Daddy's Naughty Box

Many, many thanks to Gayle for editing my work!

Comments welcome.

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I've always found it amazing how quickly emotions and thoughts can change over a single issue when one's beliefs are challenged. Something recently happened in my life which at first shocked, and candidly disgusted me, yet within only hours I came to see things quite differently.

My name is Danielle, but all my friends call me Dani. I am a twenty four year old single woman, living in Boston, Massachusetts. I grew up in a suburb to the north of the city, where my dad still lives, about thirty miles from my current apartment in the Back Bay.

After graduating from a great private college in Maine, I accepted an entry level finance position with a large insurance company in Boston. The pay wasn't great, but there appeared to be a lot of room for future growth, so I signed on. Given the state of the economy, I was just happy to have a decent position as so many of my classmates were still looking for work.

My parents divorced when I was in high school, and then while I was in college my mom remarried. She and her new husband moved to the Midwest two years ago, so during the summers and most holidays I stayed with my dad. I wasn't happy about the divorce, but it was nice to stay with Dad as it gave me a bit of normalcy.

After receiving my diploma, I moved back home with my dad for a year and a half or so and commuted via subway to and from work each day. Just six months ago, along with a friend from work, I signed my first lease on a two bedroom apartment, not far from our office. It may sound silly, but I felt amazingly proud to be on my own in the city with what seemed like limitless possibilities ahead of me. Neither my roommate, Heather, nor I made great money, so we shared a fairly Spartan space, and didn't lead an overly extravagant lifestyle.

Every couple of months, my friends from high school would set up a night out, so I'd make my way back home to party with old pals. After having an evening of drinks and laughs, I'd head back to Dad's and crash in my old room. It was on one of those occasions that I found something that rocked me to my core, and made me reevaluate some long-held beliefs.

Jen Scott, my best friend from high school, sent me an e-mail to let me know the girls were getting together the next Saturday. I had no real plans, and a night with old friends sounded good, so I sent her back a message to say I was in.

I called my dad to let him know I would be heading home for the weekend, and he informed me that he'd be out of town at a trade show in Chicago. My dad is a marketing manager with a major manufacturing company, and often spends time on the road, so this was not an uncommon event. He said I was welcome to stay as always, and since I still had a key, it was no problem.

I went out that Friday evening with folks from work for a few drinks. I had had my eye on Luke Matthews from accounting for weeks, and tried to engage him in conversation on a few occasions, trying to let him know I was interested without being too over the top. As the evening wore on, I became angrier with my roommate by the minute. Every time I tried to get Luke alone, Heather would suddenly show up looking to join the conversation. She knew I liked him, yet she appeared intent on keeping us apart for some reason. I was so mad I left the bar early and headed home alone to get some rest, knowing I was heading out the next evening as well.

I awoke fairly early the next morning, and made myself comfortable as I ate my cereal on the couch. Only a few minutes later I heard Heather's door open, and was shocked to see Luke walk out clad in only his boxers. He didn't seem to notice me, and slowly made his way into the bathroom.

I may have been mad the night before, but suddenly my blood began to boil. At that moment, I needed to get out of that place fast for fear I might kill the both of them. I hadn't even taken a shower, but I threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, before packing my bag to head out. I had brought work home to do that weekend, so I grabbed my laptop and briefcase, and before I even knew what was happening, I was on the subway heading towards home.

As I rode the train, I couldn't help but feel betrayed. Heather had never even shown any interest in Luke, yet she knew I really liked him. She and I are both attractive, but in my opinion she comes off a bit slutty where as I am more of the girl next door type. I could only think that she must have done it to intentionally hurt me, but for what reason I just couldn't figure out. Regardless, right there and then I made up my mind that I was done with the both of them. When my lease was up in six months, it would be goodbye, Heather.

When I arrived at my dad's place, I decided to pour myself into work and try to forget about the previous twelve or so hours. I opened the laptop, and set about diligently working on the spreadsheet I had created earlier that week. After only an hour or so, my fingers actually hurt as I realized I was furiously typing, apparently taking out my frustrations on the keys.

I took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, and then continued on. The spreadsheet I was working on was over forty pages, and I always found them hard to review on the computer, having to flip forward and back so often. I wanted to print it out to review a hard copy, but my laptop was not hooked up to anything at my dad's place.

Dad had an office in his home, so I went there to see if he had a computer I could use. I knew he almost exclusively worked on his laptop, but was pleased to see he still had an old desktop in the study. I booted up the computer, and thankfully found it not password protected. After only a few clicks, I realized I'd be able to sign into my personal e-mail, so I decided to send the spreadsheet to my e-mail address, so I could print it from Dad's computer.

I opened the spreadsheet online, and just after I hit the icon, the printer chugged to life and began slowly churning out page after page. After spitting out only a dozen or so sheets, everything came to a halt when it ran out of paper. I searched the room high and low for a new ream, but found nothing. With that I opened the closet and began to look more intently as I prayed Dad must have more nearby.

I found nothing on the lower shelves, so I moved the computer chair for something to stand on as I checked the top shelf. The first few boxes were filled with old family mementos, so I pushed them aside. In the very back corner was one final box, which I grasped and pulled forward. It was heavy and too large to open in the cramped space, so I pulled it down and sat it on the desk before opening it.

The box was roughly the side of those which contained paper at work, so I was sure my problem was solved. When I opened it I found what appeared to be stacks of magazines, each resting face down. When I picked one up and turned it over, I was very surprised to find that it was a Playboy. Pretty much all of the guys I knew at school looked at porn, so I wasn't completely shocked, yet I just never even contemplated my dad might be interested too.

Part of me felt like I was invading his privacy, but another part still wondered if there might be printer paper buried somewhere deeper down in the box. I carefully placed the magazine down on the desk, wanting to pack the box back just as I had found it in case Dad checked. I didn't want him to know I had found his stash.

Digging back in the box I found another playboy underneath the first, followed by a Penthouse. After pulling out a few more Penthouse magazines, I found two stacks of smaller publications side by side, each roughly the size of a Reader's Digest or TV Guide. They too were face down, but when I turned them over, they all had titles like, Family Letters, Family Affairs, Family Taboo, etc. A shiver went through my body as I instantly had an idea of just what they might be.

Very slowly I went through the stack and looked at each one. The edges of the magazines were frayed and yellowed, making me think they were ages old, like relics from years long before the availability of internet smut. After looking at the dates, all were at least ten years old, so I wondered what compelled Daddy to hold onto them.

For some reason I just had to know what was inside. Feeling more nervous than I had in ages, I looked around the room to make sure the coast was clear, even though Dad was miles away and the doors were locked. I took one of the small publications in hand and opened it up with more than a bit of trepidation. Under the contents page, there was a bold list of titles, each with some kind of family relationship in the name. My earlier fears seemed to be justified; my dad had clearly been reading some type of incest magazine!

I was torn as to whether I should proceed further and really see what was inside, or close it and forever try to convince myself I'd never even found them in the first place. Within only second, curiosity won out. I steeled my nerves, and slowly began flipping the pages. It appeared that the magazine was filled with what were supposed to be letters from readers, occasionally supplemented by hand-drawn pictures of couples in graphic sexual positions.

For the record, I am no prude, but at that moment I was more than a bit overwhelmed. I had lost my virginity in high school, and had a number of other boyfriends over the years. In fact, I'd even made out with a girlfriend from college one evening when we both had too much to drink, yet this was new territory altogether. I closed the magazine and carefully packed the box just as I had found it. Climbing on the chair, I stuffed it back into place in the far corner of the closet and tried to set everything back just as I had found it. I left the room in stunned silence.

I sat on the couch in the living room, trying to come to grips with my discovery. After a few minutes, I decided the best idea was to get back to work and try to forget what I saw. I began reviewing my spreadsheets, but there was simply no way in hell I could concentrate with what was swimming around in my head. My mind kept wandering back to the titles I'd read, and wondered just what was written that made my dad so interested. Could he really be into incest?

I was mortified. My dad had always been amazingly loving and supportive, the one person on whom I could always count. However, as I pondered this newfound image of him, I was forced to contemplate our relationship in an entirely new way. Did the idea of a physical relationship with a family member, a daughter for example, turn him on? Where exactly did that leave me, or us? As I sat there, my mind raced with thoughts of my dad. I was reminded of something that had happened a few years before.

My father is forty six years old, and is honestly quite a handsome man. I had never really noticed before, not until my friends pointed it out one evening. I was at my friend Jen's house for a sleepover when I was in high school, and we started talking about who the hottest guy in the neighborhood was. The other girls and I started throwing out names of boys we liked, when Meredith Richmond said, "Dani's dad, by far." All the other girls squealed and laughed, but each one nodded their heads and seemed to agree with her whole heartedly.

I was dumbfounded that they would think my dad was the neighborhood hottie, because after all, to me he was just Dad. Yet the crowd appeared convinced. I yelled out, "Gross!" but they all just giggled louder and seemed to bask in my embarrassment.

Jen finally said, "You have to admit it, Dan. Your dad is a stud."

I was stunned; my dad, a stud? The idea felt uncomfortable at the time, but it did force me to look at him in a new way. He was still just the same sweet, loving guy I'd always known, but I had to admit he was also really handsome. In fact, after that I was proud the girls thought my dad was so attractive, though I never told him so.

As my mind came back to the present, I realized I burned through all the paper in dad's printer, a fact that he might find soon after he came home. I was feeling quite nervous and guilty, so I grabbed his car keys and headed to the local office super store to replenish the stock. The entire ride, I just couldn't get the images I'd seen in those magazines out of my head. After picking up more paper, I headed home to finish printing my work and also wipe out any trace of what I had left in the closet.

My friends and I were scheduled to go out at eight o'clock that evening, but when Jen called I told her I wasn't feeling well and was going to stay home. Part of me wanted to go out and get plastered to forget about what I found, but I was afraid that if I did I may slip up and tell the girls about the magazines. The last thing I needed was a bunch of drunken chicks piling into my dad's house late night to see for themselves. As troubled as I was, it was Dad's dark little secret, and I felt I owed it to him to keep it that way.

I sat at the kitchen table, attempting to work, but my head just wasn't in it. Try as I may to concentrate on the spreadsheets, my mind kept going back into the box. After struggling to fight it for an hour or so, my curiosity was killing me, and I just had to know what exactly was written in those letters. Feeling quite guilty, I made my way back to Dad's office, and pulled the chair to the closet once more. After moving the other boxes aside, I pulled my target forward and slowly lowered it to the desk.

I carefully peeled back the Playboys and Penthouses, and set them down as gently as possible. I then grabbed the next one in the stack and flipped it over and read its title, across the top was printed, "Family Letters". There was a girl who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties on the cover, looking completely innocent, sitting up in bed with a blanket pulled up to her neck. The caption beside her head read, "I Had a Bad Dream, Daddy."

After taking a deep breath, I opened it and started paging through. The first letter was titled, "Staying with Aunt Sue," and I began to read. It was by a nineteen year old boy who went to live with an older Aunt, who just happened to live nearby the university he was attending. It was poorly written, and the set up sounded completely unbelievable, so I skipped forward to the next letter wondering if they were all that improbable.

On the next page, I found the one titled, "Daddy Dearest." I noticed the upper right hand corner of the page was slightly turned down, as if someone was marking this particular letter for future reference. There was also a crude drawing of a naked woman between a man's legs, with her lips wrapped around his disproportionally large penis. I decided to read the letter to find just what might be so interesting that the page needed to be highlighted.

Feeling quite anxious, I began to read on. Unlike the first one, this letter was surprisingly well-written. The story was told from a twenty two year old woman's perspective, and detailed how she was in love with her father. Her words were so powerful and heartfelt, I actually found myself believing that this one might in fact be true. The emotions were so strong; I got swept up in her tale and unexpectedly started growing quite horny as she chronicled everything until their eventual union.

I kept trying to tell myself that it was wrong, yet my body began to tingle in all my naughty parts. At one point I pictured myself in the author's place, being so taken with my own dad that I'd intentionally attempt to seduce him. I wondered if somehow Daddy had felt the same emotions when he read her words since she made their coupling sound so natural.

When I finished the tale, my pulse was pounding. Only hours before I had never even contemplated sex with a family member. Suddenly I was left pondering if people not only thought about such things, but actually did them. In my mind's eye I could see my dad, and tried to imagine what he might be like in bed. He was tall and broad shouldered, but I found myself trying to picture what another piece of his anatomy might look like, one that I had never before seen.

At that very moment, me cell phone rang, and I raced to the kitchen to grab it. I noticed Dad's name on the display, so I took a deep breath before I answered the call. "Hi, Daddy," I greeted him, trying to sound as normal as possible.

"Hello, sweetheart," he replied, in a chipper tone. Just hearing his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I was suddenly at a loss for words. Thankfully, he asked, "Everything okay there?"

I fumbled for a moment, but then muttered, "Yea, umm, just fine."

It was clear he was busy when he replied shortly, "I'm on a quick break, Dani. I just wanted to make sure you made it home safely."

"Everything's great here, Dad." I responded, attempting to sound as upbeat as he had. After a few more pleasantries he was gone, back to the trade show to earn his living.

The silence seemed deafening as I dropped down onto the couch and tried to figure out just what the hell I was supposed to do next. I didn't really want to go out with my friends, and heading back to the apartment was not an option as I just couldn't face either Heather or Luke. The burning in my crotch from reading the letter was still where, which made me uncomfortable, only made worse by the fact that it had actually grown hotter when I heard my dad's deep voice. Somehow, I just had to ignore it.

I decided to turn on the television to see if there was some type of mindless entertainment in which I could lose myself until I fell asleep. I was so agitated, it seemed like I could only concentrate on a show for a few seconds before I had to change the channel. I finally settled on a comedy show and really tried to get into it, yet the dull ache in my groin was just too hard to ignore.

I felt dirty as I made my way to my bedroom, closed the curtains tight and shut off the lights. I peeled off all my clothes, except for my skimpy panties, and climbed onto the bed. My hand wandered between my legs, and I tried to think of hot guys I knew, but the first one that came into my mind was Luke, which completely frustrated me. I quickly pushed his image out of my mind, and tried to think of Scott Stark, a stud from school, but his image didn't last long. For some reason, every man I tried to think of slowly morphed into my dad, and I saw his handsome face clearly as I diddled myself.

I moaned out loud, conflicted as I was. My body was on fire and needed satisfaction, but rubbing myself off to my dad seemed far too taboo. Try as I may to fight it, Dad's face was ever present as I ran my fingers up and down my overheated slit. When I finally moved to my clit, I went off like a rocket. In the throes of passion I couldn't help but whimper, "Oh, Daddy."

After I came down from my powerful orgasm, I felt a great deal of shame. How could I do that? Get myself off to visions of my own father? I buried my head in the pillow and prayed that sleep would take me soon.

Try as I may to relax, I felt like I'd just polished off a dozen cups of coffee. Every time I tried to clear my mind, I'd see the words I had read earlier in that woman's love story about her dad. And each time I thought about her father, a vision of my own would fill my head. My skin tingled all over, but I fought the urge to touch myself once more.

My thoughts kept wandering back to, "Daddy's Naughty Box," as I had come to think of it. It seemed like with every illicit vision I would force out of my head, five more would come streaming back in. I had read just two letters, and in fact only one all the way through, but I was left wondering just what else might be in those magazines. Was the dog-eared page just an inadvertent addition to an old text, carelessly left by someone, or was it significant to my dad for some reason?