“I only want you to buy skirts,” Daddy said. “I like my girls in skirts.”“Is that why Mom never wears jeans or pants?”Daddy nodded. “And you're at that age where you should do the same.”“But long skirts, like Mom? Hers are so boring.”A smile crossed his lips. “Sweetheart, buy the shortest, tightest skirts you want. You have gorgeous legs. Let Daddy see them.”Heat rushed up my legs. “Yes, Daddy,” I squeaked then turned away, my cheeks on fire. Daddy wanted to see my legs. I wish I was wearing a skirt right now instead of stupid shorts.There were so many wonderful skirts. Short tennis skirts, pleated skirts, pencil skirts, flowery skirts, knee-length skirts, mid-thigh skirts, even shorter ones. I felt so daring when I grabbed on of those, imagining it only falling past my rear and not much else. It would show off so much of my legs. Daddy didn't complain as I handed him another skirt to hold. He threw them over his muscular arms, a patient smile on his lips as he glanced at what I. Whenever she went on deck now, Constance saw them looking at her, and whispering sidelong to one another. Each man was waiting, with ill-concealed impatience, for a summons of his own to the captain’s cabin. Too, they were disgruntled that Constance took so much of Marie’s attention from them, although the girl did spend a goodly portion of each day on her knees for the sailors, or letting them bend her over the rail, or wrapping her legs around their waists as they did her standing against the mainmast. But Marie had confessed to Constance that as much as she enjoyed a good fuck, she found women preferable. ‘They’re not just concerned with finding a hole to stick their pegos in,’ she had said last night, as she washed Constance’s back. They’d been sharing a bath in Jacqueline’s large brass tub, while the captain herself was actually out seeing to the running of the ship instead of sitting in audience of Constance’s ongoing depravation. Marie soaped Constance liberally, hands.
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