My name is Rae. I'm a Senior in High School. Just so you can get a mental picture, I'm 5' 1" and weigh 95 lbs. I have blue eyes, blonde hair, and wear an A cup bra, and I'd just turned 18 a few weeks before this event that changed my life.
I was home alone after school one Friday afternoon when my Uncle John called. (He's my dad's brother.) Dad was still at work, though. When he asked if Mom was home, I told him she was off on another of her trips with her sister – my aunt, Joan. That really set him off for some reason. I mean, he just blew up!
"Seems like she's always on some trip with her damn sister. If she was married to me and pulled that bullshit I'd change the locks on her while she was gone."
I was shocked. You gotta realize my Uncle John's about the nicest man you'd ever meet. I can't ever remember hearing him swear, even, but for him to say he'd do something so mean as to lock his wife out of the house was just incredible to me.
"Isn't that a bit mean, Unk?" I asked.
"Maybe," he answered me, "but she keeps traipsing off with that divorced sister of hers like that and she'll be getting ideas. In fact, I could just bet you that as soon as you're out of the house at college next fall that she'll file for divorce."
"You think so?"
"Eh, what do I know?" he growled. "But I've been watching this for years now and it seems to me like Sue doesn't even like you two that much anymore. She keeps running off with Joan and she treats your dad like dirt. Your dad's a good man, Rae. He deserves to be treated better than that."
"It's not like they fight or anything," I muttered,, but part of me knew they didn't fight mostly because they didn't talk all that much. Daddy just seems to retreat and let Mom go her own way.
"Billy's not the kind of guy that'll say anything."
"True." I shrugged.
"Do you remember the last time we were over?" Uncle John asked. "Sue was going on and on about how she's tried to get Billy to do some remodeling project and how ticked she was about how he just won't get started?"
"Yeah. Dad just slipped away from the table and didn't come back?"
"Exactly," he said. "She's always onto him like that. Talks about him like he's not even there half the time. And he's such a good man, Rae. Marsha [Uncle John's wife] says there's a zillion women out there who'd kill to have him. He's good looking, hard working, doesn't smoke, stays sober and doesn't have a girlfriend."
I had to admit that much was true.
"The right woman could bring out so many good qualities in him," Uncle John sighed. "Anyway ... Tell him I called, sweetie."
That conversation was on my mind the rest of the day, and I found myself watching my daddy that evening during dinner and realizing that Uncle John was right. Daddy really is a good man. I was even checking off his good qualities as I looked at his handsome face and studied him. He really is handsome. "He keeps himself in good shape," I thought as I looked at my daddy's broad shoulders. "And Uncle John's right about how he doesn't smoke and doesn't get drunk, and if he's got a girlfriend, I don't know when he'd find time to be with her. He's either at work or at home." The more I thought about it the madder I got at Mom for not seeing how good she had it.
After supper, Dad and I watched TV for a while and I snuggled close to him on the couch. I've always done that. But when I thought about it, I realized that we usually only did it when Mom was gone because Dad goes off and messes with the computer when Mom's home. He always seems more at ease when Mom's out of town. I wonder if he actually looked forward to these times – a chance to be himself without her nagging at him.
All too soon the 10 o'clock news was over and I moved from my warm and comfy spot against Daddy's side as he stretched... "Tomorrow's a school day, Rae-rae," he yawned. "You'd better get on to bed, huh?"
"Yeah, daddy. See you in the morning," I sighed as he hugged me and kissed the top of my blonde head. Then I went up to my room and stripped down to my panties, threw on a baggy t-shirt and crawled into bed
I had a lot of trouble getting to sleep that night. Uncle John's words kept running through my mind. "The right woman could bring out so many good qualities in him," I heard repeating over and over. I was sure he was right, but at the same time I realized that "the right woman" would mean a stepmother. I started to cry, cuz I didn't like the idea at all.
I guess you could say I cried myself to sleep, and I wasn't sleeping real good. Even that was interrupted in the early morning hours by an awful thunderstorm. Thunderstorms always scare me, though now that I'm older they didn't usually bother me much. This storm, though, was bad enough that I had to sit up and turn on my bedside lamp. The lightning didn't flash as brightly with the lights on, but the thunder was still really loud. I just sat there, hugging my knees and murmuring, "It's all right. It's OK. It's all outside." It was going to be impossible to sleep but at least I could keep my heart rate down this way.
Then there was a very bright flash of lightning and a crash of thunder all at the same time and the lights went out. That was all I could take. I felt my way out of my room and along the hall until I found my parents' bedroom. The door was shut, but not locked. I eased it open and, thanks to all the lightning outside, I could see Daddy lying in bed. He was sound asleep.
I tried to wake him, but he slept on. Not knowing quite what to do, I crawled into bed. I always did that when I was a little girl, crawling into bed between my parents if a storm woke me in the night, but when I was about 11 Mom had finally insisted that I was getting too old to do that. I gently lifted Daddy's arm and curled under it and pressed back against him. His warm breath against the back of my neck was all the reassurance that I needed and I soon was asleep.
A couple of hours later, I woke up, thinking I'd heard someone talking, but the only sound was Daddy's deep breathing. At least the rain had stopped. I could see the early pre-dawn light and hear the twittering of birds outside. Then Dad moaned in his sleep. As I woke up a little more, I became aware that Daddy's cock was hard and it was throbbing against my butt, and that his hand was up under my shirt and he was cupping one of my small breasts.
I was scared at first. No boy had ever touched me there, and even though I kinda knew about erections from sex ed classes and whispered conversations with my girlfriends at school, I guess I never thought one would be this hard, this large, this hot. Daddy's fingers were gently brushing across one of my nipples, and every time his calloused hand passed over the sensitive little bud, my kitty squeezed. It felt really nice, and I could feel the crotch of my panties getting wet. Daddy's cock kept twitching and it had pushed my tiny pink bikini panties into the cleft between my cheeks. Daddy was obviously dreaming. I don't think he and mom have had sex in a long time, so Daddy must have been pretty horny.
Now that I was awake, my uncle's word's ran like an endless tape loop again. "The right woman could bring out so many good qualities in him." But who would the right woman be? I knew for sure didn't want a step mom. Nobody could love my daddy as much as me. Then it hit me: If there was a "right woman" then it was going to be me! I was going to have to take my mom's place at Daddy's side, and bring out the good qualities in him.
The first thing, I decided, was that Daddy's long sexual dry spell had to end. Reaching behind myself, I fished my daddy's hard cock out through the fly of his boxers. It felt huge and hot, but its silky texture and the wetness leaking from the end of it was really something. "This is the penis that made me," I thought to myself. "Now it's going to be mine!"