Late afternoon, I was working at my PC in my study when I heard the front door open then close ... forcefully; not quite slammed, but had it been animate it would have known it wasn't a good time to argue. Then it was Sophie stomping up the stairs to her room, a little shriek of frustration vented as she reached the top of the stairs. I paused to think 'Now what?'. Eighteen-year-old daughters are a mystery to fathers. I shook my head and was about to resume typing when the stomp of Sophie descending the stairs had me bracing for trouble. Perhaps it's not coming my way; perhaps she's just mad with something/someone at school ... perhaps pigs can reach high Mach numbers due to their streamlined shape.
"Daddy! You have
got
to buy me new underwear!" I flinched at the outburst, then turned to see her standing in the doorway, defiance, anger and frustration written all over her face, her arms rigid by her sides and her hands clenched into tight little fists. She was just wearing bra and knickers.
Despite myself, I grinned and raised my eyebrows "Err ... hi Sophie, good day at school?"
"NO! LOOK! I
need
new underwear!" She gestured theatrically at her chest with both hands, fingers splayed. "This bra is
ridiculous
!"
I tried not to stare at the cause of the problem, but it was clear that she had a point -- her breasts were bulging over the top of the cups, and the bra was looking somewhat the worse for wear. As she looked down and gestured at her knickers I could see that they too were ... tight. Sophie is slimly built, average height and incredibly, spectacularly pretty, just like her late mother. Athletic and toned, she had clearly not put on any weight, so her boobs had grown; it happens I guess.
"Well, darling, go and buy yourself a new set." I smiled encouragingly at her.
"No, you don't
understand
! I need
all
new stuff!
None
of my underwear fits anymore! And I can't afford what I need
now
!
You
have to buy me new stuff!
Nice
stuff!" She was glaring at me, her whole body tense with anger. She looked gorgeous ... but I can't think that, can I?
"Well, ok, but I can't come underwear shopping with you -- if I go into the underwear shop with you they'll leap to the wrong conclusions, particularly as you'll take every opportunity to wind me up, won't you?" The thought of standing in a lingerie shop whilst Sophie waved scanties in my face and asked loudly and coquettishly if Daddy would buy her this sexy little thing had me going into a cold sweat of fear.
She relaxed briefly and the ghost of a grin flickered across her face "Yes, well, I can't help that -- it's a girl's duty to embarrass her father in such situations -- you
know
that. Anyway, I've thought about that, and you're in luck -- I can spare you the horror." She reached out her left hand, fingers wiggling "Come with me ... " and then uttered those words that bring on the deepest, coldest, most primal fear in a man when spoken by a woman " ... and bring your credit card."
Groaning in defeat, I grabbed my wallet from the desk and followed her up to her room, trying desperately not to perv at her pert bottom as it wiggled up the stairs in front of me; those knickers really
were
too small.
"Sit down." She pointed to the chair in front of her desk.
I sat down and she reached across, switched on the monitor of her computer, then, to my consternation, swung her leg over mine and sat down on my thighs. The office chair tilted forward suddenly before I managed to brace my feet down against our combined weight, and my hands instinctively went to her waist.
"Er, Sophie ..."
"Shh. Just wait a minute whilst I bring this up." She wiggled back against me until her bottom was pressed against my belly, and reached forward to grab the mouse. As I peered awkwardly over her shoulder, she opened a browser and clicked to open the 'favourites' bar. A whole group of links were listed and she clicked on the first. A page from a top lingerie website displayed a beautiful young model in a lacy balconette bra and knicker set.
She leant back against my chest, twisting slightly to the right so I could see more easily over her shoulder "Right, what do you think? I want one of these in the white and one in black ..." She selected the size -- 30C.
"Er, yes, lovely -- shouldn't you get measured before you choose it?" I couldn't help myself as I looked down over her shoulder at her breasts bulging over the top of her too-small bra, my eyes widening as I took in the swell of perfect skin, then realised she was watching me out of the corner of her eye. As she turned back to look at the screen I swear a little smile played across her lips.
"Did that yesterday after school in the shop in town. Anyway, do you like it?"
"Yes, it's lovely. Just rather difficult to think about my daughter wearing it."
She giggled "Little girls grow up, Daddy." With various clicks white and black sets were added to the basket, then she clicked the next link in her favourites, which took us to another gorgeous young model in an even more sexy low-cut lace bra and thong set. I suddenly became aware that things that shouldn't be happening were happening in my shorts; the warmth and proximity of Sophie sitting in my lap, my hands on her waist, the view of her breasts and the topic and pictures ... I tried desperately to focus on something other than the tingle in my groin. With a wiggle and grimace she suddenly dropped each shoulder in turn and pushed her bra straps off, letting out a little grunt of displeasure. Deep red strap marks marred her shoulders.
She twisted to look at her left shoulder "Look! Ow!"
I frowned in sympathy, then leant forward and gently kissed the red mark. She sighed, then moved her shoulder slightly, offering another bit to be kissed. I got the hint and applied light kisses along the top of her shoulder. She twisted round, her bottom rubbing alarmingly across my lap to offer me her other shoulder; I repeated the kiss-it-better routine and she smiled.
"Thank you Daddy." She wriggled back to her original position -- more trouble for me -- and various clickings ordered her another two sets of underwear.
"Right, that's the nice stuff, now I need every-day things and sports bras and swimming costumes ..."
"What?! How much is this going to cost me?" I groaned.
"Stop fussing; I
have
to have it, and anyway it's cheaper here than in town."
She flexed her arms, which stretched her back muscles and she gave another small howl of pain. Before I knew what was happening she leant forward, reached behind her back with both hands, undid her bra, snatched it off and flung it to the floor with a shriek of frustration and hatred. She then leant back against my chest and sighed heavily, her hands clutching at her breasts as she gently massaged them.
Looking over her shoulder I watched as her hands squeezed and stroked her breasts. "Err, Sophie ... " things were starting to go horribly wrong in the shorts department.
"Sorry, just couldn't stand it any more." She said quietly. "Look at what it's done to my boobs." She leant her head back alongside mine and moved her hands away -the bra had left ugly red marks across the upper curve of her breasts ... her perfect, firm, rounded breasts that sat up on her chest ... breasts that had small, neat pink areolae and perkily erect nipples.
After a few seconds of silent, reverential viewing, she sat up again, raised her left arm above her head and twisted back towards me, her right hand cupping her left breast and gently pulling it inward and upward. Deep red marks curved round under her breast into her armpit where the bra's wires had dug into her. She looked under her arm at me, expectantly.
