The Lily Tattoo, Her Perspective

The Lily Tattoo

The daughter's perspective

Author's note: This has been written in collaboration with my good friend and fellow Literotica author Tom, Lit ID tommanors.

My thanks to him for the inspiration and invitation to write my perspective.

Since having an understanding of what sex actually is, my feelings for my father have been influenced by matters that are not typically those of a teenage daughter.

Of course I could not discuss that with anyone and, in fact, it took me to my late teens to admit it to myself. However, once I had accepted that, I had, near continuously such lurid thoughts about him. I wondered all the time if he felt the same way about me. I knew that he loved me and that we were very close and I thoroughly enjoyed that, but that was as a father and daughter. What my teenage mind and body desired was him to love me as a woman.

After he and mum parted and I lived with her alone, I missed him terribly. He was in my mind most of the time and I found it awful waiting for the days, and nights, when I was allowed to visit him. We had the loveliest of times when I would go to his small flat. I imagined myself being his partner and I took on the typical wifely duties, well most of them like, washing, cleaning and ironing, but not, regrettably, the duty I really wanted to take on, being his lover.

That said, I think it nearly happened several times, but that of course may have been wishful thinking on my part. We did, however, often sleep together as the flat was so tiny and he had only one bed. Lying beside him in nothing other than a thin nightdress, I was continually tingling with a combination of expectancy, arousal and hope. Often our feet would touch, our arms might rub together and he would lean over and kiss me good night. When that happened, I desperately hoped that he would put his arms round me and pull me to him. Of course he never did.

I tried to encourage him. I left the bathroom door open hoping he would see me naked. I walked from there to the bedroom wrapped in just a towel, I wore skimpier nightdresses, shorter skirts and more revealing tops. Nothing seemed to work and I came to the conclusion that I was being silly and what I wanted simply did not happen, well not with a good man like my father. However, searching the Internet told me a quite different story. From articles, chat rooms and erotic story sites I learned that it did happen and relatively frequently too. I also learned, though, that often it was not the father who initiated anything, but the daughter. That gave me a lot to think about.

Being a bit of a geek at school, the boys I was closest to were of the same inclination. We all loved learning and helped each other, but they tended to be reserved and a little shy of girls. In many ways I wished I could have been less academic and could have been in with some of the other groups where the boys were not only more fun and better looking, but also more forward with their attention to the girls. Most of my classmates and the teachers as well, I think, looked on me as a 'good girl,' one where 'butter would not melt in my mouth.' They had no idea of the turmoil inside me as I wanted to let the sexual tiger that prowled in my mind and body out to devour the sweet, little lamb everyone knew.

So, compared to several in my class, I was a slow starter, but I picked up pace quite quickly.

I had lost my virginity nearly a year ago, just after my eighteenth birthday. Of course, I was in love with Will and it felt right to have fairly frequent sex with him for a couple of months before he went off to university. We professed our love for each other and promised we would remain faithful to each other as I waited the year for when I went to uni. That lasted a month or so when on a visit home he told me he had met another girl and wanted to finish.

That hurt me at first, but it soon passed and I went out with a few other boys before I met Alan. He was a tennis player at the club I went to. He was handsome, had a great body with a fabulous bum, was fancied by all the girls and the older women, was in his thirties and he seduced me.

He did that in his car one evening when we had played a match for the club. It was by far the sexiest thing that had happened to me for he stripped me naked, well apart from my glasses that is. I argued at first that someone might come, but he said we would see their lights for some time and I would be able to get dressed.

"If there isn't time, Lily you can just wrap this round you," he said holding up a men's raincoat.

I could hardly believe how different it was being with an older man, a more experienced man, a man as near the age of my father as he was to me, in fact a man who when he fucked me over the next few weeks became my father, at least in my mind.

It was dad's birthday. I wanted to spend that with him, be alone with him and if possible test the waters. More and more over the past few weeks I had thought of little else than making love to my father. Even the mere thought of it so excited me, yet at the same time filled me with guilt and shame.

I had what I thought was a great idea. I suggested to dad that we go to the seaside place where he and mum used to take me.

"Yes that's a great idea Lily, we could stay at that pub."

"Actually dad I have googled it and it is no longer just a pub, it's a gastgropub and no longer takes guests. By the way I have made a reservation there for your birthday dinner, just the two of us."

"How lovely, that's so thoughtful of you."

"And that's not all," I said logging on to my iPad. "As my birthday present I have booked this," I said showing him a shot of a lovely cottage that I remembered from my childhood.

"Wow that's fantastic, well done Lily."

He drove us down there, which took a couple of hours and even during that we had a great time. We laughed and joked, we sang, we played eye spy and talked and talked. It was late when we got there and we were both tired. Dad got the fire going and I scrambled a meal together from stuff we had stopped and bought on the way down. I felt very grown up looking after him and

sharing a bottle of wine with him.

Suddenly without really thinking I asked.

"Are you happy dad?"

"Of course, what makes you ask that?"

"You always seem to be under so much pressure, what with your job and now that you're on your own, it worries me a little."

From the look on his face I saw that he appreciated my concern.

"I'm fine sweetheart, honestly, you never ever need worry about your dad. What about you, how are things at home with your mum?"

"Good I suppose. I think mum's sort of relieved now that you've ended things with Jennifer," I said mentioning the ugly cow dad had been dating. That had made me very jealous too.

"Why ever would you say that?" He asked.

"Oh I don't know, it just seems like she wants us all to live closed down lives. She knows that we aren't a proper family anymore but she doesn't seem to want you or her to start again with other people. She just wants us all to stay like we are now. I think she would be happy with that."

His reply surprised me a little

"Doesn't she like you having boyfriends?"

"No way. There have been a few little rows about that. Nothing too serious but she isn't comfortable with me going out with anyone. She said that I need to talk to you about it."

"Oh, and what does she think I can say about it?"

"I don't know really, maybe warn me about contraception or something, you know, the usual dad and daughter chats."

I smiled up at him as I spoke, quite enjoying his discomfort as I teased him and of course the relative intimacy of the subject. I was surprised, though that he seemed to take it seriously

"And do I need to do that, do we need to have that conversation?" He asked no longer smiling but, reverting instead to the worried father routine.

"Don't worry, I'm not stupid. I promise you don't have anything to be concerned about."

"Anybody serious then, or are you going to stay your daddy's girl for a little while longer?"

We both smiled at that. It was said as a joke of course, but of course he could not know just how close to the mark he was. The mere thought excited me.

"I promise," I replied. "I'm only interested in one man just now and he's the birthday boy."

Although I did not think I had made any progress with what I most wanted, I went to bed a happy and contented, although sexually very frustrated girl. Naked under the bed clothes, I soon overcame that, but was worried that when I had cum that I may have made too much noise.

The next day, his birthday, was lovely. I insisted that I did everything. I made breakfast, cleared up, fussed around the house and tidied everything. Dad of course insisted on helping and as we cleaned the cottage, which was disappointingly dirty and untidy, we were very close to each other several times and twice his arm rubbed against mine. When I sat down with my iPad and wrote an email of complaint and asked him to read it, he stood close behind and looked over my shoulder at the screen. His face was so close to mine, I could smell his aftershave and feel the warmth from his body. I was wearing a loose top and stupidly I imagined that he would be looking down it and seeing my breasts. My nipples hardened so I leant forward to hide them as I was embarrassed that he might see that I was aroused. His chest rubbed on my shoulder and twice when he pointed at the screen his bare lower arm brushed against my wrist. The feel of his skin on mine made me tingle and I felt that I might faint.

I said something about having to get ready and almost rushed to my room. Although, I was sure all of that was accidental, for dad was just not like I wished he was, I left my door ajar hopefully. As I changed into a thin, vee knecked sweater and jeans I hoped that he might catch glimpses of me changing and might come in. Naturally that was yet another of my pipe dreams gone up in smoke.

We went shopping and dad bought me two lovely dresses. As the lady was packing them up I went up to dad and putting my arms round his neck kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks dad," I said loving the feeling of my b cup boobs being squashed against his chest.

As my birthday present to him, I had made an early reservation for dinner at the recently opened gastropub in the village so I started to get ready around six.

"Dad," I called from my bedroom.

"Yes Lily."

"Come and help me choose which dress would you please?"

I had gone into the en suite bathroom and slipped into the blue shirtwaister that had buttons up the front to the high neck.

When I came out holding the white dress in my hand, dad was sitting on the bed, looking very handsome

"This one?" I asked giving him a twirl so that the skirt of the blue dress rose up my thighs a little

His eyes swept up and down my body sending little shivers through me making me realise I was back to where I had been as I typed on the iPad. Those feelings became more extreme when he said.

"You look beautiful darling," with what my hormone crazed mind imagined was a hoarseness to his voice.

"Do you think so dad, really, do you like it?"

"Of course, you look perfect sweetheart."

"OK" I said, hesitating a moment or two as I plucked up the courage to put my plan into action. "Then what about this one?"

Averting my eyes from my father, I unzipped the blue dress and pulled it down over my shoulders until the front of it slid beneath my breasts. I looked at him and his eyes seemed to open more' it was as if they were popping out of his head. Although I thought I detected a look of interest in them just as I had seen in Alan's eyes that evening he seduced me in his car I couldn't be sure. Looking away from him again and with my heart pounding I let go of the dress and let it slither to the floor.

I was wearing my new M and S matching bra and panties set, which was made of white, opaque lace and satin. It was, I thought, pretty rather than sexy, unlike the black and the white sets that Alan had bought me and asked me to wear each time we had sex.

As I turned to pick up the other dress, I glanced at my dad and was pleased to see that he was looking at me, but I could not read the expression on his face. I slid into it quite quickly. Being white and fairly tight, it was more grown up than the shirtwaister. I toyed with the idea of asking him to zip me up, but I bottled it and reached behind me and slid it up myself. This was a much tighter and fitted dress, with a low cut neckline. It clung to my boobs, hips and bottom making me look more grown up and womanly. I twirled for him looking carefully for his reaction, but other than what I probably imagined as a sharp intake of breath there was nothing obvious from him.

"So which one dad?"

"You look great in both," he replied making me wish that he said how good I looked out of them.

"So what should I wear?"

"Either are fantastic."

"No come on, it's your birthday treat so I insist that you choose."

"Ok then," he said hesitating a little. "The second one the white one."

"You mean the tight one do you dad?" I smiled going over to him and kissing him as innocently as I could manage and boy that was a struggle

****

I loved it in the pub. We had a drink at the bar as we waited for our table then had a lovely meal, although I was too excited to eat or taste much and could not remember what I had ordered. Dad bought a bottle of red wine and after two glasses of that on top of the white wine at the bar, my head was swimming. That of course made my imagination run as wild as my hormones were, as I had with dinner my dad, or as I so wanted it to be, my lover.

I felt so grown up with him. At the bar and as we were led to our table, I could see people, both men and women looking at us. I imagined them whispering to each other. 'Look at him with his young bit of stuff,' or 'I bet he'll have fun when gets that young bird to bed tonight.' In reality, though they probably thought how nice it was for a dad to take his daughter out to dinner.

Sitting across the small table from him our faces were close so I could unashamedly stare into his eyes, using mine to try and send messages to him. Messages that when we first sat down told him that I loved him and then as we drank the red wine, that I wanted him. My eyes were screaming at him to forget that I was a young woman and that I was his daughter and to look at me as a grown woman and a lover. But, so frustratingly, I could not see any signs of that, although I did think that I caught him looking down my top a few times.

I was a little tipsy from the large glass of white wine and bottle of red that we had shared. That boosted my confidence and rid me of some my inhibitions so as we walked out of the pub forecourt, I slid my hand into his and gripped it. Encouragingly and affectionately he squeezed it and looked at me and smiled. We had only the light from the moon and the occasional passing car as we strolled the getting on for a mile back to the cottage. We held hands all the way.

In the cottage, we sat in the near darkness as the room was lit just by the fire and listened to the roar and crashing of the sea. It was enormously romantic and was the setting for him to pull me to him, kiss me, undress me and then make love to me on the carpet in front of the fire. If only!

I gave up, well in that setting I did and told him that I was tired and was going to bed.

We told each other we loved each other and hugged as we did each night. Was it my imagination, or was tonight a tighter hug and were my boobs more firmly squashed against his chest? Who knows?

Jokingly trying to sound like a mother with her child I said, turning my head and looking over my shoulder catching him looking at my bum in the tight dress.

"Now, now we have a long day tomorrow so don't stay up too long."

He got the joke, but interestingly said.

"Ok I won't, but you are worse than a wife."

Wanting to say. 'Well treat me like one and come up and fuck me,' but instead actually saying. "Don't forget to pop in and say goodnight when you do come up," I left the room accentuating the sway of my hips and wiggle of my bum.

In my room, I undressed and looked at my naked body in the mirror. 'How can he not want this?' I totally unreasonably asked myself, wishing he would come up behind me, cup my thirty two inch B cup breasts and run his hand down onto and past my trimmed thatch of tawny pubic hair. I wanted to masturbate, but was worried that he might come into my room and catch me.

I did the next best thing. I slipped into a shirt of his that I had pinched when mum was clearing out the things he had decided not to take with him when he left home, or she kicked him out. I let my dark hair down so it tumbled onto my shoulders and brushed it so it glistened. I considered leaving all the buttons undone on the shirt, but felt that was possibly too much so just left the top three and a few at the bottom, which came well down my thighs, undone. I plumped my pillows up so that I could lean back against them and opened my book. Although the bedside light was very dim and had clearly not been put there by a bedtime reader like me, I could just about read and, I thought suddenly, it does make for a very romantic setting. That sent my hormones rushing and my mind reeling again as the idea of him seeing me in just his shirt, laying on a bed hit me. At first I had snuggled up under the thin duvet, but thinking about the romantic, or was it now seductive setting I wondered, I pushed it off and lay beside it with nothing covering me, but the shirt. I knew that I would have been showing a deep cleavage, had I had one, for the shirt was undone at the top to between my little boobs. The tail came down nearly to my knees, but due to the open buttons it was parted and fell away from my legs about mid-thigh.

Since becoming sexually aware and wanting to be attractive to boys, I have thought, and have been told, that my legs and bottom are my best features. My boobs are ok, but are too small and are not like beacons to men's gazes as a couple of girls in my form at school are. My legs are quite long for my height and are shapely all the way from the tops to my ankles. My bottom is nicely rounded, yet pert and was described by Alan as being like a 'black girl's bum,' although he called it arse.

I had almost given up hope of him coming to say goodnight and was nearly asleep when I heard the stairs creaking. There was a tap on the door, which was slightly ajar.

"Come in dad," I said looking across the small room as he approached the bed.

I loved his eyes sweeping up and down me and wanted to undo more buttons, but of course didn't. Instead, I patted the bed beside me. He sat down. His hip and upper leg were almost touching me.

"Is this what you wear for bed" he said laughing. "This old thing?"

"I like wearing it," I said quietly.

As I said that, I at first averted my gaze from his, but then looking up and into his eyes I continued with a smile. "It makes me feel close to you when I'm not with you."

He visible jerked and I thought gulped as well. Appearing to be flustered he said.

"Come on, it's late and time you were asleep."

He leaned forward and I thought he was going to put his hand on my tummy. That made me jump with anticipation, but I was mistaken and instead he took hold of the book, pulled it from my grip and placed it on the bedside table. Turning back to me he reached towards me with both hands and removed my glasses and put them on the book. He turned back to me and just looked at me for a few moments. I wondered whether perhaps he was trying to decide whether to make an advance or not, but I told myself not to be so silly. However, when he leaned forward and touched my cheek, my heart started to pound so hard I was sure that he would hear it. I could hardly think when his next words crashed into my mind.