Messin with Dad

Messin with Dad

This story, as is all stories, isn’t written for everyone.

If you enjoyed it, thank you very much and you’re welcome.

If not, thank you for visiting.

*****

My dad and I were at Uncle Jerry’s house. We usually go for the weekend and back home on Sunday evening. Uncle Jerry is dad’s brother. He and Aunt Beth have three kids. They started late so their kids are way younger than I am. Aunt Beth and Uncle Jerry were quiet the first two or three visits but we soon got over that and have lots of fun. Anyway, it was Sunday afternoon and we were sitting around making plans, talking about mom and stuff and getting ready to leave.

Dad and Uncle Jerry were talking about something and Aunt Beth was looking at me and smiling. She came over and sat beside me in the sofa. After a minute or two she put her hand on my knee and rubbed it. It was an obvious thing she did, not just sitting around. I didn’t know why. It was noticeable but not overbearing. After a bit it was time to go so Dad and I said our goodbyes.

On the way to the car Aunt Beth said, “Marsh, see if you can help your dad find some companionship. If not see if you can smooth things over a little. I think he’s going to be all right but we may have to bridge the gap. If he’s like Jerry he should be a lot of fun. I suppose it’s nice to have a man like that around the house isn’t it?”

“Aunt Beth,” I said. “You don’t mean I should, you know?”

“Of course not dear,” she said. “But there’s nothing wrong about being a woman and getting him thinking about it. Something to prompt him into action, so to speak. A wake up call but remember he’s a grown man so it might have to be a bit explicit. He knows all about women and woman’s parts so he might not mind a little of that.”

And after dinner last night when dad and Aunt Beth were doing the dishes Uncle Jerry said, “Marsh, you’re doing a very good job carrying your dad through all this not to mention yourself. You show a lot of good character and understanding. If you’ve thought about being more personable with your dad I would go ahead although he can be kind of a prude. You might have to scheme a little to get around that. He probably would appreciate evening visits so you can snuggle up together and talk about things. That’ll bring you and him closer together and it might awaken him some and you can watch for that. Try to linger and not be in a hurry. If you need to talk call Beth or me.”

“Uncle Jerry,” I said. “You don’t mean I should, you know?”

“Not in the least,” he said. “Still, you might see if you can turn his starter on and get his motor running. Goose it a little bit. See if the tires will spin.”

Dad and I got in the car and started home. I started to mention about Aunt Beth and Uncle Jerry but decided to wait. I remember Uncle Jerry was talking to dad about making friends, going out, night life, like that.

Dad said, “Marsh. Are you awake?”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Just something on my mind to check on. What were you saying?”

We got back to conversation and home in a couple of hours. I can’t tell you how many times I sneaked a peek at dad over the next two days. Dad doesn’t go out. I don’t remember him going out. I’ll be 21 years old next month. I’m almost legal. I’ll be able to buy beer and booze and carouse with the best of them. It’s been a long haul, school and parents and peers and all that other stuff I went through. I don’t see why they said that stuff to me. Dad would roast me on a spit if I came on to him. They weren’t really saying I should come on to him but they were saying to flirt my ass off at him.

Dad is such a dear. He’s so careful with my privacy since it was just him and me. He came to ask me something once and I had on a bathrobe and was drying my hair with the robe down my shoulders and he was almost stricken. I don’t think he knows I have vibrators or have orgasms. I don’t know if he does either, come to think of it. Well, that’s not true. I do too know. I wash his shorts. I’ve seen the evidence. I suppose I could make a couple of small inroads, nothing egregious. Maybe broach the sex subject. We’ve never don’t that. I mean I’ve never even had the talk.

When I could I took a pair of my panties and went over to dad’s bedroom and put them in dad’s stack of briefs. They were almost the same shade of gray. They were the last pair of a set of three. The last pair I had of that type. They wore a little low on my hips and had a little hole about at my vagina that was noticeable but not that much. I wore that hole in them humping my man cushion stuffed up under between my thighs. You had to play with those pants to notice the hole. Men were vagina prone so dad should find it. Maggy the marauder told me that. She would know. If he didn’t keep them for a while he could just put them in the laundry and forget it. Actually, it was a kind of a smiling to myself thing. I liked it. I felt a little happier, brighter, sillier.

Dad and I had breakfast every morning, except weekends, at 7am. We talked about everything and it was fun. All the news. Destroyed the politicians. Saved the world. Invented things. Made bets and arranged our personal schedules together. It had been two weeks since I slipped my panties in his briefs pile and they finally showed up in the hamper the day I did the wash. The hole where the vagina is was bigger.

“Dad,” I said. “Time to go out. Do you want to have dinner or supper?”

We went out a lot. Dinner is upscale. Supper is pizza or tacos or bbq or grazing.

Dad said, “Supper. We haven’t had supper for the last two weeks. I want supper.”

“Works for me,” I said. “I need to stop off at those shops down at Kennard if it works out. You can help in the store. If not I can go another time. No problem.”

“We can do that,” he said. “Mama’s Chicken. Right on the other side. Fingers.”

We both liked fingers or two forks. The only civilized way to eat chicken is with two forks. The small salad forks. Try it once and you’re hooked on two small forks for chicken for life. Mama’s Chicken is for fingers. No other way at Mama’s. If you can’t lick your fingers don’t go to Mama’s Chicken. I would have dad trapped in the car for about 30 minutes. It wasn’t that far but it was a nice slow easy drive with commuter traffic. I was going to broach the sex subject. A start.

I said, “Dad, I’m going to say a dad daughter thing.”

I gave him my best daughter smile and held it. He slowly peeked at me and back to the road. He shook his head up and down but didn’t say anything. I waited a moment so it could settle in his mind.

“I figure you assume I do sex things,” I said. “And I assume you do sex things. Being in the same house they’re bound to cross paths in some way. They haven’t and I was hoping they would so I thought I would see what I could do about that. I put a pair of my panties in with your briefs. I have had the most wonderful time knowing you had a pair of my panties. It really was wonderful girl fun thinking about it. Thank you. I figure it assisted you in your sex things and I know for a fact it assisted me in mine.”

Dad laughed out loud and smiled with his mouth open and looked at all the mirrors two or three times and out the windows and glanced at me twice. I still had that smile up.

“If we present the proper motif to each other,” I said, “maybe we can something or other. Like that. Maintain a kind of platonic thing. I’ve had some sexual atmosphere spillover of late. Maybe we can make use of that. You might have some we could make use of. Something or other. Like that.”

Dad was still smiling and it wasn’t a fake one. No comeback so maybe a pathway just opened up. Time would tell I guess.

I said, “I washed them without looking and put them away. Thought you’d like to know.”

“Ok,” he said. “Thank you. Do you want to go shopping before or after we supper?”

“Either way is ok with me,” I said. “Walking around after supper will settle supper. I want to get a new vibrator and you can help. My old one is breaking down.”

I included dad in that on the fly to get it going before he decided against it. He was smiling but his world was changing. It wasn’t easy for him, me being his daughter. A girl mentioning a vibrator breaking down presents golden opportunities for quick and specific comebacks. That one went zoom right over his head. Dad did need some work.

Mama’s Chicken has lots of tables and a half-moon stage with higher chairs around the stage railing. Bright lights on the stage too. There was a nice chrome shiny pole in the center front straight up and down and two poles at about 45 degree angles on each side. Those were painted black and had cross foot rests toward the bottom and hold-on bars across the top so you don’t fall off and a large broom end attached at the floor. They had one performer. She was about 30 years old and was dressed like Miss Kitty in a cowboy outfit. She had a black beauty mark on one side and bright red rouge cheeks and a cowboy vest and a redish thin skirt down to her ankles and boots on.

The music was sultry country and a bit loud. Miss Kitty did a pretty good spoof show on the pole and rode the side poles like a witch on a broom. You could only sit and eat chicken and wonder how that pole felt with her riding it with that skirt stuffed up between her legs. She could flat out hold on and rear back and whoop it up. It was a crowd pleaser and created a great atmosphere. It was a family kind of road house and a family with kids was the biggest draw. She circulated between the tables when she could. Everybody knew her. Her name was Miss Kitty.

Right in the middle of a conversation about farming in the rain forest on the way to the store dad said, “What should I do in the store?”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “I, uh, know what I want as far as the, uh, size or measurements. I want to get one that is very realistic, whatever that is. One that looks like one. If we could walk around and you could casually point your little finger at some that look like that you can wait outside and I can get one like that. Any comments you have to whisper to me. I promise I won’t make fun of you. And thank you.”

Dad wore pjs sometimes around the house in the evenings. He had a pair he liked more than the others. They have a design. I kept a close track and noted where on the designs he started and ended when he had an outline showing. When he wasn’t home I measured his pj bottoms from design point to design point. It took some time but eventually I had his size at almost full tilt. I wanted a new vibrator just a little smaller than that. Not too much smaller. Maybe not as long. I’d have to see in the store. I didn’t have to use the whole length. Maybe not smaller. I had a way to hide the package so he couldn’t tell anything about what I bought. I had my separation factors too. So far it was only talk and I could handle that.

We walked around looking. Not that many customers so we were mostly alone. My dad was judging penises. I kept my face serious and kept quiet. He wiggled his little finger a number of times. He also shook his head ‘no’ a few times at some I glanced at. I couldn’t see the difference.

I said, “Thanks. If you go to the back left they have some men types. You might want to take a look.”

He looked back and there wasn’t anybody back there. He frowned but walked off back that way. I picked out the one I wanted and bought it and another one I picked out and went outside. A little later dad came out. No package that I could see. The next Tuesday evening I put on my kind of sexy pjs and sat down in the sofa with him and planted my head on his chest.

I said, “Try not to interrupt me or I’ll never be able to get through. I have three pair of special panties. They’re baggy so certain objects and my hands will fit inside at certain times. They tend to get fairly soiled somehow. They’re probably full of pheromones, you know, animal scents. I folded one of them and put it in your drawer. It’s one of the something or others I mentioned we might can do.”

I gave dad a quick kiss, right on the lips, and sat in my chair like normal and didn’t look at him. After my orgasm last evening I rubbed the panties all over down in so much I almost had another orgasm. I put them in a little sealing plastic bag so they wouldn’t dry out completely.

I love my baggy panties. We have lots of sex together. Somehow they seem more private too. Also, if I went to sleep after my vibrator it wouldn’t roll off on the floor. I’d kill myself stepping on it going to pee in the middle of the night. I’d rather it just banged around in my pants

Two days later the plastic bag was back, under my pillow, with only a condom in it. The condom was unrolled and empty. I didn’t open the bag. A smile spread right across my face. He had the condom on his dick. For me. Bow wow doggy I’m going to bark tonight.

It only took me enough time to get one of my white baggy panties on to know what to do. I turned the condom inside out and put it on my new vibrator. The side that touched dad’s dick was going in my vagina. It fit snug on the vibrator, it wouldn’t slide off, no way. I had two orgasms on my clit and one in my vagina. The second one on my clit was after the one in my vagina. I went slowly so it lasted and almost wore myself out. Just before going to sleep I took the condom off the vibrator and put it in the plastic bag and sealed it. The next day when dad wasn’t looking I put it under his pillow.

Just before we nighted and I went to bed I said, “You probably should turn it inside out like I did.” I went to bed. He would figure it out.

Shy smiles at breakfast. Nice conversation like normal. Dad gave me a very close hug before I left. I thought he might have got into me a little. Sometimes I have too many layers of clothes on. I did some nice squeezes on the way to the gallery, where I worked, thinking about dad with the condom on his dick with my juices on the inside that I used for almost an hour. It was almost like I was on his dick and he was in my vagina. That’s definitely in the something or other category.

Dad’s not my only male sexual adventurer. The mechanic at the gallery grabs his balls and squeezes or moves them every time he gets a tool or turns around. He’s married with three kids but he’s mind fun. Sometimes he squats down with his knees out like a girl peeing in the woods but nothing ever falls out and flops on the pavement. One time he scratched himself with the handle end of a screwdriver up his shorts. I think he just has a very active dick. I wouldn’t mind him grabbing me like he grabs himself.

The next day was the 1

st

of the month. It was time to include dad in one of my habits. We were scrubbing one of the cars.

I said, “Tomorrow is the 1

st

of the month. I have a 1

st

and 15

th

thing I do every month. I don’t wear any pants. Either kind. Always a dress or skirt. I start from when I wake up in the morning until the same the next morning. Night gown at night. Don’t tell anybody. I thought you might enjoy knowing.”

“Really,” he said.

He didn’t know what else to say. At least I got his mind up under my skirt on the 1

st

and 15

th

. We continued washing and talking about other stuff. I knew sooner or later he would join in the fun. Patience. The next day we had a dinner out planned. Normal day of the week restaurant we went to. Before we left I got my arms around his neck and he got his on the sides of my waist.

I looked him right in the eye and said, “I want you to enjoy me extra on the 1

st

and 15

th

. That’s why I told you about it.” I gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I want you to pull up my skirt in back and be sure you know for a fact I don’t have any pants on. Sides and buns if you don’t mind. If you come around front we might not make it to the restaurant. Don’t be shy just because I’m a girl. If my face gets really red you might have to calm me down.”

It was a conflict for him. He would have to thread the needle. I knew there was a large chance he wouldn’t. My ear was almost against his ear when I felt his hands slide down both sides of my hips, on my buns a little. He got about at my thighs and I felt him pulling my skirt up one side then the other. A few seconds and I felt his fingers on my very upper thigh area and move on up on my buns. Back and forth and over to my hips and back.

I said, “Take your time please. We don’t have to hurry. While you’re there you might as well store up some impressions.”

He nodded quietly. I opened my legs just a little bit so he would notice. He came up to the top of my buns and back down. His fingertips just grazing my skin then his palm was fully covering the middle of my buns with a finger slightly down in where my buns come together. He started to go down low and in between but went another direction. He couldn’t do that yet but it was very good. I was breathing a little forced. I felt my skirt fall back down.

“You really don’t have any pants on, do your,” he said. “I really enjoyed that Marsh. Thanks. Do you want me to check again or should we go eat?”

“I think we should go eat,” I said. “You’re the first man that’s had his hands in my pants. If I had pants on. You certainly are smooth. Maybe we could do that again sometimes if you wouldn’t mind. I loved your finger dipping down a little. It almost took my breath away.”

“Sure,” he said.

We went out to eat. I tried to see if he was excited but couldn’t. He must have been. Dad seemed to be a bit courteous the whole evening. I think it was working. I mean the change from a month ago was dramatic. My dad up my skirt. Wow for that. He had a comfort level and a worry level. I think I was threading the needle between the two. I didn’t want it to go the wrong way.

On the way I said, “You know what I like to do, I like to open my legs. Spread my thighs. I don’t know why. I like the feeling of having my vagina wide open so you can actually see right down in. Somebody could come along and just do whatever. Even when I have pants on I do that. Sometimes at a restaurant if we’re in a round booth and tablecloths are hanging down so nobody can see I put one knee up on the seat so my thighs are wider.”

I let a week go by and crashed on the sofa one evening. Stretched out with my kangaroo blanket over me. I faced the back and wrestled around under the blanket with my knees pulled up about half way then turned over and did the same thing with my knees sticking out from under the blanket.

I was quiet for a while then turned over towards the back with my knees up with my backend sticking out of the blanket. This time my pj bottoms were about half way down my ass cheeks. Clear view to dad. I stayed that way a long time. Then I turned over facing off the couch again. I pulled my pj bottoms down in front almost to my hood, not quite but almost, while turning over. My feet were stretched down the sofa and the blanket didn’t quite cover my front. Two minutes, no more. Two minutes and I brought my knees up and everything got hidden except my knees sticking out. My curly hairs were showing on top the whole time.

About five minutes and I turned on my back and said, “Is it hot in here to you?”

Dad said, “Doesn’t seem like it. Is it the blanket?”

“Could be,” I said. I already had my top up about at my naval. I pushed the blanket down right about the top of my hood. Not a straight on view, and quieted down again. Another five minutes and I turned towards the back of the sofa. My legs still down, backend sticking out almost all bare. With legs straight he had no other view. Ninety seconds later I pulled up my pants and rustled around and pulled the blanket over my backside and quieted down again. It was late so I went to bed after a few minutes. I think dad did too. I was tired so I went to sleep. The next morning dad asked if I was ok, coming down with something. I said no, probably just the hard day and not to worry.