(* This is a story of a daughter comforting her father after he lost her mother, the love of his life. All characters are at least eighteen years of age. It is based loosely on the stories of people I've met, but names are obviously chosen to avoid embarrassing any people in real-time. If you are offended by such a tale, please read no further. There is some explicit sexual activity between consenting adults described here.
Finally, it's a love story. If you don't like love, there are other stories here with less mushy stuff. *)
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After Mom passed away, I eventually made it to Dad's house to help him organize and clean things up. I took a week off to play with my friends and decompress after our Freshman year and then went home again.
Dad was still in the dumps over losing Mom. They'd been married for almost twenty-one years when she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It was brutal, but fast. I thought that was a mercy. I just didn't see any benefit in prolonging the agony and suffering. I didn't dare say that to Dad, though. He begrudged every second he couldn't be with his love.
I tried to cheer him up as best I could, but he was deeply depressed. I cooked good meals for him and took over being the homemaker. At first, I tried to keep things just as Mom did them, but that seemed to be harder on him than ever, so I just began to clean up, slowly collecting things Mom had decorated with and packing them away. I'm not sure he noticed, but I always got a hug and a kiss from Dad and I made sure he knew he was loved.
After I'd straightened up the kitchen, I went to my old room. I'd been sleeping there since I was ten years old and I guess it was time to deal with old things not needed anymore. I sorted through my old books, boxing up the ones I'd never need nor read again for the Salvation Army.
Next, I came to my closet. It was full of things I'd worn when much younger. I made up boxes of old dresses, skirts and tops to give away. I'd grown up and out of lots of these things and I have no idea why I'd kept them, except that Mom had some emotional attachment to them. For example, my First Communion dress was still there. I had no earthly use for it, having grown out of that size a long time ago. Maybe some mother needed something like that for her girl's First Communion.
Late in high school, I'd gone through something of a retro revival. I found an old dress I'd worn for a while. It was a red and black plaid sleeveless dress with a full skirt. It came with a cute little short jacket and a broad grosgrain ribbon belt. I'd worn it with a petticoat. I loved the feeling of all that fullness around my legs and the way the skirt flared out when I took a twirl. I'd inevitably be grabbed by a guy friend who loved to jitterbug and swing me around. I loved to dance, too, and it was a lot of fun to do that in the hall near my locker before the first bell at school.
Smiling at the memory, I decided to try it on and see if it still fit. To my complete gratification, the dress fit me better than it had the previous year. All that time in the student fitness center was not wasted after all.
,
I pulled the jacket part on, fastening the buttons, and then the belt. I reached under the dress and took my shorts off, leaving only my thong panties on, then I pulled the petticoat up and tugged the dress down to fit smoothly.
I checked in the closet and found the black MaryJanes I'd worn with that outfit and tried them on. They still fit nicely, too.
Somehow, just wearing that outfit brightened my mood. I took a twirl in front of the mirror and enjoyed the view of my full petticoat beneath my dress as I moved. I had to share that with my Dad.
He was sitting in the living room, the newspaper on his lap, but staring off into space.
"Hey, Dad? Remember this dress?"
In a most ungraceful way, I skipped into the living room and took a big twirl, tripping on the leg of the coffee table and falling onto my little ass. I was momentarily stunned and I looked up to see my father's shocked expression as he stared at me. I realized, too late, that he could see everything up my dress all the way to my belly button. My thong certainly did little to hide any part of me.
He grinned at me as he got out of his chair to give me a hand up.
"Yes, dearest, I do remember that dress. You look lovely in it. I always liked that one."
On my own feet again, I moved closer to give my Daddy a hug. "Thanks, Daddy. That was just a little bit embarrassing."
He chuckled. "Ain't nobody here but us chickens, Dear."
As he hugged me, I realized something important had just come up. There was a definite bulge in the front of his jeans. I'd read somewhere that one of the first things to suffer during depression was the sex drive. I wondered if I could help treat his depression by reminding him that he's a wonderful, sexy man.
Not overthinking things, I pulled him closer to me and I kissed his cheek. "I love you, Daddy. I always will."
I pushed my pelvis against his, thinking he must have a rather nice unit. It made a good bulge. I kissed him again, this time on his lips.
That seemed to awaken him to the fact that he was holding his daughter. He let me go, looking a little flushed, but I began to have some ideas about how to help Dad heal. It had been almost a year since he lost my Mom and I know they had a very active love life until she just had too much pain. That put a real damper on things, but I know my Dad needed sex. I have to admit I have a pretty energetic sex drive, too. I had dated a few guys during my Freshman year and I was pretty used to getting regular doses of man meat. My roomie was something of a slut as well. By the end of the year, there was little we didn't discuss and catching the other with a guy was a normal event, not terribly embarrassing to either of us, even if the guys were shocked. We'd even shared a guy or two and I have to admit I found her quite sexy, as well. We plan to room together in the next school year, but we both want to get an apartment with our own rooms. I've been having fantasies of quality time with her.
I was missing regular sex and getting a bit randy, too. I couldn't imagine how my father was weathering the drought. Our brief encounter seemed to awaken something down in my panties. They were definitely moist. My Daddy looked good to me and I could definitely get down with him getting into me.
The thought of my wonderful father climbing onto me to put that amazing cock into my pussy really turned me on. I laid back on my bed and hiked the skirt of my dress up so I could take care of my urgent need. I stroked my wet pussy through my panties and then pulled them to the side.
I tried remembering the last time my current boyfriend fucked me. He'd taken me out for dinner and we split a full bottle of wine. I was very giggly and his hands were all over me. I love being felt up by an older guy. Under the table in the restaurant, he had his hand under my dress. That time, though, I hadn't worn any panties as I know it drives him crazy to find my cunt so easily available.
He barely got the bill paid before we were out in the back seat of his car and he had his cock out of his pants, my dress up above my waist, and my cunt so nicely stretched. It didn't take him more than a minute to shoot his load into me and my orgasm followed really quickly.
