Growing up with a single parent, especially a father who is a world-renowned scientist, and computer genius, wasn’t the easiest thing for a girl to do, I can assure you. At age five my dad explained the differences between males, and females by the simple expedient: “Boy’s have a penis, girls have a vagina.” At age 10 he explained the facts of life to me by saying: “Women are the receptacles, and storage area that bear the offspring of all life.” Then at puberty, when my first period almost fried my brain with embarrassment he finally took the time to sit down and explain everything in much more simpler terms. With a dictionary in one hand, and the Kama Sutra in the other he just answered any, and every question I wanted to ask about sex.
I learned from the dictionary that a slut was a dirty, slovenly, slattern woman. That a whore was a harlot/prostitute. That a bitch was a female canine. And from the Kama Sutra I learned that a wife could be all of these, and still be a lady, and so much more. When the question and answer period ended, I knew then that women had been literally getting the shaft since time began, and had one last question to ask.
“What’s the real difference between a man, and a woman, daddy?”
“Men have a penis, Chrissie, and women have a vagina,” he replied. “Other than that sweet heart, there isn’t any real difference. And that’s the one thing that nobody understands.”
The epiphany that I had then was like being hit with a falling brick. Dad really was a genius. Because women had a vagina their plumbing was different than men, and made them more emotionally inclined in normal decision making, with a lower center of gravity, and breasts that were meant for nurturing offspring. Because men had penises they had a higher center of gravity, broader shoulders, and thought more from a logical standpoint when making normal decisions. Which meant that as far as having sex was concerned both male, and female were equal in stature irregardless of society’s moral standards.
I took a moment to share this epiphany with my father, and as a result my dad had me put on birth control that very week. “Not because I don’t trust you,” he explained, “but because I want to protect you as best I can from the results of making bad decisions in the future. One child around here is more than enough for me to handle alone.” He then bought me a box of prophylactics, and used a banana to show me how to put them on a guy while he explained the dangers of VD at great length before dropping the subject entirely.
Personally, I think it was the birth control pills that made my butt, and breasts grow out so fast, but I can’t prove it. In any event by the time I turned sweet 16 I looked like a walking advertisement for Jailbait Monthly Magazine, and at 17 was getting phone calls from Playboy to become a future centerfold. Of course I’m exaggerating, but just barely. I knew I was a hotty at a young age, and when every male within eye contact complained that I gave him a sore neck.
My silky long natural fiery red mane of hair I inherited from my mother, and drives most men to distraction, but their eyes bulge out at the rest of me. All of that time spent waxing my legs, and such nonsense as we girls go through to attract the opposite sex became essential to me once I realized that no one really cared that I had graduated with honors from college at the ripe old age of 15, and gone on to get my masters in psychology, and English, and computer science by the time I turned 18. Personally I think that my five weeks at beauty school during one summer break did more for me than all of the PhD’s in the world ever could have. I learned from my peers just what it really meant to be a woman. It’s a lot of hard work that’s a lot of fun to do. So I became a cosmetologist, and with daddy’s help at the age of 19 I soon ran my own beauty saloon.
I guess it was when I changed my hair color to strawberry blond though that I noticed daddy taking those sidelong glances at me whenever we were in the house alone together, and I was walking around in little more than my panties, and bra. I’d seen that look on many men by then, and I knew it as an unattainable hunger for my obvious charms. Charms that none of my dates had as yet earned the right, or my undivided time to allow them to sample. So it is hardly worth mentioning then that the only penis I’d ever seen in my life had belonged to my father, and that only because I’d hurried into the bathroom, and caught him taking a piss when I was very young. At that age it looked huge, and with my curiosity being what it is, I took every opportunity to sneak a peek at it that I could until he started to lock the bathroom door behind him. So it’s probably no surprise that all of my fantasies were wrapped around him the moment I became sexually aware of my own body.
Yet, here was my own father taking sneak peeks now at me, and I was enraptured at this new twist of fate. Of course I immediately began to tease his hunger by walking around in thinner, and next to nothing type of clothing for a while. Regrettably, I couldn’t go braless all the time what with these Mark IV torpedoes hanging on my chest. I needed the support just to stand up straight. So instead, I started wearing demi bras, and thongs. They cup the underside of the breast, and leave the rest exposed. That way he could see my nipples poking out through my clothing, especially when they got hard. In a see through nitey, and wearing thong style panties every night before going to bed, I was sure that I was driving daddy right up the wall. And then a new problem developed suddenly as daddy spent most of his time after I went to bed now in the bathroom.
I decided on taking a new tack at this junction, and brought out the short flannel nightgowns. Hiding the goodies true, but I was naked underneath. Now he had to look for moments of opportunity, and in so doing become more obvious about it. I could tell after a week of this that he was getting a neck cramp trying to look up under it whenever I bent over, or squirmed on the couch in front of him. Until finally I knew I had him hook, line, and stink finger. As fate would have it, we were watching 9 ½ Weeks. A very sexy movie that had me squirming a great deal on the couch, and giving daddy more than the usual open crotch shot. He was actually staring between my legs up my nightgown instead of the action on the TV.
“Like what you see, daddy?”
“Er… um…” he coughed then, “yes, it’s a very sexy film, isn’t it.”
“Yes it is, but you weren’t looking at the TV when I ask, daddy. You were looking up under my nightgown at my naked vagina. Weren’t you daddy?”
