Chapter 8

Both Julia and Addison burst into laughter when I informed them, after just one taste, that I did not like mint chocolate chip ice cream. I threw the cone into a trash bin and went back into Baskin Robbins to try another flavor.

The two of them chatted away outside. We’d come downtown to explore. From what I’d seen, I really liked Toronto. I’d enjoyed the CN tower and the girls somewhat nervous giggles standing on the glass floor a thousand feet up. People were everywhere, polite, with ready smiles. Were all Canadians so polite? Is that how we are?

Queen Street West was an interesting eclectic mix of stores; clothing, body and bath, interesting restaurants, and some high fashion stores. Midweek, the sidewalks were busy. July temperature was blisteringly hot.

Addison stopped chatting when I emerged from the ice cream shop, looked at my ice cream cone and grinned. “Strawberry? How girly!”

“Strawberry isn’t a girly flavor,” I insisted. I liked it.

“You tell him, Julia.”

Julia, a lovely pure, pale blonde with matching eyebrows and light brown freckles, and about five inches taller than Addison, smiled and nodded. “Definitely girly. Real guys don’t eat strawberry.”

“I don’t like either of you!”

“C’mon. There’s a store we want to see,” Addison announced.

Loud music greeted me when the girls opened the front door, a rather pleasant thumping bass that reverberated through my soles. About to follow them in, Addison pushed me back.

“You can’t bring ice cream into the store.”

With a shrug, I moved to the window and watched. The two of them wended their way through aisles and racks in no perceptible pattern, pausing, checking, then moving on. They were chatting away.

Ice cream finished, I headed in. Girls’ fashions were fascinating. While everything seemed to clash, and some of the items looked rather cheesy, they admired, discussed possible outfits, and referenced items of clothes they’d seen in other stores.

After half an hour, I was bored. Luckily, they’d completed their detailed survey and memorized and categorized all the possibilities, so we headed out into the hot sun.

“You’ve spilled your ice cream!” Addison chastised, pointing to my front.

Looking down at the stain on my Tee, I wiped it. It spread. Maybe not a good idea.

Addison huffed as if offended by my action. The two of them looked at each other, communicated telepathically, studied the street, and Julia pointed. “There.”

“C’mon, Dad.”

I followed behind. A light breeze coupled with their fast pace made their hair fluff, silky and long, one salt, the other pepper, their hair the same length. Rather nice.

So were their butts. In cotton shorts, their asses had a rather nice shape. So did their thighs. Nice gap.

The shop they led me into was a touristy T-shirt and trinkets place. Ten minutes later we left. Addison had picked a Tee for me that had World’s Weirdest Father printed on the front. Julia, with a laugh, had picked a Tee - the one I was currently wearing - with It’s All My Fault on the front.

It amused me a lot. They had fun picking the T-shirts out and I had more fun watching them have fun. I even liked the Tee’s colours! But, I wasn’t as happy when eagle-eyed Addison spotted a furniture shop and steered us to it.

“No!” I objected. Shopping for someone else was fun. Shopping for myself was a struggle. I couldn’t decide what I liked or didn’t.

“You said you want to change the furniture in your study,” Addison reminded me. “They might have nice things in here.”

Both Addison and Julia pointed out possibilities. I found something wrong with every choice; too uncomfortable, too dark, too staid.

My daughter appeared undisturbed at my truculence. She paused, studied me and asked, “Do you really want to change your study furniture?”

“I do. It’s just...” I shrugged.

“Okay. Maybe later.”

Just like that, she dropped it.

By three, after spending all day downtown, we headed home. The girls had bought nothing despite my offers and seemed completely satisfied with their outing. Strange creatures.

It was still stinking hot when we dropped Julia off. I suggested a swim as a way to relax and cool off. Addison agreed.

She wore the sexy white bikini, thrilling me. It became translucent in the water. To the sight of shadowed areolae on very gentle mounds, the sight of her butt crack through the bikini, and the intensely sexy shadow of newly forming black pubes on her small but succulent mound, I got horny.

We swam slowly, relaxed more than playful, and when we left the pool, Addison stretched out on her chair, her butt close to the front edge, leaning back to catch the sun and dry, her eyes closed, legs straight, feet slightly pigeon-toed.

I brought us drinks and sat. Try as I might, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She definitely had breasts. The bikini top molded to her. They weren’t buds. The form of her breasts were much wider than buds, yet they hardly rose off her chest. Stretched out, her body was very slender, her hips prominent. And I loved the sight of her bikini bottom. The waist formed a suspension bridge from hip to hip, a small gap teasing me.

From the way she was stretched out, her modest bikini bottom hugged her so tightly the swell of her small mons was stark; a sensual rise, tapering to where it plunged to her crotch. The bikini wasn’t completely dry. I could still discern the alluring shadow of dark pubic hair in the centre and the hint of her cleft.

She turned me on a lot. With her sweet, still immature face and sexy blossoming body, she exuded an innocent, sylphic sexuality that appealed to me. Unfortunately, sun and heat dried her bikini, the hints of her body underneath vanishing.

“I’ve been thinking about it. I think you should clean out your study, go through everything, then remove all the furniture and that dark wood paneling. Once you see the empty room, you’ll know what sort of furniture you’d like.” Addison opened her eyes and squinted at me. “I’ll help.”

“Maybe next week. Will you make dinner?”

“Nope. You need practice. Jeez, it’s hot! Wanna swim some more?”

Still turned on, I quickly agreed. She stood and walked towards the pool and, for a moment, I watched her ass. It undulated, each buttock moving in counterpoint, sexy cheeks forming a gorgeous rear end, pert and petite - an upside down heart shape.

She paused at the lip of the pool. Her arms rose and she dove in with surprising skill, hardly making a splash. I followed, my dive far less graceful.

The sudden temperature change was shocking. It did nothing to douse my desire. Underwater, I watched Addison treading water as I approached, her feet kicking gently, legs spreading, her translucent bikini tight to her small pussy, even more showing through; so damned sexy! Surfacing in front of her, I grabbed her, pulling her against me.

Her eyes sparkled, her smile almost knowing. She didn’t resist when I kissed her. On the contrary. She wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck, tilted her head slightly, and she smooched me; a full-on, sexy, intense kiss that had me hard and dumb in an instant.

We started sinking.

Treading water, I edged us to the shallower end to the point where I could stand. Then I wrapped my arms around her and concentrated on the kiss.

Our tongues caressed and probed. I sucked her tongue and the little minx copied me. My heart was thumping when I ended the kiss by sucking her lush lower lip, an act I adored. I felt like I was being pulled into a vortex, horniness inflamed by my desire for her, irrational, illicit, and so damned powerful.

Addison opened her eyes, looked at me with a smile, then laughed. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you like that all day!”

Dropping one hand down, I held her ass. “I’ve been wanting to cop a feel all day.” I confirmed it with a gentle squeeze.

An amazing transformation took place in her eyes. Already smoky grey, they went from twinkling amusement to smoldering. Still smiling at me, she asked, “Want to fool around? Skinny dip?”

“Here? In the pool?”

Addison rolled her eyes with exasperation. “Where else? The kitchen?”

“What if someone comes?”

“No one ever drops by. People in this neighborhood don’t drop by. It’s gauche.”

“Gauche? What’s gauche?”

Addison laughed. “You really don’t know? It’s lacking grace, unsophisticated. People here live in fear of being called gauche. So ... skinny dip?”