tagMind ControlOf Course, Daddy

Of Course, Daddy


Relaxation. What's better, after a long day, than to finally kick off your shoes, to ditch the suit and tie? Those little, commonplace joys that almost made up for a long day at the office.

Almost. Still, nothing a little relaxation couldn't cure. There were no pressing issues from work, no deadlines. Absolutely nothing, in fact, that couldn't wait until tomorrow. Finally, a chance to relax.

"Oh Daddy, could you come here and help me with some homework?"

Or not. Great.

I sighed, forcing myself up off the bed. It was my stepdaughter, Catherine. My wife Emily's little girl, and the absolute last person I wanted to deal with right then.

Unfortunately, her mother was going to be working late for the foreseeable future, a couple months at the least. The girl needed some parental figure in her life. I guess it fell to me.

Ask me how overjoyed I was

"Alright," I said, pushing past her half-opened door, "what did you need me to ... oh for the love of- Would you please put some clothes on."

There she was, propped up on her bed in a pink see through nightie that barely came to mid thigh. There was a textbook on her lap, but that was about the only thing covered. The thin material absolutely clung to her eighteen year old body in a way that left little to the imagination. I made a point of ignoring the way it hung over her small breasts.

Emily would have exploded if she'd known her daughter owned something like that, nevermind wearing it around the house.

"Awww... do I have to, daddy?" Catherine looked up at me with what I imagine were supposed to be bedroom eyes, slowly uncrossing her bare legs.

"First off, I am not your father, so stop calling me that. And Yes! you do need to put on real clothes. Right now. This is extremely inappropriate."

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes. An impish smile crossed her face as she paused. "If you say so... daddy."

My sigh turned into a strangled choke as she pulled the nightgown off right then and there, lifting her rear as rummaged around her half-opened dresser drawer. She laughed as I spun away.

What the hell do you even say to something like that? Maybe if I had kids of my own, I would have known how to nip this from the start. Instead, I had to deal with a teenage girl after spending precisely zero years learning how to parent. I had absolutely no idea how to stop this without everything blowing up on me.

In a sense, I understood where she was coming from. Growing up without a father figure, until suddenly her mother comes home with me. In the beginning, she'd been pretty opposed to seeing mother date again, and far from enthused when we announced our engagement. I thought I'd finally won her over, convinced her that marrying her mom didn't mean I would steal her away. No one had realized the effect of barging into her life right when her teenage hormones were kicking into overdrive. Not until it was too late.

It was little things, at first. When I first started noticing, I thought it was my imagination. I remember actually upbraiding myself for reading so much into her "innocent comments". The idea of someone my age sexualizing a teenager was abhorrent. Back in grad school, I'd abandoned what I thought was a close friendship because the asshole kept picking up high schoolers. Fortunately, the idiot had the sense to keep things legal, but it was still disgusting and distasteful. And that had been back in grad school, never mind now.

So I was all set to believe I was the bad guy. One big hypocrite, turning into what I'd hated, until she began to escalate. Her clothes changed. Necklines dropping steadily, but mostly when she knew I would be there to see. "Accidentally" letting her towel slip a few times too many as I passed by. In retrospect, I'm pretty sure she waited in the bathroom until she heard me, but that never occurred then. The innuendo began, not so long ago, and always when her mother was not around. She thought she was being subtle, I suppose, but what high schooler actually is? Certainly, she was no exception.

This, however, this was new. She'd never been so blatant, and the lingerie was completely new. She must have snuck it in, kept it hidden for a night like this, when Emily was away. Because Emily would never have let her keep it. I should probably tell Emily, let her deal with it. Except, how would I explain to her how I'd learned about it?

"You can turn around again, silly."

Against my better judgment, I did turn, ready to leave if she tried anything else. Fortunately, she was true to her word and had actually clothed herself.

More or less. Tight shorts and a formfitting, braless tanktop counted as clothing. Barely, but I was weary of arguing. Just get this over with.

"Did you actually have something you needed my help with?"

"Something school related," I quickly amended.

"Of course," she said with an innocent smile that belied her earlier behavior. Cracking open her math textbook, she pointed out her homework assignments.

I seriously doubt that she actually needed any help. Math had always been her best subject, and I wasn't buying the idea that a few simple calculus problems were such a challenge. Especially with how giggly she got.

"Cath," I finally said, "would you stop moving the book away?"

"Would I do something like that?," she said with mock innocence.


"What? Don't you want me to do well on my homework?"

She looked over with wide, innocent schoolgirl eyes. I'm sure it was just a coincidence that she also happened to give me a clear view down the top of her shirt.

"Fine, let's move on to the next problem..."

Later that night, I lay in bed with Emily, slowly massaging her shoulders as she unwound from a long day at the office. She groaned slightly in appreciation and nestled closer. I forced myself not to notice how much she was like an older, riper version of her daughter.

"I was thinking," I whispered, pausing to nibble her earlobe ever so slightly in a way I knew was sure to drive her wild. Tonight proved no exception, and I could feel her shiver beneath my touch.

"Oh yeah," she said between gasps as I slid my hands down the smooth curves of her body. I grew stiff as she slid backwards, griding hard against my pelvis.

"I was thinking I might go with you, to your conference in New York. Make a proper trip out of it."

"What made you think of that," she asked as my thumbs slipped under the waistband of her panties, sliding them down her hips until she carelessly kicked them away.

Because I don't want to spend the week alone with your crazy daughter, I couldn't bring myself to tell her.

"Because I'm going to miss you so much," I told her instead.

Maybe I should have told her the truth? Life certainly would have been simpler that way. But the truth is, it just plain wasn't a good idea. Emily was blessed with many, many wonderful qualities, far too many for me to ever list. But an even temperament was most definitely not among them. If she had any hint about what her daughter was up to, it would only end in tears and flames. Probably not in that order. Fortunately, Catherine had enough sense to keep things well away from her mother's gaze. If I could just find some way to deal with it myself, she would never have to know.

"Mmm... I wish we could," Emily said, "but my week is just too full as it is. I wouldn't have time for you either way, and that wouldn't be fair to either of us."

She slid around, a twinkle in her eye as she hooked an arm around my neck. I was caught up in the touch of her full, round breasts pressing up against me, trying to push aside comparisons with her much smaller (though somewhat perkier) daughter. Motherhood had been kind to Emily's body, filling out and finishing into glorious, curved perfection. Still slender from careful diet and exercise, but with all the right curves that womanhood could bring.

"Tell you what we can do, though," she paused just long enough to plant a kiss on my lips. "we can make one last set of happy memories to tide us over while we're apart."

She squealed with glee as I rolled on top of her and leaned in for a kiss of my own. Then I was inside of her, and for the moment all other thoughts were banished.

Neither of us considered that Catherine might overhear. Or what the sound of our lovemaking might drive her to. If we had, perhaps things would have turned out different. But then again, how were either of us to know?

I was dead exhausted when I got back from dropping Emily at the airport, a long day after an unusually early start at work. Not to mention that late night. Hopefully she'd get some sleep on the flight, because it was going to be early morning by the time it touched down again. With luck, she'd get at least one day to rest before the conference kicked into gear.

Catherine was lying on the couch when I walked inside. Phone in hand, apparently in the middle of a conversation. Fully clothed, thankfully. It hadn't occurred to me until I was pulling off the freeway, but with creeping horror my overactive imagination began dredging up scenarios about what Catherine might do given a week away from Emily. A repeat of last night, a 'romantic' candlelit dinner, or heck, just her waiting naked at the door. Luckily, my brain was far too pessimistic. Instead, it was just a normal teenage girl talking on the phone. Maybe this week wouldn't be so bad.

"Just make sure about that," I overheard her saying, "you don't want everyone to hear about the whole Mandy thing, do you? That's what I thought."

"What's going on with Amanda?" I asked.

One of her classmates, a nice young lady from Catherine's grade. A friend, but not a close one these days. Her family lived just down the street, and I'd seen her out and about every so often. Lately, with that new boyfriend of hers. From what Catherine said, I wondered if she'd been cheating on him. Strange, considering how inseparable and lovey-dovey they'd seemed, but I suppose that's high school romance for you.

"Oh, nothing," she said, covering the phone with her hand, and grinning up at me "just a little innocent gossip."

Whatever, I was a little exhausted, and didn't want to push it today.

"You'd better get to bed soon," I told her after she finished her call. "You've got school in the morning."

"Uh, today's Friday" she said.

'Oh, err... right." I said, "sorry"

More than a little exhausted, apparently. she giggled.

"You look tired. Do you want some help relaxing," she said. There was the good old Catherine I'd come to dread. But she could tell I wasn't in the mood to deal with that tonight. "Kidding, just kidding. I'm going out with my friends, ok?"

"That's fine," I told her. "Don't be out too late."

"I won't, daddy," she said, bouncing over the couch to give me a quick peck on the cheek before I could stop her, and was out the door before I could scold her for using that word again.

Bed looked particularly inviting after I fumbled out of my clothes. I paused, however, eyeing the unlocked bedroom door. She wouldn't, would she? Not even with her mom out of town? Better safe than sorry. I locked the door.

The smell of eggs and bacon greeted me the following morning. I rolled over in my empty bed and looked at the alarm. Overslept, but not terribly so. Splashing some water on my face, I made my way downstairs to find Catherine in front of the stove wearing a long, fluffy bathrobe.

"Oh goody," she said, "I guess I don't need to go wake you."

"What's all this?"

"Nothing much," she said, "I just thought a little breakfast for the two of us would be a nice touch, don't you think?"

Her smile made me instantly wary, but I couldn't see the harm in it and my stomach chose that minute to gurgle loudly, reminding me that I was famished, not to mention earning a chuckle from her.

"That sounds great," I said, moving to help.

"Nope!" she scolded me. "my treat. You just sit, I'm almost done anyway."

At the table, there was little else to do besides sit wait. I read the paper, but my mind was focused on a conversation neither of us really wanted, but I was becoming convinced needed to happen. Difficult, and I hadn't come to any conclusions by the time she set my plate in front of me.

"Delicious," I told her as I polished off the last of it. Simple food, but tasty.

"I'm glad you like it," she said as she finished her own somewhat smaller place.

"And as long as we're talking about things you liked, what do you think about my new bikini."

She let her robe fall, revealing a tight, strapless bikini top. Shrugging it onto the floor, she revealed a low riding bottom, wrapped in a colorful but slightly transparent slip.

"It looks... nice," I told her noncommittally. A conversation I really needed to have, but not one I was quite ready for.

"No," she said, pressing her hands flat on the table as she leaned towards me. Her arms pressed inwards, squeezing her chest and offering a sudden burst of cleavage. I peeled my gaze away from them and tried to keep to her eyes.

"What do you think of me in the bikini."

Apparently we were having that talk now. Ready or not.


I let out a deeply held breath, rubbing my eyes for a moment as I collected my thoughts.

"Catherine, I know that you're-"

"I heard you and mom last Thursday," she said. Accusingly. Like we had done something wrong. A sudden possessiveness that absolutely had to go.

"What my wife and I do behind closed doors isn't-"

It came out harsher that I'd intended, maybe, and she didn't take it well.

"What's wrong with me? Am I not pretty enough for you?" she straightened, almost in tears. Her hand desperately slid down her body, highlighting her slightly underdeveloped curves. "Why won't you love me like I love you?"

"Catherine, there's nothing wrong with you. You're a fine young girl. But you're still just that. A young girl. You need to let this... crush, this infatuation go. I'll always care for you as my wife's daughter, but never in the way you want. When you grow up, you'll understand why."

"No, you're wrong," she said with a sudden, sharp resolve. "You will love me. I'll make you love me."

I wasn't expecting the sudden fire in her eyes. Just like I'd feared, she hadn't taken it well. Was there still a way for me to salvage this?

With a sudden jerk, she reached behind her back. Why hadn't I considered that she might do something to harm herself? I rushed forward, ready to stop her from hurting herself. Her hand came up, and to my relief there was nothing like a knife in it. Just a handful of dust, that she sent flying in a cloud towards my face.

My first instinct was pretty much the same as anyone's after breathing in a cloud of dust: sneeze it out. Except, I couldn't. The impulse was there, but the reaction just wouldn't quite fire.

She smiled. I don't think I've ever been quite so unnerved.

"Are you all right, daddy?" she asked in a sweet, sing-song voice.

"No," I answered without stopping to think about it, "what did you do to me?"

"Shhh..." she said, "sit back down, daddy. I'll take care of you."

stop calling me that, but I couldn't form the words.

Something strange was going on, completely beyond my understanding. My eyes darting across the kitchen. What was happening here, did I need to call 911? Where was my phone?

"Look at me, daddy."

Suddenly my eyes wouldn't rest anyplace else. I'd never really looked at her before, not since she'd developed her little crush. Not that I had ignored her, exactly, I hadn't shied away that much. And from her little "accidents", I'd actually seen more than I'd ever wanted. But in all that, I'd never just stopped and stared.

Now, incapable of looking anywhere besides her bikini clad body, that finally changed. I tried to stay at her face, but my eyes wandered. In truth, she was only underdeveloped compared to the wild curves of her mother. Her body was lean and slender, with long, smooth legs my gaze couldn't help but trace. Her waist pulled in tight, highlighting the flared curve of her hip, a figure unmistakably feminine. My eyes continued up, past her smooth, flat stomach, to a set of tight, perky breasts that may have lacked the sheer heft of Emily's, but nonetheless accented her body well. I found myself captivated by the creamy, freckled skin of her cleavage. In all, I was forced to accept that Catherine had grown into a beautiful young woman. Against all intention, I felt a stirring in my pants.


She came close, brushing aside a strand of her strawberry hair. There was no hint of her earlier anger, just a calm satisfaction as she watched me look over her body. My eyes latched onto hers, green orbs filling my vision. I felt... something pass between us. It scared me.

Just barely touching, her knee brushing against the side of my leg. She took my hands in hers, raising them, guiding them. They were dainty, smooth. Tiny things next to my own, really, but for all that I wanted to pull away, I was helpless to do so.

"Go on," she said, with a meaningful look. "touch them."

My hands moved, I couldn't help myself. It wasn't that I couldn't control them, not exactly. Just, I absolutely needed to reach out those last few inches separating my hands from her chest. I'd intended, as soon as I realized what was happening, to only just barely make contact. To satisfy, if briefly, the letter of her words, but only that.

It wasn't what actually happened..

Was it her strange control over me? Making me do what she wanted, and not just what she said? Or was it me. On some deeper level, did I want to touch her body? I have no idea. All I know was that suddenly I was holding my stepdaughter's tits in my hands, and it felt really, really good.

"Oh, yes," she said, her hands rubbing mine as I gently fondled her chest, "Rub them, squeeze them. Oh, just like that. You have no idea how long I've waited for you to touch me."

I wanted to scream, tell her to stop, to pull my hands away, but her tiny tits felt so good beneath my fingers. I caught a nipple between finger and thumb. Rolling it as I felt them turn solid as a brass rivet. It wasn't the only thing growing hard. My cock, now fully sprung to life, was straining at my pants. She writhed beneath my touch, and though I still railed at the situation, a part of me loved how I was making her body respond.

"Tell me," she said, her face flushed with need, "Tell me the truth. You think I'm sexy, don't you."

"Yes," I hissed between deep breaths, forced to admit how much I was turned on right now.

"But Catherine," I made myself say, now that I could talk again, "you need to stop this, it is a terrible ide-"


I was silent.

She straddled me, arms entwined around my neck. Her crotch rubbed against my hardness, and she gyrated ever so slowly. Her cheek pressed against mine, and she whispered in my ear.

"Do you really want this to stop? Just say the word. If you can honestly tell me you don't want me, then I will."


My body betrayed me. I wanted to speak, I tried to, but I knew deep down that it was a lie. And so my body refused to obey. Because damn it all, I did want her. Hypocrite that it made me, it was impossible to deny how good she felt. The touch of her soft skin, the tantalizing nearness of her body. The way her crotch teased the anxious bulge in my pants. I didn't want it to stop. I wanted more.

The top came away, my fingers kneading the soft, pliant flesh beneath them. Given the choice, I would still stop this in a heartbeat, no matter how much I craved more. It was wrong, a terrible idea. Nothing good could possible come of it. I thought of Emily, but she was far away and her baby girl so soft and warm beneath my hands. Tried to bring her face to mind, but all I could see was Catherine in front of me.

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