My T-shirt

Fbailey story number 711


My T-shirt


Melissa came in holding one of my T-shirts. She said, “I can’t wear this thing. I need something longer. Don’t you have any longer T-shirts?”

I looked up from my computer and asked, “What are you doing with my T-shirt in the first place?”

Frantic she said, “I need a longer one. Where do you keep them?”

I asked, “First you are going to tell me why you need one.”

Reluctantly Melissa said, “I’m joining a club for girls and I need to wear one of my father’s T-shirts to the meeting…and only my father’s T-shirt.”

I laughed and said, “Then wear that one.”

She screamed at me, “I can’t. My cunt and ass will show. I’ve already tried it on.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I wasn’t all that pleased with her language but I could just picture her in a dress that short. It excited me.

I said, “Okay, come with me.”

I took Melissa up to my bedroom and opened up my closet. I pushed my suits to the right, I pushed my pants to the right, and then I pushed my dress shirts to the right. There on the far left behind the wall was my T-shirt collection.

When my wife was alive she would pose for pictures in sexy T-shirts and nighties. I pulled a few out for my daughter to look at. The length was exactly what she was looking for. They all had slogans on then such as:

“If you can catch me, you can fuck me.”

“Yes, these are real. Ask my husband.”

Then there was the one that just says “Baby” with an arrow that points down.

“I suck, I swallow, and I fuck like a bunny.”

Melissa asked, “Don’t you have any NICE ones?”

I pulled all of my T-shirts out of the corner and took the last one off its hanger. It was a long yellow T-shirt and it had Betty Boop on the front.

Melissa took it, held it up to her body, and said, “I can wear this one.”

I asked, “What is this group meeting about?”

She said, “I can’t tell you yet. It would be too embarrassing for me. Maybe sometime soon.”

I trusted her so we left it at that for the time being. Melissa put on the T-shirt and then she asked me for a ride to the meeting. She knew where she wanted to go so when we arrived she kissed me on the cheek and ran up to the door. I waited until she had gotten safely inside before I took off.

I had been home long enough to open a beer and drink half of it when the phone rang.

A very nice voice said, “You can come and pick Melissa up at nine o’clock. Will that be okay with you?”

I said, “Yes, that will be fine.” Then I asked, “What kind of meeting is this anyway?”

The sweet voice on the other end covered the mouthpiece and I heard something muffled in the background. The voice then said, “She doesn’t want me to tell you yet. I can tell you that it is a support group with other girls that have gone through or are going through the same thing as Melissa.”

I finished my beer and a second one before I headed back to get her. This time I was early and I walked up to the house and rang the doorbell.

A very pretty woman in her late thirties or early forties answered it and said, “You must be Melissa’s father. I know the rest of the fathers. Please…come in.”

I followed her inside. She was wearing a long white T-shirt. It was quite old and very thin. That shirt was all that she had on. I would have seen a bra or panties right through it. As it was, about all that I had seen was her areolas and the shadow of her ass crack.

She turned around, smiled at me, and said, “This is one of my father’s T-shirts.