An Unknown Relative

by

Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Father, Daughter, First, .

Desc: Erotic Sex Story: The daughter he never knew he had shows up. That's when things get interesting.

I was working on my boat and the sun was beating down pretty hard. Some of the wood around a cleat had dry rot and I had found the mahogany to replace it. It's getting harder and harder to find but I got lucky and found some in the back of an old lumber yard. They had forgotten they had it and I bargained them out of it. I don't think they knew what they had.

I went to the cooler for a beer and I had just popped the top when a van pulled up at the end of the pier. It looked like a rental and you don't see many of those at the pier in this part of Mexico. We tend to old, beat-up pickup trucks for the natives and black Mercedes for the drug lords.

A suit got out of the passenger seat and opened the side door. A stunning redhead got out. She had on blue jeans and a white, button up shirt. Her hair was that orange flame you see sometimes back in the States and it hung down past her butt. The two of them came down the pier, checking the names of the boats until they got to me. They saw the name on the side, Jacks Full and they stopped.

The man cleared his throat. "Are you Benson McDonald?" he asked.

"No," I lied. "I'm just a boat repair guy. I can give him a message though."

"Do you know where we can find him?" he asked.

"You give me the message and if he wants to talk to you, he'll find you," I told him.

The girl spoke for the first time. Her voice was low and husky and I wanted her to keep talking. It sent a thrill through me for some reason. She was drop dead gorgeous. She had a tan, which was odd for a redhead, but she had that kind of skin. She was tall and slender and she couldn't hide the size of her breasts under that shirt. Her face was off the front page of a fashion magazine. She had huge green eyes and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her perfect nose. Her lips were full and luscious and she had those high cheekbones that are the trademark of beauty. She was obviously very young, maybe eighteen, I guessed.

"When you see him, tell him that his daughter is in town and looking for him," she said. "My name is Pendry. We're staying at the Flamingo and I'll meet him in the restaurant if he wants to talk to me."

She turned away and they walked back to the van, leaving me standing there stunned. What the hell? I didn't have a daughter. I'd been married once, but my ex got tired of being married to a guy that was only home two months out of the year. We never had any kids and I hadn't heard from her in years. What the hell?

I wondered if this was some sort of scam someone was trying to pull. The problem with that was; no one knew I had money. I did, but I never spent it in the same place twice. The gold I found on that wreck off the coast of Bolivia had never been reported and I had converted it into a dozen different currencies in a dozen different countries over a decade. I couldn't even imagine how they found me. I try to make it hard to find me. I don't use cell phones and I don't use computers. I haven't been in the States for fifteen years and I had changed berths twice this year. I must have slipped somewhere.

I sat down and drank my beer. The Jacks Full is a comfortable old tub. It was built for a Columbian drug lord back in the seventies and she was a mess when I got her. I had her in tip top shape now. She had 120 feet of waterline and three nice roomy cabins. Her twin diesels could make 20 knots in a good sea and I had a nice little 24 foot runabout I towed. I finished the deck work and put on a coat of spar varnish while I thought about what was going on.

When I was done I had made up my mind. I would check the situation out and see what was up. Whatever happened I knew I had to see that gorgeous girl again. I showered and put on khakis and a polo shirt and my best deck shoes. I sprayed a little body spray on and brushed my teeth. I got the little Glock 9mm auto out and put on a rig. I pulled on a black jacket and looked myself over. I'm 40-years old. A life on the water gave me that deep-water tan and I have blonde hair, bleached almost white by the sun. I keep it short and bristly. I had put on about five pounds and I knew I needed to take it off. It gets harder the older I get. I'm six four and weigh 240 pounds in fighting trim. I have an exercise room with a treadmill and lots of free weights that I spend a lot more time in than I want to.

I put on my Oakley's and went down to the car. I have a 1969 El Camino Super Sport. It's red with the black Chevy SS stripes. It's a 396 stroker and it rumbled to life, turning a few heads in the parking lot. I drove to the Flamingo and checked the front desk. They didn't have a Pendry McDonald registered. I thought for a minute. They did have a Pendry Roberts. I called her room and heard that husky little voice over the phone. I told her I had contacted Benson McDonald and he wanted to meet her. She agreed to meet in the restaurant in an hour. You needed reservations to eat at the Flamingo so I made them for an hour later and I went to the bar. I watched a soccer game, drank a beer and ate peanuts. I was waiting when she came down and she had the suit with her.

"Where's Mr. McDonald?" he asked.

"Who wants to know?" I asked him.

"I represent Reilly, Swindoll and Crouch," he said. "We're a law firm."

"You should represent yourself," I told him. "Dinner reservations are for two. If you want to make an appointment with Mr. McDonald you'll have to make your own. This one isn't for you."

He looked at her and she nodded. He disappeared and I offered her my arm. She took it and the guy at the desk seated us.

"So, you're my father," she said.

"I'd like to be, but no; I don't think I am," I told her. "Maybe we can just be friends."

Any further conversation was interrupted by our waiter. I ordered us a bottle of wine and he left menus and went to get the wine.

"I'm not old enough to drink wine," she told me.

"I don't think they care," I said. "I won't tell anyone. We should wait until we order and then we can talk about this. Is that ok?"

"Yes," she agreed. "I didn't know what to expect. Was that really your boat?"

"It is," I told her. "Do you like boats?"

"I'm from Nebraska. We don't have much ocean in Omaha,"

"I don't want to pry," I said, "but do you mind telling me how old you are?"

"No, I don't mind. I'm seventeen. I think you're forty."

I chuckled. "I'll want to know how you know that."

The waiter came back with our wine and poured us a glass. I ordered an appetizer and he went away again.

"If you're going to be around a few days I'll take you out and you can see if you like boats," I told her.

"I'd like that," she said. "I don't know how long I'll stay. We'll talk more about it later. Do you live on the boat?"

"Yes, I like being able to move any time I want to. I've always loved the ocean and I spend most of my time at sea."

"Don't you get lonely out there?"

"Yes, but sometimes I take a lady. I like good books and good music. I have lots of both. I fish; take a smuggling job now and again and that's how it's always been."

The waiter came back with our appetizer and took our orders. When he went away she sipped her wine and looked at me with those big green eyes.

"Why do you think you aren't my father?" she asked.

"Well, one kind of knows these things," I told her. "I was divorced when you were born if you're seventeen. I was at sea somewhere in another hemisphere."

"I know. Your wife was Lisa Jenkins. She was an elementary school teacher. She was my mother."

I was stunned. "You're Lisa's kid? Why is your name Roberts?"

"Her third husband adopted me."

"So what makes you think I'm your father," I asked her.

"Mom told me you were six months ago," she said. "She was pregnant with me when she divorced you. She told me she didn't want her daughter to have an absent, merchant marine father. She loved you, you know."

"She loved me so she divorced me?" My world was crashing down around me.

"She divorced you because she knew your first lover was the sea. That's what she told me."

"I was willing to give that up," I said. "I told her I would. I'd have shoveled rocks for a living to be with her."

"She knew that too, but you would never have been happy. She couldn't live with that. She wasn't a strong person, Mr. McDonald. She was just strong enough to set you free." There were tears in her eyes.

"Hey, kid; don't cry. Don't call me Mr. McDonald either. My name is Benson."

"Ok," she wiped away a tear.

Our food came and it was very good. The Flamingo was living up to its reputation. I poured her another glass of wine.

"I'm willing to take a paternity test if you want me to," she said. "Mom never lied to me though. I don't think she was lying about this. I don't know what her motive would be."

"Well, the timing is right. We had a hell of a two weeks before I shipped out for Argentina. I guess that's too much information. It's possible, Pendry."

"You can call me Penn," she said. "Everyone calls me that."

"I might sometimes," I told her. "I like Pendry though. I have to ask you, how did you find me?"

"I got Mom's lawyers to hire the Pinkerton Agency," she said. "I've been looking for you for six months."

"You're talking about Lisa like that's a story that's come to an end," I said.

"She had ovarian cancer," she said, choking back a little sob.

I couldn't stand for this beautiful girl sitting across from me to be unhappy. I didn't know what to say.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/ft / Consensual / Heterosexual / Fiction / Father / Daughter / First /