Copyright© 2014 by autofocus
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Spouse splitting for parts unknown. Thrilling adventures on the Adriatic, planned by a travel agent provacateur. International relations and indelicate diplomacy. You always get what you pay for, but pay dearly when plans go awry. Pay attention to the clues in front of your eyes. Who's really in charge? Does it matter? Clever, charming, conspiratorial choices certainly carry considerably captivating consequences. It's all good in the end. Eventually, in the end. It's a long hot summer.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft ft/ft Consensual Humor Sister Father Daughter Spanking Light Bond Group Sex Harem First Oral Sex Anal Sex Exhibitionism Voyeurism Public Sex Nudism
Full disclosure: This fantasy was inspired by an incomplete story, read years ago. I can’t find it, nor can I remember where it was. It involved people and a beach trip, but lots of stories have commonalities. There the resemblance ends. My iteration is vastly embellished.
It may not true, although there is an Italy with actual resorts, people walk the earth, the Adriatic is actually a sea and flying airplanes are real. Grander tales have survived on less evidence.
Disclaimer: Close cover before striking. Do not use near open flames. Do not exceed recommended dosage. Neither a borrower nor a lender be. Do not operate heavy machinery. No vehicles over seven feet allowed in drive-thru. Take a number and wait your turn. No refunds without a valid receipt. Restocking fee charged on returns. Please, no wagering. Do not repost without written permission.
Maybe I should have seen it coming. It wasn’t the first time clues slipped past me.
A little backstory would come in handy about here.
Me? Ted Charles, a normal guy, not too hard to look at I suppose, around six feet tall, jogger/swimmer build, an average green-eyed dirty blonde. Not too nerdy, not a jock, into martial arts, but I did marry a real honest-to-goodness beauty at the ripe old age of 18. It was not a shotgun wedding, but we were the proud parents of the sweetest little girl you ever saw within the year. Laurie was born on my 19th birthday.
Thanks to my full academic scholarship in engineering and hers in, of all things, French Literature, plus a little (and I mean minimal) help from my parents we managed to graduate college on time. Her wealthy parents thought I was beneath her lofty station. They went so far as to cut Winnie out of their will. I should emphasize one thing: my folks helped as much as they could, but I also had a surprise little sister born on my nineteenth birthday, too.
For Mom, it was difficult on many levels. She had a rough pregnancy at 45, becoming a stay-at-home mom, thus ending her career as a credit union loan officer. I thought she would return to work after a year, but Mom claimed chronic exhaustion from the whole childbearing process, plus babies aren’t ever easy. Teresa took up all her time and most of the modest family resources. The medical bills were tremendous. Dad was either at work as a copywriter/editor at the newspaper or slaving at one menial, for him, second job or another.
Who figured they needed ‘family’ insurance coverage in their middle and late 40s? Life is what happens while you are making plans.
When Teri and Laurie were born, my folks, Michael and May, and Winnie and I became two separate family units, each with a unique set of challenges. As long as nothing terrible happened, we knew things were OK-ish, even without talking. We drifted apart, not through design, but benign neglect. Living from day to day takes a lot of time. Mom and Winnie never became close friends, but were cordial, at least. The little girls knew of each other, but at two or three, ‘out of sight’ is ‘out of mind.’
Meanwhile, the bills burned through my parent’s savings, my small, unused college fund and a second mortgage. They survived and actually turned things around financially at least, thanks to Dad’s careful management. Then the perfect offer came in from out west. We were juniors when Dad was offered his dream job as the public relations director, spin-doctor if you will, for a contractor at White Sands. He took the position and Mom, having no current prospects career-wise, followed. She seemed depressed and withdrawn. Isolation will do that to a person, even if it is mostly self-imposed. I hoped a change of scenery would cheer her up. Teri was three-ish.
After graduation, we stayed in touch, but our new families had different roads to travel. We talked a couple of times a year, but never visited. It was not a case of estrangement, things just never worked out.
Except for holiday cards and rare terse emails, that’s about all I knew about my parents and sister.
Winnie and I moved to Florida when I was offered a great position with a NASA contractor near Cape Kennedy. Winnie did some freelance translating at home so the relocation had almost no effect on her. I think she welcomed the chance to explore a more cosmopolitan area. She never liked being from Delaware. I loved the move to the Space Center: an easy job that paid more than I could believe, time to go to grad school with a course load that let me to be home every night with Winnie and a cute, happy kid.
Winnie took a teaching post in the public schools. Little five-year-old Laurie spent her time at a pretty decent daycare/preschool when we could not be home. Home was a gigantic hurricane-proof, brick house we picked up at a bargain basement price. It was overkill for a young couple with one girlchild, but you never know what the future will bring when your back is turned.
Clues being the elusive things they are, several slipped under the radar. Winnie missing dinner, Winnie forgetting to pick up Laurie at school, Winnie forgetting Laurie’s birthday party and our anniversary, Winnie missing the gymnastics and piano recitals, etc., excusing it as working extra hours, trying to get ahead in her field. I could understand. It is the same in almost every profession. Management taking advantage of insecure employees, tethered to the job by cell phones and emails, on call 24/7, is an oft-repeated chorus. Live the job. Mandated overtime. Never knew it happened teaching Language Arts in middle school, but what did I know? I was getting square eyes looking at a computer monitor with a squirmy kid in my lap.
I paid for taxis to bring Laurie to my office for after school techno daddy daycare, attended all the rites of passage a little girl could have before aging into double digits and more or less functioned as a clueless single parent who did not know he was a single parent. Laurie figured it out long before I did, having the intuitive wisdom reserved for little girls. Getting volunteered to make cupcakes for the gymnastics team bake sale was another clue missed. She seemed OK with Pops doing mom duty, but never knew life to be different. Nor did I.
I soon realized that, kid-wise, I hit a grand slam home run. Laurie was the most easy-going little girl ever. In comparison, from the little I could glean during our brief chats, Teresa was typical of her age, pushing the envelope at every turn, except with fifty something parents who just didn’t understand ‘kids these days’. Mom had her hands full trying to keep her reined in when it probably wasn’t necessary. It was not going to get any better.
Knowing my Mom, her own envelope was too small. My sister was just a normal girl, bored to tears and stuck in the middle of nowhere, presumably aware that her big brother actually had a life in Florida.
And yes, Kiddo was aware of her mystery aunt, but at her age, it was a case of ‘out of sight, out of mind’. My folks were names on a Christmas card to her. She didn’t know her maternal grandparents either, not that they cared.
We prospered handsomely. Winnie published a book or two of poetry and a new pseudo-feminist translation of some justifiably obscure 15th Century French poet, making it readable without nausea but projecting modern themes never written into the original. She made the bestseller lists and a boatload of money, went on signing tours and appeared on talk shows. Though Laurie and I were proud of and happy for her, Winnie became an occasional visitor in our house. We saw more of her on TV.
In a moment of unusual clarity early on in my career, I discovered a way to minimize the exploding rocket syndrome sadly common to new launch vehicle designs, or rather a novel way to computer model angular force vectors vs. vibration vs. acceleration stresses in materials used by the lowest bidder. Plus, I invented a deceptively simple ‘fix’ for the existing mega expensive engines already in inventory, ours and the competition’s. What put it over the top was the prefailure alarm. My corporate overlords were overjoyed at the potential but cooled their enthusiasm when they discovered that I did it on my own time and they had no proprietary claim on the patent. It was all about the exotic alloy design and analysis that were not in my job description. My idea, my time, my work, my money. My patent.
Fine print is a double-edged sword. Sometimes the little guys win. Always read the contract twice.
Some clues are there but hard to see.
They were not evil overlords and we reached an equitable agreement. I licensed the patent to them; they did all the marketing and heavy lifting. I got twenty percent of the profits, which were verifiable and considerable. Preventive rocket surgery pays well. Pays even better when it is applied to commercial jet engines. Broken planes are bad for business unless you are an attorney or undertaker. Planes that don’t break easily, and warn you before they do, make pilots very happy. The NTSC likes boring days. I like to keep them happy, too.
My employers were overjoyed once again. I made a lot of people wealthy. Maybe my starting salary was justified after all. I made a fortune pointing out the obvious. As it turns out, it was obvious only to me. It was still crazy easy money. I’ll take it.
I invested in some outrageously stupid dot coms (email delivery of organic nail polish, personal shoppers for mall walkers, personalized monster truck tires for subcompacts, thought recognition hats, custom-colored 40 weight motor oil, ad nauseum). The same ones all the crazy rich venture capitalists were drooling over in the national hysteria. The difference between them and me was that I didn’t drink the miracle soy-based power fruit juice substitute. Were they really going to make millions on GPS trackers for hot dog vendors at Candlestick Park? Do we really need web-based psycho therapy for ear hair sufferers? Do Quakers need anger management classes un the web sponsored by Smith and Wesson? A lot of investors seemed to think so.
There was no way this fantasy could continue. When did it make sense for the information processors to be more important than the information generators, more important than the workers actually making the products that made the money apparently needing ten layers of overpaid micro-management?
A clue I did catch was tossed out in a departmental meeting. After one particularly colorful presentation, praise was lavished on the assistant-whatever person for the style and pace of the little show. No one seemed to care that the actual content was grim as hell and bode ill for the immediate future of the bottom line. It was all about the cleverness of the show, not about illustrating the obvious problems. Solutions were not even on the table. He could have saved a ton of expensive media by just saying, “We’re screwed this quarter. Stop wasting time on the fancy office toys and fix the problems. Suck it up and make new gadgets. Then find new markets for new gadgets.”
At least my company was diversified and old enough to take a little heat. Not my company, but the one I worked for. I did own some stock, but not enough to call the joint mine.
I bailed out/bought in or IPO-ed around the pyramid schemes until the whole mess became too absurd for words: valuation and job performance based on pretty graphs about companies consisting entirely of mid-level flunkies selling nothing more than potential profits from imaginary products. OK. I lied. Too absurd for words that make sense in a rational business climate. Several months after I sold off the worst offenders, the hot air escaped in a rush and I found myself in possession of a lot of foolish people’s money. That happens when you buy lots of assorted nothing at $5.00 per share and resell the vastly improved nothing for $125.00 per share, several times, different pipedreams.
A small percentage of the ideas became the legendary ‘killer apps’. I still have those shares. The patent royalties made me extremely wealthy. I mean nine significant digits to the left of the decimal place wealthy. The dot com bonanza tripled that. And the money keeps rolling in. I love moments of unusual clarity.
Yeah. Gas prices were not an issue at our house. Is this a great country or what?
Meanwhile, back at the history lesson, Winnie and I kept separate professional and investment accounts. No particular reason, just seemed easier to keep records. Balances were never shared. Perhaps she thought she was stealing a march on me. We never talked about work at home. We maintained a joint account to operate the house and keep Laurie in sneakers and tights. We denied her nothing but she never asked for much either. Laurie was a sweet, low stress kid as girls go, or so the other PTA parents tell me. Cute, way smart and a little goofy, she was my favorite daughter.
One Friday, after I collected Laurie at the gym, we picked up Japanese take-out for dinner. It got cold. On the dining room table we found a great huge, might-as-well-have-been neon lit clue shaped suspiciously like a letter. It read like bad poetry, only more pompous.
“Ted and Laurie,
I can’t pretend to live a double life any longer. Barbara and I must follow our dream as a single beating heart. My One True Love and I can never be wife or mother material so, sadly, we say farewell. The page is turned, thus my new chapter is begun. Have as good a life together as we will, chasing our muse.
Sorry to leave so suddenly, but we have to think of us. There is no room for a family now, therefore we decided to cut our ties to the past. It’s nothing personal, just something we have to do. We are sure you understand we have to live our own life.
The pen has writ, the past is prologue, Winifred and Barbara
ps: We have packed my things and departed. I leave you an uncontested divorce, legal fees prepaid. All I want to take away are my separate bank accounts and the Miata. Read and sign the documents in the packet. My attorneys will retrieve them tomorrow and the deed will be done.”
I guess she would earn that fat inheritance now.
Except for an occasional book review or NPR interview, that was the last we ever heard of her and Barbara, directly. In her public biography, we never existed. No family references ever passed her lips. Barbara was the only significant partner ever mentioned and that was very rare. It was all about Winifred and her literary groupies.
We sat there reading and rereading the letter. It didn’t change, nor did it reveal any more. I was shocked at the abruptness. No discussion, no preamble, a poorly scribbled note left on the dining room table. We had grown distant but this was lightyears distant. Sadly, I felt little sadness; mostly regret for the future we had planned when we were older. I hurt for Laurie. Though Winnie played an ever-decreasing role in her life, abandonment by your mother had to be painful.
“So, kid, what ya thinking?”
“Honestly, Pops, it sucks she didn’t care enough to say goodbye, but not much is different. I saw Sadie’s mom more than her. Mary acted like a mom. Mom acted like a roommate. The only hugs I remember are yours and sometimes Mary’s. You are the only real parental unit around here.” Laurie shrugged, attempting to be a tough girl, but her eyes told the truth. “You?” A small sob leaked past pursed lips.
“Kind of like something was torn out. I thought we were going to travel and get old together after you grew up and began your life. Guess I was misinformed.”
“Lot of that going around. Years ago, she promised to tell me the secrets moms share with daughters. I think there was a secret or two she didn’t share with you, too.”
“Any idea who ‘One True Love’ Barbara is? The mystery ventricle of the beating heart with whom she makes decisions as a ‘we’?”
“If she is who I think she is, it’s Barbara Swain, volleyball coach at the middle school. My balance beam teacher, Ms Simpson, shared an apartment with her. I only met her once or twice when Ms Swain picked Coach up after practice.” Laurie made a face. “Why would Mom run away with a volleyball coach?”
“Sweetie, that is something we will have to figure out when you get a little older. It’s one of those girl secrets Winnie kept secret, I bet.” I dreaded that conversation today with a barely ten year old girl, precocious daughter or not. “Let’s wait a day or so and talk to Ms Simpson. Wonder if she saw it coming?”
(I did get a chance to talk to Edie Simpson, the gymnastics coach and jilted lover. The double-jointed coach did not see it coming, was bisexual and into revenge sex over the balance beam. I did stick the dismount on the floor exercises several times, but that is a tale for later.)
“Can I call Sadie? We were going to have a sleepover tonight. Mom was supposed to be here. She said so in an email.”
“Go ahead and call. Don’t cancel the party. Invite Mary for dinner, too. I can make some more rice and we have some frozen spring rolls.” I suggested. “Why change our plans just ‘cause your Mom and my wife ran off and left us?”
“Prolly forgot anyway.” Laurie hissed. “Prolly, nothing! Did forget or blew me off as excess baggage on her dream trip. You, too. Do you think you’ll miss her?”
“Too soon to say. It’s hard to let that many years go, years I thought were good, kid. You can’t just erase and reboot. But, she made it easy to move on. ‘Not mom material, have a good life.’ Not really things you say when you expect to see someone again. But, hey, I’m glad it was nothing personal. Like that will make abandonment OK.”
“Yeah. ‘Have a good life’ is something you say to a girl in class when her parents move away. I vote we take the advice. Turn the page and start a new chapter.” Laurie shrugged without wet eyes this time. “Pops, can you make some of your yummy beef teriyaki to go with the rice? I’ll put this stuff in the microwave. If you get Mary, you get Andrew Larson, too. Package deal.”
This evening set the tone for our near future. With Sadie, attached to Laurie at the giggle, as best friend, Mary Larson as surrogate mom and Andrew as my football and barbeque buddy, life was not that much different. You really don’t miss someone if they were never around anyway.
The next year was interesting. My job mutated as the company re-diversified, directing its new products focus toward the consumer aircraft markets during the lean years after the end of the Shuttle program. Not sure if that was a good thing, I sold my company stock while it was still high and retired at the age of 30.
Suddenly, I was in great demand as a consultant to the privatized space travel and commercial aircraft industries. A positive report from me became the ‘Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval’. In truth, I did find more than a few dangerous flaws before Very Expensive Things went into production. They rewarded me quite handsomely. I leased office space in an underused building at the Space Center for meetings with clients, which included NASA.
Fortunately, I could do most of the work at home. When I had to travel, Laurie tagged along if Mary couldn’t do the kiddo keeper chores.
What Mary did do was help guide Laurie through puberty. The day my little girl took two hours to tell me she needed to get a training bra for gymnastics was the day I drafted Mary Larson as my adolescence consultant. I knew the facts in the clinical abstract, Mary knew the function and practical little details. When she stopped laughing, she asked what took me so long to notice that the two girls were growing up.
“Laurie is right. You are clueless sometimes. What do you think I’ve been doing these past few years?” Once I learned how many times she saved Laurie and me from ‘delicate’ situations and terminal embarrassment, Mary named her consultant fee. That woman did not work cheap.
All it cost me was the price of a not-so-minivan and the rest of my free time. I became the dad version of the soccer mom, schlepping Laurie, Sadie and their constantly changing mob of teammates, campers and crazies to any number of meetings, practices, lessons, performances and trips to the mall.
Usually, I was easy to find. Look for the bemused looking guy in the bleachers with a laptop and headphones, trapped in and trying to ignore the mad maelstrom of girly insanity loose on the world. Or I was the guy in the sunglasses who appeared to use sleep as escapism.
Actually, it wasn’t that onerous a task. Beat listening to endless PowerPoint presentations and browbeating engineers into fixing their stupid mistakes. They went with me to the dojo. I went with them to field hockey and soccer. I jogged while the marching band mangled Souza. I kept jumbo jets in the air. They kept batons flying. They whined when I played John Lee Hooker, Sonny Boy Williamson and the Stones in the car. I whined when they played anything. And I got to watch my little Sweetie grow up. That was worth every minivan minute spent on the road looking for the next rest stop or burger joint.
What the hell was Winnie thinking when she walked out on that girl’s life? Besides, I loved that Miata.
Soon after Winnie split, Laurie and I put in a swimming pool and freestanding mini-gym in the backyard with a ten-foot privacy fence. Our huge house instantly became the eye of the teen girl storm. Very little time passed before I suspected a vast conspiracy among the Consolidated Moms of East Florida to get more free time at my expense. The first clue was when a Mom I knew from Girl Scout meetings, Tammy Pendragon, called to see if I minded hosting a slumber party over a weekend. I didn’t have a problem.
Apparently, they considered me ‘safe.’ Single father, too science nerdy and detached to be a functioning perv in public, worked at home, not hard to look at, no apparent social life outside of dinners and nights out with the Larsons and familiar with and to the girls. Clearly, I had the qualifications, the pool and the time they needed to borrow. The perfect kidsitter for a weekend away. Single afternoons and evenings weren’t enough.
I laid out the ground rules. No boys, parents had to be available for emergencies or give me the authority to get health care if someone breaks something, the girls had to act like house broken ladies and not wreck the place, no drama, no fighting, those and more made the risk management list. The Consolidated Moms agreed. I made them promise to take their girls back Sunday. Some balked playfully at the last item but I insisted.
In retrospect, another clue.
Friday evening, nine eleven to thirteen-year-old lunatics appeared at the door in twos and threes with overnight bags. All I had to do was make sure no one drowned in the pool and that no boys crashed the festivities. And cook breakfast Saturday and Sunday morning. The girls would deal with the pizza orders or make supper as required by whatever stomach alarms teenaged girls marched to.
I survived the weekend and many more like it for the next couple years. So many girls passed through at any time of day, I quit locking the doors.
The girls rapidly grew into young ladies when I wasn’t paying attention. Clues missed again. One summer, I barely recognized most of the guests, and wondered if I was imagining things or were these creatures flirting with me? Then I saw the faces. That was the one who owned the uneven parallel bars, that one was the first string striker, those two had so many merit badges we thought they would develop knee problems.
Incremental changes are easy to miss. Laurie’s friends incrementally turned into short bikini models when I had my back turned. My safe, non-perv status was in dire jeopardy, but I soldiered on, giving the teens the idea that I was the perfect crash test dummy to hone their girlcraft.
I am a guy with normal urges. What early thirties man isn’t? I had not been a monk after Winnie left us, but my relationships were few and never at home. Laurie pretended not to notice just as she pretended not to notice the less than subtle flirting. She was a better athlete than she was an actress. Even clueless me saw the sly smiles. Little Laurie was a ringleader in the teasing department.
The bikinis got smaller, Laurie’s included, but she and Sadie usually refrained from the little accidents the others suffered. They had their ‘accidents’, just fewer. Their friends set my bar pretty high. Tops lost in the pool, boobs popped out and not covered, and assorted ‘innocent’ exhibitionism became the norm. Gradually, the more remarkable accidents became the standard. Shameless, yet somehow shy, toplessness extended for hours, was not unusual.
Excellent clues, indeed!
Weaponized tits, destroying civilization as I knew it. Kill me now. Don’t get me started on the thermonuclear asses. I was operating a hydroponic flasher farm.
This time, the Consolidated Moms were clueless. Of course, they were having an adult life while I watched the kids.
I wore an extra jockstrap and dark sunglasses a lot. It was an interesting season. Winters were almost as much fun. Same routine, moved indoors. Pajamas based on alien technology inflated by weaponized tits and thermonuclear tushes. I could not win so I quit fighting. I think Laurie kept the thermostat set around 85º. I never saw pajama bottoms, much less a single robe or housecoat.
In a private moment before bedtime, my Sweetie confessed the girls were teasing each other, too. “Now I understand why Mom left with Barbara. Some of my friends may be like Mom that way. It’s OK, I don’t care and they are still the same girls. At least they know now before they mess up other people’s lives. I’m still mad she didn’t say good bye.”
“Me, too, a little. But grudges take up too much headspace and that was a different time. Trust me, I’m a rocket scientist. I know about space. I really wish her the best. Let’s face it, kiddo, our life ain’t too shabby.”
She gave me a hug. “So you don’t mind all these shameless tramps running around the house half dressed?” I should mention she was wearing a loosely tied babydoll pajama top, the current standard for sleepovers. I was wearing boxers. Even without company, bedtime dress was casual.
“I have a confession to make. I kind of enjoy your game. None of you are hard to look at. Cute girls showing me their teenaged tits brighten up the joint.” I wiggled my eyebrows and tickled her underboobs. “I like perky boobs a lot.” I might have lightly brushed her nipples when I untied the bow. “Yours especially.”
“Really? You like mine? That feels better than I thought it would. Mine sure like you. Cool.” She smiled. “I enjoy the game, too. Oops. Did I say that out loud?”
“Say what out loud?” That earned me a fierce squirmy hug. An untied babydoll top hug. “But I can play, too, and I always play to win.” Laurie pretended not to notice as I removed her pajama top after she let go of my neck. “Do you spend much time thinking about how my hands will feel on your naked boobs?” She let me strip her without resistance or comment. “I find you very pretty, Laurie, never think differently.”
“Thank you. Good night, Daddy. See you in the morning.” She kissed me on the cheek and skipped off to join the mob.
The ‘game’ did not progress beyond that point. That line was never crossed though the little accidents occurred continually in the coming months. She and her cohorts upped the stakes at every opportunity.
The next summer Laurie was to be 16 on the same day I turned 35. “Pops. Can we go somewhere for our birthday? Someplace special?” This was the first time she ever asked for a biggie. “I have all summer off except for late August. No practice, no camps. Nothing but glorious free time.”
“Great idea! I will clear my calendar until September. We can blow off June, July and most of August. Tell you what. You book the places and times. Our passports are good, so anyplace you want to go is where I want to go.”
“Really? Any place? Europe? Can I bring Sadie?”
“Any place, except Winnie’s France. And you can invite Silly Sadie if Andrew and Mary agree.”
Her monster smile was a missed clue.
Research began before Christmas and Laurie did a fine job as the travel agent provocateur. All I did was give her my black card, passcode and a promise not to look at the invoices. I lied. Curious choices. She easily convinced the Larsons to let Sadie come along so the girls could do girl stuff while I did whatever ‘Pop’ sorts did.
We were wheels up, bound for Venice, before the first weekend in June. We spent enough time there to soak up some romantic atmosphere, walk where famous dead people walked before they were dead and see some pretty fabulous art. Our hotel was art. Getting over jetlag in a picture postcard is the bomb.
We celebrated our birthdays with a picnic at the Piazza San Marco and a gondola ride back to the hotel. It was very elegant and a lot of fun. Sadie had a good time being our little waitress and clowning around in her striped gondolier shirt.
Monday, the second of June, we walked for hours down alleys, through old neighborhoods, markets and along winding streets. We saw the real faces of Venice: hard working people operating the city machine from behind the scenes.
Tuesday morning, Laurie told me to pack up for the next stop on the itinerary. I had converted sufficient funds to tip properly the gentlemen who loaded our luggage into the limo and off we went. (Tips in Europe are ‘built in’ so you should tip 10% at the most in a restaurant, no more, but other service staff appreciate the little extras.)
The destination was a plush resort area south of the waterlogged city on the Adriatic Sea. It was quietly remote and so very exclusive. Places like this are where the rich, famous and beautiful go to avoid the posers, the curious and the cameras. Every detail was first class or better.
We got settled in our beachfront quarters and spent the rest of the day shopping and sampling the open-air restaurants. The girls managed to avoid the star struck fan-girl look even when we were seated next to a movie or music legend, which happened rather often.
The little actresses acted like they did this sort of thing every day. Not bored but not disinterested in the stars either.
They did get me to take a few pictures with the odd superstar in the background. Some of the celebrities even volunteered to pose since the girls were cool and were really quite cute in a shy kind of way. Basically, everyone was friendly. If you acted like a regular, nothing special person, you were welcome. However, ‘regular’ meant something quite different in this rarefied atmosphere. My girls were the picture of polite courtesy. But they did not fawn over the famous and brushed off the inflated egos. People who expected them to be impressed were shot down. ‘I’m so sorry I missed that movie. Were you good? Have you made any more?’ I could tell by the smiles of the old money types, my girls did the right thing.
I personally thought the nouveau riche celebrity types were posers, spending zillions to prove they could. The old money people were those we didn’t recognize. Real money people had no need to flash it around. That’s how the money got to be old. This was their normal. Maybe that’s why the smart celebs were friendly. They had no idea who we were. Be nice to people you might need to know in the future. The silent stranger may own your bank, your next venue and your talent agency.
Our suite was as deluxe as everything else. A large sitting room, two bedrooms with king sized beds, three baths, a Jacuzzi and balcony with a breathtaking view of the sea. We hung out after showering, waiting for dinner in the smaller restaurant/disco downstairs.
Laurie and Sadie sent pictures to the folks back home, excited about who and what they had seen. Both kept the bragging to a minimum. Around eight, we dressed for dinner in little black dresses and my tux. They were the very image of blossoming beauty. I was the guy in a tailored tux escorting my ladies like protective sugar daddy. I told them as much. “Oh, hush. We’ll wind up protecting you from hotties trying to steal you away from us.” Laurie laughed daintily, “Now feed us before we waste away.”
The meal was the best ever. Fresh seafood, vegetables too wonderful for words, prepared and served in leisurely perfection by elegant servers clearly dedicated to the craft of fine dining.
The dancing afterward was to the sounds of American rock ‘n roll, played by a competent cover band. They mixed oldies with current pop, fast and slow, a variety designed to let all ages do a turn on the dance floor.
We danced constantly in any number of combinations, sometimes all of us together, until around 1:00AM, about the time the sharks began to circle. Laurie tugged me down and whispered, “Let’s go back to the suite before the ‘overserved’ get bold and start asking for dances. We don’t want to spend time with them and I don’t want to make a scene when we turn them down.”
I signaled the waiter to let me sign the chit. He was prompt and courteous, asking if there was a problem. “Most young people stay a bit longer. Pardon my saying, but you seem a bit tense. Please, if you are uncomfortable, allow us to correct it.”
“We aren’t trying to cause any trouble, sir, the hotel staff has been great. You treat us like princesses.” Sadie looked at me and I nodded for her to continue. “We just feel a little weird with all those single men circling around us. We don’t want to cause a scene or anything. I’m sorry if we upset you.”
The waiter stared incredulously for a second and then burst out laughing. He cut it off when the girls frowned at the lack of sympathy. “Please ladies, don’t misunderstand my mirth. In our other clubs, that would be a concern and the staff would, how do you say, have your back. If there is any circling happening tonight, it is around your handsome and debonair escort, Signore Charles. After hours, this particular club has become popular with men who prefer the intimate company of other men. They value our discretion.”
That cracked the girls up. They dissolved in giggles. “Next time you ought to listen, Mr. Charles. OK we were partly wrong. We thought the hot little starlets would steal you away. Who knew it would be the guys lusting after our Sugar Daddy?”
And that had the waiter laughing again. “Your princesses are entirely correct. Over the years, I have developed a sense of what appeals to our clientele. You, sir, would be seen as a prize. The bartender, who is my wife, suggested you were eye candy to the late night patrons and she is proven correct. In any case, I’m happy to have eased the ladies’ concerns even as I have put the burden on you.”
“That is quite alright, my discreet friend. To each his own. I don’t have a problem; it is nice to be appreciated. I just never considered riding sidesaddle, if you know what I mean.”
“Indeed I do, sir.” He was still smiling. “You should leave now before the ladies have to protect your virtue. As they said, we must not cause a scene. Shall I have the bouncers accompany you to the door?”
His comment cracked imps up again and that sent us back to our rooms. “Thank you for a fun night, debonair Signore Charles.” Sadie mugged. “We want to hit the sack and do the beach early in the morning. If we don’t get some sun, folks will think we faked the beach trip.”
“We want our handsome sugar daddy to treat us like the princesses we are.” Laurie grinned, “He will need his strength.”
Sleep came easy after such an unusual day. If I dreamed, I didn’t remember.
I smelled the wake-up call in the morning. The little scamps ordered eggs, bacon and pastries from room service. Orange juice and strong dark coffee completed the setting. “Thank you, girls. This is a wonderful surprise. Now we don’t have to get dressed for the café and again for the beach. We’ll eat on the balcony in our robes and hit the beach for the day.”
Breakfast was fun and quick. They were eager to become bronzed sun goddesses as soon as possible. I was eager to watch them do just that.
I met the girls in the sitting room shortly after we put the remains of breakfast on the serving cart in the hall. I was wearing a tank top and bathing suit designed for comfort and not for style. You would mistake them for the shorts basketball players used to wear in the Michael Jordan middle days. Not baggy pants, not Speedos, just a bathing suit with room for my man parts to breathe. I could still wear stuff like that and not look like an over-the-hill dork, pretending to be a teenager. Not bad for a thirty-five year old. Remember jogger/swimmer? Not exactly ripped, but no love handles either.
No James Bond, I would be the medium suave American guy helping Q make funky sharp toys. I say medium because no one competes with Bond and survives the opening credits.
Laurie and Sadie were as cute as they could be in their silky little cover-ups, straw hats and flip-flops. If they were any taller than their current 59 inches, little tushies would be showing under the hem. My man parts took a deep breath and calmed down.
Their beach carryalls matched the wraps and contained water, sunscreen and small towels. “We don’t need beach blankets. The hotel has super plush lounge chairs and umbrellas reserved for us all week.” Laurie grinned. “The sand calls. Move it, Sugar Daddy.”
FYI, current babe summary: Name Age Hgt. Eyes Hair Cup/Color Laurie Charles 16 4’11” blue red B+/lt. pink Sadie Larson 16 4’11” green red B/rose
And move we did. Our lounges were ready and warming in the sun. Their bikinis, revealed when they ever so casually removed the cover-ups, were barely there. Not quite thongs, but not far from it. The important parts were covered, but just enough to make the claim. Back in Florida, riots would break out on any public beach. I’ll describe them as quite cheeky with hints of underboob. Here in the exclusive Italian resort atmosphere, they were almost conservative.
We coated our selves with sunscreen, me getting the horrible task of covering my girls’ backs. They both did me.
As the number of sun worshippers increased, we noticed a remarkable lack of bikini tops. Many seriously attractive women chose to wear nothing. Many men made the same choice. Most should have checked a mirror first. But who am I to judge? Maybe they were more comfortable. Perhaps they didn’t give a damn. The sun did feel good.
Laurie and Sadie, snarky teens to the core, began a whispered conversation, comparing the titties on parade.
“Those have to be fake! Anything that big has to sag. They don’t even jiggle.”
“My little B-cups jiggle when I walk but they don’t sag.”
“Ours aren’t very big, but they are real”
“And they won’t be on our knees before we get to fifty like hers over by the tiki bar.”
“That lady over there has no boobs at all, but she makes up for it with that huge ass.”
“Wonder if the hotel has double-wide lounge chairs?”
“Dude! Put on a trench coat!”
“Holy Moly! Look! Do they make super heavy-duty lounges?”
“My eyes! My eyes! I need brain bleach. Stat!”
“She was a Mouseketeer and so was he!”
“So, Mouseketeers have huge boobs. Who knew?”
“He’s still hung like a mouse.”
“Didn’t that guy die? Talk about your special effects.”
“Duck lips and Botox.”
“I saw those three women in the Victoria’s Secret catalogue! No plastic there.”
“I think that girl over there is some Prince’s daughter. She is hot.”
They made it hard for me to be all jaded blasé about the topless and nude ladies strolling about. “Girls, I am going to take a quick dip in the Adriatic. I’ll be back soon and we can get a snack at the munchie stand down the beach.”
I dashed the hundred feet or so to the relative safety of the sea. I just got closer to the best of the free-range boobs, except these had rather prominent nipplage due to the cool water and gentle wind. The man parts were panting and yearned to be free. I got myself under control enough to start toward the chairs.
I thought I had the wrong group. The red faces were right, but the topless girls attached were news to me. I decided to go with the flow. It was Laurie’s sixteenth birthday present and I was not going to spoil it by treating her like a child. Sadie’s tits were a bonus, a reward for my mature tolerance. But I intended to have fun with it. After all, this was my first titty sighting away from the security of our pool. I took that as a clue to raise the stakes.
Sue me, I’m a guy.
I looked them over thoroughly, commenting, “Hi girls. Nice tits. Make sure you have plenty of sunscreen. Sunburn can be very painful on your nipples.” Both were blushing furiously as I sat down.
“I told you he was cool.” Sadie whispered.
“Pops, are you OK with us being like the other women here? We were feeling out of place.” Laurie asked me, clearly more nervous about exposing herself to me than the dozens of anonymous guys watching the new girls on the beach. Despite her words, the bare boobs seemed premeditated. The online reviews specified ‘clothing optional’. They didn’t know, but I read the invoices.
In for a penny, in for a pound. Time to ante up, girls. Yeah, I was going to have a lot of fun.
“I’m a little surprised you went public in public, but you are as cute as anyone here and prettier than most. You’re not like the other women, you’re my daughter and you’ve been giving me peeks for years. I have no problem if you are cool with it.” I grinned. “Remember the night you let me strip you naked and liked it? Today, you kept the bottoms for all they cover. That’s near modesty here. An important thing to remember is I was a regular guy before I was your father and I haven’t changed. And you, Sadie Larson, teased me as often as Laurie. I’ve known for years you had nice tits. Hard rose-colored nipples are perfect on you. I like you topless, you flirt.”
She blushed like mad and giggled when I tickled her underboobs. “You like that as much as Laurie, too, I see.” This was not the reaction either of them expected.
They settled down to bask for a while. Several very entertaining applications of sunblock later, we decided to get some beach munchies. Rather than call the attendants to take an order, I sent them dressed as they were. The snack bar was more than a hundred feet away. If they wanted to play, so could I. My eyes were not the only ones following my beauties across the sand.
Laurie and Sadie tried to act normal all the way to the snack bar. I could tell by the tentative steps they were not at all comfortable, but not once did they try to cover their boobs. I awarded extra points for nerve.
While they were gone, I packed up everything except the small towels they brought from the room. Bikini tops, cover-ups, hats, too, all went into the carryalls. I didn’t expect them to notice because they were so busy being all cosmopolitan and sophisticated. If they wanted to be topless, I would do my best to keep them topless.
I was getting better at catching clues. Omitted parental references, just the non-specific ‘Pops’ or ‘Sugar Daddy’, seemed to signal an attitude change. The girls were redefining, or rather, concealing our familial relationship from the public.
I’m nothing if not adaptable.
They returned with two medium sized bags just wide enough to provide some coverage if clutched to their chests. “Wow! That was exciting and weird. Did you see how those guys looked at us?”
“Like I couldn’t notice! Made me so nervous, I thought I would faint. Geez, I didn’t know whether to run, strip or strut.” Laurie answered. “Oops. Uh, Pops, where do you want me to put the food?”
“The side tables are good for now, Sweetie. Put on a little more sunscreen and relax. We can nibble as the mood strikes us.” We shared the first of the snacks. I gotta tell you, the chef’s idea of munchies put other restaurants to shame. They were to die for. We lost ourselves in the tastes, briefly forgetting the skin bared to the public.
“Sadie, Laurie. People watch for a few moments and tell me what you see.”
It took less than five minutes for them to get it. “People aren’t staring at us as much! All the new arrivals get the attention. Should I be insulted?” Laurie asked.
“No, you are totally hot. Seriously. Could be a case of overkill. I’ll bet you everyone is secretly hoping to see someone famous topless and are afraid to miss anything.” I reassured them. “They haven’t seen you on TV so you are just four more white boobs on the beach. To me, of course, you are the only four boobs on the beach.”
I changed the game. Adaptable, that’s me. “I get to take these home.”
We spent another hour on the sand munching and sunbathing. Normal sunburn wasn’t such an issue. We were from Florida and had a pool. But the recently uncovered tender tits needed extra sunscreen quite often. That caught a few more eyes. Especially when they touched each other. Two of those eyes were mine. I needed to get back to the water soon or my un-fatherly interest would be obvious from orbit.
“Girls, your shoulders are getting a little pinkish. Let’s hit the water for a few minutes and go back to the rooms. You’re wet, but not from the sea, and it feels really nice out there.” I didn’t wait for an answer, just took their hands and pulled them up. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”
Laurie and Sadie squealed like schoolgirls as they dashed to the mild surf, forgetting their bouncing boobs. We played for longer than planned, getting into a dunking contest, floating around and, but for the ‘on-purpose’ topless part, acting the same as we would at the home pool.
“Oops. We’ve washed the sunscreen off. Better get back quickly.” I rushed to the lounge chairs and tossed them a towel. “Dry off so we won’t drip on the lobby floor. Sadie, put the trash in the cans by the kiosk. Laurie, put the leftovers in your carryall.”
We policed the area until Sadie returned. I rolled the towels lengthwise and draped them over the girls’ shoulders. The ends almost covered their hard nipples. I held Laurie’s left hand and Sadie’s right. “Get the bags and come with me.”
We at the edge of the sand before they realized they were still exposed. “Pops! Our tops!”
“Oh, hush. It was not a problem on the beach. What’s the big deal now? Besides, the towels might cover enough to get you through the lobby. If not completely, enough to keep the fans guessing. Now, come on.”
“And keep them staring.” Laurie sighed. “If I can see my nipples, so can they!”
“So can I and I like what I see.” Again, not what they expected. “Your nipples are hard enough to prove that they like it too. Shall we?”
I pulled them along across the plaza and into the main building. Our concierge, a young woman in a black skirt and thin halter-top greeted us near the elevators. My girls, certainly the only topless ladies in the busy lobby, were scarlet with embarrassment but trying to act calmly adult.
“The staff hopes you had a pleasant day, Signore Charles. Ladies, you brighten our establishment more every second. Seldom are such cute young girls so bold as to extend the clothing optional custom to the hotel itself. Perhaps you will become trendsetters.” Gina, according to her nametag, laughed airily and removed the towels from the stunned girls’ necks, leaving them totally topless in the lobby of one of the most exclusive lodgings in all of Italy.
“You are cuter, if possible, when you blush, but I cannot decide if the redness is embarrassment at the praise or the beginnings of sunburn on tender flesh.”
I released Sadie’s hand. “A test we use in Florida is to press a pink area. Normal skin will turn white briefly. If it remains pinkish, it is sunburned.” I pressed my daughter’s tit close to her very hard nipple. “See. Ooh. Would you kindly find a soothing balm, Gina, and have it delivered to our suite in thirty minutes?”
Gina ‘tested” both of Sadie’s breasts. “I will bring enough for two. These lovelies will be quite touchy soon.” The test actually works on any skin, tanned or not, but this was more fun. I’m sure Gina knew, she just enjoyed touching my girls. We had that much in common. The happy concierge asked me, “And yourself?”
“I’m good, but extra never hurts.” I pulled down Sadie’s bikini bottom and pushed my finger into the mound just above her bare pussy, nearly showing her world her lower lips. “The swimwear did not cover as well as expected, dear. We will have to use more sunscreen than we thought. This nearly sheer fabric is no match for the Adriatic sun.” I winked at the smiling concierge, leaving my daughter’s best friend’s bikini panties dangerously close to falling off.
Gina gave the totally frozen Laurie the same test. “I believe we stock something in the guest services pharmacy combining a weak topical anesthetic with a moisturizing lotion. We also have a very gentle depilatory preparation especially concocted for tender areas if you ladies feel the need for a touch up.” Gina tucked the towels under her arm. “I’ll drop these off at the laundry and bring the balms in thirty minutes. Trust me, ladies you do not want the itchy feeling of razor stubble with even mild sunburn.”
“Thank you, Signorina Gamboa. You are a dear. Tell your parents we appreciate the very personal touches you provide.” I bowed slightly, again holding hands with the girls. “We’ll see you in thirty. Don’t bother to knock, the door will not be locked.”
I swept the astonished girls on to wait for the elevator. The machine was not fast. The dial over the door pointed at ‘4’, then moved glacially toward the ‘3’, where it stopped for an eternity or two before it crept to the ‘2’.
“Please hurry. My panties are falling down. People are looking at my fanny!” Laurie whisper wailed. “Pops, can I pull them up, please?”
“I don’t blame them for looking. So am I. Act natural or people will notice more.” I was lots of help and did not release her hand. “I cannot speed the elevator up. Just keep your legs together so they can’t slide down and we will get to the rooms soon as we can.”
In the finely polished brass elevator doors, I watched both girls take the advice. The pressure in the middle checked the fall but let the thin straps slip lower on their slim hips. I could see a couple of bikini-clad ladies right behind also waiting to go up.
The girls could see their reflections as well as I could. The embarrassment level redlined. North America moved appreciably farther from Africa before the elevator finally dinged. The doors opened and the girls rushed in. The bikini bottoms hung precariously. The two ladies followed. My girls refused to turn around fearing the last drop of the panties. I just laughed, released the sweaty little hands and told the operator “Second floor please.”
She nodded and peeked out for more passengers. Seeing none, she shut the door and moved the lever to ‘2’. The two ladies, looked at Laurie and Sadie’s fully exposed bubble butts, shrugged and took their own tops off. Mildly surprised and extremely delighted, I said, “Very nice, ladies. I see you are taking the clothing optional rule seriously.”
The clothing optional rules were created for girls like these by guys like me.
The shorter of the pair answered in a most elegant British accent, “When in Rome, ... or near Venice.”
The other spoke, “This is much more liberating than just another family holiday in Wales. Maybe we ought to have lunch on the beach tomorrow?”
“My sister is so rude. We haven’t even been introduced. I’m Pamela Smythe and this hussy is my fraternal twin, Anne.” Pamela smiled. “Daddy gave us a summer fling before we enter University in the autumn. Mother rather insisted.”
“Hussy! There with your girls finally out and I’m the hussy? Tramp!”
For those readers keeping score: Name Age Hgt. Eyes Hair Cup/Color Anne Smythe 17 5’02” green blonde B+/tan Pamela Smythe 17 5’00” green blonde C-/tan
This was clearly a refinement/adaptation of an old running dialogue they took everywhere. I had a feeling this was the first time for strangers, though.
“Nice to meet you and your ‘girls’. I’m Ted Charles and these two blushing ladies are Laurie Charles and our friend, Sadie Larson.” I pushed it a little. “Girls, don’t be shy this late in the game. Turn around and speak to our new friends.”
“Game? We love games. We’re playing one now.” Anne laughed, “Shakespeare surely mispoke. Perhaps the world is not a stage with us as actors, but a sporting field and we are playing a grand match.”
“As you like it, my witty new friend.” I chuckled. “Laurie, Sadie, be good sports.”
Laurie took a deep breath and turned slowly. As expected, her bikini panties dropped to her ankles. I stooped and lifted her dainty feet, collecting the scrap of cloth. “Sadie, you too. Please say hello to Pamela and Anne, our new playmates.”
Little Sadie turned, tripping forward on the panties wrapped around her ankles. I caught her by her tits, righting her with difficulty. Again, I stooped and relieved her of the cloth pooled at her feet. Before standing, I cupped her pussy and checked for sunburn, pressing directly on her clit.
Public exposure as foreplay? Another clue?
Poor Sadie, primed, but never before touched by a man, came on the spot with a soft moan. “Now shake hands with our new friends, Sadie. We will have to make sure you get a good application of the balm, dear. I detect a touch of pink.”
Smiling weakly, Sadie stuck out her hand, “Pleased to meet you, Anne and Pamela. Where is your room?”
Ding. The brass doors opened. “Here, on the second floor, same as you.” Anna responded as she returned the handshake. Her titties shook delectably, too. I was enjoying Laurie’s birthday present as much as she was. Probably more.
We all stepped out of the car and heard the operator laugh as the door closed. There would be juicy gossip.
I kept my naked girls in the spacious hall a little longer. “With the pending sunburn, we might have to pass on the beach tomorrow. Would you like to come over for dinner? We could have Gina plan something for five. Say, eight-ish?”
“Dinner sounds wonderful.” Pamela said. “First you must demonstrate how you predict the onset of sunburn. It seems a rather useful skill.”
“Not a skill taught at girls-only Wycombe Abbey, I can assure you.” Anne pouted, “They are far more interested in chastity protection.”
“The sunburn test is easy.” I stepped behind Laurie, reached around and cupped a tit, pinching her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. “Watch the area usually covered by a bathing suit.” I lifted and presented her boob to the giggling English girls. With my other hand I pressed firmly just above my thumb. “Pressure makes unaffected skin turn white, or at least lighter if blushing, when blood on the surface is forced out. Sunburned flesh remains pinkish, like this. See?”
I looked directly at Anne. “Perhaps I can help you and your sister learn other useful skills.”
Laurie was having trouble breathing. I reached down rubbed her little pleasure button more forcefully than I had Sadie’s. My daughter squealed and came even harder, causing her knees to buckle. I found myself briefly supporting her weight on my dampening palm. When the shocked teen located her legs, I pressed my thumb into the hairless cushion above her slit.
“He shoots! He scores!” Pamela chuckled. “You are good at the game. Two goals already.”
“Look closely, Pamela, see the pink spot? Without a bit of sunburn, it would be pasty white in a place that gets no sun.” I laughed. “We will have to be more liberal with the sunscreen next time. The thin fabric is not opaque to UV rays. Why bother with it at all?”
While the English girls were ostensibly inspecting her for redness, I stepped from behind my trembling daughter and tested the British boobs for damage. I was very thorough. Nipples can burn, too. “You ladies could use a little more protection yourselves.” In for a penny, in for two pounds, sterling. It was my vacation, too.
Anne and Pamela accepted the brazen fondling in self-conscious good cheer. Anne spoke first. “We will see you at eight. Is there a preferred dress mode? Formal? Informal?”
“Come as you are, as we say in Florida.” I smiled, “Don’t knock, the door will not be locked.” I pulled the ties at the sides of both girls’ bikini bottoms causing both to fall to the floor. I collected the damp nearly nothings from the carpet. “Looks like you could use a touch up, too. Gina is taking care of that necessity for my girls. I am sure she will bring enough to share.”
I did not return the bikini bottoms. Spoils of the game.
“Excellent. Thank you for the invitation.” Pamela answered, playfully blushing. “A presto!” Sadie and Laurie weren’t the only girls expanding personal limits.
The fact that they were loitering completely naked in the corridor, letting a stranger openly play with their tits, and my girls making no effort to remedy their total nakedness after I made them come hard in public, were more clues not missed today.
The more there is to observe, the more observant I get.
“May I have carte blanche on the menu?” Extending the conversation to encourage naked girls to loiter is a good thing. What are vacations for? There are no bad reasons to keep good girls naked.
“I’ll put it this way, daring Don Theodore. Our forefathers attempted to conquer the world merely to get good take-out. They fooled no one. English cooking is deadly boring. Anything you order from this kitchen will be simply scrumptious.” Anne answered.
“Ciao, for now.” I turned toward our suite and they followed. “Coming so soon?”
“Nearly. We have the rooms just before yours. This is our door.” Pamela said. They opened and entered, waving ‘good bye’. “Until eight.” Was that an extra shimmy as the door closed?
‘Don Theodore’ and forsaken bottoms? Gratuitous shimmies? Clues?
We strolled to our suite. Actually, I did the strolling; they did the robot zombie walk. Embarrassment, unexpected public exposure and being deliberately displayed to strangers while being fingered to orgasm by yours truly and then being made to stand around while I casually stripped and fondled the two strange girls, added up to a massive sensory overload.
And it started with the voluntary baring on the beach, then the reluctant, virtually topless walk from the beach only to have the scant towels removed by a cute, tit-squeezing concierge. Vacation escalation in the big league was more than they were ready for.
They dealt the cards. I just upped the pot and called the bluff. Maybe Anne was right about the grand sport. But I knew my girls. Even if overmatched, they competed to the end, never folding, and no concessions.
I smacked my girls on the ass and said, “Drop the bags by the door. We need to wash the sunscreen and perspiration away before Gina gets here. We’ll use my shower. Don’t tell me you’re suddenly bashful. Hurry now, there is plenty of room.”
My little naked robots waited until the water temperature was right, following me in after I stripped out of my trunks. Finally freed, my prick expanded to its full length.
“Free at last. Felt like I was in prison all day.” I gently washed Laurie’s hair, and, while she rinsed, did the same for Sadie. Both girls relaxed under my hands, purring softly. They were almost back to reality, reality having changed considerably since this morning. Current reality included showering with a hard dick attached to Daddy pressed into your back.
I washed both of my girls with a mild body soap and chamois. Careful handling had both coming hard and often. They were back in the ozone again and I wanted to keep them there as long as possible. I lathered up my hair, rinsed and took care of the rest of me while they stared at my prick.
“I think it will feel great to let the sea breeze dry us off. To the balcony, sweeties. The wind will soothe the burn.”
Sadie perked up enough to say, “But we’re naked, someone may see us.”
“If they do, just smile and wave. You were topless on purpose on the beach and in the lobby and people saw you. You were naked and coming in the elevator and Laurie had an orgasm in the hall and people saw you. I will make sure it won’t be the last time you are seen by a long shot.” I answered, toying with some hard nipples the whole time. “We have until August.”
I took their hands, leading them to the railing and bending both over enough to show their tits to whoever might be looking up from below. Pushing their feet apart, I whispered, “I need to check for razor stubble. Don’t make noise or you will attract attention.”
Reaching between their legs, I massaged their dewy pussies and clits, taking both teens to the edge but not allowing them to go over. Hard as iron, needing to relieve the incredible pressure, I resisted the urge to drill the virgin girls. The moment was not quite right. However, the clock was ticking on short time.
Gina, just behind me, cleared her throat. “You did say the door was open, but you failed to say what lovely delights it exposed.” She said gaily. “If you would like to complete the ladies’ satisfaction, I can wait. My next duty shift is Saturday. Take your time. I have two days.”
“How nice to see you, too, Signorina Gamboa. You are always such a pleasant surprise. So you think I should finish the task at hand?” My thumbs visibly gained entry into the girls’ little rosebuds, the novel sensation driving them closer and closer to the edge. Over which, embarrassing attention lurked from the passersby a mere fifteen feet below the balcony.
The combined stimulation elicited no sound louder than rapid panting, but the pretty little hips went into overdrive.
“As your concierge, I am duty bound to see to your pleasure.” She stepped near enough to reach over the banister and pinch Sadie’s nipple. “I would be pleased to entertain Ms Larson while you attend to Ms Charles if you permit.”
Sadie did not know what to say, think, or do when Gina’s index and middle fingers replaced my thumb in her butt. Her body thought to press harder into Gina’s hand.
My daughter was getting my attention by now. Bending my knees to correct the alignment, I used my thumb to tilt Laurie’s ass, and slowly pushed my steely dick between her silky soft lips into the tightest pussy I ever fucked. As I straightened, Laurie’s feet came off the floor, due to our differing heights.
Fortunately for us both, she was soaking wet and I had dribbled enough precome to lubricate a Fiat. After years of gymnastics, Laurie had a mere vestige of her maidenhead left to tear and it painlessly became history. I sank to the bottom in one long slow stroke.
Gina watched in fascination as I slowly stretched Kiddo’s pussy to accommodate me. “Faster. Deeper” She whispered and fingered Sadie to match her fevered words. Sadie was getting closer.
Laurie whimpered quietly and trembled, muscles rippling up and down her glowing body. Inside, her pussy was going crazy on my cock. I did a reach around and diddled her clit pushing a huge orgasm higher. She let a moan sneak out when I swelled and fired. No one was below to hear.
“Stay there, Sweetie, I’ll be right back. You fuck better than your Mom amd Winnie was a great piece of ass.” I said as I pulled out of the pulsing twat. “Gina, trade places with me. Stop the cum from draining on the floor. Be careful not to get your clothes stained.”
Little Sadie got the same treatment Laurie got. She was beyond ready. Her hymen resisted more, but she peaked faster and continually from the first penetration. Her cunt never eased up. Especially when I pulled out and pushed through her sphincter into that delicious ass. My hand never let up on the pebble-firm clit and her butt never let up on my dick. Gina had prepared her well.
Her fanny was the recipient of my second load, triggering a last orgasm, draining away the rest of her strength. Carefully, I lifted the limp teen and gently placed her on the floor, face up. The satisfied smile glowed brightly.
After doing Sadie, Gina had cleverly avoided any chance of unsightly stains by stripping completely. Our lovely concierge, currently kneeling behind Laurie, was performing the clean up orally. If the clenching cheeks were any indicator, she was doing an excellent job.
Really good help is hard to find. Really.
I tapped her on the head and pointed to Sadie. “She needs you. Laurie needs me.” We switched like a well-oiled tag team. Gina dove into Sadie as if she was born to eat pussy.
Laurie was panting, left hanging and ready. I brought her to the next orgasm manually, cautioned her to be very quiet, and pressed slowly into her ass.
I don’t know if the resulting orgasmic seizure resulted from the new sensations in her butt, my fingers in her pussy or both. I do know for sure that it was epic, Roman myth legendary. Maybe it started when I whispered, “I’m buttfucking you still wet from Sadie’s pussy and ass. That’s why my cock slides in and out of you so easy. You are a great fuck, kiddo.”
Laurie began to wail rather loudly, so I did a titty reach around, lifting the impaled, quivering body off the banister. I kicked the door closed before depositing her on the floor next to Sadie and finished what I started.
I rushed to the nearest bathroom and carefully cleaned my overheated dick. Wash, rinse and repeat with antibacterial soap, rinse and leave wet.
Gina still munched cunt with her swaying ass in the air. I believe that is called an irresistible temptation. My concierge was about to set new standards in customer service excellence.
I pulled her off Sadie, flipped her over on her back and prepared for the first traditional missionary fuck of the vacation. Without asking, I simply pushed her knees to her chest and plunged in. Gina winced and wheezed as her maidenhead disappeared and I plunged to the bottom of another never used pussy! Never?
The concierge was a virgin! Well, was. Not so much now. A hard dick deep inside quickly put an end to that status.
In for a penny, in for 1600 lira. I was getting good at currency conversation. Clearly, Gina enjoyed the exchange rate. She was wetter than Venice at high tide.
I stopped to let her pussy stretch to fit. Then began a slow in and out, speeding up as she started fucking back. “Those damned nuns lied. Those fucking nuns lied through their fucking teeth. Fuck, this is good. Oh my god, this is good, so good, so fucking good.”
The constant litany roused Laurie and Sadie. The two teens moved closer in order to watch my dick plunge into Gina’s twat, each power stroke making her tits wobble and her eyes bulge.
Gina bounced and squealed and squeezed and screamed out loud and long. The stream of words went multilingual, most likely profane, as she took charge, rolled us over and began to fuck me cowgirl style.
My girls got a better view of our connection and I got an excellent view of two firm young C-cup boobs. Irresistibly tempted, I fondled the aforementioned tits as gently as the shaking Gina allowed. It must have worked because she wrapped my prick in her velvet vice when I came, wailed something incomprehensible, froze in place and passed out.
Just so you know: Name Age Hgt. Eyes Hair Cup/Color Gina Gamboa 16 5’01” brown brown C/dk. pink
Laurie eased back to this world, asking meekly, “Pops, we have to clean up. May we take a quick shower before dinner?”
Rolling the boneless concierge onto her back, I answered, “Make it fast, Sweetie. Gina has to do the sunburn remedy soon.”
Laurie and Sadie helped each other to stand and staggered to the toilet in their room. I did the same after opening the balcony doors. The room smelled like a busy New Orleans cathouse during Fleet Week.
The clock said we had an hour and a half before the Smythe sisters were due. Plenty time to do the ointments. The room service order could be an issue. I had no idea how long preparation and delivery would take once we placed the order and I wanted our comatose concierge to call down the order herself. Gina knew the menu, plus she knew who in the kitchen specialized in what. I wanted the best.
That necessitated more consciousness than she had available at the moment.
“How do you want us dressed for company, Uncle Ted?” Sadie said, peeping out of their room. Laurie’s head appeared on the opposite side.
Uncle Ted? Where did that come from? A clue? Hiding behind the doorframe? How could they be bashful or shy after fucking in front of Gina and who knows how many others out on the balcony?
“Surely you remember me telling Pamela and Anne to ‘come as you are’. They were as openly naked as you at the time you two came as you were.” Using my ‘firm but reasonable father’ voice, I asked, “It would be inconsiderate to be ‘not as you were’. How would you feel if your hostess asked you to wear shorts and t-shirts only to discover when you arrived that the other women were in evening gowns?”
The girls nodded. “Not so good, I guess.” Laurie shuddered as she spoke, becoming aware of her daddy’s expectation. The nervous thrill of being bare breasted on the beach had snowballed out of her control.
“Don’t you think it would be terribly rude to change the rules without notice so close to dinner time? Don’t embarrass our guests by not coming as you are. Or, in this case, as you were when the invitations were issued and accepted.” I smiled and continued. “It is your choice, as were the other decisions you made today, but as you have realized, every option has consequences. I hope you will want to be good hostesses and think of your guests first and what they were told.” They were technically my guests, but I let that slide by.
I left them to percolate, blithely turning my attention to our still quaking personal helper. Signorina Gamboa was not back from her lunar excursion.
My girls crept up behind me. “We decided you were right, Pops. We’ll be dressed as we are. Being naked for the sake of politeness to girls who saw you make us come in the hallway is going to be weird.”
“It’s all relative, sweeties. Weirder than deliberately going topless on the beach? Weirder than having Gina take your towels away in the lobby?” I couldn’t resist. “Weirder than giving me two of your precious cherries while shaking your boobs to just anyone looking up from below? I’m relative.”
Sadie answered, “Relative weirdness is still weird. It’s not going to be easy, but we’ll try to be good hostesses.”
“You will be good hostesses, Sadie. I insist.”
“All day I’ve been on a giant yoyo going from heaven to hell and back faster than I thought possible, but I think her string broke. Signorina Gamboa hasn’t moved, Pops. I think you fucked her to death.”
“What she said. I gotta be more careful what I ask for.”
“Dear Sadie, you’ve already asked the question. The complete answer is yet to come.” I stared at both of them. “And you will do as I say when I decide what the answers will be. We will finish what you started. Do you understand?”
‘Bossy Dad’ mode works in the oddest circumstances.
“Yes, Daddy. We’ll be good.”
“Yes, Uncle Ted. We started it.”
“You were very good. You will continue to be very good. We have all summer to practice.”
The little scene roused our concierge out of her stupor. Gina, now totally alert, splayed spread eagle on the floor, started giggling. “Oh goody. All summer! I’ll have to tell Papa to extend your reservations. You will, of course, require my dedicated services full time. May I reserve myself, too?”
“Of course, Signorina Gamboa. Make it so. Please call room service. We require a dinner for six, assorted house specialties and side dishes, hot and cold appetizer samplers and appropriate wines. Fully prepared and delivered to our door as near 8:00 as possible. You will consult with the chef and select the menu.”
“Signore Charles. You have allowed me to bring your girls to orgasm, had me suck your spend from their hot pussies after taking their virginity and have taken mine, fucking me gloriously senseless.” She laughed all over. “Here I am, stark naked as the day I was born, on your parlor floor with two even more thoroughly fucked girls near my age, one of whom is your pretty daughter. I think you can dispense with the formality. Call me Gina.”
“Since you put it so clearly, Gina it is.” I returned the laughter. “Please tell the kitchen staff we will serve ourselves. Wait staff will not be necessary. Have them include the proper implements and tableware.”
“Yes, Don Theodore. Is that all?” When that blurted out, she was giggling at least.
“Yes, for now. Have Sadie and Laurie help you shower after you make the dinner arrangements. I will be at ‘Deviazioni, Divertimenti, e Gioelli’, the shop in the lobby. I will be getting a few things for you three and our guests. It won’t take very long, but we should do the soothing balm and depilatory while dinner is settling.”
I donned a pair of shorts and a polo shirt. I would know the appropriate gifts when I saw them. The girls were left to their own resources. I suspect they needed some girl time to decompress.
The shop, ‘Deviations, Diversions and Jewelry’ in English, seemed to have everything I needed and more. I settled on delicate necklaces in sterling silver, with a small monogram pendants (L, S, G, A and P) hanging on a ring.
In a display case, I found little items that looked just like the decorative pins designed to imitate ribbons advertising one malady or another. These were nipple adornments. Squeeze the ‘ribbon’ ends together and the loop got larger. Release the pressure and the loop closed on the nipple, attaching by the spring action. The shopkeeper had a complete range of diameters, insuring firm but not excessively tight fits for all tits.
I bought several each in the 6,7, 8 and 9 mm ranges, with little rings to which I could attach a pendant or chain. I chose matching chains for connection to the necklaces. It made a quite attractive ensemble if a not bit edgy, virtually mandating bare boobs.
If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space.
The young clerk pointed out that they were adjustable somewhat if I stretched the metal gently in one direction or the other, plus or minus. She showed me hers quite willingly. Whoa! “They are best fitted on an excited nipple, the more erect, the better the fit. A bonus is that the hardness is maintained and the sensation of even the softest, lightest fabric rubbing across the tip will keep your lucky recipients aroused all day.”`
Figuring what the hell. I boldly cupped her boob in one palm and flicked her dark pink nipple tip with my other index fingernail. “Like that?”
“So forward, Signore Charles? Yes, just like that. Please don’t stop. No one has ever tested my fit before.”
Clue? I was an accomplished fit tester.
“Your enticing but unadorned tit seems to have received some benefit also, Signorina.” I now had both her diamond hard nipples to the bursting point in an open alcove just off the lobby. She didn’t seem to mind the position she was in.
In a truly astonishing move, the clerk thrust her hand into her loose slacks and brought herself off in a silently spectacular fashion. “Excuse me, Signorina, but I didn’t get your name. In any case, would you kindly bag my purchases? I’m hosting a dinner engagement very soon and I need to attend to my guests.”
“Excuse me, Signore Charles. That never happened before. I must have been extremely distracted. Please call me Carla.” The pretty firebrand carefully packaged the order and handed it over. “Thank you.”
“Carla, if you wish to insure a correct fit for my dinner guests, feel free to drop by our suite on the second floor any time after 9:30. We’ll share dessert and coffee.” I had an idea. “Add another set to the order, complete with a matching initial for you. My gift.”
“As you wish. Grazie di cuore. Perhaps I shall accept the kind invitation. Buona sera, Signore Charles.”
The shopkeeper appeared enthusiastic. And she looked vaguely familiar. Nothing I could put a finger on, although I had put a handful of fingers on her enthusiastic titties at her unintended invitation. It was her face.
Clues to be deciphered in due time. Presently, I had a dinner affair to enjoy.