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- DAD'S BIRTHDAY WISH
It was my father's birthday, and everyone gathered around
to watch him blow out the candles. There were 39 candles,
the last birthday cake with less than forty. I knew that he
felt like it was a disaster, knowing that his next birthday
would be the big "over the hill" type of thing.
But, I didn't think that way about my father. He was a great-looking
guy, unlike a lot of men who let themselves got to pot and
their bodies go to hell. He worked out, I guessed, and he
looked like he could have any woman in the room, if he wanted
them.
He blew out the candles, and winked at me as he made his
wish. I wondered . . . .
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- MY DAD'S CLOTHES
My father was really quirky about what he wore to work. Since
my mother left him for some bimbo she had found in a bar,
I generally did all the laundry and ironing.
My dad came home after a long day's work, just as I stepped
out of the shower. He tapped on the bathroom door and asked
if I minded helping him with a load of laundry.
"Sure," I called through the bathroom door. "Be
glad to help, Dad."
I put on a short robe, and left the front of it sort of loose,
so that the cleavage between my tits showed
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- DAD'S DARK HAIR
After a late-evening shower, my father always curled up in
his favorite chair, wearing his bath robe, and read the evening
paper. He would then turn on the television and watch a few
shows.
I used to look at his slim, muscular, hairy legs, and wonder
what it would feel like to run my hands over those hairs,
all the way up his thighs. I wondered what it would feel like
to move my fingers across the warm skin of his hairy legs,
up to his thighs, and then between his legs to his cock and
balls. I wondered if his cock would get hard at my touch.
I began sitting on the floor, close to his legs, sometimes
across the room, pretending to read a book. Usually, though,
I was looking at his thighs, and at the short hem of his robe.
Sometimes, when he moved just the right way, I could see big
patches of dark hair and flesh there.
I used to sit there and get excited, feeling a burning in
my crotch, wanting to see more. Sometimes, I had to . . .
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