Daddy Watching Me In The Mirror

I was standing in my bathroom staring into my mirror, chewing nervously on my lower lip as I stared at how much cleavage my dress was showing. I still had an hour and a half until Bethany, my best friend ever since we’d been in first grade, would be picking me up for Michelle’s birthday party. Plenty of time to worry and fret, not nearly enough to actually fix my mistake. I loved my dress; it was midnight blue, tight and short, but without making me look slutty. Or at least, that had been the case the last time I’d worn it. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had an excuse to wear it in nearly a year, and though I knew it would still fit my size zero waistline and hips, I’d completely overlooked how much my boobs had grown in that time. I could still squeeze into it, but just barely, and I was far from comfortable with how much of my 26Cs were left out on display when I did. I really like my boobs now… they’re so firm and round, with tiny little pink nipples and areolas, barely the size of pencil erasers and quarters, respectively. They look much bigger on me than they really are, too, because the rest of me is just so tiny. But just because I really liked the way they looked, didn’t mean I was prepared to put them out on display for just anyone to see!

“Daaaad?” I called out, loudly so I knew he’d hear, as I resumed chewing on my lip. “Could you come in here for a sec? I kinda have a problem…”

“Yeah, Steph?” I heard him calling, knocking on the closed door to my room before stepping inside. I’d left the door to my bathroom open behind me, and soon he was there, his bright blue eyes opening wide with surprise as he saw me in the mirror. I bit my lip a little harder, trying not to visibly react to the butterflies in my stomach when I saw the way his eyes were travelling my body, taking me in. I know he’s my dad, and all… but I just can’t help it! He has the most gorgeous blue eyes, eyes I’m so happy that I inherited from him, instead of my mom’s boring brown. I have his hair, too, thick and dark, though his has little flecks of grey in it, here and there, which only makes him look even sexier. If it wasn’t for the hair and the eyes, you’d swear we weren’t even related; he’s over a foot taller than me, six-foot-two compared to my five-foot-nothing, and he’s as muscled and solid as I am skinny and frail. Honestly, he’s just perfect… and it had been a real struggle for me, the last couple of years, trying to deny that to myself.

“Wow… you look amazing, baby!” he said, and I almost gasped out loud as something low and deep inside of me suddenly tightened with desire at hearing his words. I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d been expecting him to say, but it hadn’t been that! He stepped closer, his hands coming to rest lightly on my hips, bending down to softly kiss my hair. I could feel my knees starting to tremble, and I closed my eyes to concentrate, praying that he wouldn’t notice the effect his touch was having on me. I could not let him know the way I really felt about him!

It had pretty much been just me and my dad, ever since he and my mom got divorced when I was seven. I still saw her pretty regularly, she only lived across town. In theory she was supposed to have me every second weekend, but I tried to find any excuse I could to avoid it. Not that she ever really put up much of a fuss about that. It isn’t like she’s a horrible person, or anything, but she and I just don’t get along. And, when I’m being completely honest about it… I don’t think I’d ever really forgiven her for hurting my dad. That probably isn’t real fair of me, I suppose. How much does a seven year old really know about her parents, after all? I’m sure there must have been blame on both sides, regardless of the way it had seemed to me at the time. But I’ve always been a daddy’s girl, and during the divorce I’d been very clear about who I wanted to live with, to absolutely anyone who would listen. And especially to the family court judge, which is how I’d ended up spending the majority of my time with my dad instead of with my mom. So I guess there might be a thing or two she hadn’t completely forgiven me for, too.

“You’re just saying that,” I said, blushing brightly. And okay, yes, maybe fishing for another compliment a little bit.

“I’m really, really not,” he smiled lovingly at me in the mirror, my insides going all wobbly as he bent to kiss me in my hair again. “Why, if you weren’t my daughter…” he teased.

“Prove it!” I sighed at the touch of his lips, then gasped, eyes flashing wide in horror as I realized what my libido, and literally years of my secret bed-time fantasies, had just short-circuited my brain into saying out loud. He froze in shock the same as I was, his hands tightening reflexively on my hips, and I could see him struggling with himself as he worked out a response.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, his voice suddenly deeper, growly in a way that had me quivering, barely able to keep myself from collapsing to my knees so I could cower submissively at his feet, he sounded so danged sexy!

I shouldn’t have said it. I know I shouldn’t have said it. But there was something in his eyes, and in his voice, that I couldn’t ignore. Maybe, just maybe, he was struggling with the same feelings I was, and trying to keep himself from acting on them because he didn’t know I felt the same way. I knew in my heart this was my chance, maybe my one and only chance, to find out.

“What if I did?” I asked meekly, reflexively lowering my eyes with doubt. But then, despite it being literally the hardest thing I’d ever done… I forced myself to raise them again, meeting his in the mirror. “What if I do?”

It was the longest few seconds of my life as I waited for a response, but finally his hands started to move from my hips. Not away from me, as I’d been so terrified they would, but slowly up my sides and towards my breasts.

I was breathing heavily with anticipation long before he reached his goal, and as he finally took hold of me I collapsed back against his chest, eyes fluttering closed with pleasure. I reached back to find the sides of his thighs, caressing him through his jeans as he gently explored my breasts, lifting, squeezing, and softly rubbing his thumbs across the sensitive skin exposed above my dress.

But that was all he did- and as much as I was enjoying it, I eventually realized the next move had to be mine. I bit my lip, working up the courage… then gathered up my hair and held it aside, clearing the way to my zipper as I met his eyes expectantly in the mirror. Thankfully, that proved to be enough, because I really don’t think I had it in me to be any more brazen than I already was. He reached up, finding the little tab and holding it in his fingers- but paused, asking the question with his eyes.

“Please!” I whispered breathily. Turns out I still had a little more courage left in me, after all! He kissed my hair again as he started to pull, ducking deeper to find the side of my neck as he finished opening my dress. I moaned happily, encouragingly tilting my head as he kissed and sucked. I helped a little, but only a little, because I loved the idea of him being the one to undress me so much! He went slow, painfully slow, incrementally slipping my dress down my body and dropping down to his knees behind me as he went, his lips tracing ticklingly down the center of my back, making me shiver in pleasure and anticipation. He got a little bit stuck when he reached my hips, and I wiggled them for him in what I hoped was a sexy way to help him get the clingingly tight fabric past that obstacle, then daintily stepped out of it for him. He stood up again, finally getting his first clear look at me in nothing but my tiny, powder-blue panties. I’d tried wearing a bra the first time I’d put the dress on, but that had made my cleavage issues even worse.

“Fucking hell!” he gasped reverently as he saw me, shocking me and making me giggle. Dad hardly ever swears, not unless he hits his thumb with a hammer or something like that when he’s working around the house, and I was thrilled that my body had gotten that sort of a response from him! He quickly draped my dress over the towel rack, then he was back behind me again, hands cupping and squeezing, making me gasp and moan as he rolled his thumbs across the firm pink nubs of my nipples.

“God, your tits are amazing, baby!” he growled, his tone and words making me tremble nearly as much as the feeling of his hands on me. It was the first time I could ever remember him using that word; not breasts, or even boobs… but tits! It made me feel so dirty, and sexy, that he was thinking about my body using that term! I wished he would keep kissing my neck, but there was just too much difference in our heights for him to keep doing that for long. He did keep kissing my hair though, and as I leaned back against him there was no doubt he was enjoying what we were doing. I could hardly believe how big it felt, pressed up against me! But as much as I wanted to reach back around and find out for sure, I forced myself to wait. He was really starting to take charge, now, and I was enjoying having him being the one in control way too much to risk ruining it by taking the initiative myself.

My patience soon paid off, as he dropped his right hand from my breast to run slowly down my belly, his left arm coming to encircle me as he moved his grip from my left breast to my right, pinning me tightly back against his chest. Not that I had the slightest intention of trying to escape, mind you, but I loved the feeling of being restrained like that—of knowing that I couldn’t get away, even if I wanted to! I was quivering eagerly as his hand finally slipped between my thighs, the soft cotton feeling incredible against my most sensitive places as he started gently rubbing me through my panties. I moaned happily, unable to find words, but desperate to let him know how good he was making me feel. It was only my overwhelming need to see what he was doing to me in the mirror, and to see the look on his face while he was doing it, that kept me from letting my eyes drift closed again.

I was no stranger to masturbation, of course. And as I lay in my bed late at night with my hand between my thighs, I’d dreamt of almost this exact same scenario more times than I could count! But nothing I’d ever tried doing to myself had felt even half as good as having Daddy doing it for me! I could hardly believe how much of a difference it was making… and then, while I was still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that this was actually happening, he suddenly slipped his hand under my panties, and I was in a whole new world of pleasure! Thank God I’d already taken my shower, and had just finished shaving! I would have died from embarrassment, if he’d found me all rough and stubbly now that all those dreams of mine were finally starting to come true!

No longer was I just having trouble speaking.