She was about 14 when her mother dumped her on me. Taking care of a teen-aged daughter wasn't exactly a part of my lifestyle at the time, but where else was she going to go. Could I do worse than my ex, who was running off to San Francisco with another woman. It's the times, I thought. I'll do the responsible thing and the girl will just have to adjust to the world she's in.
As a single parent I didn't do half bad. The girl had a fairly stable home, stayed in school, and didn't react too badly to my frequent girl friends who spent the night. There was some initial hostility to my female companions but after a confrontation and some real tell-it-like-it-is dialogue, she understood that I had my own life also.
Actually, it wasn't long before she really understood such things herself, and I did quite well explaining all the sexual facts to her when she showed an interest. I even managed not to embarrass her too much when I told her about the vaginal secretions that occur when she had sexual thoughts or excitement, and how they break down with normal bacteria to cause that fishy odor that I sometimes noticed near her. It was a lesson in hygiene best done by a mother, but I think I did alright.
And so this parenting thing went rather smoothly for a few years or so, with the role of mentor/protege easily assumed by both of us. But then I started noticing the hidden things; things that grew as steadily as her changing body. Being the adult, I'll take the blame for these perverse thoughts, but I still feel that she was into the game.
It was like she knew she had the body of an attractive young woman and delighted in showing it off. I guess it's natural for a teen-age girl to play with men this way, exciting them with their budding womanhood, even if the man is her father.
There were times I wanted to say something, like the day we were sitting around talking and she had on a loose shirt with no bra. Whenever she leaned forward, I could see both of her firm young breasts through the sleeve hole. I probably should have said something, but why make her uptight. After all, these are the eighties, and she probably shows her breasts to all the boys this way. This casualness may be expected these days. But, the fact is I couldn't bring myself to mention it, or not to look at those beautiful young breasts at every opportunity.
Worse than that, or perhaps better, was the day she was lying on the couch watching TV, wearing gym shorts with no panties. As I walked by I could clearly see part of her bare crotch, a succulent fold of skin with a few curly pubic hairs. Was she unconscious of these exposures of her body, or was she intentionally allowing me these peeks. Again, I sat across the room and discreetly watched for a while without saying anything. Increasingly I found myself seeing her less as my daughter, and more as a desirable young woman.
Then, one day when I was at home alone with sexual desires to abate, and without a partner to share my lust, I took a fetish of the young woman from the dirty laundry. Her black silken panties from the day before were exciting to the eye, with their see through lacy side strap. More intimate though was the crotch which had been in direct contact with her moist slit, and had dried, leaving a stiffened impression of her lips, and even a protruding spot where they had pressed against her clit.
I turned to the white cotton liner inside. In the front it was stained pale yellow from the drops of urine. The secretions from her vagina had left a stiff white smear on the surface of the cloth. This merged with the pale brown streaks in the back, the rubbings of her anus. I saw one lone pubic hair curled into the fabric as I brought it to my face, feeling an intimacy with the young woman through the proxy of this garment which had touched her so closely.
The sweet smell of it was unbelievably exciting. It was a map of her crotch that my nose could trace. The outer edges smelled of sweat and the sweetness of apocrine, and toward the middle, still surprisingly sweet, the dried urine was more volatile, with a trace of ammonia penetrating deep into my nostrils. My excitement let me momentarily enjoy the sour smell of the brown streaks, before returning my nose to deeply savor the dried essence left by the young woman's vagina. Inhaling deeply, I could almost feel the crystaline particles that were once a fluid part of her body, enter my nostrils. They lodged along my moist membranes and took new life, remaining with me long after my nose was removed from the panties.
Needless to say, throughout this reverie my penis was engorged and dripping viscous fluid in some quantity. I placed the head of my penis on the yellow stain and wrapped the panties and my fingers around it. Still savoring the intoxicating odors that remained in my nose, I stroked but a few moments before releasing my own fluids where hers once had been.
Afterward, lust abated, remorse set in. Not only the perversity of fetishism, but with my own daughters underwear. In a way, on some mental level it was a rape, being intimate with the apparel of an unwilling and unknowing partner.
I sorted some laundry and put it in the machine along with my daughters defiled panties, and laid on the couch to sort out some of the soiled elements of my own inner feelings. When my daughter got home, she caught me napping, and as I awoke I was aware of a very stiff hard pushing against my pants. She was looking at it and I was a little embarrassed , especially when she came and sat so close to me on the couch. She sat facing me, legs spread so that her short skirt slid up her thighs, and I found myself staring straight at the pink panties she was wearing. She caught me staring and said, "Oh Daddy! You act like you never saw my panties before."
"Not with so much leg coming out of them." I was shocked at how casually I said that, but not as shocked as when she put her hand on the hard bulge in my pants.
How did it happen so fast? Our mouths were together, my hand under her blouse on her firm breast, and the only reality was the lust of a man for a young woman. I slid her back on the couch and put my head between her legs. My nose and mouth pressed against the smooth silky panties. The smell of her warm moist body penetrating the garment was not unlike the residual essence of my earlier fetish. Impulsively I started licking at the cleavage through the pink cloth, when she said, "Oh Daddy!"
"Oh Daddy, I'm home."
As my daughter came through the door I awoke from my nap, aware of a very stiff hard pushing against my pants.