"Well," I stammered, as I looked, really looked at my father, "how would it make you feel if I told you I wanted to fuck your Dad?" I had to admit (at least to myself), that my daddy was a very good looking man.
"Grossed out. I'd think there was something very wrong with you. But then again, you can't really compare the two, can you?"
As I looked at the two men standing together; best friends since college, business partners for more than 20 years, I had no choice but to agree with her. At 5'7", with thick glasses and a bulging paunch hanging over the top of his shorts, her dad really wasn't much to look. Daddy always said of John, "He's the brains, I'm just the mouthpiece," when he spoke of their 20+ years business partnership and friendship.
Though dad was in his early 40's, he looked 10 years younger with only a slight touch of gray at the temples of his curly brown hair giving away his age. He wore his mustache and goatee trimmed neatly, and the first hints of gray were appearing there too. His body was well muscled and I guessed him to be around 190 lbs spread over his six foot tall frame. Daddy had a handsome face, (not in the Brad Pitt 'oh my gosh he is gorgeous' way) with chiseled features. His cheek bones were high and well defined, and his expressive eyes could send a thousand emotions out in a matter of just moments. When he laughed, it was a big, hearty laugh. When he spoke he spoke in expansive tones. He was the quintessential alpha male. There's no question that my Dad was handsome, intelligent, and charming but I still could not understand why Kelly would want to know about his cock. He was her god-father, just as John was mine.
On occasion, after that conversation by the pool with Kelly, I would sometimes try to look at my Dad as a man instead of as my father. I tried to picture him as a woman would view him and, more and more I had to admit, Kelly was right. Sexy was a word hard for me to use describing my father, but the more I thought about, the more it seemed to be the right word.
It was around Christmas time of my first year of college when I made a discovery that would change me forever. Earlier in the year Kelly and I had started our freshman year at our parents Alma Mater, UCLA. We shared a condo, purchased by our Dads (Yes, we were both spoiled little bitches, and we knew it) in Santa Monica. Daddy and John felt that the commute from our homes in Orange County all the way to Westwood would be too long. They also wanted to make sure that we were living in a nice, safe area. They purchased the condo through their corporation and called it a tax write-off.
I was home over the Christmas holidays, preferring to spend time there as opposed to my digs. Daddy had kept my bedroom exactly as I had a left it. When I asked why he explained that this was always going to be my home and always wanted me to feel like that way. However, I always called first to make sure it was okay with him if I came by or came to stay the night. I never wanted to interrupt him in case he was entertaining. He had dated a little bit since Mommy had died, but I never had known him to bring a woman home. I assumed he did that because of me. Now that I was no longer living in the house full time, I thought he might start to get out more and perhaps even have a friend stay over. So far, it had yet to happen.
Daddy was at work and I was trying to find the 35MM negatives to the picture which sat on Daddy's bathroom counter. I started going through some old boxes in the garage. The negative I was looking for was the last photo taken of my Mom before she had died. With the advent of the digital age, I thought it might be nice to get the print scanned, digitized, and updated. As I pulled down and rifled through box after box, I felt a sense of nostalgia. I also felt a sense of loss. So many of the pictures I found where of my mother ranging in ages 18 until her death at 36. She was so beautiful and it was obvious that she was also loved. More than 500 people had attended her funeral. She was life personified in how she had lived. In her death, for me, and I am sure for Daddy as well, her life was now a painful memory.
I grew sad sorting through the numerous photos Daddy had taken over the years of her. I wished so much, that I could be more like her. When she spoke, people automatically listened to what she had to say. People hovered around her like a moth to a flame, Daddy had told me more than once. I missed her. Everyday since the day she had died I had missed her and it hurt more and more as I looked over the record of the second half of her life in these photos.
Slowly I began to repack the containers I had opened. As I prepared to put them back on the shelf, I noticed one box that I had not seen before. This box was an old, beat up, cardboard box with no markings. It had been pushed far to the back of the garage shelving and I needed a step ladder to get high enough to reach it.
As I pulled the box down and stepped off the ladder, I lost my balance and the box slipped from my hands, spilling its' contents with a crash on to the floor. Several VHS video tapes lay on the concrete floor, along with a handful of old Polaroid photos.
As I gathered the photos up I couldn't believe what I saw. Each of the half dozen photos contained an image of my Mother in various stages of undress. In one she wore nothing more than a garter belt with black stockings and a pair of stiletto heeled shoes. She couldn't have been more than 20 years old at the time of the photo. In another one, she stood proudly, hands on her hips, totally nude. Her large breasts were thrust forward as if challenging the photographer (which I assumed to be daddy). I had never realized just how sexy my mother had been. Far from tall at 5'3", about an inch taller than me, her body was full, curvy, and 'all women'. Knowing my weight to be about 125, I guessed she must have been roughly the same at that time of this picture. Seeing the similarity in the shape and size of our bodies made me blush a little bit. As I looked closer, I blushed slightly deeper as I realized for perhaps the first time, just how much I resembled her! This could be me in the photo I thought, and then I laughed out loud. My embarrassment was quickly turning to a sort of pride, as I realized that I was exact duplicate of a woman everyone loved and had thought to be beautiful and sexy.
Gathering up the tapes and the photos, I turned the box upright to put them away. I noticed then there was one item left in the box. I was amazed as I lifted the precious item from the box. Sealed in clear plastic bag, was a T-shirt. It was Baby blue in color and I could see the soft cotton was worn almost threadbare in some places. Across the front, faded but still legible, were the school letters 'UCLA'. It was Mom's favorite T-shirt. She'd worn it the night she and Daddy had met. There was a small twist tie keeping the plastic bag sealed and I slowly undid it. I took it out and held it up to look at it with a sort of awed reverence.
I laughed then, recalling the story of how, a drunken, daddy spilled an entire beer down the front of this very shirt. I was 12 when daddy had told me that story, and I had already started developing breasts, a bit early.
Mommy had laughed and said, 'One day honey, when you are wearing a T-shirt with no bra, and some drunken Jackass spills a beer on you, you'll understand why I screamed at him.'
Gently, I refolded the shirt and placed in the box, along with the sexy photos and the Video tapes. I set the box off to the side and finished putting the other things away. Daddy would be home soon and I wanted to cook a nice dinner for him. He'd been so great to me of late, not that he wasn't always great to me, he was. Since coming home for the holidays though, he'd been even more wonderful and I wanted to do something nice for him. I guessed he missed me more than he let on.
As I walked into the house through the garage door I heard my cell phone ringing. Hurriedly, I set the box down and snatched it from the counter. I was too late though, as the caller had already hung up. I checked and saw that it had been Daddy calling. I checked my voice mail I heard his voice say he would not be home for dinner as he would be working late. He apologized and said he would call me later.
I was disappointed, and not disappointed at the same time. On one hand, I wanted to cook for him, but on the other hand, I did want to see what was on the video tapes in that box.
I decided to shower first, as I had been rooting around in the dusty garage for hours. I removed my clothes and dropped them in a pile on the floor. Mom used to hate it when I did that, but Daddy didn't seem to mind as he often did the same thing. I stood in front of the full length mirror and looked at my naked body. Placing my hands on my hips, I thrust out my C-cup breasts in a blatant imitation of the pose Mom had struck for that photographer (Daddy) years ago. I have to admit that I really liked how I looked. Grabbing my digital camera I sat it on the dresser and set the timer. I dashed then in front of the lens and struck the pose once again.
As I looked at the image on the camera in front of me, now displayed on my digital camera, I picked up the Polaroid of Mommy once again to compare the two. I smiled. Unless someone knew for sure, I was willing to bet money that no one would know the women, in the two pictures, were mother and daughter. I was certain anyone and everyone would figure it to be the same person.
I looked at the photo little longer. The only noticeable difference I could find was my shaved pussy. Kelly had recently talked me into getting a Brazilian Wax and I liked how the bare lips looked. Granted, to date, I was the only one who had ever seen it (I don't count Kelly) but I thought it was a pretty look and who knows; maybe someday I'd find some guy who might think it was pretty too. Mom's pussy lips were shaved bare also, but her mound was covered by a small thatch of curly blonde pubic hairs.
Kelly had teased me often about my retaining my virginity, since she'd lost hers a year or two ago. I didn't mind the teasing though, as I knew the right guy would come along someday.
After finishing my shower, I padded, barefoot back into my bedroom, naked except for a white cotton thong.
I reached into the cardboard box of removed the plastic bag containing my mother's T-shirt. As I opened the bag I caught the hint of my Mother's perfume escape and it brought back more memories of her as I removed the thread bare t-shirt and unfolded it.
Holding it up in front of me, I smiled at the thought that it was this shirt and a beer that would lead to me being born. I pulled it over my head and slid the thin cotton Tee over my bare breasts and stomach. It was skin tight, conforming to every curve of my young body. I gazed at my reflection in my bedroom mirror. My breasts swelled outward, the faded gold UCLA lettering stretched to its' maximum across chest. I felt very sexy standing there in just a thong and the very tight shirt.
Moving back to the box, I picked up one of the VHS tapes and read the label dated 10-26-02. The date brought back one of my fondest memories of my family and childhood. Curious as to what might be on the tape; I walked over and grabbed the remote control for the TV. Daddy being Daddy had bought me a combination DVD/VHS player a couple of years ago and it had remained in my room when I moved out. I inserted the tape into the machine and sat at the foot of my bed to watch.
The camera came on and Daddy was sitting on the couch with an angry look on his face. He had his feet on the coffee table, arms crossed over his chest. He wore a red baseball cap, with an A encircled by a halo, and a white baseball Jersey with Angels splashed across the front in Red.
I smiled remembering this night well. The house was full of family and friends to watch Game six of the 2002 World Series. The Angels were down 3 games to 2 and losing 5-0 in the bottom of the 7th inning. The hated Barry Bonds and his San Francisco Giants were just 8 outs away from winning the World Series.
I laughed as I watched Daddy leap from his seated position and pump his fist into the air with a thunderous shout as Scott Spiezio launched his three run homer to make the score 5-3 .
I assumed mommy was filming, as she zoomed in on my beaming father and he stated confidently to the camera, "That's it. It's over. We are gonna win this game and win tomorrow, and be World Series Champs. Mark my words. The World Series just ended!"
As it turns out, Daddy was right, as the Angels would go on to win that game and the next one and become World Champions for the first time in the teams history.
I watched as Mommy filmed our family and friends at our home just a little more than week before her death. It seemed as though Mommy videotaped almost every minute of that night, with mere pauses here and there. At one point, the camera focused on Daddy from across the room as he stood very close to Mom's old college roommate, Karen. I couldn't hear what they were talking about, but the conversation seemed quite intimate, and I wondered what they were saying.
As the tape wore on, the guests became fewer and fewer in number, as the house gradually emptied out. Finally, the home movie ended and the screen went black.
I sat for a few moments remembering how much fun that night had been and how happy Daddy had been.
I was just about to rise and remove the tape from the VCR when the video started up again. The lighting was now dim but I could recognize the surroundings as my parent's bedroom. The camera turned then to the bed and I watched in wonder as my Mother and Karen came into focus. They sat close with their bodies pressed together, smiling toward the camera. Neither woman wore a single article of clothing. Mom's hand lay on Karen's bare thigh, and then she shifted slightly to face her friend.
