"Mia, why don't you turn off the TV and come to bed," said a groggy voice coming from the hallway.
I could tell Daddy was sleep walking again because he never calls me Mia unless he's been dreaming about her. Mom's been dead for almost 5 years now. She passed away when I was 15 years old leaving Daddy and me to mourn her presence. They say it takes time to heal but Daddy has never really gotten over her death.
"Poor Daddy," I whispered as I lay on the couch drenched in the blue glow of the TV. I heard his bare feet shuffle down the hall back to his bedroom. The holidays are always the worst. Mom was the one who brought the Christmas spirit into the house. She'd bake sugar cookies and allow me to decorate them with red and green sprinkles. I can remember making such a mess in the kitchen as I embellished each cookie. She would ooh and aww over each one never complaining of the work she'd have to do cleaning up.
I can still remember how each year we would all pile into the car and drive to the Christmas tree farm. There, Mom and I would evaluate every tree before Daddy chopped the chosen one down and hauled it to the car. He would look so strong hoisting the beast of a tree onto the roof of our car.
Those cheery holidays are gone now. After Mom died Dad just didn't see the point in celebrating. I glanced around the room. If Mom were here there would be stockings over the fireplace right now, and she'd probably be filling them with goodies as I dreamed quietly in my bed wondering what Santa had brought me this year. Only now the room was devoid of any holiday cheer. The one reminder of the season was the soft patter of falling snow as it was blown against the living room window.
Gift giving was something Daddy and I never did. If I wanted something all I had to do was ask. As for Daddy, the only thing he ever wanted was my mother back.
I could tell how much he longed for her the more and more I grew to look like her. The baby fat that once clung to my frame had disappeared and my hips rounded out while my breasts budded and bloomed into a full chest just like Mom's. When I finally let my hair grow down my back I would catch him looking at me and my long waves cresting around my bubbling ass.
The year I turned 18 was the first time Daddy called me by her name. I was standing at the sink with my back to him when he said, "Mia, could you get me a glass of water baby?"
I turned around so quickly I dropped the dish I was cleaning. As the plate scattered its broken pieces on the floor Daddy gasped realizing his mistake. "Oh Angela, I'm so sorry," he said blushing bright red. "You just look so much like your mother."
What can you do when stuff like that happens? Not much really. I was even flattered by his mistakes as he continued to call me by her name more and more. Mom was beautiful, so in a way Daddy was telling me I was too.
The mantle clock chimed the midnight hour. It was now officially Christmas morning, I thought to myself. I flipped the TV off and started walking down the hall to my bedroom opposite my father's. A slight winter draft nipped at my bare feet on the wood floor. When I approached my door I could hear my father's voice mumbling something from his room.
"Daddy, are you all right?" I spoke softly through the closed door. More incoherent words followed. I found myself cracking the door open. "Daddy?" I whispered.
"Oh Mia," his voice moaned in the dark. He sounded so mournful, as though he were crying. I could hear his body thrashing about in the bed restlessly.
Figuring he was dreaming, I approached the bed to wake him from this fitful sleep. "It's ok, it's ok," I cooed in a soothing voice, stroking his sleeping body.
Slightly startled my father reached up and guided my hand down to his erect cock. "Oh Mia," he said gasping for a breath, "I knew you wouldn't leave me to do this alone." His large hand held my small fingers firmly in place as I attempted to withdraw my hand from his penis. The warmth from his cock radiated into my fingertips. Daddy's cock head is so huge, I thought to myself, as I began to explore his swollen knob. I was touching my Daddy's dick. How the hell was this happening?
My father let out a soft moan and then pulled me to the bed. I found myself pinned under his large frame as his wet lips met mine. In my shock, I didn't even try to stop him. Daddy's lips felt so full of desire and it filled me with lust for the man who created me. I wanted to know what my mother had known, that cock that pressed itself against me, trying to penetrate my nightgown. Daddy's kiss got stronger and overwhelmed me so much I found myself breathless.
