Daddy Loves My Clothes Pt. 01 - Sex Stories

Daddy Loves My Clothes Pt. 01

I walk into the kitchen on a bright, Sunday morning. Mom is seated at the table while Dad prepares whatever we're having for breakfast. The smell of roasted potatoes and eggs fill the kitchen. I'm wearing a pair of red and black plaid pajama shorts, and a tight, matching t-shirt. It's an outfit Mom has rolled her eyes at me for wearing in the past, but it's too comfy to not put on.

It's just the three of us in the house - and it's been that way for nineteen years. Mom and Dad met when they were in their early twenties, quickly got pregnant, and then had me. Now, Mom is forty-two, and still quite stunning. I definitely resemble her in our five foot, five inch height, long, dirty blonde hair, and our petite figures... though Mom has definitely put on a few pounds over the last few years from stress at her job. The only feature I inherited from Dad are his green eyes. Mom's are blue. Dad has always towered over both of us. He stands at a sterdy six foot, three inches. He weighs around two hundred and thirty pounds and is still in excellent shape from frequenting the gym and healthy dieting.

"Good morning," I say to both of them enthusiastically.

"Good morning, dear," Mom exhales under her breath.

"Hey baby, how did you sleep?" Dad asks me with bright eyes and a warm smile.

I am definitely a daddy's girl. Even now at nineteen years old, I know I can pretty much get anything I want from him -- though I use that privilege sparingly.

I take a seat at the table and ...

... respond, "I slept great! Weird dreams, but very well rested!"

Dad smiles and curiously answers, "Oh yeah? Weird dreams? Like what?"

Mom rolls her eyes and asks, "Connor, what does it matter? They were just silly dreams."

Dad and I exchange glances as he smiles and says, "Yeah, I guess you're right. Ready for some food, Raya?"

My name is Andrea, but they like to call me Raya (ray-uh) for short. Something Dad came up with when I was just a baby.

"Yeah, I'm starving! Bring it on!"

We ate breakfast almost in silence. There seems to be some kind of tension between Mom and Dad, which frankly, wasn't anything new. Since I had been back in the house from college, it's like I've slowly watched them drift further and further apart. I can't understand why. Mom always seems so stressed and upset, and Dad, so care free and jovial. Maybe it's a depression thing.

As we finish up, Mom thanks Dad and smiles at me, and then walks off from the table and goes downstairs to her office to dig into some of her work. She is most definitely a workaholic and almost seems most content while doing it. Dad and I do the dishes together as he looks over at me.

"So what do you have planned today, Raya? Anything exciting? Mountain climbing? Bunjee jumping?"

I laugh and respond, "No, no. Nothing that crazy. I was thinking of doing some shopping though. I still need a whole bunch of clothes. A complete closet overhaul."

Dad looks suspiciously at me as he solemnly asks, "And what ...