Many thanks to my friend Gayle for editing this story! Comments welcome.
My name is Brooke and this is my tale of how my family dramatic recently changed drastically. It's amazing how one simple comment can alter the way one views things, and subsequently change our behavior as well.
I am an only child, and must admit have always been a Daddy's girl. I've enjoyed a wonderful relationship with my mom over the years, but for some reason my dad and I just clicked on a higher level. Dad was my role model because of his intelligence, strength, and integrity and I looked up to him with complete admiration for as long as I can remember. We also enjoyed joking and teasing one another, which we loved but my mom thought was childish.
Dad was a senior executive with a major insurance company based in the mid-western US. Given his background, he always stressed prudent financial planning to me, so when I began making decent money he encouraged me to purchase my first home rather than wasting money on rent.
With the help of a realtor, Mom, Dad and I looked at a number of houses before I found one I liked. It needed lots of work and updating, but Dad said it had, "Good bones," so I made an offer and before long it was mine. Thankfully, both Mom and Dad volunteered to assist on my numerous projects, so at least I was not on my own. I wanted to jump right in and make major changes, but didn't have a lot of money to spend after the down payment. Dad said the easiest and cheapest way to alter the house was a fresh coat of paint all around, so after moving in I worked with Mom to pick out colors for both inside and out. Since it was summer, Dad suggested we begin with the outdoor painting and could do the indoor later as the weather became more inclement.
Shortly after I settled in, Mom and Dad came down the next weekend and we all jumped into working on the house. Dad and I were going to paint the outside while Mom cleaned and put things away inside. The home was only 1,300 square feet, so Dad figured it wouldn't take long to finish the outside, even though it needed a lot of prep work.
Dad and I worked side by side in the hot sun, and although it was dirty work, had as much fun as was possible given the situation. We had a radio playing outside, and we both took turns changing the station to something we liked. Dad kept sneaking it back to a classic rock station, while I preferred more modern, danceable tunes.
Mom stepped out to check on us at one point, just after Daddy had changed the station again. I playfully slapped his butt with the back of my scraper, which drew an immediate response from my mother. "Stop flirting with your father and let him get some work done," Mom said, which candidly stunned me.
Had it been anyone else in the world, what we were doing would clearly have been seen as flirting, but this was my dad for goodness sakes. Did Mom really believe I was flirting with Daddy or was she just joking? I felt my face go red and moved away to work in silence, but I couldn't get the word 'flirt' out of my head. Was I the family flirt?
I let Daddy play his rock station the rest of the day, and remained fairly quiet thereafter. When Mom and Dad left late in the day, I showered and went to bed early. Unfortunately, I could not get what my mom said out of my mind. I kept thinking about my relationship with my dad. He was by far the most important man in my life, and someone I admired like no other. I loved him to death, but I was left pondering if it somehow could be more than that. Was I IN love with him?
As a twenty nine year old woman, I had dated a number of men, some of whom I really loved. Yet as I thought back, I found that I consistently measured them up to one person, my dad. They were not as handsome, not as intelligent, not as strong, etc. I always told myself I should hold out for someone better, after all, it worked for my mom. The realization slowly began to build until it finally sunk in; I really was in love with my dad!
I wondered if I'd be able to face my mother again, pondering if somehow she'd seen right through me and knew my illicit secret. And could I face Daddy again, afraid I'd let something slip and he'd learn my feelings were far deeper than a daughter should have for her father? Fortunately, I didn't have much time to stew as they would be back in the morning to pick up where we left off earlier.
My parents arrived early and we all set about working without much fanfare. Dad and I continued scraping the outside while Mom busied herself indoors. Fortunately, it was much cooler than the day before which made the task marginally more pleasant.
We broke for lunch and all enjoyed a cold beer on the porch as we ate. I had been quiet most of the morning feeling a tad ill at ease, but Mom and Dad appeared normal as ever, so I tried my best to dismiss the feeling that they were somehow onto me. However, I still found it difficult to look at my dad for too long without getting a strange feeling deep in my belly.
By the end of lunch and much casual conversation, I was far more relaxed. I was sure Mom simply used the word 'flirt' as a substitute for joke, and wasn't trying to imply anything else. My mom could be very direct, but she hadn't said anything else, so I was certain I'd just overreacted.
In the afternoon we finished the scraping and sanding, so Dad showed me how to caulk around the windows and trim. He laid a bead down and turned to me to see that I'd followed what he was doing. I was feeling somewhat naughty being so close to him, and said quietly, "Nice caulk, Daddy." I shocked myself with my boldness, blushed slightly before I glanced around to make sure Mom was not hovering nearby.
Dad just shook his head slightly and in a drawn out way, responded, "Princess," clearly admonishing me with his tone. His lips slowly turned into a grin however, which made me feel like I had gotten away with something.
I went inside and grabbed another couple of beers for the two of us, and when I returned Dad was busily caulking another window. I handed him a beer and stood back and watched while he worked. Dad just seemed immensely capable to me, like there was nothing he couldn't do. I marveled at how an executive who spent most of his time in a suit was so willing to do manual labor for his far poorer daughter. I don't think he'd even painted his own home in ages, hiring contractors to do it for him, yet there he was.
My parents left early that evening, promising to be back the next weekend to start the painting. As I showered, I couldn't help thinking of my dad and of my daring 'caulk' comment. Before I even knew what was happening, I had the shower massager head between my legs pointed directly at my clit while I fingered my over-heated pussy. As my orgasm approached, I couldn't help but moan, "Oh, Daddy." I came hard and my knees buckled, but I leaned against the tile walls and somehow remained upright.
Over the next week, I couldn't get Dad out of my mind. At work, I daydreamed about him, and in the evenings at home I found myself deeply lost in my fantasy world of being with him in an intimate way. I'm ashamed to say I rubbed myself off more than a few times to the illicit thoughts.
On my way home from work one night I picked up a few gallons each of primer and paint for my dad and I to use. I also tried to come up with a ton of indoor projects to keep mom occupied elsewhere. Knowing how manipulative I was being made me feel terrible, so I tried not to think about it too much. The guilt was hard to ignore though.
I was surprised when my dad showed up alone on Saturday morning. He explained that mom had decided to visit her own mother, who had been ill, so it would just be the two of us. I felt a tingle run over my skin, knowing I'd have him all to myself for the day.
The morning started off quiet as I avoided flirting with my dad overtly, but he was his usual jovial self and slowly pulled me out of my shell. It was even hotter than the previous weekend, and at about eleven o'clock Dad pulled his shirt off and set about working topless. I complained that it was unfair, and he simply smiled at me and stated, "I don't mind if you do the same."
"Yah, right, Daddy," I responded, and then added, "Bet you'd love that."
Dad laughed and answered, "You bet. I haven't seen twenty-something boobies, since, well...I was twenty-something."
"Boobies, Daddy?" I said, shaking my head, "You're really showing your age."
"I know, I'm an old man," he replied, to which I added, "And a dirty one at that."
I couldn't help but steal views of his body. For a guy who just turned fifty, he was in amazing shape. He no longer possessed six pack abs, but he was solid all over. At six foot two, he stood well above my five foot eight inch frame. Even with my long, sleek legs, I was well shorter than my super sexy dad. He still had a thick head of black hair, which was peppered with a hint of grey and highlighted his dark eyes well.
We worked for another hour or so when I suggested we take a break for lunch. I grabbed the hose and held it as my dad washed the paint off his hands. When he was done, I handed him the hose so I could do the same. After I washed my hands, I was surprised when Dad turned the water upon me and blasted me from head to toe. The water was cold and I shrieked as he drenched me, but Dad simply laughed at my predicament.
Within moments Dad dropped the hose and I noticed his eyes were nearly bugging out of his head. I looked down and saw the water had made both my worn white tee shirt and sheer white bra essentially transparent. The cold water had also turned my nipples hard as rocks, and there was no mistaking them through the two soaking layers of clothing. A thrill instantly went through my entire body knowing that Dad was seeing my breasts like never before. In spite of my excitement, I took a long deep breath, and calmly said, "Jeez, Dad, I guess you really did want to see my boobies."
"Oh God, honey, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it, I swear," he babbled in response.
"It's okay," I replied, and then added, "I better get changed before lunch."
"Sweetie, I'm really sorry. Really," he answered emphatically, and I could tell he meant it.
"It's okay. You were just playing and accidents happen. Let's just eat and forget about it," I told him, trying to remain as steady on the outside as possible, while my insides were doing cartwheels.
The truth is, I was proud of my breasts. I was a late bloomer, and was jealous of the other girls at school when they budded before me. My twins finally began showing a couple of years later, and they swelled into what I thought was a perfect set, size 36 C.
I walked into my room and looked in the mirror. There was no escaping the fact that my breasts were completely on display. My dad clearly had a good view, which sent a shiver down my spine. "Hope you liked 'em, Daddy," I thought to myself as I peeled off the wet clothes. I reached up and cupped my breasts, then rolled my hard nipples between my fingers. I felt really naughty knowing my dad was down the hall and my door was wide open, but that just made me even hotter.
I shook my head clear and knew I didn't have time to pleasure myself the way I wanted to. At first I put on a dry bra and an old red tee shirt, but then reconsidered after looking at my somewhat plain appearance in the mirror. I was feeling super sexy and wanted to further tease Daddy, so I took off both and went to my dresser looking for something better to wear.
I chose to go braless, and put on a simple white top with a scoop neck. I knew that if I bent over daddy would get an unencumbered view of my breasts, the thought of which thrilled me. I tweaked my nipples for a moment to ensure they were really hard before I left to meet my dad in the kitchen where I found him sitting at the table looking somewhat guilty.
As I started making our sandwiches, he said, "I'm really sorry, sweetie. I honestly didn't mean it."
"Relax, I know you didn't," I replied as I worked with my back towards him.
"It's just, well, I didn't want you to think, umm...," he sputtered, trying to articulate his feelings.
I was suddenly emboldened that my confident father was suddenly off his game. Before he could say another word, I quickly turned and pulled my blouse above my breasts and said, "They're just boobs, Dad. Every woman has them, so just relax, okay?"
He turned his head away rapidly, then sighed, "Jeez, sweetie."
I loved the feeling of having the upper hand over my dad for a change, so I said, "Are my breasts that ugly that you can't even look at them?" He didn't say a word, so I added, "Look at me Daddy, are they that gross?"
Reluctantly, he turned towards me. I was still holding my shirt above my chest as he softly replied, "They're lovely."
With that, I pulled my shirt down and replied, "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" I knew he was shocked, but blood pounded through my veins at my boldness, driving me wild. Not only had my dad received a wonderful view of my breasts when he soaked my chest, but an even better one when I flashed him. I flashed my own father! And he said they were lovely too. God I was so hot!
I finished making our sandwiches on weak legs, and then we ate in relative silence. I found myself thrusting my chest out, wondering if my dad's eyes would wander to my firm breasts and hard nipples. My blouse displayed quite a bit of cleavage, and I honestly wanted him to look. His face was flush, and I wondered if it was from embarrassment or excitement.
I think Dad may have been nervous around me, so he let me play my station on the radio that afternoon. I turned a dance station on, so I had a good excuse to subtly shake my body as we worked alongside one another. I found numerous opportunities to bend over in dad's direction, showing off my unencumbered breasts and long legs.
Around six o'clock we decided to call it a day. I held the hose as Dad washed his hands, then he did the same for me. Inside I was praying he'd spray me again, but I could see he was uncomfortable and that was just not going to happen again. I kind of wished I had washed first so I could have sprayed him, but I guess it was an opportunity lost.
Suddenly, a naughty idea hit my head. Dad had brought a change of clothes, so I told him he should take a shower before heading home rather than get any paint on his car's upholstery. I snuck into the bathroom before he went in and stole most of the towels and even the bath mat. My home was older and the plumbing was rather loud, so when dad began his shower I quietly crept in and removed all the remaining towels and everything else with which my dad could cover himself, including his discarded clothes.
I sat across the hall in my guest bedroom waiting for Daddy to finish bathing. The old plumbing banged as he shut off the water, so I knew he was done. Only a moment later, I heard him call my name, "Brooke, I need a towel in here."
I walked to the door on shaky legs, and announced, "I have one out here for you, Daddy. Open the door."
The door opened just a couple of inches, and I saw a hand snake out. His fingers began to snap, as though he was trying to grab something that wasn't there.
I took a deep breath to steel my resolve, then said, "Open the door if you want the towel."
There was silence for a moment, and then I heard from behind the door, "Just hand it to me."
Once again, I paused before stating, "Daddy, you got to see my boobs twice today. I think it's only fair that I get to see your penis once."
"What! Are you kidding me?" he shouted.
I remained as calm as possible, and then responded, "No, I'm not. Do you want a towel or not?"
I felt the blood pounding through my veins, and wondered just what would happen next. It seemed like ages, but only fifteen seconds or so later I saw the door begin to swing open. Sweat rolled down my back as my dad came into view. He was completely naked, but held both hands in front of his groin like a little boy, a sheepish look upon his handsome face.
Ninety nine percent of me was uncertain, but the one percent won out and I said, "Let me see, Dad, fair is fair."
We stared into each other's eyes for a moment, before he slowly moved his hands away from his crotch. I cast my glance down and was shocked by what I saw. My dad's cock, even while flaccid, was at least five thick inches long. My largest boyfriend was just over seven inches when completely hard, and I instantly wondered just how big Dad could get.
My eyes soaked him in for a few seconds, before I tossed him the towel I had draped over my shoulder. "Dry yourself off, big Daddy," I said, shocking myself with the 'big' comment. I turned and walked to the kitchen, but had to sit down as my head was spinning.
Before my father left that evening, we shared an uncomfortable silence. No sooner was he out the door when I was on my bed frantically rubbing myself off. I could not get the image of his thick cock out of my head, but I was also thrilled by my audacity at making him open the door before my prying eyes. I came over and over again, imagining his hard cock buried deep inside of me.
I'm not going to lie; in all of my previous relationships I enjoyed the upper hand. I'm certain it's because I am considered quite attractive with a wonderful body. Yet suddenly I felt like I was losing control, in spite of my earlier bravado. For whatever reason, I could not get my dad's image out of my head and wanted to please him more than anything I'd ever done in my life.
I was surprised when my phone rang the next morning from my mom's cell phone. She said Grammy was feeling better, so she wanted to help out with the house like before. I had dressed in a subtly sexy outfit for my dad's benefit, so I quickly retreated to my room to change before Mom saw what I was wearing.
After Dad's car pulled in, they both exited and Mom came to me and gave me a big hug. She held me and whispered in my ear, "Grammy sends her love." I felt bad that I had barely thought of Gram given everything else that has going on, but held my mom tight as I knew how much it meant to her.
Dad stayed back so I wondered if he was so afraid of me that he felt the need to bring a chaperone. I was suddenly horrified; did I go too far the day before? Showing him my breasts was over the top, but demanding to see his cock was in another stratosphere altogether. I prayed he didn't tell Mom about what had happened.
We painted in silence for most of the morning while Mom worked indoors, but slowly I moved my way closer to Dad. Never before in my life had I been more nervous. I wasn't sure what to say, but finally a few self-conscience words softly escaped my mouth, "Sorry if you felt the need for a chaperone today."
I was waiting with baited breathe for his response, but he didn't leave me hanging long. My father leaned in and said quietly, "After what happened yesterday, you're the one that needs a chaperone from me." He stared into my eyes, and then gave me a wink before he began painting again.
Instantly I felt like I had lost five hundred pounds. Not only was my dad not upset with me, he basically admitted I needed someone to protect me from him! I found myself painting closer and closer to Dad all day. I know Mom was inside, but I just couldn't keep myself away from her husband of thirty years.
We had been flirting all day, and I felt the need to push things just a bit. Just before lunch I sauntered up to Dad and whispered, "You know, I was going to go braless today." I felt like an insolent little girl and wondered if he'd scold me.
"Well, your mom's been inside all day," he responded, and after looking around added, "Feel free to take it off after lunch." Moments later, I felt a sting on my bottom as he slapped my ass before moving away.