Summary:
Daughter attempts to seduce and lose virginity to father.
Note 1:
This is a
Halloween 2015 Contest story
so please vote.
Note 2:
Thanks to Robert, goamz86, and Wayne for editing this story.
REPLACING MOMMY
I said, "Daddy, you're not skipping out on hosting the Halloween party."
Even though I was eighteen, I had resumed calling my father 'Daddy' after my mother passed away of cancer in June... a week after I graduated high school.
It had been a long six months from learning she had terminal cancer two days after Christmas, to watching the failed experimental treatments that made her a facsimile of her former self, to her death.
My daddy, once the most outgoing and fun loving man I knew, became withdrawn and depressed.
Although I was devastated too, I tried to be strong for him.
My nana stayed with us for all of July and I decided to go to a local college, at least for the first year, instead of one of the few others I had been accepted to.
I hated living in California as I wasn't blonde, big fake tittied, or anorexic.
I went to a private school where I didn't fit in, nor did I want to. Although I too came from a well off family, I wanted to be successful on my own and worked hard academically to get scholarships to over a dozen schools.
I should also note, although I'm not blonde, I'm not ugly.
I'm cute in the girl next door sort of way, with hazel eyes, brown hair and large D cup breasts (just like my mother... who said it was both a curse and a blessing). I play tennis to stay in shape and swim daily. I did hide my look, I suppose, by wearing nerdy glasses, always wearing my hair in a ponytail or pigtails, and wearing very conservative attire.
I was the only girl in the entire school who wore pantyhose to school... not even any of the teachers did. But not only did I like the feel of sheer nylon, it was something my mom had also always worn, being a model for eighties pantyhose commercials. She always told me that pantyhose is ladylike, fashionable and sexy. Of course, she grew up in Paris, where it wasn't 90 every day.
That said, I believed she was right and I wanted to be just like my mom.
August was full of different family members coming to visit and help out, so it wasn't until early September that the house finally held just the two of us.
And it was eerily quiet.
My dad was still grieving, as was I, but in trying to keep things going I tried to do as much of what Mom used to do as I could.
Although we were well off, we were not rich. We didn't have a cook or maid or chauffeur, like many of my classmates.
We lived comfortably. My mom had still done the rare modelling job, but generally she stayed at home while Dad worked. He was the CEO of a medium sized computer company.
So, I made the meals, did the laundry and cleaned the house, all while going to college.
September came and went and it was October 1st when Daddy said, "I don't think I can host the annual Halloween party."
I said, "Daddy, you are not skipping out on hosting the Halloween party!"
"Oh honey, it's just too much work without your mom," he said, in his usual, since Mom died, bland tone.
Halloween, as strange as it sounds, was both my parents' favourite holiday, and had through default become mine too.
Dad decorated the front yard, Mom decorated the house, they always chose elaborate couple costumes or, the past two years, family costumes (last year the Addams Family, the year before I was Pebbles and my parents Fred and Wilma) and Halloween always accumulated into a massive costume party.
"We can do it, Daddy," I said, determined to not let him bail out, deciding to use the guilt card, "We will do it in honour of Mom."
"Oh honey," he sighed, but then looked up and said, "You're right."
"I usually am," I joked, with a big smile on my face.
"Yes, yes you are," he laughed, something I hadn't heard from him much of late.
"So what do I need to do?" I asked.
"First, you decorate the inside of the house, and I'll do the outside," he said, standing up, looking for the first time since Mom died, as if he had a purpose for something. He added, "We will make this the biggest Halloween yet."
"Yes," I agreed, standing up too, excited to keep this enthusiasm going. "Let's go shopping."
"Now you sound like your mother," he said, with a big smile across his face.
I gave him a big hug and ordered, like mom would have, "Then get a move on."
"Eerie," he said, looking at me.
"What" I asked.
"Not only do you look exactly like your mom, but you sound just like her," he said.
"She was, no, is, my role model," I replied.
"Well, she is a perfect one," he said, tears beginning to fill his eyes.
"I love you, Daddy," I said, hugging him too.
"I love you too, Miranda," he replied, pulling me in for a big father-daughter hug.
As he did, I couldn't help but feel his surprisingly hard penis against me.
I was surprised. I was intrigued. I was aroused.
Surprised because my Dad had a hard on.
Intrigued about the reason he was hard. Did I make him hard? If so, how? Seemed unlikely it was me, I mean I am his daughter, yet that was the first thing that popped into my head.
Aroused because my dad was the most attractive man I knew. Every guy I met I compared to him, and none came close. My dad was good looking, compassionate, built like an Adonis, and apparently had a pretty big penis if that brief moment could be a testament.
Now, for the record, just because I didn't fit in with the sluts of California, didn't mean I was a virgin.
Okay, technically it did. Since I had never had sex.
But, I had become quite good at giving oral sex. After giving my first blow job to my boyfriend at the time (who will remain nameless because he is a fucking loser) and being told I sucked at it (pun not intended), I went online and researched it, just like I would a school project.
I only did things to the best of my ability, and thus was determined to master oral sex.
I then, out of spite, which was indeed kind of slutty, offered his best friend head at a party. Guy loyalty is not the same as girl loyalty and he eagerly let me go to town on his small dick.
Having practiced on bananas and cucumbers, I had mastered my gag reflex from my first time and easily deep throated all five inches.
I created extra saliva, I cupped his balls and in under two minutes swallowed his entire load while never slowing down.
He groaned as he shot his load and a wash of pride coursed through me at getting him off. He told me I had given him the best blow job ever and I told him to make sure my loser, who will remain nameless, ex knew about it.
Anyways, as usually happens in high school, I was quickly labelled a slut as word got around that I had blown my ex's best friend.
For a very smart girl, I really hadn't thought my plan through.
That said, it also made me suddenly visible. Both for guys thinking I was a sure thing, and for girls who saw me finally as more than just a brain.
I rejected many offers, avoided most parties and focused on studying.
Yet, as strange as it may sound, I craved cock.
I had really enjoyed the power of sucking cock. Knowing I was giving a guy pleasure, that I controlled when he got off.
