[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.
.... There is more of this story ...