Part 3: A Woman's Touch

My father can barely contain himself, and his cock, after I take off my shirt. Once again, I ask him-this time teasing just a little bit more-"Dad, why do you want to take so many pictures?" He doesn't answer, so I answer for him. "Because I'm your daughter?"

He flinches as if I had slapped him. "Oh God, Lisa! Can you ever forgive me? I am such a pervert!" I step towards him and touch his lips. "Hush, dad!" I say. "Like father like daughter! But what are you going to do with all these pictures you take? Post them online? If you did, and someone told Randy about it, my marriage would be over!"

"N--no," my Dad stutters. "I--I'd never do anything with these pictures, Lisa honey, they're just for me." He looks at me like a kid who had been caught masterbating. "Alright, Dad," I say soothingly, "let's take some pictures." He reaches into his little bag of props and hands me a blonde wig and a black sport bra. "You want me to be a blonde like her," I ask, pointing to the poster of Marilyn Monroe that he has on his wall.

I check the mirror as I put on the blonde wig. I had never been a blonde before! And then I slip on the sports bra.

"Now what?" I ask. Still sporting his massive hard-on, my father approaches me. He has always been timid about hugging me. Even touching me! I suspect it is because he has always had guilt feelings. And because he is afraid that he will become aroused. He is wearing shorts now, and I say to him "Dad, are you wearing anything underneath?"

"Huh?" he says. "Boxer shorts." "Then make yourself comfortable, for God's sake! Leave your shorts on, but take off those tight restricting shorts!" Slowly, nervously, he drops his pants. He places them on a table.

He is very embarrassed as I stare at the wet spot. I can see the head of his enormous cock trying to exit the slit in his boxer shorts.

"Oh God, Lisa," he murmurs. "Oh God!" "It's ok Dad," I say. You're fine." And then I add "you're beautiful!" He smiles weakly and lifts my sports bra above my breasts, barely touching me. But his fingers flick against a nipple. I have large nipples, and I sigh ever so slightly.

He backs me into the ping pong table. And he begins taking pictures. Eventually, he asks me to remove the sports bra for more pictures, but I ask him to do it for me. Facing me, his gaze averting mine, he gingerly lifts up the bra.

I move into him, and his cock escapes from the slit in his under shorts. It is wet with pre-cum and touches my navel.

"Oh God!" he murmurs. "It's ok, Dad."

I smile at him reassuringly.

He takes some more pictures with his digital camera and shows me them. I pick what I like and he deletes the others.

He finally gets up the courage to ask me:

"Would you, would you ever... pose... ? He is afraid to continue.

"Nude?" I finish for him. "I'd be so afraid, Daddy!" I say. It might lead into sex, and I really don't think you want to do that with me, do you? I know I'm a tease, but that's not what you want, is it? I mean, incest?"

"No... no," he replies sadly. He hands me a hundred dollar bill. I kiss him tenderly, nonsexually, on the lips.