Daddy's Girl

By the time I reached my 18th birthday, I looked more like a young woman in her mid-twenties. I had what many sales ladies at stores called an hour glass shape. I started developing at a young age, and was already 38-29-38. Boys my age would stare, and make comments about my body, and some grown men would too.

I had a really hard time when my mother announced that she'd been offered a new job, and that we'd be moving to the big city. She was the main bread winner in the family, so it wasn't a difficult decision, when she'd been offered a position that paid double what she had made at her last job. Not that we needed the money, we lived a very comfortable life.

There had been a family discussion about the possibility of my step father, David, staying back with me. I was about to start my senior year of high school, and wanted to stay put, so I could graduate with my friends. In the end my mother convinced him that maintaining two households and separating the family was not a good idea. I was upset but had to go along with the final decision.

We moved into the city at the end of July. I didn't know anyone, and was uncomfortable going out alone. He suggested we could explore the city together during the last month of summer. He owned his own business, set his own hours, and worked from home. So we got to spend a lot more time together alone.

He was the one I went to for everything. He'd married my mother when I was still a toddler, and he was the only father figure I had ever known. We were close, and he would always smile proudly when my mother would say I was a "Daddy's girl". I liked how he always took care of me, and never treated me like I wasn't his pride and joy.

Because my mother worked so much, and was not usually home. He had been the one to teach me how to tie my shoes and ride a bicycle. Every night before bed he would read me fairytales and other children's books. And then tuck me in, kissing my forehead when he told me to have sweet dreams.

He made my lunches every day and drove me to school. He was always there to pick me up when the final bell rang. He took me to my ballet classes, gymnastics and piano lessons. He was the one who took me shopping for clothes. When I got my first period, and when I needed to buy my first bra, he was the one who was there for me.

He took me to my new school, to meet with the head mistress, and drop off my school records. We'd been given a tour of the campus, and a brief history of the all-girl private Catholic school. The school had a uniform that I'd have to get before the first day of classes.

When we'd gone to get my school uniform fitting, the buttons on my dress shirt were literally busting at the seams, as my full breasts pushed against the fabric. The skirt hem did not reach my knees, which was required, to meet the uniform rules for length. My full hips raised it almost halfway up my thighs.

The seamstress had to make a special order because my chest was too big, and my hips were too wide. And when she called a few weeks later, to let us know the items had come in, he took me to go do my final fitting. They had me try everything on to make sure it all fit properly.

The white dress shirt finally fit comfortably, with room to move. The green plaid skirt just touched the top of my knees. There was also a solid green blazer, matching knee-high socks, and a tie to be worn. Once I had the full uniform on, I asked him what he thought and how I looked in it. He smiled and told me I was beautiful.

I went back into the dressing room, to take the uniform off, and put my jeans and t-shirt back on. One of the store staff stood right outside waiting for the uniform, so she could go scan everything. He followed her to the cash register and paid for two of everything, adding a pair of black Mary Jane shoes, recommended by the uniform store.

That afternoon, he suggested that we go to the movie matinee. He had taken the entire week off, and wanted to spend more time with me, before school started the following week. So we had lunch and then went to the movie theater. We liked the back row seats, and shared a bucket of popcorn together.

The rest of that week, we ventured out into the city together. We drove around, had a picnic in the park, and walked through a museum. I held his hand. He put his arm around my shoulder. He kissed my forehead. We laughed when women his age would give him strange looks. And just enjoyed spending our Daddy-daughter time together.

My first day of school was a bit challenging. I had to find the right classrooms, usually just making into each one before the teacher closed the door. I sat alone at lunch time, since I hadn't really made any friends yet. And I'd heard several girls talking about me, in the bathroom between classes.

Girls can be quite cruel, and before the end of my first week, I was being bullied by other girls. I was the new girl, which I suppose made me an easy target. Everyone knew my name, from teachers welcoming me to their classes. I was called on by teachers because they knew about my grades and athletic abilities, which also made me a target.

One day, several of the girls in gym class cornered me, in the locker room showers. They pushed me around and were calling me horrible names. They told me that I was ugly. They said I probably was a slut at the public school I had just transferred from. They told me they would do worse than call me names, if I told anyone.

Later that day, when I came home he saw that I had been crying. He walked straight over to me, pulling me into a warm hug, and he asked me what was wrong. He is a big man, standing 6'5" tall, 240 pounds, with the build of a pro football player. I was 5'7" tall and 120 pounds soaking wet. So I always felt safe wrapped up in his arms.

I remembered what the girls had said about telling anyone. So I only told him about the girls' comments about my body, and that they had called me the ugly duckling. He immediately said that I was not an ugly duckling, but that I was a beautiful swan.

I laughed at his reference to an old children's storybook. He held me close and told me not to let the mean girls get to me. He said they were not worth it. I knew he was right, he always was. I let him hold me in his arms, with my face pressed against his chest for several minutes. He rubbed my back, soothing me, while he comforted me.

Eventually he released his arms, telling me that I was his beautiful swan, no matter what anybody else said. He took hold of my face with both of his hands and kissed my lips very gently. It wasn't a long kiss, and it didn't feel strange at all. But normally he would kiss my forehead or cheeks, not my lips.

He told me to change out of my school uniform, take a shower and put some regular clothes on. Then he told me to come back downstairs and help him make dinner. When I turned to leave, he smacked my ass playfully. I giggled in response, and went up to my room.

When I got to my room, I closed the door behind me. I lifted my finger tips to my lips, as if feeling them for the first time. He had never kissed me on the lips before. I'd felt a little spark, when he had though. Leaning against my bedroom door, I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip. I got goosebumps thinking about what just happened.

I took a deep breath, opened my eyes and shook off this feeling. I walked toward my ensuite bathroom, stopping to remove my school clothes and leaving them on the corner of my bed. I took my bra and panties off and left them on top of my uniform. I went and turned on the shower, pulling my hair from the ponytail I'd worn at school.

I stepped into the shower, leaving the bathroom door open. I stood under the water, letting it run down my body, and then began washing my body. I liked having my own bathroom with a big walk-in shower with a glass door and walls. There was also a claw foot tub in my bathroom. But I preferred taking long hot showers, so I didn't hurry.

I stepped out of the shower, onto the plush bath rug. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my body. I grabbed a second towel for my hair, wrapping it around my head to hold my hair up on top of my head. Then I reached back in to shut the shower off. When I turned around, I froze. He was standing in the bathroom doorway.

He smiled at me. He said he'd come to find out what was taking me so long. Then as if everything was normal, he told me to hurry up and put some clothes on. He turned and headed for my bedroom door. He added over his shoulder, that he had hung my uniform up already, and tossed my "delicates" into my hamper.

It wasn't that he has never seen me naked. He'd bathed me and changed my diapers as a baby. He'd been the one to wrap a towel around me as a child when he'd taught me how to take a shower, instead of a bath. He'd walked into the bathroom, while I was soaking in the tub, several times over the years.

But he had just been standing there, watching me. I wondered how long he'd been watching. Had he watched me in the shower? I got goosebumps again. I shook it off. As I walked into my bedroom, I looked over at my bed where my uniform had been. My step father had come into my room, hung up my uniform, and put out clean clothes for me.

He would suggest or pick out my clothes for me, he'd done it most of my life. Sometimes, when I was going out, he'd send me back up to my room to change if he felt something I had chosen was not appropriate. I'd always worn comfortable clothes around the house. And it didn't bother me that he showed an interest in what I wore.

There was a pair of jean shorts, and a tank top laying on my bed. A pair of clean cotton boyshort panties, folded on top of the shorts. No matching bra. He knew I hated wearing bras when I was at home. Without thinking about the fact my bedroom door was now open, I dropped the towel from my body, and put on the panties.

I raised my hands up, sliding the tank top over the towel on my head. Pulling it down over my breasts, and stomach. It was a shorter tank top, so it didn't fully cover my belly. I grabbed the jean shorts and pulled them up over my ass. They were an old pair of low rise jeans that I'd made shorts out of. Then I leaned forward, to towel dry my hair.

I lazily pulled my still slightly damp hair back up into a loose bun, I picked up my other towel and went to hang them on the towel racks in my bathroom. Crossing my room to head downstairs, I glanced over at the hamper, and could see the strap of my bra on top of the half full bin. I made a mental note to do laundry this weekend.

When I walked into the kitchen, he was already setting things out to make a meal. I joined him, grabbing the apron off the hook at the pantry door. We had made meals together for as long as I could remember. He'd taught me how to cook all kinds of things, since I'd asked him to teach me when I was old enough to reach the stove.

As I tied my apron behind my waist, he passed by me, and his body brushed against my breasts. He apologized as he walked away. I felt my nipples harden under the fabric of my tank top. Then he said something that drew my attention away from that fact. We both stood at the counter, ready to start preparing the vegetables.

He asked me about my teachers, already knowing that I would be a good student. Trying to talk about school and my classes, without mentioning the mean girls. We always talked about our day when we were making dinner together. He'd ask about my day, and then share his day with me. It made me feel like a grown up.

He put his knife down and came to stand behind me, reaching his hand under my arms. Both his hands skimmed along the sides of my breasts, making my nipples hard again, then he laid his hands over my own. Reminding me of safety when using a knife, he guided my hands, and showed me how he wanted the food to be cut up.

He was leaning into my back, his face right next to mine, looking over my shoulder. When I started cutting the vegetables to the size he wanted, he released my hands. Placing his own on my waist. He kissed the nape of my neck, and then my shoulder, before stepping back to my side again. A shiver went up and down my back.

He picked his knife back up and continued to prepare food alongside me. When the food was in the oven, he asked me to wipe down the counter top and then set the table. He went down to the basement, to grab a bottle of wine out of the wine cellar. By the time he returned with it, I was just finishing setting the table.

He grabbed the corkscrew and opened the bottle. Then he looked over at the table, and shook his head. He went to the cupboard, grabbing two wine glasses, replacing the regular glasses I'd put on the table. Sometimes when my mother wasn't home for dinner, he'd let me have a glass of wine with our meals.

After looking around to make sure we hadn't forgotten anything, he suggested I go to his office and get a start on my homework. He added that he had a little more work to finish up as well. He tugged on the strings of my apron and then grabbed hold of it, on both sides, just below my breasts. Pulling it forward and up off my body.

He hung the apron back up on the hook I'd taken it down from, then turned and looked at me. Then he waved his hand and started walking behind me, following me to the hallway. I went to the front door to grab my school bag, and he went ahead into his home office.

I didn't really like desks, so he had made sure there was a cozy space on the floor for me to sit or lay down while I did my school work. He placed a cushion with a big furry mat on top of it for me. His desk was off to the side against a wall, with two chairs for clients in front of it. He rarely had clients come to the house outside of regular work hours.

I put my bag down, and then got down on the floor on my knees. I opened my bag, pulling out the things I needed to study. Once I had everything laid out on the floor, I decided to lay down to do my homework. Flat on my belly, propped up on my elbows, with my legs bent so my calves were in the air. I put on my glasses and got to work.

I had no idea with my back to him, when I separated my thighs slightly, that he could see my panties peeking out on the edge of my shorts. Or that when I got up from that position, I was showing him an arousing view of my ass. Or that when I was laying down facing him, he could see my breasts right down my top.

When the oven timer went off, he told me to stay put and he'd go check on the food. About five minutes later, I heard him call out saying that dinner was ready. I placed a bookmark in my textbook, planning to come back to finish my homework after our meal was done. And went to eat dinner with my step father.

We ate our food, drank some wine, and talked about all kinds of topics. He mentioned going to the ballet later in the season, asking which performances I wanted to see. He said we could go have dinner before, and make a night of it. He knew I liked going on Daddy-daughter dates, because we always had so much fun together.

As we were getting up to clear the table he poured himself another glass of wine. Then he leaned across the table and poured more wine into my glass as well. He saw the look on my face, and stated it was a Friday night, and I could have a little extra. Then he added a warning not to tell my mother, or we'd both get into trouble.

We did the dishes together, and then he asked me if I wanted to pick out a movie for us to watch. He picked up our wine glasses and headed for the living room. I had a hard time picking a title, so I told him he should choose one. He got up and picked one I had not seen before. We got cozy on the couch, and he pushed play.

He grabbed the glasses and handed me my wine. He put his arm around my shoulder pulling me in to snuggle up next to him. Everytime he took a sip of his wine, he told me to have some of mine. The movie had a few intimate sex scenes in it. I giggled when it showed the woman's breasts, or the man's bare ass. Not really having seen that before.

He told me it was a perfectly natural act, between two lovers. He told me that soon enough I'd find someone special, and I'd experience it for myself. When I giggled at that, he told me to hush and finish my wine. I gulped down the rest of the wine that was in the glass, finishing it off. He chuckled, and we watched the rest of the movie.

When I stood up, I felt dizzy, and stumbled a bit. Before I lost my balance completely, he scooped me up in his arms. He said something about his good girl being tipsy. Then said he'd take me up to my room, so I wouldn't stumble or trip on the stairs. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and leaned my head on his shoulder.

He carried me into my bedroom, without turning on the light. He reached down and pulled back the covers on my bed. He gently laid me down on my back. Then he told me that I should not sleep in my clothes. I told him the room was spinning a little bit and that I did not want to move. He went into my bathroom to get me a glass of water.

When he came back, he set the water on my nightstand. I asked if he could undress me, so I could be more comfortable while I slept. I asked him to help me take off my shorts and my tank top. I had forgotten that I wasn't wearing a bra. He smiled sweetly down at me for a moment.

He stepped right next to my bed, and told me to scoot over so he could sit down. He turned to face me, and then reached for the button at the top of my jeans. He undid it slowly, then pulled the zipper down. He reached his thumbs and finger into the top of my shorts along each of my hips and he told me to lift my ass up.

I pushed my hips up, lifting my ass off the bed. And felt his warm fingers dragging along my skin, as he pulled my shorts off my hips, down my thighs and over my calves. It sent a shiver through my entire body. He folded my shorts and told me to sit up, so he could take my tank top off.

As I sat up, I spread my legs apart, not realizing that I was showing him my pantie covered pussy. He reached over to the bottom edges of my tank top, on either side of my torso. He told me to lift my arms straight up, and as I did, he slowly peeled my tank top off my body.

Even after he had removed my tank top, I kept my arms up in the air. My eyes closed, with my head feeling light. He reached up and took my upper arms into his big hands, and slowly brought my arms back down to my sides. This move placed his thumbs between my arms and my bare breasts.

He looked down at me as I sighed, and thanked him for putting me to bed. I was more than a little tipsy and not fully aware that I was topless. He slowly pulled his thumbs from between my arms and my breasts. I felt a little chill, and my nipples got hard. I heard him clear his throat, and then he reached for the glass of water.

He brought it to my lips, and told me to drink some. My eyes opened and looked up at him, as I placed my fingers over his and drank as he tilted the glass. The wine was hitting me, and I tilted the glass too far too fast. Water spilled from the glass on both sides of my mouth. Running down my neck, over my breasts, down my torso, and between my legs.

He took the glass from me, placing it back on my nightstand. He got up and went to my bathroom and grabbed a small towel. He returned to my bed, sat beside me, and started patting me down to dry me off. He started at my mouth, moving downward. He dried my chin, my neck and then stopped.

I heard him take a ragged breath, and then felt the towel moving across my breasts. He gently lifted each of my breasts to dry where he knew water would have dripped underneath. I felt the towel move down to my stomach, and then to my thighs. He placed a hand on my knee, and gently pushed the towel between my thighs.

He cleared his throat again, as he pulled the towel away from my body. He said something about how I couldn't sleep with wet panties on. I felt his hands on my hips again, then he told me to lay back and lift my ass again. I did as he told me, and he peeled my panties from my body.

When I dropped my ass back down on the bed, I stretched my arms up to my head board, pushing my breast up and out as my back arched off the mattress. I pointed my toes, and stretched my legs out straight. When I relaxed again, my arms were on my pillow on either side of my head, and my legs spread apart.

I felt him get up off the bed beside me. Still unaware of the inappropriate view I was giving him as he stood over me. I told him I wanted him to stay with me until I fell asleep. He pulled my sheet up to cover me, but I kicked it off. He said I had to cover up if he was going to stay until I fell asleep. I grumbled as he pulled the sheet back up to cover me.

I told him that my head felt funny. He said that was the wine. I told him I wanted him to rub my back while I fell asleep. He told me to roll over on my tummy. As I did, I pushed the sheet back off my body. I shoved my arms up under my pillow, turning my head away from him, and felt him sit back down beside me.

He looked me over, naked and vulnerable. Knowing I was not aware that I was displaying myself to him. My breasts bulged out from under me on either side of my body. My plump bare ass, and my thighs slightly spread apart. He placed his hand on the back of my neck, and began to rub down the middle of my back.

He knew I was finally asleep, or passed out, when my breathing slowed down and my body fully relaxed. He got up slowly, pulled the sheet back over my body, and started to leave my room. He looked back at me laying there, when he reached the doorway, his hand adjusting the bulge in his pants.

He stood there for several minutes. He reminded himself that I was his daughter. But seeing my naked body on full display, had stirred something in him. Feeling my breasts and pussy through the small towel, as he dried me off, had made him hard. He wondered if I'd noticed that, or if I'd remember that he'd undressed me in the morning.

I woke up to the smell of bacon and coffee. My head hurt a little bit, and the sun peaking through my curtains felt a little too bright. I saw a note on my nightstand, with a bottle of Advil and a full glass of water. His handwriting instructed me to take two capsules and drink the glass of water he'd left there for me, before getting out of bed.

I sat up, and leaned my back against the headboard. As I did that, my sheet slid down my body, exposing my bare breasts. I looked down, confused. I lifted the sheet and saw I was completely naked under it. I quickly pulled the sheet back up, tucking it under my arms at my sides. The last thing I remembered clearly was watching the movie.

I took two capsules, drank the glass of water. I wanted to lay back down and sleep, but the smell of food was more appealing. I threw off my sheet, got out of bed and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I sat on the toilet to pee, flushed, and then washed my hands in the sink.

I reached for the door, opening it, and stepped into my bedroom. He had his back to me, facing into my closet. He didn't turn around, but he'd heard me. He asked me if I had anything on, I told him I did not. He asked me to cover myself with a towel, so I grabbed one, and covered up.

When I said I was covered up, he turned and smiled at me. He asked how my head felt. I told him I had a bit of a headache, he said that the capsules should help with that. He walked over to me and kissed my forehead. Then he went to my dresser and opened a few drawers, grabbing items for me to wear.

He had a blue jean skirt, a pastel pink cropped tank top, a matching lace pink bra and panties in one hand. And a pair of 3 inch sandal style heels in the other. He told me to make my bed, then stood there watching me do as he'd instructed.

Everytime I bent forward and reached for or pulled on the sheet or blanket, my towel lifted and he could see my ass and the edges of my pussy lips. When I stepped around the bed facing him, my towel fell open. When I stood up to grab its edges and close it again, our eyes met. He smiled at me in a way I had never seen him smile before.

When my bed was made, he laid my clothes on the bed, putting the sandals at the foot of my bed. He turned to me, assessing for a moment. He turned and went back to my closet grabbing a silk robe from a hanger. He brought it to me, helping me slide my arms through the sleeves. Holding it shut at my waist, he tugged away the towel.

His fingers pulled at the robe, moving it to cover more skin. But his hands skimmed over my breasts, making my nipples hard. He saw them grow hard under the silk, but didn't say anything. He reached around my body and took hold of the thin silk belt, his hands sweeping over my ass. He tied the silk belt at my waist.

He stood back, quickly scanning over my body. He nodded in approval. But when he looked up at my hair, his smile turned to a frown. He told me to go brush my hair, and then come down for breakfast before getting dressed. When I turned slowly to go do that, he watched my ass as I walked into my bathroom.

The silk robe had been a gift he had bought me several years ago, while he was on a business trip to Japan. It had fit me perfectly back then, before I'd grown and developed more. Now the bottom of the silk hem sat just an inch below my ass cheeks. And the robe no longer fully covered my chest, so my cleavage was easily seen.

When I lifted my arms to brush my hair, it loosened the silk belt slightly. So by the time I walked into the kitchen, more of my cleavage was exposed, and the robe threatened to open at the front. He was putting food on the table. I reached for two coffee mugs, getting up on my toes, and bending forward to reach the cupboard.

He watched as my robe slid open, and he got a glimpse of my pussy, when my right leg kicked back slightly. He licked his lips, and adjusted the bulge in his pants. As I started to pour coffee into each mug, he sat down at the table. When I handed him his mug, the silk belt fell away and my robe opened completely. His eyes took in everything it exposed.

I blushed and giggled, and grabbed the edges of the robe to cover myself up. Moving to my own seat at the table, I set my coffee mug down and then properly wrapped the robe around me and re-tie the silk belt. He said something about me needing a lady's robe, instead of a child's size. But I told him I liked this robe, since he'd given it to me.

He smiled at that, knowing he could get a bigger size, but enjoying the fact this one was fitting the way it was. Again he adjusted himself, hoping I would not notice. He cleared his throat and suggested we eat before the food got cold. As we ate, we talked about what we had to get done for the day.

He mentioned that my mother was coming home later in the day, and would be with us until the next evening. She was returning from a business trip that afternoon, and would be taking a red-eye flight the following evening. Her new job involved more travel, so we were adjusting to only seeing her for one or two days between her trips.

I suggested that we make one of her favorite meals for dinner. He agreed and said we'd need to pick up a few things at the grocery store while we were out running errands during the day. We finished breakfast, and I offered to do the dishes myself. My step father helped me clear the table, and then said he was going to mow the lawn.

The kitchen sink had a large window right in front of it, with a clear view of the backyard. So as I washed the dishes, I could see him mowing our large backyard. He had changed out of his pyjama pants and t-shirt, into a pair of old jeans and an even older rock concert t-shirt that had the sleeves cut off.

He started on one side of the yard, waving at me every time he passed by the window. I waved back each time, with a soap covered hand. It was a nice sunny day outside, and as he mowed the lawn, he started to sweat so he removed the shirt. My step father was a good looking man, and with his shirt off, I could see more of his muscles.

The more he mowed, the more I could see the sweat glistening on his arms, chest and back. I felt butterflies in my stomach, and as a shiver ran through my body, my nipples got hard and started pushing against the silk robe. I took a deep breath, not sure why I suddenly felt warm and tingly all over.

I'd noticed this feeling before. But it had never happened when I was around him. It had only ever been when I had touched myself, in bed alone at night. When I'd felt my body ache, and had discovered that I could ease it, by touching myself. So why was it happening now, as I watched my step father, mowing the lawn?

I felt my nipples becoming sensitive. And the warmth increased between my thighs. I took a deep breath and told myself, I'd deal with it later, when I was alone in my bed. I tried to focus on the dishes instead, but right then I looked outside to see him standing in the middle of the yard.

He had stopped halfway through the task, to take a quick break. He drank half of a one liter bottle of water. Then he poured the other half of the bottle out over his head, trying to cool himself down. Seeing the water wash over his upper body, only made me feel that much warmer, and I heard a sigh slip from my lips.

He went back to mowing the lawn, and I tried not to watch him. When I finished washing the dishes, I started to dry everything with a dish towel. Normally I would have left everything to air dry in the rack on the counter next to the sink. But I wanted to continue watching my step father, and seeing his body sweating in the sun.

I put the last dish away, just as he walked in through the back door. He smiled at me, and I felt that warmth all over my body again. He looked at the empty dish rack curiously. Before he could ask, I told him I'd figured it would be one less thing to have to do later. He walked over and kissed my cheek, and he called me his good girl.

He stood close, but only his lips touched my cheek, the smell of grass and sweat filled my nostrils. The smell of him was what I noticed more than anything. The faint scent of Old Spice, mixed with his sweat. It made my nipples hard again, and I pushed my thighs together tightly. Why was this happening now? Had he noticed it?

He said he was going to shower, then said I should do the same thing. He saw the look on my face, and asked if I was okay. I nodded, unable to find the words, my mind distracted. I breathed him in one more time as he walked behind me, and headed toward the staircase. I waited a whole minute, before following his scent through the house.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I felt like my body was pulling me toward my parents' bedroom. I saw the door wasn't closed, but open about three inches. I stepped forward, and stopped to peak through it. I saw him, standing in the middle of the room, pulling his jeans off. He was naked with his back to me, his ass was firm and he had thick thigh muscles.

I watched his muscles, as he stretched. He walked toward the en suite bathroom. Leaving the door open, he reached into the shower, turning it on. He stepped out of sight, then I heard him peeing into the toilet, and flush. He stepped back into my line of sight, and I got a perfect view of his body from the side.

My hand flew up to my mouth, as I gasped at the sight of his profile. He lifted his hands and ran them both through his hair. His torso was chiseled, his chest and abs were pure muscle, with a "V" shape leading to his penis between his legs. My eyes locked on there, at the sight of his penis. I'd never seen one before, and it was beautiful.

It hung, thick and looked long. It had a bulb shape at the end. Underneath, I could see his balls, they looked big, and heavy. One of his hands dropped down, and he touched his balls for a few seconds. Then he grabbed hold of his penis and stroked it gently. I watched as it started to grow and harden.

His ass and thigh muscles flexed, as he began to stroke his penis. He stood with his legs shoulder width apart. It was now sticking straight out from his body. His head dropped back, his mouth opened, and he let out a low groan. At first I thought maybe he was in pain, but as he continued to stroke his penis, the groans turned into moans.

I realized he was getting pleasure from stroking himself. I wondered if it was the same feeling that I got when I touched myself. He stopped stroking himself, panting like he'd been for a run. And then he turned and stepped into the shower.

I watched him step under the shower head, when he turned his body around, I saw his penis hanging low as it softened. It seemed to be going back to how it had been before he touched it. It was no longer hard and sticking straight out from his body. I continued to watch him, washing himself, unaware that I was there.

When the steam became too thick for me to see his body clearly, I stepped back from my parents' bedroom door. I remembered that I still had to take a shower myself. I crossed the upstairs hallway and entered my room. I closed my bedroom door, took my robe off and went straight into my bathroom.

I left my bathroom door open, and turned the shower on. I looked down at my body and thought about how different my body was from his. I knew from the human anatomy class that men's bodies were very different from women's. But I had never seen anything other than drawings in text books, before seeing my step father naked.

I stepped into my shower, and washed my body, but couldn't get the image of his body out of my head. I felt my body start to ache. Not a painful ache. It felt more like an itch that needed to be scratched, but couldn't be reached. I told myself I'd take care of it later. And quickly finished my shower.

I towel dried, and applied coconut oil to my skin. He had told me when I was younger that it was a healthy alternative to use as a moisturizer. I got dressed in the outfit my step father had laid out for me before breakfast. I put on my light pink lace bra and panties, adjusting my breasts. Then put on the jean skirt, and pink tank top he'd chosen.

I brushed my hair out, and decided I wanted it braided. I grabbed my sandals, my hair brush, a few elastics, and went looking for him. I knew how to braid my own hair, but he'd told me that he liked doing it for me. I found him downstairs in his office. I knocked on the door and he looked up from the list he was making.

I asked him if he could braid my hair for me, and he immediately smiled. He said he'd love to. Dropping the pen from his hand, and then he pointed to the floor at his feet. I'd always gotten down on my knees between his legs, putting my back to him, so he could braid my hair. I handed him the brush and elastics. Dropping my sandals to the floor.

He spread his legs apart, then helped me get down on my knees facing him, before I turned my back to him. He had taught me a comfortable position on my knees, so my knees would not hurt as much. I would have to spread my knees shoulder width apart, and put my ass on the bottom of my feet.

He had told me it spread the weight more evenly. He also told me to sit with my chin up, back straight, shoulders back, chest out, hands resting on my thighs. Of course I'd been doing that for years without him having to repeat it or remind me to do it. He always did my hair in his office, so he could sit in his chair, which was the perfect height.

It was much easier to get into this position with pants or shorts on. With my skirt on, I'd have to lift it higher on my thighs, before spreading my thighs wide. He would always look over my shoulder and make sure I was positioned properly. His hand would touch the side of my head once he was satisfied, and then he'd call me a good girl.

I felt him start to brush and braid my hair, and I closed my eyes. But this time, unlike any other day before, I was picturing the sight of him naked and stroking his penis. I felt my nipples get hard. And then felt the warmth building between my legs again. By the time he tapped me on the shoulder, my panties had a wet spot in them.

My eyes opened, I'd been daydreaming. He had gotten up and moved around me, he was now bending down in front of me, one knee between my thighs. I could smell the scent that came from between my legs, and I blushed. If I could smell it, he could too. But he kept his eyes on mine as he asked me if I was okay.

I looked around, and then looked back into his eyes. He said I must still be feeling the effects of having too much wine the night before. An excuse I was willing to go with. He reached his hands out, and offered to help me up. I took his hands, and got to my feet. With him still bent down on one knee between my legs.

He gently slid his hands up the outside of my thighs and pulled my skirt back down. He inhaled slowly through his nose. Then he looked up at me, with an expression I'd never seen on his face before. It was a bit un-nerving, but his smile always put me at ease. He stood up slowly, and adjusted himself, but now I could see the bulge in his pants.

I quickly looked away, and out the window. I felt my face start to blush, so I turned back toward his desk, to grab my hair brush. I quickly said I'd go put that back in my room, before we left. He told me he'd wait for me by the front door. I ran out of his office, up the stairs and into my bedroom.

I was flush and panting, thinking about him. How he'd looked out in the yard shirtless. His naked body, stroking his penis, before he'd taken his shower. The look in his eyes when he'd seen my body exposed. How his hands felt on my thighs, when he'd pulled my skirt down. The smile he'd given me, after breathing in my arousal, and adjusting himself.

I thought I should change my panties, but he called up the stairs, for me to hurry up. I took a deep breath to calm myself. Then I left my hair brush on my night stand, and headed back down the stairs. He was smiling as I came down the stairs, asking if I was ready to spend the day with him. I smiled and said yes.

We did a few quick errands before lunch. Stopping at our favorite diner to get a bite to eat. We sat in our regular booth, against the back wall. He liked to sit with his back to the wall, so he could see the entire restaurant, so I sat opposite him most of the time. Occasionally he liked for me to sit beside him in the corner, like he did today.

I felt he really enjoyed it when we sat side by side. He put his arm around my shoulder, and when he let his hand fall forward, it would graze my breast just above the nipple. Other times he would put his hand on my thigh, and give me a little squeeze. With his hand being as big as it was, it would cover more than half my thigh.

My skirt was about mid-thigh length, but when I sat down, it would ride up about an inch. He had taught me not to cross my legs at the knee. He told me the only time I should do that was when my mother was around. Otherwise, I was to keep my knees a fist's width apart. But I was allowed to cross my ankles.

After we ordered our food, he would put his hand in between my knees, in the shape of a fist. He smiled down at me, and called me a good girl, when he found the right spacing between my knees. Then he unclenched his hand and slid it up my thigh to the edge of my skirt, his pinky finger less than two inches away from my damp panties.

He gave my thigh a gentle squeeze, and then left his hand there. I felt an urge between my legs, like I needed to be touched. But I didn't dare move my body. The heat between my legs increased. His hand only moved away from my thigh when our food arrived. And suddenly I missed the feel of his warm hand there.

We spent a good portion of the afternoon finishing our errands. On the drive home, we talked and laughed. We brought the groceries in from the garage, putting them away together. We had just started to prepare the food for dinner when my mother arrived home. She smiled when she saw us, and said she was going to shower and lay down a bit.

He would always help carry her suitcase up the stairs. He didn't like the idea of her dragging the heavy bag up the stairs alone. That wasn't unusual when she returned from a business trip. She was tired from traveling, and would join us for the meal. He came right back down, to help me get food in the oven and on the stove.

He would tell me to wait a half hour, to make sure my mother was napping. Then he would send me up to my room to put more appropriate clothing on, so my mother wouldn't be upset. When she is home, I must always wear a bra, and clothes that are respectable for a girl my age. He didn't care what I wore when she wasn't home.

He would still have final say, if I pick something out myself. Since he is the one who takes me shopping for clothes, he will select things for me. The main rule he has when we shop for my clothing, is there must be one outfit my mother would approve of. So we have something to show her after shopping.

He had even built a special closet for me, when my mother was away on a long trip. It has a lock that requires a key that he holds onto. He calls it my back closet. The clothes my mother sees are kept in my front closet. He did this after she came home from a trip, and saw me not wearing anything but a skimpy bikini.

She'd told me to cover my body, and said it was not appropriate for me to show my body off. He had assured her that nobody had seen my body, but she'd given us both a look that made it clear she did not approve. After that my step father had started to be more cautious when she was home, like having me put a bra on.

We have a routine, when she is home, that works for all of us. While dinner was cooking, I would go into his office and do my homework. He would come in and join me, either doing some work or reading a book. Unless he needed to keep an eye on the food, to prevent it from burning or being over cooked.

Nights when my mother is home, we share a meal together as a family. Then spend the evening either talking about how our time was being spent when we were apart, watching movies or playing board games. It was always quality family time. And at bedtime, they both come to say good night to me, even though I am not a little girl anymore.

Some nights, he works late in his office. And when he comes upstairs to go to bed, he'll open my bedroom door and look in on me. If I have kicked the sheets off, he'll come in and pull them back up to cover me. I've woken up a few times when he's done that. And he's stayed with me until I fall back to sleep.

I usually sleep with just a pair of panties on. But when my mother is home, I also wear a sleep shirt. He had given me a bunch of his old t-shirts, to use as sleep shirts. So when he'd come into my room, he'd see me in his shirts and a pair of panties he'd chosen for me to wear. He'd often have to adjust himself as he left my room.

After the day we'd spent together, I was having a hard time falling asleep. My mind replaying the images of him shirtless outside in the yard. And watching him naked, stroking his penis, before he took a shower. The way he had looked at me, and had touched me. And how my body reacted to all of that.

I was laying on my back, with his t-shirt pulled up over my breasts, exposing my stiff nipples. I had kicked the sheet off, and pulled my panties off, leaving them bunched around one ankle. My legs were spread apart, and my hand was rubbing the sensitive spots between my thighs. My eyes were closed and I was biting my lower lip.

He had heard a noise coming from my room when he came up the stairs. But I had not heard him open my door, and was unaware he was watching me touch myself. I felt the flushing of my skin, a quiver in my belly, and then the rush of moisture between my legs as my release happened. He closed the door quietly, so I would not see him.

He had "caught" me masturbating more often lately. He never mentioned it though, not wanting to embarrass me. But also not wanting me to stop doing it. He loved watching me, knowing I was still innocent and unaware. He could tell by the way I was touching myself, that I was inexperienced and still discovering my own body.

Several times over the past few years, he had started to imagine what would happen if I knew he'd been watching. He often let that play out in his own mind while he masturbated himself. He'd been surprised at how hard it made him. How much he'd cum when he thought of me under him naked and touching myself in front of him.

He'd felt himself getting hard more often, when we were doing everyday things together. He was sure I had no idea what I was doing to him, or how much he was enjoying it. He'd even started having me dress in ways that showed my body off to him. He liked that I'd never questioned his choices when he picked my clothes for me.

He knew it was wrong, inappropriate for a father, even a step father to want those things. But when he'd catch me masturbating, he could never stop himself from watching. He wondered what I was thinking of when I was masturbating and exploring my own body. It bothered him to think there was a boy who made me want to touch myself.

He never considered that I might be thinking about him like that. He only worried that I was interested in some boy my own age. And he didn't want a boy to take my innocence yet. He wasn't ready for me to be distracted by boys. When he'd thought about it more, he'd realized that I wasn't at that point yet.

I was still spending my free time with him. I was still going on daddy-daughter dates with him. He felt reassured by that, and he'd continue to encourage it for as long as possible. He would keep me close for as long as he could. Knowing I was masturbating more frequently, he knew we should have "the talk" at some point.

He'd learned that when I was done masturbating, I preferred to take my panties off, because they were damp. I also sometimes took my sleep shirt off, his old t-shirts, and slept naked. And that it would not take me long to fall into a deep sleep after achieving my release. My nipples stayed hard even when I fell asleep, my arousal still fresh.

He stood outside my door, waiting for me to fall asleep after I was done. That way I would not see his erection, if I was sleeping, when he came in to cover me up with the sheet. I also would not see him picking up my damp panties off the floor, and putting them to his nose. Or know that he was looking between my thighs to see the wet spot glistening there.

He could smell my arousal, thick in the air. He wanted to reach out and touch me, to feel it on his fingers. He had stopped himself from crossing that line so many times recently. But he had not stopped himself from grabbing my damp panties off the floor, and burying his nose into them to take in my scent.

He would take a pair every few days, and smell them when he was alone. Some days he'd keep a pair stuffed in his pants pocket, during his work day. Then put them in my hamper, exchanging them for another pair, before I knew they were ever missing. He loved when I left them on top of my clothes, for him to find, not knowing what he did with them.

He'd been very careful when my mother was home, to hide my panties, where she'd never find them. But when she was away on her work trips, he kept a pair under his pillow. He sometimes had another pair in his desk drawer in his office. He was very well acquainted with my scent, and had noticed it coming from my body more often lately.

It surprised both of us the next morning, when my mother informed us that she had to leave early in the afternoon. She would be going out of town for several months, without coming home at all. There was a project that required her to remain on site for the duration. But she promised she would call, while she was gone.

We drove her to the airport that afternoon, and then stopped for ice cream on the way home. It was something we had done many times after dropping my mother off when she left on her trips. We liked to go for a walk and window shop when we were downtown.

He would point things out, and sometimes he'd say that he thought something would look good on me. There had been times when a store was open, that he'd take me inside and have me try things on. Sometimes if he really liked things he'd buy them for me, other times he'd return to the store without me to buy them as a surprise for me.

When we got home, we both went upstairs to change. He came with me into my room and picked out what he wanted me to wear. Then he told me to change, while he went to do the same thing, and he'd meet me downstairs. I took the modest clothing off, and put on the soft cotton shorts and shirt he'd picked out.

When I got downstairs, I could hear him in the kitchen. I joined him and he said he wasn't in the mood to cook. He ordered a pizza for us instead. He was making popcorn and had grabbed a bottle of wine. He told me to grab two glasses from the cupboard. It was a school night, but it was still early.

We went into the living room and he picked a movie for us to watch. We settled in, and started the movie. Once again he'd picked a movie I had never seen before. And once again there were several intimate and sexual scenes. I watched the movie, and he watched me. He paused it when the pizza arrived, and we moved to the dining room.

We always ate meals at the table. He said it meant we were focused on the meal, and would eat with intention. My mother had liked that about him, he was the type of man who wanted to appreciate things, and do things that held intention. We ate our pizza and drank more wine.

When we went back to the living room to finish watching the movie, he asked me what I thought of the intimate scenes. I blushed and told him some of the things looked sweet and others seemed a bit scary to me. He smiled at me, and told me there was nothing to be scared of. He said some day, I'd understand.

During the next intimate scene, I giggled. He paused the movie and asked me what it was that made me giggle. Frozen on the big screen tv in front of us, was a naked woman and a man who was sucking on her nipple, with one of his hands between her thighs. I felt that familiar warmth between my own thighs.

I turned from the screen and looked right at my step father and told him that I wondered what it felt like to have a man touch me like that. He didn't miss a step. He immediately asked me if I had ever tried to touch myself like that. I blushed and looked away. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder turning me around to face him.

The look in his eyes was sweet and gentle. The tone in his voice was calm and soothing. And his hand felt strong but safe on my skin. He told me we should probably talk about this stuff now that I was old enough to understand it. Then he added that there was nothing wrong with touching myself. He saw the uncomfortable look in my eyes, and decided to slow down.

He asked me if a boy had ever tried to kiss me yet. I said no. He told me that was okay. Then he asked me if there was a boy that I liked. I said no. This surprised him, and he said so out loud. He said maybe boys were afraid to approach me, adding that I was very pretty. Then he asked me again if I'd ever touched myself like the man was doing on the screen.

This time, I didn't shy away or giggle. I just nodded my head slowly. He smiled, nodded his head too. Then he asked me if it felt good to touch myself like that. I nodded my head again slowly. He told me that was good, and that I should never feel bad about doing it. He asked me how it made me feel when I touched myself.

I quietly said that it made my whole body feel warm and sometimes it made me get very wet. He asked me if I knew why I got wet. I said no. He smiled at me. Then he said that touching my body that way, caused a natural reaction to happen and that the wetness was a release from reaching the peak of that reaction.

He told me that women had a different kind of peak and release than men do. As he spoke, his eyes dropped down to my chest, and he watched as my nipples pushed against the fabric of my shirt. He decided based on my physical reaction to the conversation to keep going.

He asked me if I had ever seen a boy naked. I shook my head no. He asked me if I had only seen a man's body in the movies. I shook my head no again. His eyes showed mild surprise. Then he asked me when I had seen a man naked. I looked down to the floor, avoiding his eyes, then told him I had seen him naked. Now the surprise in his eyes changed.

He asked me when I had seen him naked. And I could see he had no idea that I had watched him in my parent's room. I told him in a whisper that I had seen him get undressed and get into the shower. The surprise in his eyes changed, to something different. He asked me if I had done that often. I shook my head no, and swore it only happened once.

He must have seen the fear, that I had done something terribly wrong, on my face. His demeanor changed immediately. His eyes softened, his voice calmer. He said that was bound to happen, living in the same household. Then he smiled, and added that he had seen my body naked many times.

I giggled at that, not understanding how he meant it. He asked me what I thought of his naked body. I told him that he was beautiful. He smiled and thanked me for saying that. Then he reached his hand to my cheek, and softly touched it, while telling me that I was beautiful too. I blushed as I felt the warmth between my legs increase.

I squirmed as I sat there. And he told me there was nothing to feel bad about. I blurted out that I didn't feel bad about anything, but that I was just feeling warm all over. He looked from my face down to between my legs, and back to my eyes just as quickly. He asked me what I meant, even though he knew from the scent that was coming from between my thighs.

I bit my lower lips, nervous to say what I was feeling. He smiled and asked me to tell him. He told me he really wanted to know, and that I could tell him anything. I told him that I was having urges. He said urges were normal. Then asked what kind of urges I was having. Once again I blurted out that I had urges to touch myself.

He looked at me for what felt like forever. He put his hand on my knee, sliding it slowly up my thigh. Then he asked me if I wanted a man to touch me because of the urges. His hand stopped about an inch away from my short shorts on the inside of my thigh. I didn't answer him, but felt like if I didn't take care of my urge right then I might explode.

I looked around the room quickly, my eyes stopping when they reached the screen again. I bit my lower lip again, now wishing I was the woman on the screen, and that a man was doing that to me. He followed my line of sight, and then slowly removed his hand from my thigh. I let out a tiny whimper, he smiled, knowing why.

He suggested that we stop watching the movie, turning the tv off. I told him I was feeling tired, and was going to go to bed a little early. He smiled at me, and said okay. But as I started to get up off the couch he told me to finish my wine, before I went upstairs. I picked up my glass, and drank down the half full glass.

I put the glass down on the coffee table and turned to leave. He asked me if I was forgetting something, so I turned back toward him. He tapped a finger to his cheek. I bent over to kiss his cheek and he turned his face at the last minute, causing our lips to make contact. I kissed him on the lips, and he kissed me back.

He chuckled and told me he had some work to do before he would be up to say goodnight. I told him I was going to take a shower before I got into bed. He told me he'd see me in a bit. I went upstairs, and quickly pulled down my shorts and panties, then peeled off the shirt I had on. I went straight into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Both my bathroom and bedroom doors were wide open. I sat down on the toilet to pee. Then quickly got into my shower. The urge kept building, as my mind went back to when I'd seen my step father naked, stroking his penis. The heat between my legs grew. I tried to shake it off, and felt the wine hitting me instead.

I shut the shower off, stepped out onto my soft bath mat, and grabbed a towel for my hair. I bent over to wrap it around my head, and as I stood up, felt the effects of the wine again. I grabbed my other towel and quickly wrapped it around my body. Then I made my way to my bed. My head was spinning, so I laid down, and closed my eyes.

The combination of my body's urges and the wine were hitting me harder. My mind going back to the image of my step father naked, stroking his penis, and the noises he made while he did that. My hands pulled my towel open, I spread my legs apart. My hands rubbing over my body.

I groped my breasts, twisting and pulling on my nipples. Thinking about a man's mouth being on them, like in the movie. Then I moved my hands further down my body and between my legs, feeling myself being so wet. The urges grew as I imagined a man's hands touching me there.

I wanted a man to make my urges go away. I wanted my step father to kiss me on the lips again. I touched myself with complete abandon. Then I imagined us being the man and woman in that movie. That he was sucking on my nipples, and touching me. I touched myself with complete abandon. My whole body shuddered violently and I felt myself get extremely wet. I felt the urge subside, and I felt groggy.

When he came upstairs a little while later, he noticed my door was wide open. He walked to the doorway and looked in. The first thing that hit him was the strong smell of my arousal. He saw me laying on top of my comforter, with a towel underneath me, and another still wrapped around my head.

He stepped into the room, walking over to my bed. He said my name several times, but I did not respond. Seeing me there, naked and knowing I had masturbated, he felt himself getting hard. The smell combined with my naked body, was turning him on. He controlled his breathing, adjusted himself, and cleared his throat.

I still did not move. I had clearly passed out, right after achieving my release. He knew he could not just leave me this way. He scooped me up naked in his arms. When my head left my mattress the towel on my head loosened and fell to the floor. He pulled the bed covers back, and laid me on my bed, putting my head on my pillow.

He pulled the sheets up over my naked body. He picked up both damp towels and hung them in my bathroom. He left my room, adjusting himself again, swearing under his breath. He knew he'd have to take care of his own arousal before he'd be able to sleep. But more importantly, he needed to put some distance between us.

Once in his room, he stripped naked and got into bed. His need for relief was so strong. He closed his eyes and stroked himself. Images of me playing on a loop in his mind. Naked or clothed. It didn't matter, I was the reason he was so hard. He let himself go to the dark and taboo place that was forbidden, and it caused an eruption, beyond anything he'd felt in years.

That night, something changed. He wanted to act on the urges that kept growing stronger. He tossed and turned most of the night, unable to prevent his thoughts of having me, in every possible way. He was no longer able to deny the fact that he needed to have me, as a woman.

With my mother gone for several months, he knew that it was the best possible opportunity for him, to finally see if he might be able to go to the next level with me. He'd been grooming me for years now, and nobody had noticed.

The only question left was, could he do it, and get away with it? He'd have to figure out different ways to escalate what was already happening. He had some ideas for making this possible. But he'd have to be careful, with me, and in general.