Disclaimer...This is a story of fiction. It involves a father and daughter who are over 18. I do not condone intimacy between relatives. The sole purpose is fantasy and entertainment. Let me know if we should continue the story further.
Hello, my name is Shiela, and this part of my life has confused me since it started. I use the word 'started' because it continues through today. I realize that morally it goes against everything we are conditioned to do. I have never been able to tell anyone because I don't want to be judged. I will start with my upbringing.
I am the product of bi-racial parents. My parents were good to me growing up. My dad, Larry, is African American from the inner city with a bad upbringing. He would have weekend visits throughout my childhood and very rarely missed his time to see me. He was the parent that I had fun with. Dad would build our time together around activities that I wanted to do. My dad was the parent that spoiled me. In his defense, I was a good kid with good grades, respectful, but timid.
My dad was an imposing-looking individual. He is approximately six foot three and has maintained his health by being a gym rat. He never had a gut and was built like an athlete. My dad worked hard for a living as a maintenance supervisor at a major hospital. Money wasn't always readily available, but I never knew that growing up. My needs and wants were always met, leaving me oblivious to his sacrifices. He has lived in an in-law studio apartment for most of my life in the urban neighborhood where he grew up. Because of the confined living space, I would always get dibs on the bed while he would sleep in his recliner. I remember feeling bad that his living area was so confined, but I couldn't wait to spend time with him every week. I would sit on his lap on movie nights and cuddle him, or we would make popcorn and sit on his bed. I had great memories of my time with him.
My mom, Lisa, was a schoolteacher, and we lived a typical suburban life. Mom and I got along, and I tried hard to not cause grief for her growing up. To meet all my needs and wants, Mom worked a second job, waitressing at a local restaurant. Unlike other kids from broken homes, I never sensed that there were issues between her and my dad. She never interfered with me and my dad's relationship, nor did he interfere with my mom and I's relationship. I had a peaceful childhood.
When I graduated High School, I went to a local state college to save money on not paying room and board. I would rotate between my mum or dad's depending on my schedule. During my first two years of college, I started having fun, making up for being a goody two shoes throughout my high school years. When I drank too much, I would stay at my dad's. Dad wouldn't nag me about drinking or how I dressed. He would tell me to be careful and not trust people, specifically men. I am a happy drinker; I talk a lot, and my dad would make fun of me when I showed up drunk and chatty. Every so often, he would be asleep, and I would blast music to aggravate him or entice him to hold and talk to me. He would always repay me the following morning by blasting the TV in the morning, knowing I would be hungover.
On the other hand, my mom would badger me about how I dressed and tell me how careless and naïve I was. She would remind me how my wide hips and big bum would cause my skirt to ride up involuntarily. She'd complain that my stomach being exposed would draw the wrong attention and how my c-cup cleavage made me send a whorey vibe. These are the times when she and I would get into screaming bouts with each other. I liked to feel sexy. Are my skirts short and tight? Yes, but I wasn't asleep-around woman. Men and women always complimented me on how I looked. Even my dad would complement me.
Things changed on my 21st birthday. My friends and I decided we were going club hopping now that we could drink legally, with our own IDs. To avoid an argument with my mother, I decided to get ready at my father's apartment. My dad got home at eight as I was getting ready to leave. He was typically home by four on weeknights. I realize that it was Friday, but you could set a watch on my dad and his routines. Once he walked in, I could tell that he had been drinking. My dad didn't drink often, but when he did, it was noticeable. "Hey, Baby!" he yelled.
I liked this version of my dad. When he had a few drinks in him, he was talkative and huggee. I asked him, "How do I look?" As I raised my arms and twirled in a circle.
Dad immediately came to me, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me on the top of my head. "Look at my girl, all grown up and looking sexy as hell."
Because I am only five foot one, every time my dad and I hugged, my face ended up in his stomach. I was worried he would mess up my hair and makeup, but I loved it when my dad hugged me. I loved this type of attention from him. Now that I was an adult, he had become less touchy-feely with me. We stood in place with our arms wrapped around each other; it felt so good. As we separated, I asked, "Why aren't you still out enjoying yourself?"
Dad laughed while fumbling his words, "I'm going back out. I'm trying to live a little now that you're grown. I came home because it's your birthday, and I wanted to give you some money for tonight." Then he handed me three hundred dollars. He was looking down at me with this big smile.
The look and smile he was giving made me blush, making it difficult to keep eye contact. "Thanks, DAD!" I exclaimed. I always make him aware of my whereabouts when I party with my friends. "Dad, just so you know, I am going bar hopping. So, if I end up somewhere you frequent, please don't feel uncomfortable. Feel free to come talk to my friends and me. Also, can you make sure the ringer on your phone is turned up in case I need you? Please and thank you." He continued smiling, looking down at me, so I asked, "Is everything OK? Is there something wrong with my clothes?"
This question broke the trans he was in, "No, Baby. You look amazing. I don't want to sound like your mother, but your skirt is short, and your cleavage is really showing. Please be careful and call me no matter what. I don't like that you are all grown up, and I miss movie nights with my girl. I don't want to embarrass you, so I hope we don't run into each other. Are you sleeping here tonight? I need to know. So, I know whether to sleep in my chair or on the bed."
There was a lot of ground to cover in what my dad said. "Dad, you are nothing like mom. I miss our movie nights and cuddling with my dad. Maybe we should do that some night. I'm still your little girl. Oh, and by the way, you are far from embarrassing. My friends all think you are hot as fuck. You're the only dad that's all chiseled. I am sleeping here, but please don't sleep in the chair. I won't be home until late. Don't bring home any bar room floozies, either. I gotta go, gimme a kiss." And with that, I kissed my dad and took off.
During the course of the night, my friends Mary and Megan were not unenthralled with the bars we had visited. We were going to the same old places we always went to. They were filled with nothing but drunk, obnoxious, entitled college boys. I had enough, "Hey, I think my dad is out at a bar. How about we give that a try?"
Megan exclaimed, "You mean go to a place with actual men? Is your father off-limits? I bet he can go...in the sack."
Mary chimed in, "I got dibs on him. I've known him longer. Dibs, bitches!"
I knew they had crushes on my dad but didn't realize they had thought about sleeping with him. "Fuckin gross! NO ONE IS SLEEPING WITH MY DAD! YOU DIRTY BITCHES! Besides, neither of you would even know what to do with a black man. C'mon, let's get an Uber."
Mary responded, "Neither would you. You keep fucking with pretty white guys who don't even know where a clit is." We all laughed as we got into the Uber.
There is a local bar in my dad's neighborhood. My guess is that is where he would be. I was quiet on the ride across town to the bar. I was listening to my friends joke and fantasize about my dad. Part of me was disgusted by what they imagined he'd be like. The other part of me was thinking how different their view of him was than mine. I had never thought of him being sexual. I hoped that they wouldn't embarrass me in front of my dad.
When we walked in, I could tell this was unlike any place the three of us had ever been. It felt rough. People immediately turned their attention to us; we looked out of place. All I could think was, 'I hope I got this right.' I spotted my dad at the bar talking to a woman. "DAD!" I yelled.
He turned, and I saw a huge smile, "Sheila! Get over here!" Suddenly, all the men who were staring at us like we were pieces of meat, stopped looking at us. The three of us were no longer scared. We joined him at the bar, and I could tell he probably should have been shut off. "What are you girls drinking?"
Drinking with my father was going to be a new experience. Luckily, my friends and I were already on our way to being completely blitzed. For the next two hours, I watched as Megan and Mary grilled my dad with questions as they flirted with him. I was watching and listening, not knowing how to feel about both of my friends competing to seduce my dad. Finally, the bartender announced, "Last call!" It was already twelve-thirty in the morning, and the bar closed at one.
To the dismay of Megan and Mary, my dad and I waited with them for their Uber. Once they got in, we started our ten-minute trudge to my dad's apartment. We both were stumbling and laughing the whole way home. Fortunately, I wasn't feeling sick like I typically do when I am this intoxicated. When we got into the apartment, I plopped down on the chair, and my dad went into the bathroom to change. I played with the remote, looking for something to watch, stopping at a movie that I never heard of. The information led me to believe it was a love movie. Why not? I thought.
My dad exited the bathroom wearing his typical sweat shorts and tank top. Looking at him... All I could think about was how my friends were drooling over him. I noticed how attractive he was for the first time in my life. I got why my friends were openly ogling at him. Thank God, they didn't see him in his shorts and tank top. I quickly told him, "Dad, I'm grabbing one of your t-shirts to throw on." I walked past him towards the bathroom. I wanted out of these clothes, especially this bra. The relief I felt was freedom once I undid the clasp. I stripped down to my panties, thinking, 'Thank God for thongs.' Pulling my dad's gigantic t-shirt over my body. It resembled an oversized dress on me. It went down to my knees, and I could fit three of me in his shirt and still have room.
When I returned to the living area, my dad was in bed and under the blankets. I asked, "So, I get the chair now?"
