Daddy's Girl

Daddy’s Girl

I was so tired the next morning. I couldn’t sleep last night. Thoughts of taking over all of Mom’s duties for Daddy filled my thoughts. I had rubbed my poor pussy raw masturbating last night. But I couldn’t stop. The idea gripped me. Massaging his feet, stripping him naked, laying beneath him as he pumped his cock in and out of me.

I knew about sex. Several of my friends had had sex, and they told me all about how disappointing the boys were the first times. “I wish I had a man do it,” they all said. “Someone older and sexier. Like your Dad, Melody.”

“I would totally let your dad pop my cherry,” Sun had giggled.

“Older men know how to get the job done,” Tiffany had proclaimed. “Trust me.”

“Every girl knows it,” agreed Donna. “But good luck finding an older man that isn’t a perv. He needs to be perfect. I bet your Dad would be perfect. Maybe I should spend the night.”

I had said no. There was no way I was letting Donna near my dad, not with the hungry look in her eye.

Now my thoughts were consumed with him. We were all alone. Three times I stood up and walked to my bedroom door, set on walking down the hall and slipping into bed with Daddy. But it was also so scary. I wanted him so badly, but incest was wrong. He wouldn’t want to sleep with me and cheat on Mom.

He was a good man not a pervert.

The third time I had stood at my door, gripping the nub, my stomach twisting. I listened. The house was so quiet. I strained to hear him in his bedroom. I imagined him awake, burning with desires for me, waiting for me to come and perform Mom’s wifely duties with him.

But I chickened out and ran back to my bed. And then masturbated to another orgasm.

I almost overslept and forgot to make Daddy breakfast. But I remembered at the last minute and rushed downstairs wearing only my thin nightgown. I whipped up Sunday breakfast and had it ready when Daddy came down at his usual 8 AM.

It was after breakfast he took me to the mall. I held his arm as we walked through the mall. I noticed the other girls and women who looked at them and a prideful surge went through him. He was desired but he was mine.

Until Mom got back.

I led Daddy to the first store, pulling him past the shoplifting detectors and into the vibrant clothing store. Everywhere I looked were frilly, feminine items. Daddy was the opposite of it all, standing tall, muscular, hunky.

“I only want you to buy skirts,” Daddy said. “I like my girls in skirts.”

“Is that why Mom never wears jeans or pants?”

Daddy nodded. “And you’re at that age where you should do the same.”

“But long skirts, like Mom? Hers are so boring.”

A smile crossed his lips. “Sweetheart, buy the shortest, tightest skirts you want. You have gorgeous legs. Let Daddy see them.”

Heat rushed up my legs. “Yes, Daddy,” I squeaked then turned away, my cheeks on fire. Daddy wanted to see my legs. I wish I was wearing a skirt right now instead of stupid shorts.

There were so many wonderful skirts. Short tennis skirts, pleated skirts, pencil skirts, flowery skirts, knee-length skirts, mid-thigh skirts, even shorter ones. I felt so daring when I grabbed on of those, imagining it only falling past my rear and not much else. It would show off so much of my legs. Daddy didn’t complain as I handed him another skirt to hold. He threw them over his muscular arms, a patient smile on his lips as he glanced at what I bought.

I liked flashy skirts with bright colors, drawing the eye.

And then I had to find blouses to go with them. We headed across the store where I snagged halter tops, peasant blouses, V-necks, scoop necks, baby doll t-shirts, belly shirts. With each one I considered which bottom it would go with, making my outfit plans. This top could go with three different skirts, bu this one only went with one. I took the top that could match three skirts.

Variety. I needed to mix up my clothing. I couldn’t wear the same outfit combinations all the time.

With a dozen blouses and skirts chosen, I headed into the back for the changing rooms. “I can’t wait to see how pretty you look,” Daddy said as I closed the door.

My cheeks blushed. I looked out the louvered slats. I could sort of see through them from my side, glimpsing his legs in his blue jeans while I pulled off the t-shirt I wore. A sudden surge of excitement went through me as I wiggled out of my shorts.

I was almost naked in here and Daddy was just on the other side.

I grabbed a knee-length skirt and a halter top that went well with it, adjusting my bra. I would have to get a strapless bra to wear with the halter top, my straps were too obvious. I stared at myself in the mirror, turning, loving how my braid of dark-brown hair fell down my back, almost reaching the soft swell of my rear. The skirt fell lovely across my butt. I shifted my hips, loving how the hem swayed about my legs.

“You dressed yet?”

“Coming, Daddy,” I giggled. “You need to be patient when girls are trying on clothing.”

“I’m not good at patience. I like to take what I want.”

A hot wave rushed through me. I almost said, “You can take me, Daddy,” but that would be absolutely stupid.

I stepped out, standing before him, suddenly so afraid. What if he hated it. His arms folded before him, his eyes studying me as I fidgeted. I played with my fingers before him, wishing he would say something.

“Straighten your back,” he said. “And turn around. Let me get a good look at you.”