Warning : All my stories are pure FANTASY. None of them are real, nor do I wish them to be - the purpose of a fantasy is to be what the reality isn't, what the reality shouldn't be. Any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely incidental, and in most cases is the result of an overactive imagination. I don't know, nor do I think I wish to know, anybody engaging in incest.
"Aw, c'mon, Mom, can I go to the beach? Please?"
"As I told you, no. The last time you went to the beach, we had to come looking for you - the problem, kiddo, is that you love the beach too much."
I loved this banter. Angie, my nineteen-year old daughter, and Samantha, my 35-year young wife, were veterans at it. I can't quite place the time they started these kind of healthy arguments, but I can assure you, it's always a pleasure to watch the two of them thrust and parry like professional fencers. Sam is a lawyer, and a damned fine one, and I happen to be a businessman, which suits us just fine - even if Sam has to bill by the hours, my time is often flexible enough to spend a lot of it with my family and still make more than my wife.
Angie, my perfect daughter (in fact, my only daughter) has finished her college as well, her intelligence giving her a couple of double-promotions through the elementary classes. Samantha had twisted my arm into hiring Angie as my first secretary, and I am quite pleased she did. Problem is, now I get my work done in half the time! We must've done something right, I guess, for Angie always introduces us as her parents and 'best friends' - it was not like she was short of friends or anything.
So I guess I have to put up with this kind of friendly warfare until they close the lid of the coffin, but as I said before, if I have to go, I don't want the church choir, I just want to hear them argue about whether to cremate or bury me. The three of us know that none of the arguments are serious, but they just like to act the part of the teenage feminist and the stubborn mother - I play the role of the beleagured father, torn into two as my wife and my daughter try to pull me into opposite sides.
The current issue was Angie's desire to go to the beach. It was a Saturday, and as her boss, I gave her the day off - I never worked on Saturdays either. She wanted to spend it at the beach, but her mother 'wouldn't let her.' I sat in my couch and listened with a grin as each put forward points of her own. Angie wanted to work on her tan, Sam reminded her of ourown swimming pool. Angie took another direction, saying that salt-water was good for the body. I broke out into a loud guuffaw when Sam replied in the same breath that all we had to do was dump a sack of salt into our pool.
Then, as usual, Angie turned to me with her imploring eyes. "Dad, please..."
Normally, I would then say, "Sam, let the girl be. Or do you want her to know how wild you were at her age?"
Sam would huff back, "At her age, I was already the mother of a three-year old kid."
"And you were still as wild."
And then Sam would blush and mutter loudly, "Do whatever you want."
On this day, however, I decided to alter Angie's game plan and kid her a bit, so I replied, "Only if you give your daddy a kiss, darling."
So far, such a request would have earned me from my daughter an ostentatious peck on my cheek. Angie grinned and said, "Sure, Dad."
And then, right in front of her mother, Angie bent down and kissed me on the lips - and it wasn't a peck either. Her lips crushed mine as her arms surrounded my neck, pulling me even deeper into her kiss. Her tongue dared my teeth to part, and as if she had said, "Open Sesame," they parted and our tongues met. Involuntarily, my arms went to her back and started rubbing her, all the way down to her waist. She traced the contours of my mouth with her tongue, and then drew it back so that I could feel hers. My hands were now on her bottom, and by the way she was squiggling, it was obvious her senses were on full alert.
My wife cleared her throat, and I guess I broke off the kiss rather abruptly, looking like a fish out of water. My daughter, though, still had her arms around me and was grinning from ear to ear.
I looked over at my wife and she was smiling too. That puzzled me, but I let it go at that. "Wow," was all I could manage.
"Honey, you can kiss your father all you want," Sam told Angie, "But you aren't going."
Angie seemed to settle for the consolation price. "Okay, at least I get the next best thing, Mom." With that, she moved her face closer to mine. Our lips had almost touched when I panicked.
"Sam, let the girl go," I begged.
"I won't. She wants to go alone -"
"Can Daddy take me, in that case, Mom? I won't be alone, and you will know where I am, right?" Angie countered.
Sam was considering that decision. Finally, she gave a nod. With a whoop, Angie jumped off my lap and gave her mother a bear hug. "Thanks, Mom, you are the greatest."
She moved back to me and gave me a quic peck on the lips. Mine still had her lipstick, and I could taste it - taste her - everytime I spoke. It was starting to unnerve me. Sam tossed me the keys to the porsche and the house. "I will be leaving soon," she told me. She was going on a one-week trip to the States, her longest one yet. "Better take that along in case you are late."
Angie was now pulling me up from my couch. "C'mon, lazy bones, get up," she grunted with a smile on her lips.
"What about my suit?" I asked. I hadn't seen her pack hers, either.
"Softspot Beach is a nudist beach, silly. You don't wear a suit there." Angie chided me. "As you can see, I don't have one either."
I gulped. After the kiss, I wasn't sure if going out with her to a nudist beach (of ALL places) was a good idea. Her subtle reminder that she had on nothing underneath her halter top and shorts had not missed me, and I was sure Sam understood that too. I looked at Sam, and seeing no reprieve, I decided to talk my way out of the date.
"Er, do you think it's such a good idea, honey? I mean, a nudist beach and all... Won't your friends laugh at you for going to such a place with your old man?" If I had to put myself down as old, so be it. I was getting desperate.
"Hullo, is that my Dad speaking?" Angie asked, laughing at my weak attempt at escape. "In case you've forgotten, I don't have a boyfriend. Besides, no one knows you. I will just introduce you as my boyfriend."
This was getting to be a bigger mistake. Sam should have stepped in and pulled my fat out of the fire, but instead, she supported her daughter. "You are not that old, dear, no matter how much you think you are. The boyfriend angle is a good idea, Angie, and if people don't believe you, just tell them that you are engaged." My jaw fell to the floor.
"Excuse me, but is Angie really my daughter?" I tried to remind them 'subtly.'
"Actually, I like that boyfriend angle a lot," Sam continued. "It also ought to keep away your girlfriends - I mean, they won't even be wearing pants to drop!"
"Sam!" I almost shouted. The two women looked at me with amused expressions. "Maybe the beach isn't such a good idea after all." As soon as I saw my daughter's face fall, I regretted my outburst. But no way was I going to get naked with my daughter and paraded as her boyfriend.
"Naughty, naughty Daddy," Sam wagged her finger at me. Turning to Angie, she whispered loudly eough for me to hear, "He does't want to share you with anyone at the beach, maybe a motel is what he has in mind."
I gagged but Angie giggled. "Really, daddy?"
I knew if I walked away, I would be hurting her, so I grabbed the keys. "Let's go," I said, resolutely, "to the beach."
Angie practically ran to the car, and was waiting in the driver's seat when I got there. "Let me drive, please."
I was actually thankful, for my mind was still in no condition to negotiate the drive to the beach. Angie is a good driver as well, so I guess my life was in safe hands. As we pulled out, my wife called to us, "Have fun, you two. See you next week."
We drove for about ten minutes, then Angie drove off the main road. I recognized the path as leading to a small stretch of seashore that I had bought. It was secluded, and very calm and quiet. It was well-hidden from the vast ocean, and the only accessible route was by land. Even as our jeep rutted along the road, I knew that it had been some time before civilization last paid a visit. I was glad that we were not going to any commercial and overcrowded beach, and for the moment, I resolved to read nothing into Angie's passionate kiss earlier. Angie saw nothing wrong with it, so why should I?
We reached the clearing, and Angie parked my car in the foliage nearby. There was no one here, and the whole area radiated an atmosphere that reminded me of my honeymoon with Sam in Bali. I stared out at the ocean, a calm expanse of blue water. Angie moved closer to me and I felt her snuggle up to me. I threw one hand over her shoulder, and without looking at her, we enjoyed the moment of being with each other. My finger started to trail down her shoulder, looking for the topline of her halter.
I felt the gentle rise of her breasts, and figured that her top wouldn't be far away. Why I was feeling for her top, I don't know, but the smell of her perfume was pretty intoxicating - that seems to be good excuse. My fingertips slowly trailed down until I felt, to my astonishment, the slight rise of her areolas - half a second later, I had made contact with her left nipple.
"Oh, Daddy," Angie moaned. Stunned, I looked at her - and it drew my breath away. She was a vision of loveliness - whitish skin, pink nipples, medium areolas, firm, large breasts - a younger, more beautiful version of my wife. At the moment, though, my wife was the farthest away from my mind. A crow chose that moment to destroy the hypnosis that was overtaking me - plop, fell its shit!
Angie started laughing, and I joined her. I was now looking at her from the front, and man, was she gorgeous. Firm stomach, nimble thighs, long legs... Even though I knew she was looking at me, I drank in her beauty. My eyes trailed her from her toes to her reddish hair, stopping at every inch of her skin. I was absently wiping the crow's droppings away, but my attention was riveted on her - as hers was on me.
"Like?" she asked demurely.
"Bloody well love." I said in my most Aussie accent.