Breakfast with Daddy

"Sorry," Daddy mumbled, pretending to look down, all the while continuing to bore in on it, unable to tear himself away.

"D-don't be," I stammered in excitement, struggling to catch my breath. "It feels g-good and...God, I'm not sure I should say this, but I-I'm k-kind of excited, l-letting you see me this way. Is th-that wrong?"

"Aah...I'm not sure," he ventured, noncommittally.

"Do y-you want it to b-be wrong?" I pushed.

"I-I should, but n-no." He stammered, shaking his head in dismay. "I don't think I do. God help me!"

"Thank God." I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing we had crossed a major hurdle. "I was afraid you might be mad, and I'm glad you think this is ok."

"Hold on, honey. I didn't say it was ok. We both know it's wrong, no matter how much we wish it weren't."

"What makes it wrong?" I challenged.

"Come on, sweetheart. I'm your father, and it can't be right for me to...It's so hard...."

"Thank God!" I interrupted excitedly. "Now I don't feel so bad about getting hot, with my nipples all swollen over seeing you seeing me like this—knowing you're hard too."

"Lisa!" Daddy objected. "I meant that it's difficult. How could you even think that I would...My God! Where isyour mind?"

"Oh God!" I exclaimed. "I'm sorry. This is so embarrassing! I thought...And now you know that...Dear God!" I shook my head, looking down in feigned embarrassment as I reach to clasp my tits once again, holding them like a push-up bra.

"Aahh, i-it's ok, honey," he tried to reassure.

"No it's not! Now you know what I was feeling when...I mean, I just thought with the way you were looking...God, I'm such a fool! I've just managed to look like some kind of pervert and totally gross you out."

"Please don't say that, honey. I wasn't grossed out. I'm s-sorry for staring. It's just that seeing your breasts like that...Well, it reminded me of your mother and...."

"Really?" I interrupted.

"Really."

"Are m-mine as b-big as hers?" I hesitantly responded.

"I-I'm not sure."

"Maybe y-you should see them again," I suggested

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, but...Well, maybe j-just a l-little," he suggested breathlessly.

"Do you really want to?"

"Yes. God forgive me, but I do." I slowly pulled away my hands, but not before further tantalizing him with a pinch and pull on each nipple.

"Aahh," he gasped.

"So what do you think, Daddy?" I pushed, gently bouncing them from side to side.

"I-I think they're a little bigger. Your bosoms are lovely, honey."

"You mean tits," I suggested. "Nola said that sounded hotter."

"Yeah, I-I suppose she's right. It's just that...Well, me being your father, it's hard...I mean I want to respect you; I'd rather not use that term."

"But what if I feel more respected when you refer to them that way?" I challenged.

"Th-then, aahh...I-I...Ok fine; you're t-tits are beautiful."

"Thank you, Daddy. But I think they'd look even better if they matched," I suggested as I dipped my finger in the pool of syrup and then slowly dabbed it on the spandex over my right nipple.

"Honey! Don't you think you're carrying this too far?" But his objection sounded rather half hearted.

"You're right. I've made a real mess," I chuckled; "now I need to clean up." Once again I soaked the napkin in ice water, rubbing it over my right nub. The thin material quickly became wet and transparent. "There, now my tits match. Isn't that better, Daddy?"

"Dear God! I-I'm not sure. This just seems so...."

"Am I really bigger than Mom was?" I interrupted, trying to distract from his objection.

"Y-yeah, you're definitely b-bigger," he panted. "But the way you stick out, with those big dark circles—your nipples look just like your mother's."

"That's so exciting!" I bubbled. "Did you get excited, seeing Mom's tits?"

"This is getting rather personal, but obviously I did. Your mom was very sexy—lucky for you or I wouldn't have been able to get her pregnant." He laughed nervously.

"So seeing her tits made you hard?" I persisted.

"For God's sake, yes! But I'm sure you already knew that. Are you just trying to embarrass me?"

"No, Daddy; I want you to be comfortable and happy seeing me this way. I was just wondering...." I trailed off.

"Wondering what?" Daddy asked guardedly.

"Well, since you got hard seeing Mom's tits, and mine look a lot like hers—only bigger—I was wondering how you felt seeing these," I pushed, gently stroking each soft orb.

"Aahh...I'm not sure what you're asking."

"Not sure or not wanting to say," I challenged. "We've always promised to be honest with each other. I've admitted this got me excited, but you..."

"Why?" he interrupted. "I mean, I'm not trying to embarrass you, but why does this get you excited&38212showing some to your old man?"

"First, you're not old, Daddy; you look great. Besides, since you're the most important man in my life, I obviously want to impress you more than anyone else. I kind of wondered...Well, it seemed like the way you were staring, I just thought maybe....Forget it; I'm not going to be on my own here, being honest and looking like an idiot!"

"Wh-what were you thinking?" Daddy asked hesitantly.

"I guess I was hoping your staring meant something."

"It d-does, I guess." He was still tentative in his response.

"More than you just being freaked out by my new look?"

"Y-you don't freak me out, honey. It's just that it's so different; it's kind of a shock."

"Because of what it does to you, seeing me look kind of like Mom?" I asked hopefully.

"I guess, maybe," he grudgingly conceded.

"What if I didn't remind you of Mom and wasn't your daughter?"

His eyes lit up and he grinned; suddenly unabashedly leering at me as he blurted out, "Hell, I'd be feeling like..." He paused and shook his head as though struggling to come to his senses. "I'm sorry; this is crazy. Youare my daughter."

"Yes, Daddy. But aren't I also a sexy desirable women?"

"I-I...Aahh...Ok, I can't deny that. But you're still my daughter."

"So I'm your sexy daughter?"

"Dear God! I'm not comfortable with this conversation, but yes, I suppose so. Seeing you like this, I'd have to be the world's biggest liar not to admit that you're a very sexy daughter."

"And when you see someone very sexy, what does it do to you," I pushed,

"I don't think we want to go there."

"Why not? It seems like you're being selfish about this whole thing."

"Selfish?" He was clearly irritated with my suggestion. "I think I've been more than tolerant."

"Come on, Daddy. Just think about it. I get all dolled up, taking the risk of dressing half naked—in front of my own father—all to impress you with...."

"I-I never asked for this." He sounded defensive.

"In some ways you did when you..."

"I never would ask you to dress like this."

"No, you didn't ask it directly. But you wanted Nola to help mentor me. After she taught me how to dress and be sexy, I obviously would want to practice it with others."

"Including your own father?" he asked incredulously.

"Obviously, with you, Daddy. You're the one who got Nola to help. When she said that any man would love to see my new look, it was only natural that I'd think of you."

"M-Me?"

"Of course. When you love and care for someone, isn't in natural that you'd want to kind of show off to them what you've learned, especially when you think that it might bring them pleasure?"

"I-I...Well, I suppose that makes sense," he responded.

"So when I'm showing you the sexy way I've learned to dress, do you like it?"

"L-Like it?" He seemed evasive.

"Yes, Daddy. Nola said that any man would find me irresistible. Do y-you think I-I'm irresistible?" I asked tentatively, shying batting my eyes at him.

"You are very pretty, honey. As to your outfit, I-I'm not sure..."

"But how do you feel about it," I pushed.

"I-I couldn't say," he continued to evade.

"Couldn't or wouldn't?" I was getting increasingly irritated. "Come on Daddy. I've been showing you my special new look. And it's pretty obvious what it does to me."

"Does to you?" He was either a complete idiot or good at acting.

"For God's sake, Daddy! Isn't it obvious? I've been watching you watch my nipples get hard and..." I paused, sharing his view of my tits, once again observing the dark protrusions, as I heard him breathing hard. "Dear God! I may as well be topless!"

"I'm s-sorry. I certainly wasn't asking for this and maybe..."

"No, but I wanted to do it for you, Daddy," I interrupted. "I've been honest about my feelings, letting you know that I'm...Well, I guess from the look of my tits I couldn't really hide it. But still, I admitted that it wasn't just the cold water; I was hot over watching you stare at me in this top. Does that upset you?"

"No...I-I mean, kind of...Well, I just don't think it's really appropriate."

"So now I'm inappropriate?" I challenged. "Still, you really seem to be enjoying my inappropriateness." I chuckled, tweaking my nipples provocatively.

"For God's sake! What do you want me from me?"

"Only what I've given you—honesty and openness. I've been unbelievable vulnerable with you, physically and emotionally. In return, you've danced around, hiding behind boundaries, how you felt about mom, what's appropriate, your fatherly image—anything but honest sharing."

"Come on, honey; I already admitted that you're a very sexy daughter. What else is there to say?"

"How about telling me why your eyes are still glued to my tits?" I pushed.

"I-I'm sorry." He shook his head, finally looking away.

"Don't apologize, Daddy. You know it excites me; I just want you to be honest about why you look."

"Well, to be honest, God forgive me, but I guess I like it. It makes me feel kind of...."

"Excited?" I ventured.

"I-I...Well, I'm not sure, honey. How would that make you feel—I mean, with me being your father and all...."

"I'd love it!" I exclaimed. "It would be flattering; I can't think of any man I'd rather have compliment me like that."

"Well then, darling, to be honest you do excite me." He was staring at my tits once again and then looked in my eyes as he continued. "I can't believe you got me to say that. I'm afraid I might regret it, and it seems kind of perverted."

"I think it's wonderful," I countered. "When you're excited over seeing me like this, does it do things to you like it does to me?"

"I guess...kind of," he mumbled, looking down.

"Like when my nipples get hard?" I suggested.

"Geez, Lisa! You just won't stop," he objected.

"Come on, Daddy; I've already admitted what happens to me. It's pretty obvious. But what about you?"

"Please, Lisa," he objected. "Don't you think there's such a thing as too much openness?"

"Not according to Mom. She always said we could be closer and should always be honest. So in all honesty, did you have those feelings when you first saw me?"

"Of course not; give me some credit. At first I was shocked with your attire. All I felt was embarrassment, thinking no father should see his daughter so skimpily clad. I knew it was wrong to look, let alone have any feelings about it."

"But I was just too sexy to resist, right?"

"I-I...Dear God, I wish you wouldn't push this discussion. But, yeah, with a body like that, I guess I didn't stand a chance—even with my own daughter!"

"So when did you lose the battle, Daddy. When did you start having those feelings?"

"Now Lisa, I'm not really comfortable with this conversation."

"Since when are we supposed to avoid communicating on things that make us uncomfortable?" I challenged. "It's not like I haven't taken some risks here, being open and honest about my feelings. It seems like you can do the same with me."

"Fine; I'm against this, and...God, this is so embarrassing, but since you've shared I guess it's only fair that...Ok, I started having feelings when you were looking for the syrup and I-I...Aaahh...."

"You got excited staring at my ass?"

"Lisa!" He shook his head in dismay. "I didn't say that."

"Oh, so you were getting excited seeing a bottle of syrup?" I laughed.

"Ok, so I was looking," he conceded. I mean, those shorts...the way they show...Well, it's hard when...."

"We know it'shard, and...."

"Cut it out," Daddy interrupted. "You know what I mean. I'm sorry, but I don't think anyone could help looking—not with that body; the way it shows."

"That's what I was hoping," I chuckled. "And you don't need to be so defensive; Nola told me all guys look."

"But not fathers—not at their own daughters!"

"I wouldn't be so sure," I countered. "Most just won't admit it. But don't you think most would look if they had a daughter dressing and looking like me," I cooed, sticking out my chest provocatively.

"I guess you make a good point—or points," he chuckled nervously, continuing to leer at my tits. "The way you're dressed, how could anyone not look?"

"Thanks, Daddy; you have no idea how special that makes me feel. And I think it's super that you're sharing your feelings like this."

"Well, it's not like you gave me much choice. I'd have to be dead not to notice—the way those tight shorts show your long legs andeverything else. God, honey! You have no idea how you look."

"Well, I knew the front showed a little, but I...."

"A little?" Daddy interrupted. "That's an understatement. I don't mean to offend you, but...Well, pumpkin, you should know, when you wear those shorts, you better not bend over."

"Thanks for the warning, Daddy; you're sweet when you get all protective. I guess I should have known; Nola said I needed to be careful 'cause my ass was irresistible and I'd hook any guy who saw me in these."

"Y-You wanted t-to be irresistible and hook m-me—your own father?!"

"What do you think?" I teased, slowing licking my lips provocatively.

"I think this is getting completely out of hand. What in God's name were you thinking, honey?"

"What have you been thinking, Daddy?" I shot back. "Oh, wait; I already know. That was obvious from the way you were staring at my ass."

"That doesn't mean anything, and I wouldn't say I was 'staring.'" He was still trying to minimize his interest, but I wasn't going to let him off the hook.

"Oh really?" I challenged. "You were so focused on my rear; you didn't see me looking between my legs—straight back at you. Given your wide-eyed, gaping-mouthed look, staring doesn't begin to describe it; your eyes were glued to my ass."

"Alright. Alright, so I was staring. I couldn't help it. For God's sake! With your bubble ass, the way those shorts hug you gives a whole new meaning to the wordexplicit."

"I can only imagine." I shook my head, picturing his view of my ass. "But from what you say, and the feel of this seam going up the middle, you must have seen everything—a full-on view of my camel-toe!"

"You're c-camel-toe?" Dad sounded dumbfounded.

"Yeah, that's where my pussy lips are outline by the material that..."

"For God's sake!" he interrupted. "Watch your language. I know damn well what it is; I just can't believe we're talking about it."

"Your daughter's camel-toe?" I pushed, grinning as I observed him blushing. "Isn't that what you meant by 'everything'—my camel-toe?"

"Dear God!" Daddy was looking down. "No father should ever see his daughter's nether in...I'm so sorry!"

"For what? You just looked," I reassured.

"But I kept looking...What in God's name was I thinking?" he cried.

"Hopefully about what a sexy daughter you had and what it might be like to...."

"Stop!" he interrupted, shaking his head in dismay. "I had no business doing that."

"You haven't done anything—yet," I added suggestively. "Please don't make me feel bad about something so special between us, Daddy."

"Special?"

"Of course; I think it's special when you can be open with me about your feelings. Isn't that what's supposed to happen in families? Is that wrong?"

"No, I-I guess not."

"But when you put down on the feelings you have seeing me like this—feelings that come from how I dress—it makes me feel like it's wrong to try to be pretty for you."

"I'm sorry, pumpkin. I do want you to feel good about your looks."

"Even when I dress kind of naughty?" I pushed.

"I'm not sure. But I guess when you're being naughty, you're still nice," he chuckled nervously.

"Sorry, Daddy, but from all that Nola has taught me, I think I prefer naughty to nice. When I dress like this, I'm going for much more than nice."

"I know, and you're more than nice, more than pretty." He paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not sure I should say this, but I'm sure you know it already—you're unbelievably sexy!"

"Thank you, Daddy. As long as we're being honest, have you been...I mean, have you had feelings while we've been eating?"

"I don't know that I should answer that but, yeah, I just can't help it. You've got about the sexiest pair of tits I've...Oh God, I'm sorry; I can't believe I just said that—about my own daughter!"

"Please don't be sorry. I love to hear you talk that way. Nola said it helps break down barriers and is a turn-on. Seeing how hard my nipples are, I guess she was right." I observed, squeezing and caressing them once again.

"Gaawd! I guess so, but I d-don't think sh-she meant us."

"You liked how they moved when I poured the syrup?" I pushed.

"God help me, yes!"

"Do you need more syrup?"

"No; I-I'm afraid I've about finished m-my pancakes." He was clueless.

"I know, Daddy. But would you like towatch me pour some more?"

"Aahh...God...I sh-shouldn't but...Maybe ahh...just a little m-more."

"Ok," I responded, beginning to shake thin threads of syrup over his mostly empty plate, feeling my heavy orbs swinging tantalizingly in front of him. "How is that?"

"Oh God! The way they move—unbelievable!"

"W-would you like to t-touch them?" I asked hesitantly.

"Aahh," he moaned. I watched with bated breath as his trembling hands moved up, and then—"Dear God! What am I doing?" He halted his move just short of the prize. "I-I want it, but I c-can't. Touching my daughter's tits? What kind of father am I? We h-have to stop," he insisted, dropping his hands.

"Are you sure?" I pushed, massaging the soft mounds.

"Oh God! You know I want it. But we just can't," he lamented. "You p-probably should c-cover some. But God, they're gorgeous!"

"You're so sweet, Daddy," I bubbled, moving around to kiss him on the cheek as leaned over to ensure my tits were hanging in front of him. "Do these beauties bring up some feelings?"

"Y-yeah; c-can't help it," he gasped.

"What does it do to you?"

"Wh-what do y-you mean?"

"Well, seeing you stare at me makes me feel excited and my tips get hard." I observed, tracing circles around each nipple. "See?"

"Aahh....y-yeah...Gaawwd!" he gasped.

"So I wondered whether maybe you were excited and getting hard—in a different place."

"I-I'd rather n-not say," he mumbled, finally looking down.

"Come on, Daddy; that's not fair," I pouted, taking on a teasing tone. "With my boobs hanging out and my tips all hard and protruding like this, it's not like I can hide what you do to me. But I can't see what's happening to you...I mean, under the table. You're ok with me exposing myself, while you can watch and hide your feelings? Does that seem fair?"

"No I-I guess not," He murmured hesitantly.

"So how is it?"

"How is what?"

"Come on, Daddy; do those feelings make you get hard? Do I need to spell it out?"

"Nnn-no, I guess not." He paused, still leaving me hanging.

"So?" I paused, waiting his response, with growing irritation. "For God's sake, Daddy! Does seeing my tits make your cock hard?!"