Jayne's World Pt. 26

In some ways they worked. Well at least they gave me part of what I was after which was his attention. I caught him looking at me numerous times and just loved that. The look in his eyes, the adoration was what I thought of it, did things to me. I would often walk around the house in a state of quite high arousal as I felt his eyes burning into my legs, breasts, bum or stomach.

I was never quite sure whether mum noticed or not, but then she also dressed in a rather cavalier manner, showing much more of her great big boobs and shapely legs than mothers, or wives come to that, should flaunt around the house. That said, our relationship continued to deteriorate pretty much, or so it seemed to me, in line with hers and dad's deteriorating.

"So, you've sorted out the dress for the prom I assume?" she asked one day when I was sitting around moodily doing nothing.

"Yeah it's all done. Thanks for the suggestions," I replied, not looking at her. Since dad had taken the photos and the incident in the garden, the atmosphere between mum and me, which was always pretty awful, had worsened considerably.

"They were good photos Jay," she went on, "looked as though you were enjoying yourself." That sent a little shiver through me as, at first, I couldn't work out why and what she meant. Then it hit me that she must know something, and that made me wonder whether he'd told her about the bare boobs incident in the garden. Surely not, I told myself, knowing full well that he may have. She accentuated my feelings when she went on, "Yes, it looked as if you were enjoying modelling for your dad; were you?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Just what I say, the photos were good, it looked as if you were having fun posing, they were sort of sexy."

"Don't be daft," I said gruffly, getting up and slinking sulkily back to my 'granny flat' above the garage.

What the fuck's going on? I thought to myself as I threw myself onto the bed in the main bedroom of the flat. What's he been up to with her, I asked myself repeatedly? Alright, I sent her the photos and some were slightly more than me standing looking at dad's camera, particularly when I was in the low cut, black dress with the thin spaghetti straps. Had I shown too much, was I really posing and preening, had he taken shots when I wasn't aware? What did she know? Mum was as thick as a plank intellectually but as sharp as a button on basic things.

This occupied my mind for a couple of days until she had yet another night away on a two-day golf thing and, at last, dad and I were alone. This was really the first time we'd been alone for any length of time since he'd seen me in the garden and certainly the first time we'd talked properly and by properly I guess I mean meaningfully about me, or should I say us?

As I had before when we were home alone together, my little mind played games. As I prepared dinner for us, I imagined we really were living together and that I was his partner. It was sort of harmless, I suppose, but with rather naughty undertones, especially as I was thinking, as I peeled the potatoes before roasting them with the leg of lamb, of us sleeping together later. More to the point, though, as I prepared the dinner, I resolved to talk to him about the photos and what the hell had gone on with mum.

The atmosphere was tense as we ate dinner. I was bolstering myself and listening for the opportunity to bring up the subject but it didn't come until we had almost finished dinner and he was pouring me a third small glass of wine, which I finished quickly. That probably gave me the pluck to blurt out, "Mum was talking to me about the photos."

"Which photos?"

"Those you took of me in my new clothes."

"Oh okay, she say she liked them then?"

"Well yes the ones I sent yes, she'd already told me that."

"So what's the issue then?"

"Did you show her some more?"

"Yes I think so, why?"

"Why did you show her them?"

"If I remember she asked if I had any more when we were talking about the clothes when the credit card bill came in, they were expensive or so she thought."

"Well she said other things to me."

"Like what?"

"That I looked as if I was enjoying it, that I was posing and............" I said pausing.

"And what?"

"That they were sexy."

"Well love you can be, especially when you're posing."

"What, sexy?" I asked, maybe sounding a little incredulous. He didn't respond for a moment or two and looked rather sheepish before saying, "Yes she said that to me too."

"Which ones are you talking about?" I asked, adding, "I only saw the ones I sent to her; what other ones are they and where are they?"

"Actually, I have a confession love, I downloaded them onto the PC, that's where she saw them."

"How the hell many are there?"

"Oh, thirty or forty I guess."

"Bloody hell I didn't realise you took that many, can I see them?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Why not?"

"Look Jayne, I am not proud of this, but I took some when you weren't looking."

"What? When did you, what was I doing?"

Looking as guilty as hell, and avoiding my gaze, he muttered, "When you weren't posing and as you left the room."

"Dad no," I gasped for some reason feeling a rush of excitement go through me, "Let me see them."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea love."

"No, why not? If they're shots of me they're mine really, aren't they?" I said with a grim smile.

"Oh okay then, yes I suppose they are, come on let's go into the study and look at them on the PC.

Standing side by side, close together as he booted up the computer, I wondered just what I was going to see. Almost as soon as the photos started coming up one by one on the computer screen, I knew what mum meant by me looking as if I was enjoying myself and more to the point that they were sexy. I looked happy and relaxed and without doubt the way I posed in many of them did have a sexual slant to them. I hadn't realised it at the time, but I was clearly enjoying posing and being photographed by my father and to an extent I was, I recalled, putting out to him, I suppose.

As the poses and shots that I remembered ended, so I saw the ones I hadn't posed for and hadn't realised he'd taken. There was nothing really very revealing and he'd obviously missed me when I was naked and when I was just wearing nothing but the black bra. But he had got me in the white underwear and removing the tee shirt after I had been back into the small lounge to retrieve the black underwear. More relevantly though, there were several shots of my legs where the black dress had ridden well up my thighs, with one clearly showing the stocking tops of the holdups. Then there were several where the focus was clearly on the swell of my breasts with two showing the bumps of my nipples and one of just my left boob pressing against the white tee shirt that I remembered had hardened when I was imagining him photographing me in the black underwear, or even less.

"Hmmmmm, I see what she means," I said adding, "Especially about the extra ones."

"Yes, I should have told you about them."

"Why didn't you?" I asked, still standing close to him as we both looked at the screen, where there was a shot of my breasts making indentations in the black dress.

"I was embarrassed, I guess."

"But you showed her."

"Not purposefully she somehow saw them on here."

"What did you tell her?"

"What do you mean?" he asked as, if anything, we stood even closer together so that our hips were almost touching. I wanted to move away as it seemed a little obviously come on but, at the same time I wanted to move even closer, to touch him, to have our legs entwined and to feel his body against mine. The photos were doing something to me but, I wasn't sure that seeing shots of myself were doing that or, was it, I asked myself, knowing that he had wanted to take shots like that and if he wanted them, maybe he wanted more? And if he wanted more, would he ask and if he did, what would I do? Letting go of my bikini bra in the garden so that he saw my bare breasts came into my mind as I muttered.

"As to why you took those shots?"

"Nothing really just that we were messing around," he replied leaning forward to pick up the mouse to close the file, which for some reason I didn't want him to do.

"No leave it, flick through them again," I said in barely a whisper.

"Why Jayne?"

"Does there have to be a reason? You don't have one, do you?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Have you looked at them much?" I asked.

"Actually yes, a few times."

"Why dad?" I asked looking at him.

Holding my gaze he said in a husky whisper, "Because I suppose I just like looking at you, love."

I had plucked up more courage now and I was feeling a bit of an arousal rush as I replied with a slight smile, "Like you did in the garden?"

"Yes Jay, just like that."

"Like when I let my bra slip down?" I whispered.

"Yes, like that."

"When I showed you my breasts?"

"Yes Jay, when you did that."

"Did you wish you had your camera then, dad?"

"I didn't think then."

"I meant now, thinking back to when you saw my bare boobs?"

"Yes, yes love, I suppose I did."

"What, you wish you could have photographed my breasts? Do you dad, do you wish you could have taken shots of my bare breasts?"

"Jayne stop it."

"No, tell me, do you wish you had?"

"No Jayne, this is crazy."

"No dad it's not crazy, it's us."

"But it's wrong."

"Yes but then so is you taking shots of them and my stocking tops isn't it?"

"Yes it is, and I shouldn't have done it."

"But you did, didn't you? And you look at them, don't you?"

"Yes Jayne, yes I do," he said in almost a whimper.

"And you'd like to have taken them in the garden when my tits were bare, wouldn't you?"

"Oh Jayne,....stop Jayne please."

"But you would like to, wouldn't you dad."

"Yes, yes of course I bloody well would," he said, regaining some of his composure.

"You would have liked taking photos of my bare tits, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, of course, most men would."

"But you're not most men are you daddy, you're my father, aren't you?"

"Yes dear, yes I am," he said in almost a croak.

"Aren't you?" I persisted for some reason.

"Yes Jayne, yes I am

"Then daddy," I said quietly as I took hold of the vee necked sweater and looking right into his eyes I pulled it up and muttered, "Why don't you get the camera and take pictures of my tits now then?"