Replacing Mom

And since I'd long ago noticed all Mom's shoes were open-toed, I too had four inch open-toed heels for me to tease my dad with my ruby red toenails, recalling also my Mom had always had her toenails painted.

I walked up to him and stretched on my tiptoes to give him a big hug. He pulled me in for the warm fatherly embrace as he said, "I missed you so much, Lesley."

"I missed you too, Dad," I said.

He said, as he backed up, "Let me take a look at you."

I posed, not slutty, but to show off my nylon-clad legs and red toenails, "Ta-da."

"You've grown up a lot," he said, looking me over.

"It has been a few months," I pointed out.

"It seemed a lot longer," he said, as he continued to look at me with amazement.

"I know," I agreed, "I should have stayed home."

"No," he said, shaking his head, even as he furtively glanced down at my feet, "You need to move forward."

"What about you?" I asked, deciding to see if my nylon-clad feet would tempt him, as I slipped out of my left heel and wiggled my toes.

He couldn't resist, he looked down and watched me wiggle my toes. After a longer than usual pause, he said, looking back up at me, "Who says I haven't?"

"Everyone," I joked. I then asked, as he kept looking down at my legs and feet, "What?"

"It's just..." he paused, as he looked at me with such love in his eyes, "...you look so much like your mother."

"I do?" I asked.

"Especially when she was your age," he nodded. "The short, slender figure, the warm brown eyes, the lovely face, the long brown hair... you're as beautiful as she was."

"So Mom was hot when she was younger?" I joked.

Dad laughed, as he took my hand and led me to the baggage area, "Yes, she was the hottest women I ever met."

"So now you're saying you think I'm hot?" I asked with a sly smile.

"Um... I... that is..." he began to babble.

"I'm just teasing, Dad," I laughed, feeling guilty for putting him in such an awkward situation and yet flattered that the unspoken answer to my question was yes.

"I can safely say that you are very beautiful," he said, stopping to look at me.

"Thank you, Daddy," I said demurely, knowing all the internet porn that was dad and daughter almost inevitably had the daughter calling her dad 'Daddy'.

"And never forget it," he added.

"I just need to find a man who thinks like you do," I said, trying to plant seeds for the seduction I wasn't really doing.

"Oh, you will when the time comes," he promised.

"You were already married by my age," I pointed out.

"Love finds you when you least expect it," he reminded me. Mom and Dad having met rather serendipitously at a roller-skating rink of all places.

"So you and Mom have told me," I said, that being one of the phrases I had heard the most while I was growing up.

"And have I ever lied to you?" he asked.

"Well," I teased, thinking of his dominant behaviour with Mom.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I shrugged, deciding that telling him he was lying by omission by hiding the fact he dominated mom sexually would be a little too much, too soon.

"Your mother did that too," he sighed.

"What?" I asked.

"Drove me nuts," he said.

"Well, that is the purpose of the ladies in your life," I said, "to keep you off balance."

"Well you both do a great job of that," he said, talking as if Mom was still alive. He paused, "I mean she did."

"I know," I said, softly... the hurt of Mom's passing still predominant in my Dad's thoughts. I wondered... could I make that sadness go away? Could I truly replace Mom? I mean let's make this clear, no one could ever replace Mom... I meant could I be the next best thing?

There was a moment of silence as we both thought about Mom for a moment.

"I really miss her," I finally said, feeling tears in my eyes.

"I do too," he said. "Every day," his eyes glistening.

An hour later we were home and I was exhausted. I took off my heels and walked around in my nylons as I got something to eat and then sat down on the sofa and watched the sports highlights next to my Dad.

No doubt about it... he had a foot fetish. He was never super obvious about it, but that's when it's super obvious.

I didn't let on, but having him check me out really turned me on.

I mean I looked like Mom... I was dressed like Mom... I even had what a guy might call small but grabbable tits like Mom... could I become Mom?

As I pondered this Dad said, "Oh, I need to give you this."

"What?" I asked.

"It's a letter," he said, as he grabbed it from a table and then added, "from your mother."

"Oh," I said, surprised and also both excited and sad.

He handed me a sealed envelope and said, "The instructions were to give it to you and also to let you read it while you're alone. I don't like the second part, but I want to respect her wishes."

"Oh," was still all I could muster as I looked at the envelope, still sealed, in awe that Mom had written me a letter before she passed.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked.

"No," I replied, again close to tears. "Or rather you may if you like, but I'll go read it in my room."

"You sure?" he asked, looking concerned.

"Yes," I nodded. "I think she must have wanted me to."

"Okay," he said. "I'll be in our... I mean in my room getting ready for bed if you need me," almost sobbing himself, "I'm sorry, I'm still not used to calling it that."

"I understand, Daddy," I nodded, as I stood up and noticed him looking down at my feet.

"I love you, honey," he said, looking so sad.

"I love you too, Daddy," I said, moving to him and pulling him into a close hug.

"I miss her so much," he choked out through his sobs, finally breaking down in my arms.

"I do too," I said, tears streaming down my face.

"I just... I um..." he struggled to say.

"I know," I said, not knowing what he was going to say, but sensing the simple phrase was what was needed.

"Go," he said. "You don't need to see your dad crying."

"But I do: I've never loved you more," I refuted through my broken heart.

"You are perfect, Lesley," she said.

"I know," I joked, trying to break the room out of its sadness.

He chuckled/sobbed, "Like mother, like daughter."

"I want to be just like her," I said, giving just the slightest hint of my wicked, naughty idea to be Daddy's fuck slut. God, I was so bad. Who thinks of sex during such a somber moment?

"Good night, honey," he said.

"Good night, Daddy," I said, leaning in and kissing his cheek.

A minute later I was upstairs in my room looking at the envelope.

Five minutes later I was still looking at the envelope.

I could only open this once.

I could only share this special moment with my mother once.

I wanted to treasure it.

I was dying to read what was inside, yet I was totally reluctant to read it and have this moment end.

I took a deep breath, tears already streaming down my face as I finally opened the envelope.

I unfolded it and a necklace fell out. It was the necklace she had worn her whole life. I put it on.

I took another deep breath, a chill going through me, before I began to read my mother's final words to me.

Dearest Lesley,

If you're reading this I have passed away.

First I want to say how much I loved you and will still love you from above.

You have a heart of gold.

You are beautiful, even though you don't believe you are.

You are brilliant, which you do already know.

You are a younger, better version of me in so many ways.

I'm not worried about you at all. You were my greatest creation and I know you will achieve great things.

Your dad, on the other hand, is going to be lost without me, as I would have been if he had passed first.

He is going to need you to help him move on.

Now, you can do this as a loving daughter and help him rediscover who he is and let him know he can find love again. I'll always be his first love, that can never be taken away from him or from me. But I don't have to be his last.

You should probably quit reading now, as what I will suggest next is unorthodox and likely horribly shocking. So if you don't flip the page over and read my final request, I understand. It may make you change forever how you remember me, and that I would hate.

Yet, I believe you will understand my request once you read it, as you and I are so very much alike. Not only in looks, brains and personality, but in other ways probably best left unmentioned.

So stop now if you don't want the image of your mother to be tarnished.

Or, if you already understand what I am saying without the words being said, please flip the page over and read on.

Either way, I love you and respect you.

LOVE MOM

I reread the first page a dozen times, perhaps more.

I knew that I did understand the words she wasn't saying.

She was implying we were also similar sexually.

At least I assumed that was her unspoken message.

Somehow, I felt she was telling me to replace her.

Somehow, I felt she was giving me permission, no, she was requesting that I replace her.

I knew I had to flip the page over. Even if I was wrong, whatever else she might say couldn't be as shocking as what I was already thinking.

I took another deep breath.

Then another.

I paused.

Part of me didn't want to turn the page over. The words may be what I expected, but they could also be something else, something that would taint my perfect memory of my mother.

Finally, I turned the page over and read.

First, I have a secret to tell you, although not the one you may be thinking.

I know you watched your Daddy and me fuck.

My mouth dropped open. Both at her blunt accusation and the word she used.

I kept reading, curious how she had known.

You do recall there is a security camera in the hallway?

Oh! Duh! I knew that!

Oh my God!

Oh my God!

Oh my God!

So for the rest of the summer I made sure we really upped the ante. Thanks for that! It was an amazing last summer with your father even if I didn't know it at the time. I checked those security cameras regularly and loved that you crept into the house to listen to us and get yourself off.

Now you may think I'm some slut for allowing your father to treat me with such disrespect. But I don't think you do. If you do, I'm sorry, but I sense you understand exactly what you heard and saw. I sense you and I are kindred spirits. Both of us are strong, compassionate, and passionate women, yet behind our feminist exterior, behind our strong moral code, behind our determination to succeed in a man's world, is a submissive side that we hide very well from almost everyone.

I hid it my entire life, even though most of my marriage. It was only in the last few years I accepted my submissive truth and convinced your father to take control in the bedroom mind, body and soul.

Truthfully, your dad found it awkward to treat me like a slut, to take control at first, but over time he came to relish himself in that role.

Our sex life was rekindled and was never hotter than the past few years.

I sense you are struggling within that confusing stage right now.

I also believe seeing your father as a dominant over your submissive mother awoke feelings inside you or perhaps only confirmed what you were already thinking about yourself.

Lesley. It is okay to be a submissive in the bedroom (or in a taxi, on a plane, in the kitchen when your daughter is in the living room), or wherever else your man decides he wants to fuck you.

It is okay.

It is natural.

It doesn't make you weak.

Actually, giving yourself to another person is the bravest thing you can do.

Again, you may stop here if you wish.

My next words, my request, is what will likely shock you.

Or... keep reading and fulfill your last promise to me.

I was completely immersed in Mom's words. Words that gave me the comfort I had long wanted as I was confused by my submissive desires. I was once again weeping because of my Mom but now for a very different reason. She knew me! She knew the real me! She understood!

I also knew I had to keep reading.

I looked up above and said, sensing Mom was in the room watching my reaction, "Mom, I swear I will keep my promise and do whatever you want me to do."

I read her final request even though I sensed what the words would be.

Lesley,

As crazy as these words sound and they sound crazy in my head as I write them, I need you to replace me. Replace doesn't sound like the correct term as you are in many ways a better version of me, but I can't think of any other word that makes more sense.

So when I say replace, I mean it in a warm way. What I really mean is... this is hard to write... I wish I had more time to say this to you... to explain what I want... damn it... I'm just going to write it... if you think it's the senile last words of a woman at the end of her rope, I understand. Although if I'm correct about who you are, this rambling will make sense.

I need you to become your dad's lover. But when I say lover I mean his fuck slut. (She had underlined the words 'fuck slut' several times.) If I'm right, this idea will get your cunt wet (yes I said cunt just like you heard me scream it at the top of my voice last summer). Cunt is a nasty word and when I'm in the throes of passion I am a nasty slut... and now you will become a nasty slut. You will suck your Daddy's cock. You will fuck your Daddy. You will take his nasty cum down your throat and all over your pretty face. You will eventually take it in the ass and become a three-hole fuck slut for Daddy.

Say it, Lesley, say it out loud: I WANT TO BE A THREE-HOLE FUCK SLUT FOR DADDY.

Even though this had been my fantasy for months, it was an entirely different thing to see those words on paper in my mother's handwriting.

Maybe it was my submissive nature, maybe it was the need to obey my mother's dying request, or maybe it was the fact I was undeniably horny as hell (which in itself was pretty fucked up), but I declared, although not much louder than a whisper. I wasn't ready for Daddy to hear me say such a thing, at least not yet: "I want to be a three-hole fuck slut for Daddy."

Saying the words sent pleasure directly to my already fevered pussy.

I said it again.

And again.

I then continued reading, excited to learn what else Mom would say.

If you are still reading this, then go and seduce your father. You probably know his weakness is nylons, especially feet in nylons, so walk around in nylons (I hid a bunch of expensive pairs of thigh high stockings and a few stockings with a garter-belt in a box at the back of your closet... with a few sex toys for you to play with when you want to) and paint your toenails red... he loves that.

Other than that, I love you; we both know your Daddy loves you; and I hope to be watching from above as you replace Mommy.

Love, Mom.

Wow!

I read the letter a few more times savouring every word, before going into my closet and finding a box that wasn't mine. I opened it and indeed there were over a dozen pairs of packaged thigh high stockings, all from a company called Wolford (a company I would later learn makes the best hosiery in the world); two garter-belts and another six pairs of stockings that had to be held up by garters. There was also a variety of lingerie which I assumed I would fit since my mother and I were practically identical in height and weight (mom had worked out her whole life before her tragic cancer reveal).

Also, there were a bunch of toys: two vibrators (one six inches, one eight), a we-vibe (it was called that because it went inside and outside somehow), a massager, a set of three butt plugs (I only knew what they were because they were still in the box), and a double vibrator that seemed to be for double penetration. Also, there was lube galore... five bottles.

My pussy on fire, I grabbed the we-vibe (it looked cool), went to my bed, opened my iPad and read erotica. The we-vibe had me near orgasmic eruption in a couple of minutes when there was a knock at the door.

"You okay, Honey?" Dad asked.

"Great," I said, with a moan, as I pulled the we-vibe out of me and covered myself up. I hadn't locked the door.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yes, just really tired," I said, which was true. I was wiped and hoping to drift off to sleep once the fire down below was satisfied and then exterminated.

"Okay, love you," Dad said.

'Love you too," I said, as I got up and put on a robe, calling out, "Dad, wait a minute."

I raced to the door, opened it still in my nylons, and stretched up to give Dad a hug. "I mean I really love you, Dad."

"And I really love you," Dad said back, pulling me in for a hug.

"And I am here for you now," I added.

"You were always here for me," he said, as he let go and looked down at me. I was five feet nothing, Dad was six foot three.

"No," I shook my head. "I mean I am here for you in every way possible."

"That's sweet," he said, not catching onto the innuendo. He then asked, "Was the letter what you were expecting?"

"Yes," I said, before adding, "and no."

"What did she say?" he asked, before adding, as he glanced down at my lovely feet, "you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Just that she loves me, she is proud of me, and the important part is that I am just like her and I am supposed to take care of you," I listed. "And she gave me her favourite necklace." I was still wearing it and showed him.

"She loved you with all her heart and soul," he said, tears beginning to well in his eyes again.

"I know," I nodded.

"And she was so proud of you," he continued, looking at me with the pride a father does.

"I know."

"And I'm proud of you," he added.

"I know."

"And you are so much like her," he said.

"I didn't know how true that is, but I'm learning," I said, knowing he wouldn't catch on to what I meant.

"But you don't need to take care of me," he said. "I'm fine."

"First," I began, "Mom's last words to me, both written and spoken, were I was supposed to take care of you."