It seemed to me that my father was always too busy to
pay attention to me. He seemed to stay at his computer
all day, not doing anything but staring at his business
spreadsheet. You see he was an accountant, and ran his
business from home.
I needed to find a way to get his attention. Momma was
long gone, having run away with the guy next door. And
I could hardly even think about her without a feeling
little hostility. There was never any thought of
custody. Dad had raised me from the time I was ten
years old without a peep from my mother.
I had no idea what my father did for sex. He didn’t
seem to date very much, and most of the women he did
meet were simply introduced by friends, and he would
take them to dinner once or twice. He never brought
them home, and he never spent the night at their house.
I suppose he jacked off a lot. Once, I even searched
his room for dirty magazines and videos, but found
I really had hoped that I would find some dirty
magazines, so that I could look at the pictures and
play with myself, but there just weren’t any. I was
hoping to see pictures of some woman sucking a guy’s
long, hard dick. (One of my fantasies.)
I went into his study, there he was, at the computer
screen, working away on a spreadsheet for one of his
That was it! I was tired of being ignored, I was tired
of competing for my father’s attention. All those long
suppressed feelings welled up and… I had an idea!
I ran upstairs and took off my clothes. I took a quick
shower, putting on some body lotion that smelled sweet
and fresh. I went to my dresser, and found a T-shirt.
Putting it on, I looked in front of the mirror and saw
how revealing it was, showing my erect nipples through
I rummaged through my dresser and found a pair of
shorts. Nah, I thought, and I went to my closet, and
there, hanging under plastic, was the cheerleader
skirt I had used in my junior year at high school. I
took it off the rack; it smelled of mothballs.
Putting the skirt on anyway, I pulled it up about six
inches higher than it should have been, and pulled the
hem of the T-shirt down. I looked in the mirror.
YES! I could almost see my pussy hairs, but not quite.
Perfect, I thought, this will give him a raging boner
if ever there was one. I was hot to see his reaction.
I wanted to see what he would say, and to see if there
was a positive bulge in his pants.
I suppose this all sounds pretty perverted to the
average reader. I guess it is. All I can say for my-
self is that we’d been living alone together for years,
and I loved my Dad. I mean that I loved him like a
woman loves a man.
I’d had Dad to myself for almost 9 years, and I cooked
for him, did his laundry, and had become his companion,
his friend. So we didn’t have the usual relationship
that most fathers and daughters had. Ours was special.
Any way as ran down the stairs to my Father’s study, I
could feel myself getting, the tingling in my pussy
making me stop at the bottom of the stairs and run my
fingers across my pussy lips.
No time to play with myself, I thought, as I opened
the door and went into his study.
I went over to his overstuffed “guest” chair and sat,
watching him peer intently at the screen as his fingers
danced across the keys. I lifted a leg, putting my bare
foot on the cushion in front of me. He sniffed the air.
“Gee, you smell nice,” he said to the computer screen.
“Thanks Dad,” I said.
“What are we having for dinner —” He turned to me
and stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes going from under
my skirt, where my pussy lips were getting a lot of
air, to my T-shirt, where my nipples were hard and
dark through the material.