Father-in-law You’re Staring at My Panties Way too Much
Father-in-Law, You’re Staring at My Panties Way Too Much
The afternoon was quiet, and the house felt unusually still. I had just finished folding the laundry when I realized someone was standing behind me. It was my father-in-law, smiling politely, pretending he had just walked in. But something about his eyes made the room feel warmer than it should.
I tried to ignore it. Maybe I was imagining things. Maybe he was just passing by. But each time I bent down to pick up another shirt, I could feel his gaze following me — slow, heavy, and lingering.
I straightened up, hugged the laundry basket, and forced a smile. “Anything I can help you with?” I asked, hoping he would take the hint.
He shook his head, muttered something soft, and stepped back. But those eyes? They didn’t look away. It made my heartbeat skip for a moment, like a soft warning inside my chest.
I walked toward the living room, hoping distance would fix the situation. But he followed, pretending to check the window or adjust the curtains. Every time I moved, I felt that silent stare on me. Not a word, just attention that felt a little too intentional.
I sat down, crossing my legs carefully. Even then, I could sense it — his glance dropping for a second longer than normal. It wasn’t loud or obvious, but it was enough to make the air feel tight around me.
I cleared my throat, hoping to break the strange tension. “You must be tired,” I said, trying to sound casual.
He smiled again, that same gentle smile he always had, but there was something else beneath it. Something that made me wish my husband were home earlier today.
The clock ticked slowly. Minutes felt longer. I adjusted my skirt slightly, pretending to fix the fabric, but really I was just trying to shield myself from that gaze that refused to look away.
Eventually, I stood up and headed to the kitchen. A safe place. A bright place. A space where I could breathe again. The sound of running water helped clear my mind, and for a moment, everything felt normal again.
But when I turned around, he was there again — close enough to make me jump. His expression was calm, almost too calm, as if he didn’t realize how close he had come.
“You startled me,” I laughed nervously.
He apologized softly, though his eyes told a different story. Still lingering. Still watching. Still making my skin tingle with an uncomfortable warmth.
I decided then that it was time to create a boundary, even if subtle. I grabbed my phone, pretended to make plans, walked deliberately toward my room, and shut the door behind me. A quiet barrier, but enough to give me space to breathe.
Leaning against the door, I exhaled slowly. The house was peaceful again. But the memory of that stare remained — a reminder of how easily comfort can shift into unease, and how important it is to trust the little warnings inside us.
Because sometimes, the smallest stare says more than words ever could.
I didn’t expect the morning to feel so strange, but the moment I walked into the living room, he looked up a little too quickly. His eyes darted away, yet I knew exactly where they had been a second earlier — at my panties peeking beneath my loose home shorts.
I tried to brush it off. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I was just overthinking. But every time I moved, I felt that quiet stare returning to my panties, almost like he couldn’t stop himself.
I shifted my position, crossed my legs, and adjusted my clothes, hoping he’d take the hint. Instead, the silence grew thicker, filled with glances he probably thought I didn’t notice.
I stood up slowly, pretending to check something in the kitchen. Distance felt safer. Even then, I could feel his gaze trailing after my panties, softer yet unmistakably curious.
