Date: Thu, 4 Jul 2019 17:03:22 +0200 From: wise owl Subject: Watching Daddy(Part six) for gay/incest Reader Note: This is a love story pure and simple. A loving tribute to a dad from his son. If this offends you- and by that I mean male sexuality in all its fullness, if you are not of legal age, then please do not read this. If you have comments, please email me at wiseoldowl@gmx.com Please give to Nifty, your support keeps it going! **Please read all earlier parts before this section** Watching Daddy Part Six: So my dear readers, you can well imagine me in my early days lying in my small bed and just listening to night noises and thinking about my daddy. At that point in my early life I was enthralled by the very idea dad was once similar in age to myself, virtually hairless apart from his wavy reddish gold head of hair and shorter and more on my level. How I would have loved to have him as he was for day, all to myself...just us and we'd enjoy him being "Natural Noodle". I prayed for magic to transform him back to those "good old days" and be like me, with me...free. So my books often lay on the shelf and dad and his life tales of his youth filled my nights and my dreams. Mum got used to the fact I craved dad's "natural" tales. How I loved it when he got naked in his tales of old and often how Big Rosie, his wonderful older sister (my dear auntie) was the reason or initiator in him getting stripped off. I do recall the night at this point in my early life when the night noises were just too alluring and the voyeur in me was hungry. I knew it had something to do with daddy and possibly mum. But what? My mind was alive and sleep would just not come. Could this be what mum and dad called, Adult Time? I had to know. My mind alert and my smaller feet treading delicately in my father's earlier steps still barely visible in the now rising fibres of the plush floor covering. I slid my bedroom door open and peeped out. The upstairs hall dark and shadowy with a gentle moonlight glow coming in the small window at the landing atop the stairway was all that I saw. I moved stealthily out into the hall, my bare feet not making a sound. Moving like a silhouette, a little devilish one at that! The only light faintly coming from my parent's room door which remained ajar, just a crack, down the narrow hall near the top of the stairway and it was calling to me. My ears straining and pricked to full attention as the whispers carried on intermittently. One high pitched, one lower and that unique thrumming baritone sound can only be dad. I'd know my dad's voice anywhere, even in whispers. I moved like mist to the cracked space along the door jam, my eyes spy the bedside lamp on the lowest brightness. Mum called that setting "night light" and it was used for getting up in the night so not disturb dad from his sleep. The night light was on and I knew both mum and dad were in the big bed and awake. The bed springs sighed slightly and the old wooden bedstead creaked from weight shifting to and fro. This position I found myself in that first night of nocturnal voyeurism would become a position I'd visit over and over as the years moved on and I matured. My stealth-mode would continue growing stronger with each passing session and my interest evolving from a mere curiosity to a fuller understanding of the nature of what "adult time" truly represented. I found in years to come that my dad enjoyed "adult time" with many people and of both sexes. But that was much later in the course of events! This first visit to the door was more or less a trial run. Getting my feet wet, so to speak. The slightly ajar door provided excellent listening and somewhat awkward viewing potential. My first nocturnal visit was memorable to this day for one very important factor...dad's fleshy bare feet! The door had two cracks, one along the hinge side and the one along the latching doorknob side. The doorknob side view being near the foot of the bed and open just enough to see dad's side of the big bed up to his knees or so. That first night I was dumb struck by the amazing view of dad's exposed bare feet just perfectly framed in the open door crack. The bed covers were obviously askew and his upper legs seemed mostly covered but his two pinkly perfect man-feet were beautifully on display and each wriggling just enough to cause my heart to race like mad. The way his long toes undulated and flexed almost hypnotized me there and then. It was like a puppet show of manly feet. Dad's feet, slightly moist and just catching enough "night light" to glow pink and supple and be oh so alluring to my very admiring eyes. The bed clothes rustled from time to time and a sound of giggling or sighing came and went. I stood rooted like a tree, my heart thudding and his amazing size 11 feet moving to unheard music there on the foot of the bed. It was as if he were dancing to a rising, soul soaring beat only he could hear and it was taking him away. The beat incessant and all powerful as he moved his feet to what I knew must be some incredibly breathtaking symphony. Sighs and guttural sounds now and then a sudden splaying of his lovely toes thrumming explosively into a star fish-like array; those perfect toes went rigid and stiff like an electric bolt roared had thru him. I loved the way he danced that night, his feet were all I saw and all I could have hoped for. I think it was this night all those years ago that made me really appreciate bare feet as well as socked feet. Dad's feet, all moist and pink seemed to signify life and vitality. My body wanted to kneel and creep to the foot of my parent's bed and just experience his feet at that very moment of that delicious starburst-like perfection Id' just seen. I wanted to sneak over and not only examine every inch of his size 11's but also to inhale the obvious perfumes that were emanating forth from them. I could see a sweaty sheen on the supple foot flesh, no doubt the musky aroma and taste would have been nirvana! The moment was all too fleeting and the sound of whispered "goodnights" caught my ears and my daddy's deliciously naked feet relaxed, toes again together and then the light snapped out. My sense of loss was sudden and all consuming; I wanted those feet now! But it was over...for the moment. I made a pledge then and there to own those feet at every chance and protect them from anyone else who challenged my place at daddy's feet. I wandered away in the dark house and found myself passing the bathroom door. The need for comforting consumed me. I crept like a wraith to the clothes hamper where only a few hours earlier I had deposited dad's worn items of clothing. I moved and lifted the lid as quietly as a mouse. I can still recall that moment back in the 1960's and exactly what socks dad had worn that very day the now emerging voyeur in me was truly born. They were a navy blue pair, OTC length with a gold woven toe. The fabric was sheen with a gentle ribbing throughout the calf section. The foot section was completely plain fabric apart from the golden toe caps. In the dark I rummaged and found what I craved. My hand knew the textures of socks by then and I located the little ball of dad's most recent pair. I pulled them free of the clothes hamper prison and made my way to my room and closed the door tightly but noiselessly. I moved to my bed and cowered under my blankets. In my little cave, my private sanctum of all things me...I lay with dad's socks plastered to my face. I breathed in all that he was. I had his lovely feet just moments before within my very grasp but somehow that moment belonged to mom, not me. I resented that. It made me mad. Why did daddy dance like that for her? It perplexed me that night as I sat hunched in my little blanket covered sanctum. I sniffed and snuffled the divine aromas that lay hidden in those navy blue socks as I pushed them all over my face, making them mine! They were mine. He was mine! I knew that or thought I knew that nobody except me owned daddy's beautiful feet and his Adonis-like body. I was wrong. And soon would find out I had many, many competitors for not only his size 11 feet but for all of him, clothed and naked! The first of these many so called, "competitors" besides my very own mother would soon arrive on the scene. But as I said, these "competitors" could also be useful tools...and used to get daddy the way I liked him...to become the one and only "Natural Noodle". My experiments had to rely on my "competitors" and that was both exhilarating and frustrating. This only child hated to share and sharing daddy was So Hard, BUT what I saw and heard was golden and priceless! I lay back in my little cave in the dark of night and carefully took each moist aromatic sock and gently and lovingly pulled them onto my much smaller feet and legs. They crept loosely up and up, past my kneecaps, I giggled. But my tingling toes and smaller sensitive feet magically fell into a sacred place in each sock that seemed preordained by daddy's bigger, sweatier and stronger man-feet. I rested my daddy socked feet upon my mattress, feeling where dad's feet had been, had sweat, had walked...had sailed like a warrior. Fantasy and reality always blurred for me then and I fell back onto my pillows wearing those navy blue moist socks of dad's and began dreaming. My hero, my dad, my world! The very next day our aging MILF of a neighbour came to sit with me while dad was at work and mum at a monthly hair appointment in the city. She's shop too. So she was gone for hours and often it was dad who came home first on these monthly dates. Mavis, big breasted and over 50, hair like a beehive and dyed a rather washed out shade of blonde. Not too thin, full figured....a lot like Auntie Rosie. She wore dark red lipstick and her eyes were all made up with mascara. She could be a bit witch like! Her fingernails were manicured and long, also in ruby red. And when she smoked, which she did far too much, she made her lipstick go all over the golden filter-tip. Her eyes would flutter and sometimes her lashes stuck together with all the gooey eye make-up. I can still see her and her voice. She wore loud floral print dresses and dark pantyhose. Now when Mavis stayed around for a day with me, she had a way of getting me talking. She'd grill me on all things "daddy". I tell it true, she was fixated on him and I knew it. And hell, I was too! "What's daddy been up to?" She would often ask, puffing smoke and sipping a coffee laced with brandy. "Oh, he's been busy with a new client at work. He has to go away next week. I hate that." I said sitting opposite her in the kitchen of our house. "You poor thing, your mum will miss him. I would. I'd go crazy if your daddy went out of town without me. I would wonder what he was up to while away?" She said not the least be concerned that I might find that comment upsetting. "Well, when he's away, I think about him. Lots. And I get out the photo albums and my books and I make up stories about him." I said in a far too honest way. "You do? How queer. But if it makes you feel better, then it might be good." She said with her eyes all narrowed. I nodded. I then recalled I was carrying the pair of navy blue OTC socks with gold woven toes of dad's in my pocket. I had not placed them back in the washing hamper. I smiled as I touched his day old worn socks. "Get the albums and your books, tell me a daddy story. I'd like to hear one." She said suddenly. Now I had never shared a story I made up about my daddy nor did I share his "Natural Noodle" youthful memories with anyone before. And Mavis just happened to be in the right place at the right time. So I fetched a photo album and a book of various fairy tales. It was a huge thrill to have Mavis under my thumb, I mean I knew she was absolutely smitten with daddy and now I held the strings. I could control her using my words and deeds...my first human tool in creating a daddy experiment. My mind went crazy. I calmed down and relaxed, my heart rate was going off the charts. I loved showing daddy off, even in this very remote sort of way. Mavis sat there, smoking and drinking as I brought forth the album I picked. I selected one that pre-dated me. It was mum and dad in the first year of marriage and on various holidays and around the house. Mavis grabbed the book, she acted starved. "So, how do we do it? Make this story and album go together?" "Well, I pick a photo I like of daddy and then pick a fairy tale I think that suits him. And then it happens in my mind." I said smugly. "How the hell does that help me? I am not in your head, thank God!" She said, the brandy talking. I knew she was tipsy and worked with her. "No Mavis, I'll tell the story out loud. For you." I said smiling. She seemed satisfied. She opened the album and looked at a few pages, sighing and breathing heavy. "God he's gorgeous! He's a dreamboat. Why the hell are all the good men taken?" She said lighting up a ciggy. Her red lips all over the tip in no time. I found a picture of dad in a very skimpy bathing suit (Speedo style) and he was posed on a rock. His face tanned and moustache trimmed. His nearly nude body poised as if posing for a centrefold. His bare feet prominently splayed out and his crotch bulging as he sat back along the rocky surface. The dark tight silky nylon bathing suit, in crystal clear B&W photography, left nothing to ones imagination. You could tell dad was hung and tumescent. The smile dad's face was nothing short of cheeky and suggestive. "Holy Mother! Your mummy is so lucky. Holy, Holy! I am impressed." She said rubbing her long fingernails all along daddy's photo... and over his crotch again and again. I knew she was hooked and I was in heaven! "Now I tell you a story." I said as she was transfixed on his photo. I grabbed the book of fairy tales and selected one, Rapunzel. I liked to imagine daddy as the prince and the witch luring him up the tower with the cut off hair rope. I began the long tale as Mavis sort of drank in daddy's picture and my words. I described how daddy would be dressed in prince-like tunic and long blue socks with shoes with golden buckles. I rubbed the socks in my pocket as I spoke. Mavis just kept starring at dad's picture. I got the part where the witch grabs the prince as he clambers in the upper chamber room thru the window. Mavis shocked me. I think her next words were like a lightning bolt to me. I knew she was truly under my thumb! "Picture me as the witch, yes. I'd be there...pulling your daddy up the wall and toward the window. That Rapunzel, she'd be in the dungeon. I'd be alone and ready for your daddy." She said as her eyes went big with delight. "Really. What would happen Mavis?" I asked, my fingers rubbing daddy's socks like mad. Mavis laughed and smoked and sipped. "Never you mind." She said in a bitchy way. "Not fair! Not fair!" I screeched. "I told you and you tell me, that's the rule." She laughed again and her red lips did look evil. "NO, it's my little secret. I am the witch and I have my way with your daddy and that's my story and you can't hear it." She cackled. I was incensed beyond words. Tears spilled out over my young cheeks. "Honey, stop crying. Your mum will kill me." She said quickly looking a bit put out. "Then tell me, tell me what you did to daddy?" I near shouted. She soon saw I took my daddy stories seriously. "Oh, Tony, it's wicked. I am silly. I think we should stop." She stammered. I grabbed the album and pointed to nearly naked daddy on the rock. "I know a secret, I know lots of secrets about daddy. I know what you were thinking." I said leering up at her. "Really? You, Tony? I doubt you can read minds." She said with certainty. "Daddy would fall on the floor of the tower room and you, you ugly witch, you'd make him get all naked! You'd like daddy all naked and alone with you!" I whispered to her almost as if I were her inner voice. Her secret desire made known! She laughed, hiccupped and grabbed another ciggy. Her eyes all misty. "Tony, I am just not ready to think that way." She said and her hand shook as she smoked. "You'd grab him and pull off his tunic and then with your long witchy fingers...you'd pull off each golden buckled shoe. His sweaty feet in his long blue socks with little golden toes...just like these!" I said as I pulled dad's used socks free from my pocket. I waved them toward her face. She looked shocked and horrified and aroused. Yes, I saw arousal in her wild, crazy eyes. Hungry eyes! "Give me those! Give me those!" Her shaking hands grabbed daddy's socks from me and she held them to her big breasted front. "Are these your daddy's? Did you take them from him?" She asked nearly croaking. "He wore them yesterday, all day. I had them for you today...for our story." I said looking at her so hard I thought my eyes would burn a hole in her retinas. She held them almost in sacred reverence. She put her face downward and nuzzled my dad's aromatic socks as if she'd been given a hanky. She inhaled deeply, just like I did! "Bless you, you silly thing. Bless you." She said in husky gulps. I knew she was hooked and now I wanted daddy to come home. I wanted to see if "Natural Noodle" could come out to play while Mavis and I watched. She'd love it and I`d be in seventh heaven! Everyone needed to see daddy in his natural state and Mavis was part of experiment number one in 100's I'd create. "Come home, daddy!" I prayed inwardly! Much more to come in each new chapter of this life saga! Feel free to write me if you enjoyed this or have read my earlier works. Thank you! Tony aka wiseoldowl@gmx.com