[NOTE: The following is a work of fiction originally a short erotic story called Andrea and the Daddy Test by Galacticum which was posted on a erotic story website in the late 1990's and which no longer is in existence. I took most of his story and changed some of the elements to an idea I had. I don't want to be accused of plagiarism so in an effort for full disclosure I am giving Galacticum full credit – wherever he may be. This is entirely fictional characters. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, through name or context is purely coincidental.]

Rio and the Daddy Test - Magicwand version

I'd just finished making love to my wife Jennifer in our king-sized bed. Her head on my chest, she gently sucked at my right nipple as I stretched my arms and legs in relaxed bliss. For the last four years at least, I had spent each and every week-end morning at the office. This day was the rare exception. Once again, my thoughts turned to the juicy personal injury settlement I'd concluded the day before, basking in the glory of a legal job- well-done, and the nearly three quarters of a million dollar attorney fee I had earned. But my latest legal triumph was at the cost of a family life or even a sex life.

My wife Jennifer and I had married while still in college. After law school, I had decided to risk it all and open my own practice. After years of contending with angry bill collectors, flaky paralegals, bitter clients, obnoxious judges, and tight-fisted insurance companies, I'd finally built my personal injury practice into a real winner; my multi-million dollar pride and joy. Unlike many of my colleagues in the law biz, I didn't drink, I didn't chase my secretary, and I didn't speculate on long-shot investments. I'd built my castle in the sky brick-by-heavy-brick and right now, naked in bed with my wife for the first Saturday morning in ages, I felt like the king himself.

When I awoke, it was darker and I the first thing that came into focus was the beautiful face of my fifteen year-old daughter Andrea, leaning against the doorway to the bedroom, arms folded across her chest.

"My, my," she said, then turned abruptly, whipping her long wavy blonde hair as she disappeared from sight into the hallway.

Jennifer called out to her daughter as she slid off the bed to her feet, "We're sorry. We didn't expect to be in bed so late." Jennifer skipped into her daughter's bathroom, turned on the light and wrapped herself in a blue bath towel. I watched her through the open door, as she checked her face in the mirror and straightened her shoulder-length blonde hair.

My wife pulled me out of bed, pushed me into the shower, and ordered me to put on a sport coat but no tie. She met me in the living room with my daughter Andrea. Both my wife and daughter were nicely dressed, made-up, and ready to go out.

"Andrea," said my wife, "your father doesn't realize it yet, but he is not going to the office today. I know that Sunday is a normal working day around here for the menfolk in our family. But today, and from now on, your father is going to spend every week-end with us." My wife Jennifer turned to me with a big smile, "family first, right?" as she poked my ribs, prodding me toward the door.

"Where are we going," I asked.

"Brunch," said both of my beautiful womenfolk.

We went to an elegant champagne brunch in the most expensive place in town. After all, I could easily afford it. My wife looked exceptionally gracious in a long lavender silk print dress. Jennifer was carrying the burden of conversation and spoke about how we each should open ourselves to the other, as family members, now that we would be spending more time together. She said it would be hard at first, but we had to get into the habit of tuning-in to each other's wave-length.

I was half tuned-out, glancing repeatedly at my beautiful fifteen year old daughter. Rare were the times in the last four years that I'd had a chance to see her up close for more than a few fleeting seconds. She was wearing a filmy yellow sundress this morning and her long wavy blonde hair was parted in the middle and loosely tied in back. She was demurely nibbling at a piece of bacon in her slender fingers, with downcast eyes. I had always recognized the fact that she was beautiful, more so even than her mother. This morning, however, I came awake to the fact that she had blossomed into a heartbreakingly ravishing young woman.

Andrea and I had been very close throughout her childhood. Just as she had reached puberty, however, my law practice had begun to seriously flourish and I became caught up in the heady rush of professional success. I had barely seen her in years; usually on my way to and from the office, catching a glimpse of her as she was heading to some school activity, to see a boyfriend, or to go out with her best friend Melissa.

Andrea knew she was beautiful, as I'm sure the dozens of boys who followed in her wake had made clear to her. At this precise moment, however, I awakened to such new discoveries as her flowing hair, her deep blue eyes, her smooth skin and its faint down, from which she radiated a soft, golden, vaporous beauty in the warm morning light. Andrea's eyes flashed briefly as they met mine, then stared without expression outside toward the sunny deck of the restaurant. I realized the little girl I had held on my knee and tucked into bed was now barely on speaking terms with me.

Andrea had always been my spoiled little princess. Now, with me and perhaps with every male, she had become an ice princess; aloof, reserved, proud of her unique feminine gifts of hopeless beauty. I had forgotten just how much sexual power could reside within the body of a beautiful fifteen year old girl. 'This is my daughter, ' I reminded myself. It dawned on me that I didn't quite know how I felt about her; nor how I ought to feel about myself in her presence: afraid, proud, excited, ashamed. Her eyes met mine again and bored into me without expression. This time, she held her moist gaze for at least five seconds.

I told them about my next project, a large contract that required me to go to Rio de Janiero for about a week. My daughter looked disappointed, so did my wife. They thought with the success from this last case I would take some time off to reacquaint myself. That was when my wife suggested I take Andrea with me.

My head was reeling from the champagne, the summer heat, and from the intoxication of my daughter's presence. After a moment, eyes shining, Jennifer squeezed my hand in hers. "I think you two need to get in touch with each other." What do you have to say, Andrea?"

"Fine with me," said my daughter, shrugging her lovely shoulders.

"I see that you and Andrea have your work cut out for you," said my wife. "I have a great idea, though." Looking to Andrea, she said, " Melissa's Dad takes his family on vacation around the same time every summer, right?"

"Mr. Carbone? Yeah."

"What if you took Melissa and them with you to Rio?"

By next week's end, plans had changed some. Melissa and Andrea were reading books on Rio and getting excited about the trip. Melissa's parents were recently divorced and it seemed like the ideal opportunity for Melissa and her dad to bond as well.

I took off early on Friday afternoon and headed home, wondering how I felt about bringing everyone to Rio for a couple of weeks. Alex Carbone, Melissa's Dad was an accountant in my office building. We often spent an hour a day at lunchtime working out in the gym. It was hectic exercise but it was the only thing that helped me maintain the stamina to endure my marathon twelve-hour days in my office chair and in court. I have to admit that it also left me with not a little bit of self-pride, in my still youthful body, as well as in my self-discipline to maintain it. Mostly, though, on my drive home, I pondered how I would relate to my fifteen year-old daughter. What would I have to say to her? Would she even talk to me?

Would I get those feelings of sexual stimulation that I felt around her lately? What could I do to overcome those inappropriate thoughts? 'They are extremely inappropriate, right?' I wondered to myself, almost aloud.

As I my secretary finalized all the arrangements, we were staying at an executive retreat composed of several private villas around a resort area. Each villa had two bedrooms with a couch that pulled out into a queen-sized bed.

When I arrived home, I showered and changed into jeans and a green polo shirt. Within minutes, I went outside as Melissa's Dad pulled up in his red Jeep Cherokee with the girls. They got out and I shook hands with Alex. He was a trim athletic man in his late thirties, of Italian descent, with a great olive complexion. He had that ruggedly dark, craggy demeanor of a mafia hitman and I'd often noticed the women in the gym where we worked out, looking his way. The girls were simply unbelievable and my inner voice suddenly echoed a hollow 'uh-oh', as I felt myself instantly starting to feel unfatherly feelings toward both. I could barely get up the nerve to look at them, but they were dressed in very short cut-off jeans, with halter tops, and low-cut white sneakers without socks. Melissa had the long black hair and dark complexion consistent with her Mediterranean ancestry. Where Andrea was proudly distant, Melissa was exuberant. She greeted me with a big smile and a "Hi, Mr. Tanner." In every other respect, however, both girls were bookends of pure teenage sexual beauty: long creamy legs, firm grapefruit-sized breasts, slim waists that curved so appealingly into high, rounded buttocks. As I placed my suitcase into the rear end of the vehicle, Andrea and Melissa exited our house with other suitcases.

We boarded our flight, Alex Carbone and I sat together in business class with the two girls behind us. They talked incessantly, their voices often descending to a low, rich tone, barely audible to me. Our driver met us at the airport and after an hour of highway, we were at the resort which was well hidden from a main road and had a private beach.

The villa was very luxurious. Two master bedrooms were on either side of a great room which had a round firepit that dominated the center of the room with several large couches and floor pillows around it. The glass doors opened into a large balcony which had a private hot tub and a wet bar that overlooked the beach and ocean. The girls immediately declared to sleep out in the great room with the lush pillows and 65inch plasma TV.

It was mid-morning by the time I dragged myself from one of the superking-sized beds in the room and went to the shower, admiring the massive granite firepit along the way. I thought of the girls. When I was kid myself, I had always drooled over the girls of her age in high school but really had to wait until college before I encountered any real luck with females. Maybe I was just going through some crazy unresolved high school fixation. I found a handwritten note taped to the inside of the medicine cabinet:

'Andrea and Melissa are waiting for us at the swimming pool. Alex'

I showered, shaved, and put on my best pair of red swimming trunks, which my wife had conveniently packed for me, along with a yellow Hawaiian shirt and a pair of cool sunglasses. I actually felt hip and youngish, riding down in the elevator. 'This just might be fun, after all', I told myself. 'Maybe I really can use a vacation away from the old three-piece suit.'

Out at the pool, I looked for the girls and Alex. "Over here," said Alex, emerging from the hotel restaurant. "I couldn't find the girls, so I went to have some breakfast. I was starved and I hope you don't mind," he said.

I turned to him, but found my eyes drawn up to the pool area and the bare heartshaped buttocks of a young girl. She turned around and to my utter shock, I saw that it was his daughter, Melissa. She smiled at me and began walking toward me, excitedly waving her hand up and down at Andrea to get up from her lounge chair to follow. I realized suddenly that this trip was going to be anything but fun. In fact, it was going to be the biggest intellectual challenge of my entire legal career; keeping my growing sexual stimulation at bay in the presence of my incredible daughter and her equally appealing girlfriend. Andrea and Melissa were wearing matching flesh-colored thong bikinis. The suits left almost nothing to the imagination: the back sides exposed their firm teenaged bottoms for all to see.

"Those certainly are skimpy suits," I said in my daughter's direction. "I can't believe this resort lets you wear them, especially being minors."

"Oh Mr. Tanner," grinned Melissa, "they asked us about 'em. Andrea and I have fake I.D.s. And, you know what? They shut up when we told what villa we were staying in. Money does talk." The girls giggled at each other. "Besides" chimed in Andrea, "it's Rio, anything goes."

"Jonathan," said Alex, "I can see that these girls really need a father's supervision. I think this idea of your wife's is not bad at all. Mr. Tanner and I will have a few things to say to you both. First, though, take off those suits and put on something more appropriate for fifteen year-olds."

"We'll take them off if you want, Mr. Carbone," my daughter said, crossing his arms with defiance "but we won't be wearing anything. Which for Rio is acceptable." "Besides, we don't have any other swimsuits," she offered, her nose in the air.

Alex shook his head at me. "They think they're real wild, don't they?"

"Oh Daddy," continued Melissa, "we also told the hotel something else. I hope you don't get mad."

"Honey, I won't be mad if you march upstairs right now and change into something more appropriate."

"Oh, all right," said Melissa. "But you know what? We kind of told them that, uh well..."

"We told them that we're your girlfriends," my daughter interjected, flatly interrupting her best friend. With that, the two girls pivoted around on their bare feet and headed back to their room. I caught myself watching my daughter's backside. Even the soles of her feet were attractive as hell. 'How am I going to get through this torture?' said that voice inside my head. Luckily, the resort catered to upscale clientele and I had a suspicion that older men with younger women was more for par than not.

That afternoon, we tried to spend the type of 'quality time' that my wife had so ardently counseled to my daughter and me. We four played a little tennis, we went horseback riding along the green forest trails, and we even stopped to admire a family of monkeys. Throughout, I was so self-conscious of my unsettling feelings about my daughter, that I found myself talking more to Melissa than to Andrea. Andrea seemed to sense this, and withdrew from me, spending more time herself with Carbone. I partnered with Melissa at tennis and later, I helped her mount her horse. Meanwhile, Alex cracked jokes and made small talk with my daughter, who seemed to avoid my eyes, every time I tried to glance her way. Instead, she laughed at Alex' stale humor and even complimented him on his tennis game. She also frequently touched him with her hands, to get his attention, to make a point, or to respond to his humor; a privilege she had never accorded to me. Maybe Alex wasn't aware of it, but I could certainly tell that his way of looking at my own lovely daughter was every bit as intense as my own.

After our sweaty ride, we went back to our respective bedrooms and showered. Alex and I were sitting out on the balcony having a drink the balcony door opened. It was Melissa. She was barefoot and wearing a very short silky blue robe, obviously fresh out of the bath. Her hair was wet and combed straight back. She slipped inside and in a very meek little girl's voice addressed her father. "Daddy, can I please ask you and Mr. Tanner for a big favor? Please, oh please?"

"Sure honey. What is it?"

"Well, we were wondering. You know what Andrea and I said about telling the hotel we were your girlfriends? So they wouldn't say anything about our swimsuits?"

"Yes," said her father flatly. "What is it now?" I was already fighting back the growing tension in my stomach.

"It would be just for fun, you know. We were wondering if you and Mr. Tanner would invite us out to dinner, not in the room, but in the nice restaurant nearby."

"Yes. Go on."

"And that you and Mr. Tanner would, kind of, well sort of 'pretend' we were your dinner dates. Me with Mr. Tanner; and you, Daddy with Andrea. It would be just for fun. Please?"

Alex looked at me and shrugged. "I guess it can't hurt. We gotta eat, right?"

"We were also wondering, Daddy."

"Yes," said Carbone, mildly stern.

"If you and Mr. Tanner would order some flowers for us, like for real girlfriends."

I couldn't help noticing her pretty bare feet with pink nail polish and the cute way she kept rubbing one on top of the other.

"Well, honey, this is starting to sound kind of expensive. I don't know..."

"Don't worry about it," I broke in. "I'll just put it on my expense account."

"And Daddy?"

"What now, honey."

"We were hoping that you and Mr. Tanner would really dress up nice. Me and Andrea have these real pretty dresses we want to wear and we want you guys to look kind of nice, too.

"Okay, honey. I guess for once we can do more of the kind of thing you girls really prefer. Is there anything else?" said Carbone, with a tone of expectant finality.

"Well, Daddy, there is. I was wondering if, well since we're your dates and all. Sorry, 'pretend' dates. That Mr. Tanner, Jonathan, could call me Melissa and I could call him Jonathan. If that's okay." She smiled, then bit her lower lip and shrugged her shoulders as she said this, shooting me a very quick, timid glance. "And if Andrea could call you Al. She thinks you look like an 'Al' instead of an Alex. You know, like Al Pacino."

With mock exasperation, Carbone raised his eyes to a massive wood beam of the ceiling. "Is that it? Finally?"

"One final thing, Daddy. Our dresses are kind of, well sort of, you know. They're sexy? They're short. Please don't say anything. Oh, and you can pick us up in about three hours. Bye Daddy and thank you." She kissed her father's cheek and skipped out, but then stuck her head in the door one final time. "Oh, and Daddy, Andrea thinks you're kind of cute. You are too, Mr. Tanner, I mean, Jonathan."

Carbone turned to me, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm sorry about this, old man. What have we gotten ourselves into? I hope it doesn't set you back too much."

"No problem," I assured him. The real problem for me would involve the intellectual, moral, and 'yes' even legal issue of how to act naturally in front of my ravishing daughter, when I had such growing unnatural thoughts in my heart.

Laughing and slapping me on the shoulder, Carbone interrupted my mental cross-examination saying, "you gotta admit, though, this is kinda cute."

In exactly three hours, we called on the girls, with flowers. The bedroom door was cracked open as Alex knocked. "Are dates are here," sang Melissa's sweet voice from within. "Come in you guys." Two sets of giggles greeted us as we pushed the door open and entered. The perfume and other delicious young girl scents were thick in the air. I could already feel my palms sweat, more so than I recall having on my very first date, in fact. That date was also with a fifteen year old girl in high school named Carrie, who was so sexy to me I could barely bring myself to utter a single word all evening. Melissa's description of their dresses hadn't begun to describe how sexy these were. They were tight, they were short at mid-thigh, and they showed cleavage. The girls wore high heel pumps to match their dresses, Andrea in green and Melissa in red. Both were highly made up and their hair was styled. They each looked several years older and were even more beautiful and sexy than before, if that was possible. I felt like a rock had hit the bottom of my stomach and was making its way into my groin.

"Do you like it?" said Melissa, playing with her hair, raising it and letting it fall, strand-by- strand. "We had it styled downstairs this afternoon. Makes us look like real babes, doesn't it?" I couldn't take my eyes off Andrea's youthful breasts, which were straining to break through the sheer fabric of her green spaghetti-strap dress.

"Melissa, I think you girls have gone a bit too far," said her father. "What do you think?" said Carbone, turning to me.

I swallowed hard, as I said, "we are your fathers. As your fathers, we'll talk about this on the way back home. For tonight, as your fathers, we made an agreement. I guess, as your fathers, we have to take you beautiful girls out after all this trouble."

"That's right, Daddy," said Andrea. "Uh, aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh, right," I said, presenting my bouquet of pink roses to Melissa. "These are for you."

"For me? That's so sweet, Mr. Tanner, I mean: Jonathan." The soft, lilting way she said my first name sent a warm tremor down my entire body.

"She can call you Jonathan, can't she Daddy?", said my daughter, taking her flowers from Carbone.

"Daddy, aren't you going to kiss Andrea on the cheek?" said Melissa to her father. "She's your date." With a look of resignation, Alex bent to kiss my lovely daughter's cheek. I thought I caught her eyes flashing at me for a second.

"Thank you, Al, red roses are my favorite," my daughter said, putting her arm around Carbone's neck and giving him a peck on the corner of his mouth. In spite of his Sicilian olive complexion, Alex turned a dark red.

"Daddy, aren't you forgetting?" said Melissa to her Dad, who nervously plunged his hands in his pockets.

"Yes, uh, well, Andrea, you look very, very attractive tonight," said Carbone to my daughter, shifting his feet.

"Thank you," said my daughter to Carbone. "I love the way you look in that suit." Andrea then cleared her throat and flashed me a dirty look.

"Right". "Uh, Miss Carbone, Melissa, you look very nice tonight," I said.

"Daddy, what kind of a thing to say is that?" my daugther said to me stridently. "Nice?" "She looks hot and she's beautiful. She's a hot young babe, Daddy. Just because she's my best friend doesn't mean you can't be honest. Say it."

I looked apologetically at Carbone. However, right now I could refuse my daughter nothing. "You, uh, look like a very hot young lady, Melissa." My daughter shook her head, eyeing me with disgust, giving her arm to Carbone. I went through the ritual of bending toward Melissa to offer her the negotiated kiss on the cheek. However, as soon as her father's back was turned, she planted a full, red-lipsticked kiss on my lips, then playfully pushed me toward the door.

"Let's go," she chirped. "This is gonna be fun."

Under the moonlight, our walk from the villa to the restaurant followed a small trail through the dark-green forest, passing a little silvery waterfall. Inside the place, the girls chose a rear booth. The mood was warm and romantic, with the orange-red glow of an open-hearthed fireplace, reflected off yellow pine beams and mahogany antiques. Our daughters sat in the middle of our booth, with the guys at the ends. Melissa slid up next to me while Andrea did the same with Alex. The girls soon left the table and went to the restroom. When they returned, a waiter brought champagne to our table and briskly popped it open, while our daughters giggled. Alex and I then realized they had ordered it and shown their fake I.D.s. Melissa pleaded with her father to let her have some, telling him what they were doing was just a 'one-time fun thing'. He grudgingly gave in, as long as he controlled the pouring. Of course, I went along with anything my beautiful Andrea had in mind. Soon, another bottle was brought to the table, followed by yet another. We began laughing louder and telling stories. Alex began discussing the secretary in his accounting firm, who had carpet burns on her knees every time she came from a closed-door session in his boss' office. Andrea talked about one of the cheerleaders at her school being elected to pay a special visit to the football coach to get him to lift his sanction against the team's star running back, who had been banned for drinking.

Carbone now had his arms around my daughter, showing her the Italian way to roll spaghetti on her fork. She lifted it for him to eat. He continued pouring fizzy champagne into our glasses, most of it into mine and his. Melissa was next to me, driving me crazy with the soft rustling sounds coming from her nylon-stockinged thighs, as she crossed and uncrossed her legs.

Soon, I found myself laughing into Melissa's neck and my arm around her shoulder. Her smell was intoxicating. She had slid next to me, crushing her right thigh against my left. I looked over at Andrea who was also getting very cozy with Carbone, touching his shoulder and chest repeatedly as she spoke. The girls occasionally exchanged wise and sexy little smirks. Suddenly, I felt my left hand being guided by Melissa onto the top of her smooth, nylon-stockinged thigh, right above the knee.

Glancing over at my lovely daughter Andrea, I noticed under the table that she had taken off her right shoe and that she was lightly grazing her foot along Alex's own right calf, through the grey flannel of his suit. Carbone was still laughing and telling jokes, apparently yet unaware of the growing familiarity with which he was pressing up against my daughter. Meanwhile, Melissa had placed her hand on mine, gently caressing it, still holding it on her upper thigh. It was perhaps the high altitude, the mountain air, or just the romantic setting, but I was starting to feel more than a bit intoxicated. The champagne continued flowing, and the girls were encouraging their fathers to make one toast after another: to Italy, to the Supreme Court, to Babe Ruth, to virtually every topic or joke that we had mentioned. Alex and I were doing most of the drinking by now. I was aware of moments of time slipping quickly past, with others seeming to freeze in place.

I looked over at Andrea, who was now crossing champagne glasses with Carbone, each drinking from the other's glass. In doing so, still under Carbone's right arm, she was now pressing her left breast into his chest. I turned to Melissa, who smiled sweetly at me, sighed, and rested her head on my shoulder. With her hand on mine, she now began to rub my hand along her upper thigh, back and forth, inching progressively upward, finally reaching to the edge of her very short dress. She whispered softly to me, "It's okay, Mr. Tanner, I mean Jonathan. I have dates who do a lot more than that." Suddenly, she pulled my hand further under her dress until it touched her panties. I breathlessly withdrew it and she grabbed it back, bringing it to her lips. She guided it to her left breast, lightly housed in the sheer fabric of her dress and bra. My hand lingered a few moments before I pulled it away.

I looked over at my daughter and found, to my amazement, that she herself was now resting her head on Carbone's shoulder, with her arm beneath the table in the direction of his crotch, obviously moving back and forth. Loud-mouthed Carbone had been silent now for a few seconds. Then, I saw my daughter raise her lips and kiss Carbone's chest, then move them to his neck, grazing it. She whispered in his ear and raised her lips to him. Carbone kissed them. He broke the kiss and looked over at me, with a mixture of apologetic embarrassment and excitement in his face. Under her father's eyes, Melissa chose that moment to kiss me on the lips, which was followed by my daughter kissing Carbone again, this time with much more fire. Melissa turned from watching her best friend kiss her father and reached down to my own crotch to rub it. It was at that point that I let my best judgement fly right out the window and I reached out to squeeze her breasts, kissing her with genuine passion. My mind ignited as she put her tongue in my mouth and kissed me back, hard.

I realized that Carbone and I were now openly necking with each other's fifteen year old daughter, in the back booth of a public restaurant. My daughter had gotten me so worked up in the last twenty-four hours, however, that I almost didn't care. After about ten minutes of heated kissing and touching, Melissa dropped her bombshell on me.

"Jonathan," she whispered into my ear, "Andrea and I are on the pill so it's okay."

Suddenly somewhat sobered, I desperately tried to stop myself from holding the soft, warm, sweet-smelling teenaged flesh of Melissa, but I could no more do so than stop the massive erection that was now tenting in my pants.

Melissa cupped her hand again to my ear: "We want both of you to take us back to the hotel and fuck us." She lay her head against my shoulder and sighed.

I glanced at my daughter, who was likewise whispering into Carbone's ear, as if on cue.

The rest of our sojourn in the restaurant was a blur. I'm not sure how long we stayed, who got up first, or how I now found myself on the romantic forest path that led back to the parking lot. I had my arm around Melissa and, up ahead, Carbone was wrapped around my daughter. I bent to kiss my 'date' and found my credit card in her teeth as she giggled. Somehow, I don't think the girls were as tipsy as the fathers and they in fact led the way back to the villa. Carbone started singing a famous piece from the opera La Traviata, with the girls giggling and humming in accompaniment. In front of the door to the villa, all four of us got very quiet. Our daughters each had their heads pressed tightly against the chests of their best friend's dad, who both held on tightly, stroking the girls' hair.