Daddy's Calendar Girl
Every year headmaster Charles shoots a nude fundraising calendar of his best looking graduating girls and their fathers, but this year the theme has made him too horny. All he can think of is his own youngest daughter who just turned eighteen. Will she be available to him, like her two older sisters, or is Charles being way too ambitious? This one is, after all, the school's knockout cheerleader.
I’m even more terrified now than I was with her sisters. No one can understand the white fright that accompanies these moments. All I’m doing with my bravado when ranting about incest with fathers and daughters, the way I was doing with Lisa and Brian today in my office, is lying to myself about the size of this hurdle. You would think it would be easier with the third daughter. But in this case it’s harder! The reason is an awful one to admit.
It’s that Shelby is so much better looking than her other two sisters. As a father I love them all equally. But that old devil lust on my shoulder knows better. He knows it’s Shelby, not her two sisters, who the cameras come out for when she is cheerleading. For the guys in the back rows it’s her waist, hips and shoulder proportions (34-23.5-34) that draw their attention away from the others. For the coaches and players it’s her fairy-like face and big eyes. Part of me has thought my dream run of sex with my daughters would all end with Peyton, just because Shelby is so fucking good looking.
“What did Peyton tell you?” I ask her.
“That you give better lessons,” she says, modestly patting her skirt down over the top of her thighs.
“You mean better than the ones with me and your mother?”
She’s too shy to answer. All I get is small nod.
“The ones Peyton gets are pretty advanced.”
“Well I’m nearly her age!” Now that it’s a matter of equity between her and her sister, she isn’t so shy about speaking. “I want to catch up,” she says, with a defiant kick of her shoulders that has drawn my eyes to her chest. Could this conversation mean I’ll really get a look at Shelby’s bare breasts? I have to adjust myself to the reality that maybe I’m due for that and much more.
“I’ll go as quickly as I can, but Peyton has had a whole extra year.”
“It’s not fair!” she pouts, like the spoilt youngest child she’s learned to play well.
“She’s a year older!” I say.
As though I’m not even here Shelby just lifted the square of fabric she was earlier patting down to be modest and is poking about with the micro shorts over her mound.
“It’s a stupid design this,” she says, looking into her crotch.
“What do you mean?”
“One little slip and whoops, look at that.” For a split second then she just flashed me. I saw pubic hairs. “You know daddy,” she says, still aimlessly pinching fabric over her mound as though she is dressing a doll, “you should let me take the rest of this week off of school, and you should stay home too. Tell them you’re sick.”
“What for? Lessons?”
“So I can catch up with Peyton.”