Characters: Hank and daughter Sissy, et al
Hank's wife dies in a car crash; daughter replaces her as Hank's slut.
I just started my senior year in high school exactly one month after my 18th birthday and one year after mom died in a car crash. She and my dad, Hank, were returning from one of their "adult parties" (that's what they called them but I wasn't sure what they were) when they got hit by a drunk driver.
Dad's trying to be a good parent but is not particularly knowledgeable or attentive to many feminine things. He knows some things but not others, like buying female supplies. He doesn't understand bras for instance other than what they are for.
"You are developing nice little titties, Sissy," he would say. "A bra only distracts. You'd be better off with no bra. Your titties would be more prominent and it would help your popularity without causing trouble."
I was a little uncomfortable with the way he talked. He would tell me he meant nothing from it, and that men naturally talk grosser the women. He did often talk nasty to mom. "Just get used to it, hear their male thoughts, but pay their words no mind," he said. His words did lessen my teen-age insecurity, and I felt good about that. I have been self-conscious of my budding breasts even though they're already large-sized for my age at 35C.
Dad said, "You remember how your mom never wore a bra and she looked great. She was proud of her beautiful tits and had no interest in hiding them behind a bra. She dressed to make them more conspicuous with tight sweaters and blouses two sizes too small with a few buttons undone. Remember? I loved seeing their outline as did my friends, many who told me they wished their wife was as free.
"So you're better off without a bra and with tops that are one size too small to show off your titties. I'm sure your friends would like it. I know your dad would. Your tits remind me of your mother," he added as he looked closely at my chest. He went on, "I have to admit I haven't paid enough attention. You no longer have titties but real adult tits, like your mom. That helps you take over for mom," he intoned as he lightly stroked a finger across a breast and a nipple still hidden behind my school blouse and bra.
His action took me aback but I couldn't focus or say anything because of the electricity shooting through my breast and my vagina as he touched me. "Before you head off to school go upstairs, take your bra off and put on a top from two years ago," he commanded. Like a dutiful daughter I did as he told. I returned in five minutes and headed for the door but was interrupted by dad. "Let me inspect before you go." I walked back to him and he put his eyes within one foot from my breasts now straining against a very small blouse. "You did good. Those are nice. Your friends are going to appreciate it. I bet some of your teachers will too, though they'll stay quiet about it. I like your tits. You're a beautiful grown up daughter. Now off to school for you." I left with my rational brain arguing with my electric feelings.
The school week went fast and I was looking forward to a lazy weekend. I strolled into the kitchen wearing a bulky sweatshirt and gray sweat pants. "You dress nice for your school friends during the week but not for your dad on weekends?" dad asked, but more of a disapproval statement than a true question. "Go upstairs, take your sweats and bra off, and put on a nice tight blouse and a short skirt." I did as he said and returned.
"Much better, Sissy. You look hot. I like that in a girl," he complimented. "Go enjoy your day, but be back by late afternoon: I have a little chore for you."
"But I was going to see Will tonight," I protested.
Dad replied, "Make it tomorrow. I need you tonight. The wait will be good for him. Or, feel free to ask him over here if you want."
"O.K.," I groaned. "What do want me to do?"
"I'll let you know," he answered, and we both went about our Saturday business.
About 5pm I returned and asked dad, "What's up?"
"For the first time in over a year I'm hosting my semi-weekly poker group. I've shopped for goodies and drinks and want it to go well. In the past your mother would act the hostess for our poker game when it was here, and I want you to do that tonight. You'll need to put on some makeup. The blouse you have on is good but undo a couple of buttons, and you need a freshly pressed skirt that's five or six inches shorter than the one you have on."
While I was trying to process all of that, dad went on, "You probably need some instruction on how to mix drinks, so go change and then I'll give you a couple of lessons. I'm sure you can handle everything else. You just have to be natural and make sure everyone has munchies and drinks if he wants and just do a general hostess job, which means smiling at everything, laughing at their stupid jokes – even if they're a little raunchy – and being very civil and friendly at all times. Like all gross men they'll get a little pushy, just don't let it bother you and let me be responsible for keeping them in line."
Still trying to sort it all out I went upstairs to get ready. While dressing I anticipated my duties and wondered how I would do. I put on my makeup before dressing and absent-mindedly glanced at my breasts in the mirror. They really are nice I thought and complimented myself, and wondered if the older guys would appreciate me as the drooling boys at school did. I finished dressing and went downstairs for my waitress lesson.
"You look great, daughter," dad said, "Just one minor error: when you wearing a blouse unbuttoned you have to undo the buttons before you tuck it in." I turned to go back upstairs when dad commanded, "We can fix that in a minute. Loosen your skirt and I'll fix the blouse."
"You want me to take my skirt off right here?" I asked with surprise.
"I assume your wearing panties and there wouldn't be anything wrong with removing your skirt, but no, you don't have to, just loosen it," he answered. I loosened the skirt but it couldn't help dropping a little below the top of my panties. Dad didn't seem to notice but directly pulled my blouse up, commented that three buttons undone is better, pulled the blouse straight down tightly and told me to tuck in my skirt. As I rezipped the skirt it was clear that dad's method spread the opening in the blouse at least six inches further. Now, not only are my nipples banging to get out, the sides of my breasts and the cleavage was clearly visible.
"Aren't my breasts too.... open?" I asked.
"No, this is fine; your a beautiful hostess," he replied. Then added, "By the way, when you're a hostess, your not my daughter – like your mom wasn't my wife, and they're not breasts, they're tits. When being a hostess, showing a little skin helps as long as it isn't too much. But if they get a little peek at your tits, the better hostess you'll be. For instance if you accidentally spill some drink on the front of your blouse... like this...," and he spilled a tablespoon of water on the front of my blouse making it transparent and showing my nipple for the world to see.
"Daddy!" I shouted
He responded, "It's O.K. Remember, when you have great looking tits and nipples it's sometimes good that others admire them. Your mother loved the attention her tits got at my poker parties." When he said "nipples" he again scraped a fingertip across the exposed one, sending another tingle through me. Before I could react he went right into the cocktail lesson as if nothing happened.