Replacing Mom

"That sounds like her," he smiled, still frequently glancing back down at my toes.

"Second," I continued, "Fine never means fine."

"That was definitely true when your mother uttered those words," he chuckled.

"Third," I finished, "you and I are all that the other has left, and I plan to keep us as close as possible."

"You really are just like your mother," he said.

"You have no idea," I said, as I gave him another hug, knowing today wasn't the day to try and fulfill the ambitious expectations of my Mom.

He hugged me back.

Then it was me sounding like the parent, "Now get some sleep. Tomorrow we have a lot of work to do."

"We do, do we?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't let yourself think I didn't notice the lights aren't up and the tree isn't up," I pointed out.

"Your Mom always did that," he said, taking another look at my nylon-clad feet.

"Tomorrow we start a new tradition," I declared.

"Whatever you say," he said, clearly happy to see me home again.

"I love you, Daddy," I said one last time.

"I love you too, Lesley," he said.

"Good night," I said, leaning in and kissing him, surprising him by doing it on the lips. It lasted less than a second, but it was the first, or perhaps second if you count the nylons I was wearing, hint of what was to come... and hopefully keep coming... and end with cum on my face or down my throat or in my cunt or up my ass or all of the above plus more.

Fuck, I was a secret slut. Inwardly I cackled nastily.

He glanced down at my feet one more time before I headed back into my room and closed the door.

I discarded my robe, scurried to my bed, put the we-vibe back in its proper place meaning my cunt, and closed my eyes. I didn't need to read anymore... I just needed to imagine my Daddy's big cock sliding in and out of me.

I came in two minutes.

I didn't even get into my pajamas.

I just pulled my blanket over me, shut the toy off and drifted to sleep. I didn't even shut my lights off.

.....

Next morning I got up, showered, shaved my puss (which I normally did, but today I did it with extra care), painted my toenails red, put on a pair of fancy Wolford nylons in red, bra and panties, a cute pencil skirt, and a Christmas sweater.

I thought for a moment, then went into the box, lubed up the smallest butt plug from the kit and inserted it in my ass, holding it in place with my panties. It didn't feel too bad, although a little awkward. I wanted to begin preparing myself. Just in case, I thought smugly.

I was in awe of the nylons.

They were pure silk.

Soft.

Sexy.

I went downstairs and Dad was in the kitchen making breakfast. "Morning, sleepyhead."

"It's only ten-thirty," I pointed out.

"Day's half done," Dad smiled, that being one of Mom's favourite lines. She was an early riser, Dad and I were not.

"Yep," I laughed, "probably should just go back to bed."

Dad moved around the island to bring me bacon and saw my attire. He was clearly surprised by the fact I was in nylons again. He said, "You're dressed up rather nice for Christmas tree decorating."

"Mom left me a box of things, including a lot of nylons," I said, which was completely true. "I figured that meant I should wear them."

"Well, you look great," he said.

"Do you like the nylons?" I asked.

"I've never seen red ones," he said, taking a long look at them.

"They're festive," I pointed out, before joking, "maybe I should have painted my toenails green."

"That would have been very festive," he laughed, as he continued gazing at my legs.

"I'm full of Christmas spirit," I said, as I snitched a piece of bacon off the plate.

"So you are," he agreed, as he went back to grab the pancakes.

Then we ate breakfast. We talked about school and how my semester had gone. Sitting down, I was very aware of my butt plug the entire time, but of course I didn't mention it.

We talked about his work and how it had kept him really busy, which was good.

We talked about New Year's Eve plans which were to go to the Allen's for their yearly New Year's Eve block bash. We had lived in this house since before I was born and every other family on the cul-de-sac had lived here for over fifteen years and this year the New Year's Eve party was going into year twenty.

Then we made a plan.

He would go outside and do the Christmas lights, I would pull out all the Christmas boxes. All ten of them.

Two hours later the lights were up outside, the house was decorated and all that was left was the tree.

So, we went and picked one up like Dad and I had done every year since I was two.

As usual, it took hours.

We needed the perfect tree.

We picked up hot chocolate on the way home, brought the tree into the house, ordered Chinese food. That last was not a tradition, usually Mom made something yummy. But neither of us was much of a cook... that was something I didn't inherit from Mom, unfortunately.

Then we decorated the tree.

I knew that Dad was checking out my legs and feet throughout the tree decorating.

He was very sly about it and I wouldn't have noticed at all if I didn't already know it was his fetish. Yet, since I did know it was all I could see.

I was feeling so comfortable with the small butt plug that at one point I went upstairs 'for a potty break' and replaced it with the medium-sized one. This one was bigger, of course, and even with lube took a little bit of pressure to get inside which caused a rather sharp pain. I sat there and allowed myself to get used to the larger plug in my ass. Once somewhat comfortable, I returned downstairs to Daddy.

Once the tree was done, I unwrapped a candy cane and collapsed on the couch (again very aware of you-know-what as it went deeper in me and I barely caught myself from letting out a yelp... a sharp pain hitting me) and sighed, "My feet are killing me." Truth was, they weren't. I mean I had been in stocking feet all day except for boots when we went tree shopping, but I wanted my Dad's attention on my feet, recalling that he had often given Mom foot massages in the past.

As I had hoped, Dad offered, "I can give you a foot massage if you want, pumpkin."

"That would be great," I said, as Dad joined me on the couch.

I spun my body around and dropped my feet directly on his crotch and he groaned.

"I'm so sorry!" I cried out, as I lifted my feet up and off his crotch.

"No worries," he said, even though I had clearly hit him in the balls. He took my feet and laid them on his lap, just below his crotch area, and began massaging my left foot.

"That feels nice," I said, which it indeed did. I had never had a foot massage before from anybody and I could see why Mom had liked them so much.

"Yes, your mother loves my expert foot massages," he said. I carefully didn't point out he had used the wrong tense; it wouldn't have been kind.

"Be careful," I said, sucking on the candy cane like it was a small cock, slyly hoping for some subliminal manipulation, "or I'll be demanding one of these every day."

"Demand away," he said. "I enjoy giving them."

"Why?" I asked.

"I know they made your mother feel good," he said.

"That's sweet," I said. "You really are a gentleman."

"That's me," he smiled. "Mr. Nice Guy."

Deciding to let it out of the bag a bit and hopefully set up my seduction plans, I said, "Well, not always."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I heard you and Mom," I revealed, still using my candy cane like a narrow little cock.

"Heard us doing what?" he asked, acting innocent even though it was obvious he knew what I meant.

"Fucking," I said bluntly.

"Lesley!" he gasped, surprised by the word I chose.

"Well, it sure didn't sound like you two were making love," I teased.

"Well, your mother was an enigma," Dad said.

"Based on what I heard, you were both enigmas," I countered.

How so?" he asked, as he massaged each individual toe, which felt very nice.

"You two were both quite out of character," I pointed out.

"We can get a little wild," he admitted and then corrected himself, still not completely used to the fact that she was gone, "we used to at least."

"A little wild?" I questioned playfully, my candy cane almost done, although he seemed much more preoccupied by my nylon feet to catch on to what my lips could possibly do on his cock, "You called Mom a slut, and a three-hole slut."

"You heard that?" he asked, suddenly looking sheepish.

"Not going to lie," I continued, just allowing this to go wherever it went, as he moved to my other foot, "it was kind of hot."

"This is a weird conversation," Dad said, as he switched feet and ever so slyly adjusted his cock as he did. I was getting him hard. Excellent.

I apologized, but not really, "I'm sorry, Dad, but without Mom around, I have no one else to talk to about it."

"About what?" he asked.

"My own submissive nature," I tossed out there.

"Oh," he said.

"I think I'm a lot like Mom," I admitted, then corrected myself, "No, I am a lot like Mom."

"So I'm learning," he said, his expression rather poker like. Other than his quick cock adjustment, he was showing no real reaction good or bad about this conversation other than a little bit of surprise.

"I mean I don't know if I would like being called a three-hole slut, or getting a load all over my face, or having my hair used as handlebars or taking it in the ass, but that's what I fantasize when I'm alone," I admitted, throwing it ALL out there.

Dad was speechless.

So I just continued. "I mean, until I heard Mom talking like a porn star and heard you dominating her and calling her nasty names, I thought I was abnormal for having such dark fantasies. I mean I'm a feminist. I believe in equality for all women, and yet my sex fantasies are all about being dominated and controlled by a man."

Dad finally spoke. "Oh honey, I know this is confusing."

"Tell me about it," I huffed. "Plus, you can't really go and tell the guy you just met or a guy you're dating that you want to be used as a slut. My reputation would be deep sixed in a heartbeat."

"I hope you don't have too many guys you just met," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, Daddy," I smiled like a sexy little girl, "I'm mostly a good girl."

"It's the mostly that concerns me," he said.

"So it's okay for Mom to be a submissive slut but not me?" I asked bluntly. "That's rather hypocritical."

"Yes, it is very hypocritical," he agreed. "But Mom was my wife and you are my baby girl."

"There is a difference?" I asked. "I mean you can treat Mom, who you loved with all your heart, with such disrespect, but not me?"

"My relationship with each of you is very different," he clarified, seeming slightly rattled by the conversation, although he never stopped his magical massaging touch.

"How?" I asked, even though it was obvious.

"Well, you're my daughter, and my role is to help you mature into a young woman and to guide you through the challenges of life," he said.

"So," I paused, thinking about whether to say what was in my head, then deciding why not, the conversation was leading that way, maybe today would be my Christmas miracle, "what I think is that you should help me with coming to grips with my sexual identity."

"I'll try the best I can," he said, before adding, "but I so wish your mother was here for this conversation."

"If she was, what would she say?" I asked.

"To be yourself," he said.

"That's it?" I asked. "That's rather cliché."

"Well, I imagine knowing your mother was never at a loss for words, it would have been a much longer conversation, but she would say that every woman has layers."

"Like Donkey in Shrek," I quipped, Shrek being the show we watched the most when I was a little kid. Almost daily for a year, usually more than once.

"Exactly," he laughed. "And Fiona is looking for a man who can take control."

"So Shrek is a dominant master with a big dick?" I joked, liking to shock Dad with my foul mouth, knowing my Mom had done a great job of paving the way for me.

"Never considered that," he said. "But I imagine, based just on proportion, he would have been very well-endowed.

"Like you are," I blurted out.

"Excuse me?" he asked, actually stopping massaging my toes.

"I saw you and Mom one day," I admitted.

"You did?" he asked, clearly surprised and answering a worry I'd had since the day I watched them... he hadn't seen me.

"Yeah and since we're being so frank here," I said, allowing my foot to slide ever so close to the dick under discussion, "it's the biggest cock I've ever seen."

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," he said, looking absolutely flustered.

"About sex?" I asked. "Or about your massive cock?"

"Both," he said, "And please stop using the word cock."

"Sorry, your huge pecker then," I rephrased, really enjoying making my Dad squirm, while also hoping it was setting up my final game plan as I realized there was no better time than now to begin replacing Mom, so I continued by listing, "Thick dick, fat snake, gigantic missile."

"You really are just like your mother," he laughed and shook his head.

"I'm happy to hear that," I said. "I mean I want to be just like her."

"You are, honey," he said softly.

"I mean I want to be like her in every possible way," I said with rather clear intent. I then stood up and said, "I'll be right back."

"Um, okay," he said, as I could see his bulge in his pants.

I looked right at it, didn't hide my stare at all, but didn't say a word as I left him in a bewildered state of arousal and went to my room.

I went directly to the toy box, or maybe I should call it my sex box, and pulled out the lingerie. I got undressed, taking off my bra and panties, and put on a short red nightie that matched the thigh high stockings. My back-door friend seemed willing to stay put even when I wiggled my ass around experimentally, so I left it in.

Then deciding to be witty, Christmas was still a couple days away, I grabbed the wrapping paper and gift wrapped myself the best I could.

I imagine it looked terrible, and my feet weren't wrapped at all, but I assumed he would be okay with that, and the rest of me was, including my head. I couldn't walk of course even though I'd left the door open, so I then called out, "Daddy, can you come up and help me?"

"Sure," he called back, likely not at all prepared for what he was about to walk in on.

Anticipation swarmed through me, as did a sudden case of the nerves. It's one thing to have a frank sex talk with your Dad, it's even one thing to tell him you're a submissive, it's an entirely different thing to offer to be his submissive sex slave.

I heard Dad's footsteps approaching and then his words, "Oh my."

"Come unwrap your Christmas present from Mom, Daddy." I said, so nervous I was trembling. Not because I wasn't sure I wanted this... no, I wanted this very badly. But what would his response be? I couldn't see his face for a clue.

"Honey, what are you doing?" he asked, after what seemed like an eternity.

"Giving you an early Christmas present," I answered.

"But..." he began.

"This is a present that Mom insisted I give you," I added, before he could have a chance to try and rationalize why this was fucked up or wrong. It was fucked up; it was wrong; yet I knew deep in my heart it was also completely right.

"Your mother suggested this?" he asked.

"Mom's very last words to me were, and I'm quoting word for word: Take care of Daddy, Lesley. You're the woman of the house now, Lesley. I need you to take care of Daddy and all his needs!" I recited from memory.

"That doesn't mean everything," he objected.

"Then read the letter on my bed, Daddy," I suggested, having left it there for him to read if he was skeptical. His voice indicated he was indeed skeptical, and yet he wasn't giving me an outright No.

There was a long silence which felt like an eternity and it was... I imagine this is what it feels like to be a guy when he gets on one knee, pops the question and has to wait a long time for an answer. He asks the question with relative confidence he will get the answer he is hoping for, but still the waiting is excruciating, as is the risk of a no. I had asked the question without actually asking the question, and I was now waiting in purgatory.

"This is the letter Mom left you?" Dad finally asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"You understand you don't have to fulfill this last wish."

"And what if I want to?"

"Do you?"

"Daddy," I began, giving my heart to my father with everything I had in me, "I love you completely and want nothing more than to do the best I can to replace Mom and be your everything."

"You already are my everything," he said, from his voice I could tell he was now standing right in front of me.

"Okay," I said, "let me rephrase that. I want to do everything for you and with you."

He unwrapped my head.

He had tears in his eyes.

"You look so much like your Mom."

"I know I can never truly replace Mom," I said. "She was perfect. But I want to be the next best replica."

"Honey, you are perfect," he said and leaned in and kissed me.

At first it was just a father-daughter kiss. Closed lips. Chaste.

Then it wasn't.

For a couple of minutes we kissed.

Tender.

Intimate.

Probing.

Lustful.

My pussy gushed.

My body trembled.

My head spun.

He broke the kiss and asked, "Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"I want to be your slut, Daddy," I replied, breaking the intimate tenderness with blunt honesty.

"I've got to warn you I become a different man when lust takes me over," he warned.

"Does that mean you will unwrap your present and use it for your pleasure?" I asked demurely.

"It means I will expect you to obey without hesitation," he said. "No matter what."

"Yes, Daddy," I agreed eagerly, as I felt him begin to unwrap me.

"I can't believe this was your mother's final request," he said.

"She knows it's what we both need," I said, not using the wrong tense, thinking even in the afterlife Mom was still looking after both of us.

"Your mother always knew what was best," Dad said, as the wrapping paper dropped to the floor. "Wow!" he said as he looked at me suddenly in all red. Transparent red, everything on display, no secrets. Well one secret, but he would find that very soon.

"Wow, good?" I asked.

"Wow, you really do look exactly like your mother," he said, admiring my beauty. Not like at the airport, now he was gazing through my nightie at my small, shapely tits and my hard, little brown nipples. At my carefully shaven twat and of course my nylon-clad legs and feet.

He walked around for a rear view and spied my occupant. "A butt plug?"

"It's another gift from Mom, Daddy. I'm getting ready to be your three-hole slut."

"That's very thoughtful of you my slut, but we won't be needing this tonight," he told me, removing it and setting it aside. "But I was surprised several years ago to find one very like this in your mother and she said the same thing about getting ready for me."

"Then treat me exactly like you would my Mom," I offered, as I thrilled to feel his hands on my shoulders guiding me to the carpeted floor of my bedroom.

On my knees, I reached for my Dad's belt then paused, looking up at him for permission.

He nodded silently, poker-faced.

I unbuckled it then tugged at his button, unzipped his jeans and pulled them down. I helped him get them off and tossed them aside as I stared at the massive bulge in his boxers.

I reached up and rubbed his hard cock through his boxers and said, "Oh my, these are soft."

"Your mother bought them for me," he said, with a groan.

"Are you hard because of me, Daddy?" I asked all innocently.