Morgan swallowed with a satisfied hum, licking her lips. “Round one,” she whispered, already plotting what Ivy’s continued slumber might allow tomorrow night.
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