About ten days after my 35 year old daughter had last cleaned around my home she returned. I had washed her bra and panties so that no dried cum stains or stiffness was evident. Still, I was a bit apprehensive about how she would react if she noticed they were washed. Would she say anything? Like, why did you wash them? Or, just say thank you for washing them. Would she know that I washed them to remove any traces of my actions? Oh, the anxiety I was feeling grew, almost paralyzing my mind and attitude. What would she think? Would she be mad? Or, even worse, lose any respect for her dear old' dad? What a pervert I am. Would she just think I was that, a lonely old man and pervert? All these feeling hit me just as she walked through the door.
"Hi Daddy."
Wow, a cheerful, light and happy greeting. The weather was warm and she was carrying her jacket over her arm so her upper body, covered by a rather sheer blouse, exhibited her light pink bra rather well. I could make out her pert tits and a bit of the nipple poking the tip of her bra. Yes, I did feel a stirring in my pants.
"Hi, Baby. So good to see you." That was an understatement. My mind immediately went to the last time she gave me a show and I was immediately looking forward to another opportunity to see up her skirt. And, to answer your unasked question, I promptly forgot all about my previous anxieties. I am dealing with what is in front of me now, the sights, sounds and smells of a young, sexy female right in front of me. And even though she is my daughter she has been so sexually provocative as to render that rather meaning less. At least to this horney old man.
In a bright and sexy voice she asks if there is anything that needs special attention today. I live alone and don't really make much of a mess except dirty dishes that I wash after each use myself; everything is pretty much as she had left it.
"No, not really. I don't make much of a mess."
"OK Then we can just visit. I know you can get a bit lonely since mom died and I can't take her place, but I'm happy to be just around for a while."
"What did you think of Diana, my friend who was with me the last time?"
I now remember her friend and just how attractive she was. She also exhibited a bit of leg and upskirt, though it didn't seem as overt as, Sara, my daughter. I remember she wore light blue panties that matched her bra. I could see that too, through her blouse. I don't know why I didn't get as excited seeing her as Sara. Maybe I should have, and because she was not my daughter there would be no hint of incest. And, as I have this thought, I am struck, in the recesses of my mind, that it just may be the forbidden, the incest, that adds to my excitement.
"Diana says she finds you both charming and attractive. She admitted to me that she was flashing you. Did you notice?"
I am at a loss for words. I did notice, but not nearly as much as I noticed my daughter. What is wrong with me? Am I that depraved that I would notice my daughter over her equally attractive and sexy friend?
"Yes, I did notice it a bit. She seems very nice." AS I say this I notice how like her mother is my daughter. Her voice, manners and looks when my wife was her age. I let this thought distract me from my self incriminations of incest. "A very attractive young woman, indeed."