I was sitting in my living room reading when my shapely, eighteen year old step daughter walked by on her way from the swimming pool in our backyard. As usual she was wearing virtually nothing in the form of a string bikini. My wife was away on a long business trip. Up to now I had been trying to behave like a good father to this girl. This afternoon I was no longer able to. I hoped she was teasing me because she wanted me. I was excited enough to risk everything by finding out.

I put down my book, stood up, walked over to her, and held her gently, kissing her forehead. “Daddy!” she protested. “What are you doing?”

She tried to push away from me, but I held her close, demonstrating that I was much stronger than she was. “I am doing what I have wanted to do for a long time,” I said, slowly running my fingers up and down her perfect back. “Don’t you know the effect you have on a man? Your bikini only has three triangles. Two cover your nipples. One covers your vulva. They show the imprints of your nipples, and the slit in your vulva.”

“Mom bought this for me,” My step daughter said. “She said you would like it. We shouldn’t be doing this,” she protested.

“Perhaps we should not, but you are enjoying it,” I said feeling one of her nipples underneath the sheer triangle that covered it. “Your nipple is hard with excitement.”

“I wish I was not enjoying it,” she whimpered, as I gently removed her bikini top.

“I am glad you are. I certainly am.”

I held her shoulders tightly enough with my hands so that she could not get away, and straightened my arms to admire her breasts. She blushed, and looked down at the floor. “Well, look at what we have here,” I said. “Two large, erect nipples sticking out straight and pointing to me, surrounded by perfectly round areolas the size of silver dollars. You really are a prize,” I said kissing each of her nipples.

“I have tried to be a good girl,” she said, crying softly as I removed her bikini bottom. Because her bikini bottom barely covered her vulva she had shaved it smoothly, like my wife did. I held her firmly with my left arm, and put the middle index finger of my right hand inside her slit, gently running it along the opening of her vagina.

“And you’ve succeeded,” I said, with a comforting tone of voice. “You are intact, like your mother said you are. You are also wet. That means that you are as excited as I am.”

She was willing, but not yet ready, so I suggested, “Let’s sit down and talk.” She nodded. I sat in a chair, and put this delightful female on my lap, holding her gently. She looked down, obviously not used to this.

“We won’t make love, unless you ask me to.”

She breathed deeply with relief, “Thank you.”

“You don’t seem to know how beautiful you are,” I told her. “Your face projects innocence and naiveté. You are shy and introverted. Your mother told me you have never been on a date. I am sure many boys wanted to ask you out, but you didn’t encourage them.” I kissed her lips. “That is probably the first time you have been kissed.”

“It was.”

I felt entitled to this. When my step daughter’s father died, her mother was unemployed. They were destitute. I paid for the funeral of her father, married her mother, paid off their debts, and brought them to live in my elegant colonial home. Then I helped my wife find a well paying job in her field. I also felt morally conflicted. I did not want to make love to my step daughter unless she really wanted it, unless she enjoyed it, and unless it became a cherished memory for her.

“With my income you will not need to take a student loan to go to college.” I told her before running my tongue around one of her nipples, and blowing gently on it. “Does this feel good?”

“You know it does.”

I began to slowly massage her clitoris. She said, “This feels wonderful. Keep doing it.”

I continued until she responded almost violently to a clitoral orgasm. She pulled my hand away. “That’s enough,” she said. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I wanted this to be wonderful and it is.”

“Let’s go to the sofa.”

“OK.”

I sat on the middle of the sofa, and had my step daughter lie on my lap, facing me. I spread her labia and began blowing gently on her well moistened hymen. When I looked at her face, it wore an expression of rapturous delight. Finally she said, “I am ready. Let’s do it.”

When my step daughter passed the age of consent two weeks earlier I gave her a gold necklace and took her to an elegant restaurant to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. Now she had consented to give me the most precious thing a girl can give to a man. I wondered if we should be doing this, but I was too aroused to be much of a moralist.

We got up. As we walked to the master bedroom I stopped at one of the bathrooms to get a towel to take her virginal blood and my semen leaking out of her vagina.

When we entered the master book room she stood on one side of the bed, and I stood on the other, spreading the towel on the bed. “This will hurt for a few seconds, and you will bleed,” I told her. “Before we do it, hold your hands behind your back. I want to admire you.”