She came down the stairs slowly, testing my reaction, hips swinging as each foot moved to a lower step. She was wearing a white dress held together with large pink cloth covered buttons from hem to breasts. The shoulders were blocked square, thick looking, almost like a coat. The body of the dress clung to her curves outlining her waist and hips, her bust and butt were prominent, the hem stopped just an inch or so below her crotch so from my point of view at the bottom of the stairs I could see a flash of pink at the junction of her thighs. Pink lace garters held white thigh high lace stockings. About two inches of smooth bare skin showed between the dress and the stockings. Her feet were tucked into three inch pink platforms.

I could hardly take my eyes off her legs to look at the rest of her. Her thick blonde hair was covered by a silver and pink mixed nylon strand wig, the high gloss filaments framed her oval face with bangs that hung to her eyebrows then fell along her cheeks to chin level where it was cut even around the bottom. Blue eyes peered from red shaded lids highlighted by long pink fake lashes and black liner. Her lips were done with an Iridescent Pearl gloss.

The top button held the dress together at the point of a long V that formed from her shoulders to the button. I could see the edges of a pink bra that captured her breasts but still exposed a deep chasm of cleavage. She wore a necklace made up of large red and white plastic beads in two rows that rode lightly across the rise of her breasts that weren’t covered by cloth. The arms of the dress went to her wrists where pink elastic straps extended from the arms around the middle fingers of her hands which were adorned with long acrylic nails painted white with an explosion of red and silver mini stars on each. In eighteen years I had never seen her dressed that way, it was a shock to my system.

It was wild, garish, immature -- and sexy as hell. And that’s what bothered me most. She did not need to be parading around in public looking like some sort of half-wit bobble headed sex doll “What in hell happened to you? What are you thinking? Are you going out like that?”

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs with a large smile and pirouetted for me “You like it dad?”

“Hell no I don’t like it, what is all this crap?”

She wasn’t deterred by my scorn “I’m going to Rosalind’s costume party, I’m a pop singer, ‘Pinky White Diva’ pretty cool don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t think, why can’t you wear a white jumpsuit with colored sequins, it worked for Elvis and Donna Summer?”

She flashed even white teeth “Oh daddy, don’t be so antique. You should watch music videos; this is today, not last century.”

“Well last century worked for me. Before your mother died she was the sexiest woman I ever knew and she didn’t have to dress like a groupie to show it.”

She got frustrated “Not a groupie dad, a Diva, I’m the star. My groupies would all look like Justin or Drake.” Again she flashed a large smile as she went around me to the kitchen.

Look like who?

I came into the kitchen just in time to see her bend over to pull an energy drink from the fridge. I noted with some relief that her pink briefs were actually hot pants, not panties. Normally hot pants would be on my forbidden list but this time it was a show of modesty I approved of, she stood to face me “Do I look like mom?”

The change of direction surprised me “Not in that outfit.”

“I mean normally.”

“Of course you do, you could be her twin sister, you know that.”

“If I wasn’t your daughter would you think I’m sexy, like she was to you?”

I was silenced by the question. Putting sexy and daughter into the same sentence wasn’t something I’d ever done before she came down the stairs. I looked into her expectant eyes and stumbled with my words then admitted for the first time in my life “Yes, I told you, you could be her twin,” I paused before the truth came out, “in every way.”

Pearly glossed lips left a print on my cheek, “Thank you old man, I needed to hear that.”

“I’m not that damn old.”

She flashed another beautiful smile “I know, and you look a hell of a lot younger than 41, all my friends think you’re hot. A couple of them wouldn’t mind having you for a daddy, a sugar daddy.”

She borrowed the car and left me alone to think. Some of her very hot friends thought I was hot? I basked in my own self-congratulations for the rest of the night. It had been over three years since my wife died and I hadn’t been with a woman in that time. I didn’t mind, there was no drive, no need, no desire but lately I’d been noticing several of my daughter’s friends as they matured into their late teens. Just maybe my hormones were starting to brew again.

It was getting late and I was feeling a little anxious that she might be drinking or out with some boy doing things I didn’t want to think about, it would be pretty damn easy to pull those hot pants down from under her very short dress. She waltzed into the front room about 1:30 in the morning and plopped herself on my lap, interrupting my movie. “God that was fun! I won the prize for best costume and some guys kept asking me if I needed some roadies.” She didn’t smell of alcohol, pot or sex so I relaxed as she put her arms around my neck and rested her silver/pink hair on my shoulder. “I love you dad, you made me feel good tonight.”

“I did, how?”

“By telling me I was sexy, I needed to hear that from you.”

I was puzzled so I lifted her head by the chin and looked into her eyes “Why?”

Her eyes glinted then she moved her mouth to mine and gave me a quick, soft kiss “I need to do something and it might shock you but don’t make a fuss; don’t run away from me.” She paused to build her nerve, “I want this more than anything else in the world right now.”

I was tasting the bubblegum flavored lip gloss when she got off my lap and switched off the TV. She turned to face me then began to open the buttons of her dress. She was testing my reaction again as the buttons came apart, four of them from top to bottom. When the dress was open she shrugged it off her shoulders and let it slide to the floor. In seconds she was standing before me in tight hot pants, garter, stockings and the well filled bra, “What the hell are you doing?”

She didn’t answer but an uneasy smile flickered on her lips as her fingers went to the zipper of the shorts. She slid them down her thighs then kicked them off the pink cork clogs. The lace garter belt holding the stockings framed her hips and legs. My eyes were drawn to the center of the frame, white satin that covered her crotch.

My daughter stood in front of me in pink bra, garter and shoes offset by white panties and stockings. The beaded necklace highlighted her cream colored neck and shoulders. I didn’t know what the hell she was doing but I didn’t protest, I didn’t yell at her to get her clothes back on or go to bed because the more she took off the more I wanted to see. My long dormant cock began an amazingly fast resurrection.

She stepped close to me, I could smell her perfume, the scent of body wash on bare skin when she bent to open my belt and fly. In moments she was urging me to lift my butt so my pants could move down my legs. I stared in wonder at the size and heft of my erection; it hadn’t looked or felt like that in years. She got to her knees across my lap, pulled her panties to one side then eased down until the tip of my hard-on kissed the lips of her body. She paused briefly, looking directly into my eyes then rotated her hips, working my shaft into the hot velvet tunnel as she lowered onto it. When she was sitting on my balls she put her head on my shoulder “I love you dad, I need to do this with you” then my daughter rolled her hips, sliding back and forth on the cock between her legs.