My father and I moved when mom left us. Daddy said he was fed up with her antics and thought we'd be better off if we went somewhere where she couldn't easily find us. Being six years old, I didn't care as long as we were together..... Daddy and I, that is.
Daddy found a new job in Atlanta, and it wasn't long before we'd moved into a nice house with a big back yard and a lot of trees. The day we moved in, the family next door came over to meet us. They had a little girl my age, Emma, and I just knew the two of us were going to be best friends. The father was a doctor who was just setting up his own family practice, and since he was looking for new patients, Daddy said we might as well be neighborly and give him a try as our doctor.
Dr. Robert Crist, or Dr. Rob as he wanted to be called, was a big man. But, he had the most remarkable gentle and caring way about him. Event to this day, he was the best doctor I've ever had. He was never too busy to see us, and he even had one of those little black doctor bags that he'd bring next door to our house when Daddy called him at night, or on the weekends. Through the years, he'd patched up my scrapes and cuts when I fell down, set my broken bones and did all my childhood check-ups.
As the years passed, the memory of my mother faded and Daddy became everything to me. Even though he was my father, we were more like friends than father and daughter β supporting each other in everything we did. And, while I eventually started to have an interest in the opposite sex, I found boys my age immature and bothersome. I went out on a few dates, thanks to Emma, but, Daddy never did. He never went out with his friends..... he never went out on dates..... and he never brought a woman into our house. Not even once.
I asked him about it once, and he told me I was his whole life β that nothing would, or could, make him happier than just being my Dad and being home for me every day. Of course, that made me feel special, but, I could see the loneliness in his face when he let his guard down, and I felt sorry for Daddy when I'd go out, or spend the night with Emma, leaving him alone in the big house.
I noticed a big change in Daddy when I got close to graduation and turned eighteen years old. He wasn't treating me like a little girl anymore. He bought me a new car, opened a checking account for me with a debt card, and gave me a monthly allowance so I wouldn't have to work during the summer.
But, something else changed, too - the way Daddy looked at me.
Sometimes I'd find him staring at me and he'd just smile a funny grin when I caught him. I tried to pretend it bothered me, but, it really didn't. Honestly, I loved the attention he gave me, and I probably teased him, in an innocent way, more than I should have. I never did anything overt, mind you, but, I didn't mind him looking down my top, up my skirt, or between my legs as we watched TV before I went to bed. More than anything, he was the one person in my life that made me feel desirable and pretty, and even though he was my own father, it gave me a thrill knowing someone was ogling me.
About that same time, I discovered something about Daddy that was very unusual. He'd lock himself in his room at times. And, that was very strange, because he never did that before. It was like he'd disappear for an hour, or sometimes longer, and then he'd suddenly reappear and everything would be normal. However, quite by accident β I realized what Daddy was up to.
I happened to be looking for a certain pair of panties which I'd worn the day before. I wanted to throw them in the washer so I could wear them the next day, but I couldn't find them. I found the matching bra in the hamper in my room, but, the panties were gone. I even poured my hamper out on the floor in my room to make sure they were weren't bundled up inside my shorts, or inside a t-shirt, but, I couldn't find them. They were gone.
At first, I thought I must have simply misplaced them β maybe left them on the floor in the bathroom, or put them in the laundry bin downstairs. But, no, I checked and still couldn't find them. After dinner though, I took one more look in my hamper...... and lo and behold, there they were - tucked down about half way, right next to the matching bra.
"Wow." I said. "That's really weird."
But, I noticed something even weirder β the panties were perfectly folded, and since I knew I'd dumped my hamper out on my floor trying to find them earlier, I knew that wasn't possible. I knew I didn't overlook them earlier. They weren't there and now they were.
Knowing Daddy was the only other one in the house, I knew it had to be him. But, why would Daddy want my underpants?
Okay, now before I go any further I have to admit I was a sheltered and naΓ―ve eighteen year old girl who went to a private school, and I had virtually no experience with boys. And when this happened, I honestly didn't have any idea why Daddy would take my panties, and then put them back. So the next few days, I was very careful about how I put my dirty clothes into my hamper, especially my underwear. And each day, I discovered my panties had been disturbed. It only took another three days for me to put it all together. Each time Daddy disappeared into his room, my panties would go missing, and they'd mysteriously reappear back in my hamper sometime before I went to bed.
It was my friend next door, Emma, Dr. Rob's daughter, that helped me figure it out. Actually, it didn't take her long at all. "Carly," she said, looking at me like I was completely ignorant, "your Dad is using them while he jacks off...... you know, while he's masturbating."
"What?" I said. "No way!" I exclaimed.
"Carly," she said, reaching up to grasp my shoulders and turning me so I was facing her, "don't be so shocked. My Dad's been doing that for years. Welcome to the club."
"No way!" I exclaimed again.
"Come on." Emma said, "I'll prove it."
We went over to Emma's house and she sat me down next to her computer. After a few minutes, we were looking at a screen full of search hits after she'd searched on 'Panty Sniffing'. There were pages and pages of search hits, and as we looked at a few of them, she pointed out each place where it clearly said something about boys, men, husbands, boyfriends and fathers sniffing, licking and using panties while they masturbated themselves. She even found several sites that specifically talked about fathers taking their daughter's panties so they could sniff their daughter's intimate smell while they stroked themselves to orgasm.
I was stunned beyond belief, and smartly pants Emma just sat there giggling at me. "Better get used to it." She warned. "If it's not your father, it's going to be a boyfriend doing it. And when you get married, its gonna be your husband, too."
I still wasn't buying it. My own father using my panties....... for that! No way.
"Look," Emma said, "your panties smell like you...... you know..... down there. Guys can't resist that smell β young or old, it doesn't matter. It's the way they are wired. At first I didn't believe it, either, but I came home early one day and found my Dad lying on my bed with my panties plastered across his face while he pulled himself. So believe me, it's true. Your Dad is probably just like mine β he's jacking himself off everyday, sniffing your girl smell and probably thinking about you while he jerks himself."