Daddy Let Me Help You Ch. 01

Mandy crept down the hallway on her tippytoes to her father's bedroom door, excited that she was going to surprise him. She was just about to push the door wide open and yell "surprise" when something stopped her.

She could still hear the sounds of the football match coming through the gap, the door being ajar, but she could hear something else as well. He father was breathing heavily and the bedclothes were rustling. At first she thought he might have been having some sort of attack but she didn't want to appear foolish by barging in on him to find nothing was wrong so she peeked through the gap in the door.

What she saw shocked her.

Her daddy had pulled the bedclothes down and was lying on the bed dressed only in his underpants. He was fondling a pair of knickers, which Mandy recognised as belonging to her mother, bringing them to his nose and sniffing them and then rubbing them on his erect penis which was encased in a nylon stocking... another of her mother's intimates.

Her father had an old magazine propped open on the side of the bed and although Mandy couldn't see everything it looked like he looking at pictures of a young woman dressed in lingerie, stockings and high heels with her legs wide open with her fingers stroking her pudenda over her knickers.

Her father was so engrossed, slowly turning the pages of the magazine while he masturbated that he had forgotten to close the door, in fact he had likely forgotten that Mandy was in the house.

Mandy watched fascinated as her father stroked his penis, the tip of his cock had made the stocking wet with pre-seminal fluid. Mandy had never seen an erect penis in real life and she was mesmerised but it. It was long and thick and powerful. Even through the gauzy nylon she could see the veins running along the shaft and the spongy mass of the glans.

Her father rubbed the satin knickers on his cock again for a couple of strokes and then bought them to his face so that the gusset covered his mouth and nose. He inhaled deeply and licked at the cotton gusset that still contained the funk of his wife's vaginal juices and stroked his cock faster.

Mandy actually jumped a little when gobbets of semen burst through the stocking covering her father's hard cock in a fountain of white sticky fluid that spattered on his chest and belly. Her father groaned into the knickers and rolled back his eyes as his orgasm coursed through his body.

Mandy knew that she should leave but she was fascinated by the tableaux in front of her. She felt a strange warmth in her belly but she always felt good when she was with her father but this was different.

She watched him milk every droplet of semen from his penis and then lie back panting heavily. After a while he whipped the stocking off his cock and Mandy saw the majesty of his cock as it slowly began to deflate. Her father dabbed at it with the knickers and then balled up the stocking and knickers and reached down painfully and tossed them under the bed. He took a handful of tissues from the bedside table and dabbed at the semen pooled on his chest and belly. He balled them up and tossed them across the room where they missed the bin by inches.

He closed the magazine and put it in a drawer on the bedside table, pulled up his underpants and rearranged the bedding so that he was covered by a sheet and went back to watching the football. He was concentrating on the match when suddenly he became alert and looked around the room sniffing the air.

"Jacky? Is that you?" he called out.

Mandy cleared her throat.

"No dad it's me. I'm wearing mum's perfume," she said as she slipped into her father's bedroom.

Steven Moore was momentarily stunned. He thought he was looking at his wife Jacky back in the days when he was a young bus conductor and she used to catch the number 9 to the New Hampshire Accounting and Secretarial School. Mandy looked like Jackie did back then in her little pleated skirt and Mary Jane's and the cloying scent of Poison perfume.

"My god you look so much like her. I never realised," Steve was gobsmacked.

His little girl had grown into a young woman without him noticing. She had been hovering around him for the last two years dressed in dowdy clothes, without makeup and her hair unkempt and he had never realised that underneath the food-stained, soot-smudged, manky tracksuits and jean-jumper sets was a beautiful butterfly waiting to emerge.

A single tear ran down his cheek.

"I don't have her tits dad," Mandy tried to make light of the situation.

"Step into the room and let me look at you," Steven wiped away the tear and smiled at her; a genuine heartfelt smile.

"I wanted to show you my school uniform. What do you think dad?" Mandy stepped into the middle of the room.

"You are beautiful pet," Steven's eyes roamed over his teenaged daughter.

Even though she was his daughter his eyes were drawn to her long coltish legs, her pert breasts and her pretty face enhanced by the smoky eye makeup and red lipstick. He hadn't been in the company of an attractive young woman for so long that he had forgotten what it was like.

"I am beautiful dad!" Mandy squealed girlishly and began to pirouette on the spot spinning faster and faster, giggling and tittering like a schoolgirl.

As she twirled faster and faster her skirt rode up until the hem was right at the top of her thighs. Steven couldn't help staring at those gorgeous firm legs clad in sheer nylon. His cock gave a twitch and he moved the sheet a little to hide his burgeoning erection.

Mandy lost her balance and fell onto the bed giddy and lightheaded. Her skirt was still rucked up and her blazer was open; her small breast pushing against her white cotton blouse causing it to gape and show off her bra.

"Oh goodness," she giggled as she hung onto her father for support.

"There, there, pet, be careful," Steven said, patting her on the back.

It was awkward; his daughter was sprawled on the bed half on him/half off him. Her breasts pressed into his chest and her face was inches from his; he could feel the shape of her body through the single sheet, the sweetness of her breath and the musky scent of her perfume. He was fully erect and he wondered if Mandy could feel his engorged manhood pressing into her body.

Mandy smiled and kissed her father on the lips, lingering a little so that he knew that she loved him and then she pushed herself away from him.

She stood up and pulled down the hem of her skirt, adjusted her blouse and buttoned the blazer.

"So I look ok? First term starts on Monday," Mandy smiled enthusiastically.

"You'll do fine pet; you look bangin'" Steven surreptitiously rearranged the sheet to hide his still erect cock.

Mandy saw him do it but at first it didn't register what he was doing. Then she realised that he was probably still a little erect from looking at his magazine and masturbating.

She put on her serious face, which she had used many times during her father's convalescence when he didn't want to do something that she wanted him to do.

"Dad... you really need to remember to close the door when you want privacy. If you can't get out of bed to do it, call me and I'll do it for you," Mandy put her hands on her hips.

Another gesture that her mother used to indicate that he was being scolded Steven thought.

Mandy saw storm clouds cross his eyes then he blushed with embarrassment.

"Of course pet. I understand," Steven gave his daughter a wry smile but his eyes were drawn to her legs again because putting her hands on her hips had caused her short skirt to rise up a little.

"Ok dad. I'm getting changed out of my uniform and going out to get us fish and chips and a couple of bottles of Boddingtons Bitter to celebrate."

Mandy literally skipped down the corridor back to her room.

Steven Moore leaned over and reached under the bed grunting with pain until his fingers found the recently used wanking stocking. He placed it over his hard cock, carefully avoiding the part that was still wet with his now cold semen. He pulled it tight around his shaft and began to stroke himself to orgasm.

He didn't need the dirty magazine to assist him. He conjured up the image of his daughter pirouetting in the middle of the room and the feel of her body against his when she fell on the bed.

*****

Mandy wasn't completely stupid. She knew that her father masturbated.

She knew that despite all their arguments and discourse that her father and mother had a healthy sex life. Their little council house was tiny and privacy was often difficult. Mandy had heard sex sounds coming from behind their bedroom door almost every night and before Jacky started stepping out on Steven they would kiss and cuddle in front of the telly which often led to Steven leading his wife upstairs and putting a sock on their bedroom doorknob, a signal that they were not to be disturbed. They often spent all of Sunday afternoon in bed 'taking a nap'.

After Jacky left Steven he had started to collect pornographic magazines: Escort, Club International, Razzle, Mayfair, Fiesta.

Mandy had found a whole box of them under her father's bed when she was cleaning his bedroom. She'd flicked through them. Their content was a combination of photographs and text, with the photographs almost entirely being of women in various stages of undress, almost always wearing stockings and sexy knickers. A couple of the magazines featured 'readers' wives' which presented photo-shoots taken in an ordinary location like a pub, or outdoors at a place familiar to British readers. These women too were scantily clad, almost always in stockings and knickers and hardly ever fully nude.

Some of the magazines had 'reader's submissions' sections with storylines that where hardly believable that often began with: 'I never believed that this would happen to me' and then went on describe a young man being seduced by his older buxom next door neighbour. Mandy had scoffed at most of the stories and giggled at some.

A lot of the pages were stuck together or had been pulled apart and torn and Mandy knew why. Jacky had had 'That Talk' with her after Mandy had her first period and had described male ejaculation a little too graphically for Mandy's comfort.

"It's white and sticky and smells a bit pasty... musky. Sometimes there's a lot and sometimes less, pet. It tastes..."

"Eew! Stop it mum! That's enough!" Mandy had put her hands over her ears and screwed up her face.

When she'd cleaned the house and made up her father's bedroom in anticipation of him being released from hospital Mandy had moved the box of pornographic magazines into his wardrobe because she didn't want his nurse or carer to find them. When home care was removed and Mandy became Steven's carer he had left the magazines in the wardrobe and put them in rotation, putting his current favourites in his bedside table drawer for easy access.

Unbeknown to Mandy, her father had taken all of Jacky's knickers, tights and stockings out of the laundry basket just after she left them. He used them for masturbatory aids, sniffing the diminishing smell of his wife's sex and perfume on her knickers and putting the nylons over his cock, reminiscing of the many times he'd fucked Jacky up against the wall of a ginnel, back when they had been courting. Her skirt hiked up, knickers pulled aside and her stocking-sheathed legs wrapped around him as he humped her against the brickwork.

He had done a good job of hiding these intimates and the first time Mandy had seen them was today and she wished she hadn't. She wished she could put the picture out of her head of her father lying in the bed wanking into one of her mother's old stockings whilst sniffing her knickers. She was also uncomfortable about the strange warmth she had felt in her belly while she watched him.

During 'That Talk' Jacky had told Mandy about female masturbation; another subject that she had found distasteful. As a growing girl she had used a hand mirror to see what she looked like down there and had found nothing that looked as beautiful as her mother described.

Being robbed of her adolescence Mandy had been unable to discuss these issues with other girls her age and she had never had a boyfriend so she was clueless really as to why men seemed to be obsessed with the thing women had between their legs. The best she got from Jacky was that 'it feels nice'.

Mandy was not immune from these feelings of course. She been doing the washing dressed only in her knickers and a full-slip and leaned against the washing machine in exhaustion when she became aware that that the cyclic rumble of the washer-dryer was producing a rather delightful tingle from between her legs. Another time she had been using the vacuum cleaner and had put the hose between her legs while she bent down to pick something sticky off the carpet when she became aware that the rhythmic throb of the hose pressing on her pudenda through her jeans was causing that familiar tingle.

But Mandy had never purposely put her hand down there other than to wash it or pat it dry after peeing.

She shook these thoughts from her head as she drove down to the chippy and the off-licence to get their dinner and the Boddingtons. They ate their fish and chips and drank their Boddies in front of the telly watching Are You Being Served? both of them blushing during a scene where Miss Brahms gets her tunic caught in the lift door and it rips off her skirt exposing her tights and knickers. Mrs. Slocombe comes to her rescue and wraps her in a blanket to keep her safe from the prying eyes of Mr. Lucas.

The next day Mandy approached Upper Thomas Street School for Girls with some trepidation. The main school taught girls up to GCSE level. The Annex around the corner was where the girls taking their A Levels were schooled.

Although she was one of the less affluent students she was one of the few who had a car and she parked it in the teachers car park and walked around the front to the main entrance. The school was an imposing red brick structure built around a quadrangle where most of the girls were standing around in excited groups talking about what they had done during the holiday break.

The Fifth Formers were easily identifiable as the older girls, mostly sixteen year olds. They were the ones pushing the school uniform codes to the boundaries. Their skirts were shorter, their makeup heavier, their hair styled mostly in the current fad of crimped waves and they exuded an air of confidence and entitlement. They were all wearing sheer flesh-toned or glossy black tights and expensive block-heeled Mary Jane's.

Mandy was shy but she was determined to introduce herself so she wandered over and hung around the periphery. The other girls gave her the once over and one of the uttered 'another povo' and turned their backs on her.

"Aren't you a little bit too old to be here? Shouldn't you be behind a counter in Sainsbury's handing out makeup samples," one of the girls snipped.

Mandy turned away just as bell rang to indicate that the girls should proceed to their homerooms. Mandy made sure she was the last one to enter the Fifth Form homeroom. The pecking order was obvious. The entitled princesses were all gathered together in the centre of the room. These girls made up the majority. The plump, skinny, homely, speccy, intellectuals sat at the front of the class. At the back of the class were the povos and the radicals. One was a punk rocker with Siouxsie and the Banshees makeup, hair and laddered black tights. One was a Blondie lookalike with peroxide blonde hair, heavy makeup and a skirt that broke the rules by a good five centimetres. The other two were dressed as best as they could in their 'charity-shop' uniforms.

Mandy made her way to the back of the classroom.

"Hello mum," Siouxsie smiled but it was genuine.

"Sorry babes, I'm taking the piss. I'm Vicky, this is Sandra," she pointed to the Blondie wannabe.

"And that's Betty and Susan. Welcome to The Substitutes," Vicky grinned

"Substitutes?" Mandy looked puzzled.

"The Second Stringers babes, the bench warmers, the ones who never make the team," Vickie explained.

"It's a name Vicky came up with. I think we are better than those stuck up cows anyway and those Swatties in the front row," Susan waved her hand at the entitled princesses and the intellectuals.

"I'm not here to join any cliques. I just want to do well and go on to my A levels," Mandy replied.

"Oh... Mandy Moore by the way," she shook hands with the other girls.

"Oh we're the same babes. We all want to get our GCSE. We might look like trouble but most of the time we keep our heads down and study just as hard as anybody else. You don't make the grades here and they kick you out," Betty interjected.

"I bet you're a povo like me and Susan... a bursary student. I can tell by your uniform that you got it from the charity shop. The bitches that run it deliberately give some of the girls the wrong sizes. It's run by the mothers of that lot," Betty pointed at the princess brigade.

"Take it as a sign of envy love. They only do it to the girls they think are prettier than their daughters. They did you a favour anyway, that kit being too small for you shows off all yer good bits," Betty laughed and the others joined in.

Mandy had found her tribe.

"Quiet please girls, take your seats and let's get this term started shall we?" a matronly woman in a stylish skirt-suit with her hair pulled back into a bun clapped her hands.

Mandy thought the woman would be quite the looker if she let her hair out and worked harder on her makeup.

"Mrs Frobisher; the Fifth Form Dean," Susan whispered and the girls took their seats.

Mrs Frobisher spent the morning revising the curricula, handing out text books and going over their timetables. She emphasised some of the school rules and welcomed the new pupils, embarrassing them by making them stand up and introduce themselves.

Mandy felt all eyes on her as she stood nervously and introduced herself and her circumstances for being here. She played nervously with the hem of her skirt.

"So it was your dad that got blown up on the Number 42? Did he get anything blown off? Does he know who did it? How much compo is he getting?" a string of questions were fired at Mandy by the princesses.

"Now, now girls, let's not put too much pressure on Miss Moore on her first day. I'm sure just coming back to school after all this time is pressure enough," Mrs Frobisher gave Mandy a dour smile.

A bell rang.

"Ok girls, off to lunch and then pick up your timetables. You five up the back stay behind please," Mrs Frobisher closed the door as the last girl left and made her way to the back of the classroom.

"Vicky and Sandra. I see neither of you have matured during the holidays, still bending the rules and dressing like harlots. Take that hem down at least five centimetres Sandra and change those tights Vicky! You other bursary students should be thankful you're allowed to study here at Upper Thomas Street and I'm letting you know right now that I won't be taking any poppycock," Mrs Frobisher's face became red with anger.

"And you Miss Moore... you're an adult now, although no one would suspect it looking at you," Mrs Frobisher looked down at Mandy condescendingly.

"All of you! Two tickets and you're out! I'm just not putting up with any poppycock at all this term!" Mrs Frobisher abruptly turned and stomped away.

"What brought that on?" Betty looked puzzled.

"Well someone might have got pissed and egged Mrs Frobisher's car and toilet-papered her garden during the hols," Vicky blushed.

"And someone might have written 'Mrs Frobisher sucks Mr Handsworthy's willy' in the lady's loo on the last day of last term," Vicky went on.

"Is that all?" Betty cringed.