This is true story MY DADDY.. Mama was killed in an automobile accident when I was seventeen. Her death hit both daddy and me hard, but while I was able to deal with it pretty well, daddy was almost a basket case for about three months.
Mama had shown me how to cook, sew, do the laundry, and keep the house clean, and she and I frequently did these things together before her death. Now, I stepped in and did them all myself. Daddy would not have been able to do them. He’s a great mechanic, and is talented in many other ways, but I don’t think he could fix breakfast if it required anything more than pouring cereal into a bowl and adding sugar and milk. Anyway, when mama died, I began taking care of daddy and the house. At first, the house wasn’t quite as well taken care of as it had been when mama was alive, but I soon learned the little tricks that every woman learns to save time and to get all of the work done quickly and well.
I made sure that daddy always had clean, well pressed clothes to wear, and that he ate well. I loved him, no – I love him. I wanted his life to be as happy and as comfortable as I could make it. I still do.
Although I was able to do all of the cooking and housework almost as well as mama had, I was unable to give daddy the love and companionship she had given him. I could see the loneliness in his eyes. Daddy tried to put up a brave front, but I knew deep inside that he was hurting, hurting badly. Over time, daddy began to come out of the deep funk he had been in, but there was still something holding him back, keeping him from being the cheerful, outgoing man he had been.
I got a clue about what was bothering daddy one day when I took some clean clothes into his bedroom to put them in the dresser and the closet. While I was hanging daddy’s clean shirts on the bar, my head brushed a rolled magazine on the lower shelf above the hanger bar. My head almost dislodged it from where daddy had stuck it. It seemed strange that daddy had rolled it and put it on the closet shelf instead of putting it with his Popular Science and other magazines in the cabinet at the bottom of his nightstand.
I unrolled the magazine. Wow! It was a copy of Private, a slick porn magazine. The picture on the cover left nothing to the imagination. The blond girl in the picture was standing bent over a kitchen sink. She had one foot up on the top step of a kitchen stool. An older man was behind her. Both of them were naked, and at least half of the man’s stiff cock was buried deep inside the girl’s shaved pussy.
I took the magazine to my room and lay down on the bed to look at it. The story line of the text under, or next to the pictures didn’t have enough plot to make good reading, but it wasn’t supposed to be a piece of literature. The pictures were the important thing. Nevertheless, that little bit of text said that the people the story and pictures were about were father and daughter.
My parents were nudists and I was used to seeing both of them nude around the house, and went nude much of the time myself when only the three of us were in the house. I had also been to various nudist resorts both here in the states and in Europe with my parents, so I had never found a nude man’s body particularly arousing.