I was so tired the next morning. I couldn’t sleep last night. Thoughts of taking over all of Mom’s duties for Daddy filled my thoughts. I had rubbed my poor pussy raw masturbating last night. But I couldn’t stop. The idea gripped me. Massaging his feet, stripping him naked, laying beneath him as he pumped his cock in and out of me.
I knew about sex. Several of my friends had had sex, and they told me all about how disappointing the boys were the first times. “I wish I had a man do it,” they all said. “Someone older and sexier. Like your Dad, Melody.”
“I would totally let your dad pop my cherry,” Sun had giggled.
“Older men know how to get the job done,” Tiffany had proclaimed. “Trust me.”
“Every girl knows it,” agreed Donna. “But good luck finding an older man that isn’t a perv. He needs to be perfect. I bet your Dad would be perfect. Maybe I should spend the night.”
I had said no. There was no way I was letting Donna near my dad, not with the hungry look in her eye.
Now my thoughts were consumed with him. We were all alone. Three times I stood up and walked to my bedroom door, set on walking down the hall and slipping into bed with Daddy. But it was also so scary. I wanted him so badly, but incest was wrong. He wouldn’t want to sleep with me and cheat on Mom.
He was a good man not a pervert.
The third time I had stood at my door, gripping the nub, my stomach twisting. I listened. The house was so quiet. I strained to hear him in his bedroom. I imagined him awake, burning with desires for me, waiting for me to come and perform Mom’s wifely duties with him.
But I chickened out and ran back to my bed. And then masturbated to another orgasm.
I almost overslept and forgot to make Daddy breakfast. But I remembered at the last minute and rushed downstairs wearing only my thin nightgown. I whipped up Sunday breakfast and had it ready when Daddy came down at his usual 8 AM.
It was after breakfast he took me to the mall. Again, I insisted I could drive myself, but I secretly hoped he would still drive me. It was my pride at work. I felt at, eighteen, I had to give token resistance. But he did not relent. So, twenty minutes later, I held his arm as we walked through the mall. I noticed the other girls and women who looked at them and a prideful surge went through him. He was desired but he was mine.
Until Mom got back.
I led Daddy to the first store, pulling him past the shoplifting detectors and into the vibrant clothing store. Everywhere I looked were frilly, feminine items. Daddy was the opposite of it all, standing tall, muscular, hunky.
“I only want you to buy skirts,” Daddy said. “I like my girls in skirts.”
“Is that why Mom never wears jeans or pants?”
Daddy nodded. “And you’re at that age where you should do the same.”
“But long skirts, like Mom? Hers are so boring.”
A smile crossed his lips. “Sweetheart, buy the shortest, tightest skirts you want. You have gorgeous legs. Let Daddy see them.”
Heat rushed up my legs. “Yes, Daddy,” I squeaked then turned away, my cheeks on fire. Daddy wanted to see my legs. I wish I was wearing a skirt right now instead of stupid shorts.
There were so many wonderful skirts. Short tennis skirts, pleated skirts, pencil skirts, flowery skirts, knee-length skirts, mid-thigh skirts, even shorter ones. I felt so daring when I grabbed on of those, imagining it only falling past my rear and not much else. It would show off so much of my legs. Daddy didn’t complain as I handed him another skirt to hold. He threw them over his muscular arms, a patient smile on his lips as he glanced at what I bought.
I liked flashy skirts with bright colors, drawing the eye.
And then I had to find blouses to go with them. We headed across the store where I snagged halter tops, peasant blouses, V-necks, scoop necks, baby doll t-shirts, belly shirts. With each one I considered which bottom it would go with, making my outfit plans. This top could go with three different skirts, bu this one only went with one. I took the top that could match three skirts.
Variety. I needed to mix up my clothing. I couldn’t wear the same outfit combinations all the time.
With a dozen blouses and skirts chosen, I headed into the back for the changing rooms. “I can’t wait to see how pretty you look,” Daddy said as I closed the door.
My cheeks blushed. I looked out the louvered slats. I could sort of see through them from my side, glimpsing his legs in his blue jeans while I pulled off the t-shirt I wore. A sudden surge of excitement went through me as I wiggled out of my shorts.
I was almost naked in here and Daddy was just on the other side.
I grabbed a knee-length skirt and a halter top that went well with it, adjusting my bra. I would have to get a strapless bra to wear with the halter top, my straps were too obvious. I stared at myself in the mirror, turning, loving how my braid of dark-brown hair fell down my back, almost reaching the soft swell of my rear. The skirt fell lovely across my butt. I shifted my hips, loving how the hem swayed about my legs.
“You dressed yet?”
“Coming, Daddy,” I giggled. “You need to be patient when girls are trying on clothing.”
“I’m not good at patience. I like to take what I want.”
A hot wave rushed through me. I almost said, “You can take me, Daddy,” but that would be absolutely stupid.
I stepped out, standing before him, suddenly so afraid. What if he hated it. His arms folded before him, his eyes studying me as I fidgeted. I played with my fingers before him, wishing he would say something.
“Straighten your back,” he said. “And turn around. Let me get a good look at you.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I said, my spine snapping straight. Then I turned, putting a little sway into my hips to really make the skirt swirl. “Do you… like it, Daddy?”
“The skirt’s a little long,” he said, “but your top is great. We’ll need to get you a strapless bra. Unless you already own one?”
“I don’t, Daddy.”
“We’ll fix that.”
I swallowed then reached for the door and opened it. I slipped in. Only the door didn’t close behind me right away. I turned and gasped as Daddy stood in there with me, his arms folded, his eyes on me as I clutched the next top.
“Well, this will be faster,” he nodded, his eyes rolling up and down my body. “You won’t have to keep coming and going.”
“I… I don’t think it’s allowed for you to be in here, Daddy,” I trembled.
“I don’t care.” His eyes were so dark and commanding. “Now change. Show me your next lovely outfit.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I hastened to obey him. I pulled off the halter top. I felt so naked in just my bra, cupping my round breasts. My nipples were so hard, poking at the front. I don’t know why. I had worn my bikini around Daddy before and it showed just as much flesh. I wiggled out of my skirt, bending over to step out of it and pointing my panty-clad rear at Daddy.
“Cute pair,” he said. “Black. I like them.”
“Black? What…” My panties. My cheeks burned even more and the hot itch between my thighs swelled. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“You’re growing up so fast.”
I straightened and pulled on a red, V necked blouse and turned to face him.
His cock bulged the front of his jeans. I froze, half-pulling on the top, my right arm through the sleeve, my left arm searching for the armhole. I sucked in a deep breath. Daddy was turned on right now.
I turned him on.
“Keep changing,” he ordered. “Don’t stop. I need to approve all your outfits.”
“D-do you approve all of Mom’s?”
“Why do you think I take her shopping? Your mother dresses to please me. She’s a good girl. And I know you want to be just like her, another good girl for Daddy.”
“I do,” I whispered. I pulled the top over my head and pulled my braid out the back. Then I grabbed a jean skirt I thought would be quite cute with this top. I stepped into the skirt, pulling it up my hips. It was tight. I sucked in a breath to get it up over me and then zipped up the side. It fell to my mid-thigh, a few artfully worn through spots showing off my pale thighs beneath.
Daddy nodded his head as I turned. “Now bend over,” he ordered. “Touch your toes.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I knew I had to do it with my ass facing him. I bent over, the skirt sliding up my thighs, revealing more and more of my flesh. I almost wished it was short enough to flash my panties at Daddy. The hot itch between my legs grew even hotter. I had to be wet, my panties soaking up my excitement.
I wanted to escape to a bathroom and masturbate.
“D-do you like them?” A tremble ran through me.
“They are perfect. You have great taste in clothing.” His hand stroked my bare thigh right beneath the hem of my skirt. I shuddered and moaned, the blood rushing to my head as I stayed bent over. What was he doing. “Just perfect. Okay, try on the next.”
My virgin body trembled as I turned. I could still feel his hand on my thigh even though he stopped touching me. It was the most intimate contact I had ever had with another person. I didn’t date much–Daddy didn’t approve and, unlike Alice, I was a good girl. I had barely kissed a boy let alone let one really touch me.
It was amazing to feel his hand on me. As I stripped down to my underwear, I wanted Daddy to touch me again.
I grabbed the one very short skirt I selected. I had never worn a miniskirt before. It was made of a stretchy, black material that hugged my ass when I pulled it on. It felt so exposed. It ended right below my butt-cheek. As I pulled on a purple belly skirt with dangling, golden fringes around the hem, I felt like at any moment the skirt would slide up my flesh and expose my panties.
“Now that is a skirt,” Daddy said, as I faced him, the tasseled fringes caressing my belly and back as they swayed. “Yes, it is. Turn around. Let me see your ass.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I turned, so aware that I was turning him on. He groaned. His hands reached out, touching me. It was so wrong. No father should touch his daughter like that–it was so wrong, so forbidden–but I didn’t care. It was so wonderful. His hands so strong as they squeezed me.
“That’s my good girl,” he whispered as his hands kneaded me. “Mmm, you’re making Daddy so happy. Now bend over. Let’s see how this skirt moves.”