I’m a single father with an eighteen year old daughter. She still lives at home and we get on very well. She’s still at school, which probably explains the living at home bit. Let dad foot the bills for as long as possible. I’ll say this, she’s not lazy. She took over all the cooking duties several years back. I suspect that this was more in self-defence rather than wanting to cook for me.
She occasionally has friends stay over which is fine by me as long as she obeys the rules. One rule, really. No boys are staying overnight. As far as I’m concerned my daughter is a virgin and will remain that way until I have grandchildren.
She had a friend of hers stay over recently, a nice young lady by the name of Tiffany. Tiffany is about a year older than my daughter but doing the same course as her at Uni. Parental pride aside I’d have to say that Cathy is by far the smarter of the two. Parental pride notwithstanding, I have to admit that Tiffany has the edge in looks. While Cathy is a very pretty young woman Tiffany is a head turner. Men walk into lampposts turning to look at her. She is fiendishly attractive both coming and going. She’s also a bit of a cynic where men are concerned.
It was the middle of the afternoon when I happen to overhear part of a conversation they were having. Mainly I overheard Tiffany speaking as she had a distinctive and carrying voice. Cathy tends to talk in much quieter tones.
“They’re all the same, Cathy,” Tiffany was saying. “You’re just too naive. Give any man an inch and he’ll take a mile. No. I should say give any man an inch and he’ll try to give you six and tell you it’s eight.”
There was some mutual giggling and then I heard Cathy say something, too softly for me to catch the words.
“Even your dad,” retorted Tiffany. (How nice. My child was defending me.) “He’s on good behaviour right now because you’re around. If I was alone with him he’d probably be clutching my bottom in his hot little hands.”
“You’re wrong,” snapped Cathy, loud enough for me to hear. “He’d never make a pass at one of my friends.”
“Of course he would,” derided Tiffany. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll put temptation in his way and I bet he grabs my bum.”
I raised my eyebrows at that. Tiffany had a bum well worth grabbing. I decided that I’d better move along. I didn’t really want them barging out of the room and seeing me there.
Later that day I was in the kitchen and Tiffany came in. She was wearing yoga pants and she filled them out very nicely indeed. There is something about skin-tight pants on a girl that just by-passes all logic and goes straight to a man’s hormones. She was also wearing a cropped top, one that finished at about navel level, leaving a few inches of smooth skin on a tight tummy on display.
Now I knew that Tiffany intended me to grab her bottom and I certainly had no objection. Still, I could have controlled myself easily enough, but she had a surprise in store. She wasn’t intending to leave things to chance.
She came walking towards me in what was just about a model’s walk. Legs crossing as she came, placing each foot in front of the other, hips swinging happily. At the same time she had her shoulders back which just naturally threw her chest into prominence, and quite prominent it was.
All fine and good and resistible but she tripped as she came nearer. A shaft of sunlight had come through the window and was lying on the floor. That was probably what she tripped on. Whatever, she seemed to lunge forward and that lovely chest was plastered against mine and my hands automatically went around her to catch her and stop her falling.
Now I was still in control of most of my senses and when my arms went around her they went around her waist. All fair and good, no? No. I lost control of my sense of humour. My hands just slid down and closed over her bottom. So she won, right? Wrong.
When I say bottom I mean bottom. My hands slipped under her yoga pants, sliding over her bare skin until I had a nice bare cheek in each hand. If she was wearing panties either my hand went under them as well or she was wearing a thong that left her cheeks bare. I just naturally squeezed her cheeks a little, smiling when she gave a shocked gasp.
“What are you doing?” she half shrieked.
“Ah, grabbing your bottom,” I pointed out, hands still holding her cheeks, her body plastered against mine. I was having another natural reaction to having a nubile young body oppressed against me. From the colour and look on her face she knew it.
“You can’t do that,” she protested.
“I’m sorry, but wasn’t I meant to?” I asked. “I mean, that was the purpose of this exercise, wasn’t it?”
I’d leaned back a little to give me a better view of her face. Since I was still fondling her bottom this meant that my groin was pressing rather hard against hers, much to her evident embarrassment.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your fancy walk and the little trip. Designed to have me grab your bottom and show we’re all the same. I overheard you talking to Cathy earlier. Sorry, but I couldn’t resist. Move my hands, mmm?”
“Yes, please,” she said, and it sounded as though it choked her.
I suspect that she was even less happy when my hands moved upwards and out of her pants. That’s because they moved up under her top, lifting it. I’d thought her breasts were moving a little too freely under that top. No bra, apart from the hand bra I supplied.
Tiffany froze for a moment and then hastily backed away, face burning.
“I guess you can tell Cathy that you won your bet,” I told her. “Tell her to speak to me and I’ll give her all the details.”
I promptly received a furious look and Tiffany departed in high dudgeon. I wondered what she’d say to Cathy. Somehow I doubted it would be the truth. From the smug look on Cathy’s face when I saw her later I suspected that Tiffany had told her I hadn’t done anything.
I didn’t really have any interaction with Tiffany for the rest of the day. Not really surprising. At the best of times I wouldn’t have expected to talk much to her and right now she was actively avoiding me. I retired for the night feeling I’d scored a plus for men.
I woke up in the wee small hours and lay there, wondering what had woken me. A noise of some sort I guessed. Glancing at the clock I saw it was one in the morning. I was tempted to just roll over and go back to sleep but there was that little niggle saying someone’s in the house. With a sigh I got up to investigate.
There was a small glow coming from the kitchen. I assumed that either of the girls would have turned on the light so went quietly to investigate. The fridge was open, which accounted for the low light, and there was a figure standing over by the sink. I flicked on the light.
Tiffany gave a small scream, holding her hand against her chest. In her other hand was a glass which she was about to put on the sink. She was wearing pyjamas of a very silky material. The hand pressed against her chest caused that material to outline her breasts with loving detail. While the pyjama pants showed some of the curve of her leg they were too baggy to really show her off. Those yoga pants had done a much better job.
“I-I was hot,” she stuttered. “I just got a drink.” She held up the empty glass to show me.
“Yes, I guessed that. If you’d turned on the light I wouldn’t even have bothered to come down to check what was going on.”
“Yes, um, I couldn’t find the switch,” she muttered.
“Not a problem. I suppose I’d better go back to bed and let you do the same.”
I was about to turn and go when my evil sense of humour struck again.
“Are you a virgin, Tiffany?” I asked, genuine interest in my voice.
“What? What sort of question is that? What’s it got to do with you, anyway?”
“It’s information that will give me an indication of how you’ll react when I ask you to take off your pyjamas,” I explained. “If you’re a virgin you’ll be wondering why I want you to take them off. If you’re not, you’ll know.”
“You expect me to take off my pyjamas?” She sounded quite scandalised.
“Why?”
“Ah, so you’re saying you are a virgin. Let me explain it to you.”
“No,” she said quickly. “I know why. What on earth makes you think I would?”
“Ah, you do know why. I assume that means you’re not a virgin. As to why you would I thought you might be curious?”
“Will you stop trying to guess if I’m a virgin or not. It’s none of your business. Why in the world would I be curious?”
“If I’m going to fuck you it is most definitely my business. It’s always nice to know that before it’s too late. Why would you be curious? Well I couldn’t help but notice when you pulled your little prank earlier that you took the chance to rub yourself very hard against me. I thought you’d like to see what you were feeling before really feeling it.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” she protested, face red.
I just smiled. We both knew she had.
“We’re getting off the track here,” I pointed out. “I was asking you to take off your pyjamas and you haven’t done so yet. Would you like my help?”
“No,” she said, and left it at that. She stood there looking at me.
“OK. I’ll just stand here and watch. Um, may I suggest the top first?”
“You are not going to make love to me,” Tiffany stated, sounding quite determined.
“Well, not without your agreement,” I assented, “but we can discuss that after the pyjamas are gone.”
Tiffany had two little problems right then. The first problem was that I was standing in the doorway and if she wanted to go to bed she’d have to push past me or ask me to move aside. She wasn’t quite game to. Silly, really. A simple ‘please’ and I’d have had to move aside.
Her other problem was herself or, rather, her vanity. She liked her figure and enjoyed showing it off. She didn’t actually flash anyone but she certainly made sure men saw quite a bit of her. Now she was being asked to show off her body in a situation where she could tell herself I made her.
If Tiffany had been wearing a pyjama top that she had to pull over her head things might have gone differently. It takes a specific decision to take off a top that you have to drag up and pull over your head. Idly fiddling with a button and have it pop open just happens. After that your hand just automatically drops down to the next button and then that one pops. Tiffany actually looked slightly surprised when the last button went and her top gaped open, showing a lovely pair of breasts.
“Just leave it like that,” I said softly. “That’s fine.”
She seemed a little relieved at that. Yes, I could see her breasts, but she still had her top on and could pull it across in front of her at any time.
“Just push the bottoms down now,” I said, still talking quietly, and watched as she nervously did so. Once the waistband passed her hips the pants just slithered down her legs. She automatically lifted her feet out of them, leaving them on the floor.
Lovely long and shapely legs. I traced them visually from her feet all the way up to the skimpy panties she still had on.
