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On several different nights I went to bed a little early - not because I wanted to sleep, but because I wanted to be alone. The way I was rubbed days ago felt so different. I've never quite been able to feel myself the same way my dad's fingers felt against me. My brother's hands couldn't make me feel the same way either - not that I think he really knew what to do though, so maybe that's not fair. My hands rubbed all the same spots perfectly, but they felt different. I guess it was because I had hands of a girl. My dad had the hands of a man. Strong. Tough. Tender. And kind.

I didn't fully mind school and, in a way, I was glad that we had more of a routine. Mom was always the one who took my brothers to their practice after school and dad and I often had time alone with my Dad. In a sad way, though, our school schedule meant my brother and I spent less time together too; we had gotten used to not having any alone time together for a while, but I did think about it. I'm sure he did too, but we acted almost like it never happened now. Maybe it was better that way for now. At least I had my dad. Sometimes, when mom was gone with my brothers and I were alone with my Dad, we would watch a movie. Sometimes we ate ice cream. Sometimes his hands touched me. Okay, maybe most of the times his hands were touching me. I never missed a chance to be next to him.

Our times together started out normally at first. He would usually just let his fingers rest on my legs and either feel me over my clothes or more rarely, just wrap around me and go down my pants. It wasn't the same and I definitely did not like those touches as much. I started wearing shorts on these days we had alone together. That helped because now he was going through my leg and over my underwear. It was more comfortable, but not quite right. Eventually, I started coming down with no underwear on at all.

Now I was receiving that touch I craved so desperately.

"You know, Natty, you don't have to wear clothes at all on the days no one else is here. Might be even better than not wearing underwear." I had never thought about that. It felt so naughty. I liked the idea immediately. I was really starting to embrace being a slut. Moments like this felt less and less awkward each time. The next two times we were alone together, I didn't even bother wearing clothes. I think he liked it more than me did.

We'd been spending our alone time like this for four weeks since the lingerie incident. I hadn't put the lingerie on again for him during those times. Come to think of it, I hadn't put it on for myself either since then. It almost slipped my mind that I had it and I rarely had any reason to go in my diary box for the few things I kept there. I don't think I had gone into it since I put it away the last time it was on. Until, one day, when my dad was passing me in the room, he grabbed me gently and leaned in to whisper, "Check your diary box." He didn't stay long enough for me to respond. He just walked away and continued on.

My mind was racing the entire afternoon and all through dinner, but I was too busy helping mom. My brothers were off to their camping trip with the friends that weekend and my dad convinced my mom to go on a spa retreat away as well to get some relaxation time. It would be just the two of us for several days together. The more I thought about an entire weekend alone, the more I couldn't wait to see what he left for me in there.

"Are you going to be okay", mom asked me suddenly during dinner. My face must have told her something was wrong. Truthfully, the only thing wrong was I didn't know what my dad left for me and I couldn't stop wondering about it. "Should I cancel my trip?" mom turned to dad curiously. He reassured her the two of us will be fine. He always did know what to say to make mom feel better. I smiled at him. I think mom saw me smile too and realized it'll be okay and stopped asking about it.

The last hour that I had to wait was agonizing, but, when I was finally able to be alone and look, I was as giddy as a school girl. I opened my diary box and, finally, saw what he had left. A lot of money and a small note.

"Go spoil yourself" is all the scribbled note read. What on earth did he mean?

I don't know, mom said it to me. She just smiled and walked away. I still think about that night now, all by myself in her room. I can't stop thinking about what he left for me and how crazy it was. I wonder if there's more where I went wrong or I'm just too curious.

Story of mother and son sex

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