Chapter 1: In Which I Seduce My Father

I was a war baby. My father had volunteered for the army as soon as he was 17 and my mother had sent her boyfriend off to war with a smile on his face. I think it was one of his greatest regrets that he never got his chance at Herr Hitler as the war ended while he was in training. It was while he was in training camp that my mother wrote and told him she was pregnant with me. He got a special pass and they were married with the blessings of both families. In those days there were some babies remarkably big for three-month premature births.

Daddy stayed in the army after the war and made a career of it, eventually being selected for officer training and rising to the rank of colonel. My mother trailed around after him, bringing me and eventually my brother and sister to the various married quarters around the world. Despite the constant upheaval of army life we were a close, loving family and were always sad when Daddy was posted away on active duties but he always brought us a little present when he came back.

My parents made sure our schooling didn't suffer in those earlier days before Daddy eventually took a permanent home posting and life became more stable. Mummy came into an inheritance which was enough for them to put down a large deposit on The Old Rectory where Daddy and I still live. In those days it was a peaceful village but now the nearest town is just half a mile away over the hill and growing fast.

Even though I was the eldest child I was last to fly the family nest when I married at the age of 27. I trained as a nurse then specialised as a district nurse. I love my profession but look forward to taking retirement in three years when I reach 60. Bob, my husband, and I raised our two boys – now both successful businessmen. When I lost Bob five years ago to a virulent cancer and Mummy passed away six months later, Daddy and I talked things over and decided that it was silly for us both to live alone in those large houses so I sold my house and moved back to the family home.

Daddy and I have similar tastes in so many things and when I came home from work we would spend our evenings listening to concerts on the radio or having discussions which might range from the spiral of a whelk shell to global politics. We were active in our local community and always enjoyed the village fetes and other festivals. We shared a love of the great outdoors and often used to spend our weekends hiking across the land so we were both very fit.

My father stood at 5'10" and his wiry body still looked good in just his hiking shorts. What hair he had remaining was grey and he kept it neatly trimmed, as he did his darker moustache. His penetrating eyes were the same steel grey as his hair. Daddy was a handsome man with a military bearing.

I inherited my body from my mother: curvy. When I was younger my friends often suggested I should enter beauty contests – I could really FILL a swimsuit in those days. Now my figure could be described as more 'motherly'. My active life had kept my muscles firm and burned off the fat which so often is the bane of us bigger girls. My breasts have lost their youthful firmness and the large nipples have been well and truly chewed as I had breast fed both my sons all the way through to weaning. I still filled a 38D bra very nicely. I kept my very dark – although now showing streaks of grey – hair trimmed short for convenience and violet eyes looked back at me from the mirror each day from a lined and weathered face.

One afternoon I got a call on my mobile from a member of the hospital staff: Daddy was in the Accident and Emergency department but not to panic, it wasn't life threatening. I finished my round as quickly as possible and drove to the hospital with what turned out to be perfect timing as he was just about to be discharged with both hands swathed in dressings. It seems he had been tending to a window box when, without warning, the sash window had crashed down on his hands, cracking several bones and causing substantial tissue damage. His hands would be out of action for weeks.

I drove him home, changed out of my uniform and prepared us a quick meal. He was in a little discomfort but the painkillers he had been prescribed kept the pain at bay. Very soon he realised that having his hands out of commission presented its own problems for the small things like eating or particularly when going to the toilet and he was clearly embarrassed when he had to ask me for help opening his flies.

Of course such things were all in a day's work for me and I didn't think too much of it. I knew that he would need help in many ways until he regained the use of his hands. But it was after I had undressed him, got him into his pyjamas and settled in bed for the night that I noticed his eyes were brimming with tears. It broke my heart to see this strong, brave man on the brink of tears so I sat on his bed and asked what was wrong

"Helen," he said with quiver in his voice, "it's not right. I'm your father, you're my daughter and you're seeing me naked..." He trailed off, too ashamed to say any more. I hugged him, feeling the trembling in his body as I thought through the problem.

"OK, Daddy, we'll do it like this. I'll wear my uniform when I'm helping you. You can think of me as Nurse Colwell then I'm just the district nurse coming in to see a patient. I'll call you Colonel. Shall we see if that helps?"

The following morning I dressed in my uniform then knocked on his bedroom door calling, "It's Nurse Colwell, Colonel Jones. May I come in?"

"Yes, Nurse, Come in."

I was briskly professional as I helped him through his morning ablutions, fed him breakfast and then left him in his comfortable chair listening to the radio. Nurse Colwell called on the Colonel at lunch time to see to his needs and feed him and returned to him at the end of the working day.

When I had got him settled down for the evening I decided to change into a light housecoat and hang my uniform behind the kitchen door. I told Daddy if he needed any help, he was to ask me to get Nurse Colwell. It was easy enough for me to pop into the kitchen and do a quick change. This arrangement seemed to work and we happily fell into the roles of nurse and patient, the embarrassment overcome.

About a week later I noticed a subtle change. Colonel Jones was peeking down Nurse Colwell's cleavage. Now Daddy has never done that ever since I first developed breasts. Mummy had taught me to be proud of them as she was of hers so there had always been plenty of cleavage around but he never peeked. I suppose that it was a kind of back-handed compliment to my professional attitude as I played Nurse Colwell. He was not thinking of his daughter when she was in uniform.

A couple of days later Nurse Colwell was giving the Colonel a bath. As you can well imagine, bending over to bathe somebody means showing a lot and my uniform was not a tight fit. As I washed around his anus and penis, his penis was definitely showing signs of life. It was still there as I towelled him dry – not an erection but certainly a swelling. In my life as a nurse, I had often seen this kind of thing. Normally I just ignored it when nature intervened, as I ignored their blushes when it happened. Sometimes I would take it further as I have always had a high sex drive but that's another story.

About peeking? Some of my older regulars were serial peepers and I would often loosen a button or two when I attended them. If a poor guy gets some pleasure from seeing a bit of tit, it doesn't cost me anything and nobody's hurt. If truth be known, I get a little pleasure from it myself and I'm very selective about who I'll flirt with.

But what was I to do about the Colonel? Would Nurse Colwell flirt with him? Oh, he's a handsome man and if he weren't my father I most certainly would so I decided to stay 'in role' and always left a couple of buttons open. He hid it quickly but I noticed the delight in his face when he saw the open buttons.

I was at home that day as it was a rest day but there wasn't too much rest for Nurse Colwell as the Colonel seemed more than usually demanding. After the third quick-change, I decided it would be easier to keep my uniform on. The colonel was getting bolder in his peeking and didn't even slide his eyes away when I caught him; he just looked me in the eyes, twitched a little grin, gave an infinitesimal shrug to his shoulders and carried on as if nothing had happened. But somehow we both knew we had crossed a threshold.

The next time I was out of his sight I popped the bottom three buttons of my uniform dress so that every now and then it would part and reveal my regulation black tights almost to my pants. The Colonel's sharp eyes missed nothing and I enjoyed flashing my body to him all day.

In the evening I dressed as myself again and told Daddy I was going out for the evening. "I've asked Nurse Colwell if she'll look after you for the evening so she's agreed to pop in. I'll probably be back late." I carried a crisp new uniform in my bag.

I went to the garden shed where I quickly stripped off, put my new uniform on and opened an extra bottom button. Looking down, I checked my boobs: not bad for 57. Sure there was some droop but not 'saggy'. My nipples were looking good. I'll do.

I knocked on the front door and opened it, calling "It's me, Colonel. Nurse Colwell." I fussed over him a little, making sure he got a good look at my tits, before sitting in the chair opposite his to watch the TV. I was naked under my uniform and the Colonel's attention was not always completely on the television particularly as I frequently crossed my legs to flash my shaved pussy.