Closed for Wintersfanatic
With winter approaching, the sun was already below the horizon when I arrived home after work. I removed my suit jacket and draped it over a chair as soon as I'd entered. My wife, Sharon, would normally have chided me to hang it up immediately, but she was spending time with a sick aunt. Freed of such marital supervision, I was relaxing my normal behavior.
Looking into the den, I could see I wasn't the only one. "Hey, honey bear," I called to the sprawled figure of my daughter on the couch.
Melanie's attention was clearly split between the TV and her smartphone, so I wasn't entirely sure she'd actually registered my presence yet. Teens these days always seemed to be doing two or three things at once. Still, with Sharon away, I felt the onus was on me to make sure she had some daily parental engagement.
As I stepped around the couch, the immediate question became whether I should say anything about her outfit. Melanie and her mother frequently clashed on clothing choice and I was usually content to avoid the fray. With Sharon gone, though, perhaps I should pick up the slack on enforcing the dress code.
Melanie's current attire certainly would fall afoul of Sharon's standards. While during the day she had to wear a uniform, our daughter invariably switched to her "lounging in comfort" clothes as soon as she got home. Melanie's notion of comfort today was a cotton tank top and a pair of yoga pants. The pants rode low on her hips, showing off the thin strings of her panties. The tank top would have been snug on most anyone, but Melanie's impressive bosom made it into a second skin. Sharon would no doubt have sent Melanie to her room to put on something that better concealed her curves.
I held my tongue, though. As I was often the disciplinarian about her schoolwork and her weekend ctivities, I didn't want to become a wet blanket about clothes, too.
Plus, I also didn't mind Melanie's revealing attire. After all, I was rather fond of her mother's voluptuous curves. Moreover, Sharon had been gone close to a week now and my neglected libido was starting to gnaw at me.
This time I spoke loudly enough that she would have to respond. "So, any plans for tonight? Or will you be spending a Friday night with your Dad?"
With winter approaching, the sun was already below the horizon when I arrived home after work. I removed my suit jacket and draped it over a chair as soon as I'd entered. My wife, Sharon, would normally have chided me to hang it up immediately, but she was spending time with a sick aunt. Freed of such marital supervision, I was relaxing my normal behavior.
Looking into the den, I could see I wasn't the only one. "Hey, honey bear," I called to the sprawled figure of my daughter on the couch.
Melanie's attention was clearly split between the TV and her smartphone, so I wasn't entirely sure she'd actually registered my presence yet. Teens these days always seemed to be doing two or three things at once. Still, with Sharon away, I felt the onus was on me to make sure she had some daily parental engagement.
As I stepped around the couch, the immediate question became whether I should say anything about her outfit. Melanie and her mother frequently clashed on clothing choice and I was usually content to avoid the fray. With Sharon gone, though, perhaps I should pick up the slack on enforcing the dress code.
Melanie's current attire certainly would fall afoul of Sharon's standards. While during the day she had to wear a uniform, our daughter invariably switched to her "lounging in comfort" clothes as soon as she got home. Melanie's notion of comfort today was a cotton tank top and a pair of yoga pants. The pants rode low on her hips, showing off the thin strings of her panties. The tank top would have been snug on most anyone, but Melanie's impressive bosom made it into a second skin. Sharon would no doubt have sent Melanie to her room to put on something that better concealed her curves.
I held my tongue, though. As I was often the disciplinarian about her schoolwork and her weekend ctivities, I didn't want to become a wet blanket about clothes, too.
Plus, I also didn't mind Melanie's revealing attire. After all, I was rather fond of her mother's voluptuous curves. Moreover, Sharon had been gone close to a week now and my neglected libido was starting to gnaw at me.
This time I spoke loudly enough that she would have to respond. "So, any plans for tonight? Or will you be spending a Friday night with your Dad?"
