"Wake up, Daddy!" My ten-year-old daughter Caitlyn tugged at the
"Just give me another half-hour, sweetie," I muttered in to the
pillow. It was Saturday and I wanted to sleep in.
"Daddy, wake up. You need to do the laundry. I'm out of panties."
"Take a pair of my boxers," I said.
"Daddy! I'm serious!" She gave me a playful punch.
"Wear a pair of your mother's." I regretted saying this the moment
I had uttered it. Laura had passed away almost six months before.
I still hadn't removed her clothes from the bedroom we had shared
for ten years.
Caitlyn gave me a long look and got out of bed. She walked up to
my wife's dresser and opened the top drawer. Rummaging around for
a bit, she pulled out a skimpy white lace thong and stepped into
it, pulling it up her long, coltish legs and over her round
There was something reminiscent of her mother as she pulled the
elastic over her hips, holding the hem of her nightie up to
look at her reflection in the mirror.
"I'll do laundry after breakfast," I said. "Just give me a few
minutes in the bathroom."
Caitlyn adjusted the back of the thong and let her nightie fall
back into place. Jumping back into bed, she snuggled against
me. Beneath the thick blanket, my usual morning erection
throbbed from the combination of a full bladder and Caitlyn's
"Go pour us some OJ, sweetie. I'll be down in a sec." I didn't want
her to see my hard-on when I got out of bed.
After breakfast, I gathered up Caitlyn's laundry for a wash.
I couldn't help but notice how worn and frayed most of her
"Mom didn't get a chance to take me shopping for school clothes
and stuff," Caitlyn said.
"Let's throw this in the washer and hit the mall," I said.
Ten minutes later Caitlyn was pulling me by the hand into the
girls' department, excited at the prospects of getting a whole
new wardrobe. She ooh-ed and aah-ed over a rack of colorful
spandex bike pants and singlets before rushing over to a display
of pretty sundresses.