We rode into Warm Waters State Park just after noon on a bright, clear Thursday. My daughter and I were headed for a favorite swimming hole. It was a school day but it was Choral’s birthday wish and she waited two months for the right weather to convince me to let her take the day off from lessons to go on a picnic in her favorite park. It was an easy decision; the late spring day was bright and warm, perfect for the motorcycle. Patsy, my wife, was too tied up with a big-dollar donor to join us but she was in full agreement with what our daughter and I were doing that day. When we came into the parking lot at the small lake there was just one other vehicle parked, an Indian Scout motorcycle which meant there would be plenty of free space and quiet at the warm springs. Perfect, it looked to be a good day for daddy and daughter bonding. I parked my Road King next to the Scout.

When we stepped off the trail to the lake, we saw who came on the other bike. Choral chirped a happy laugh then took off running to the pair who were sitting on a blanket next to the water, “Wanda! Wanda, what the fuck are you doing here?” The girl she was talking to stood then bolted a short distance then the two threw their arms around each other in a happy hug. Choral turned to me, “Daddy, this is Wanda, she goes to my school, we have three classes together; she is almost my best friend.”

“Almost?”

“She would be my best friend if she didn’t live so far away.” She focused on Wanda, “Are you skipping school too? Who are you with?”

Wanda stepped away from Choral, “Choral, this is my dad, daddy, this is Choral and ---,” she looked at me.

As I admired the girl, appreciating her pretty face, amber eyes, windblown red hair, and very alluring body, I offered my hand to him, “Mike, her father.”

He took my hand, “Jeffery, or Jeff; this one’s father.” Just as soon as introductions were done, the girls got excited to go play in the stream. Wanda was ready, she wore a red two-piece swimsuit, it wasn’t a bikini, but still allowed an intimate view of her ripe young woman’s features. Choral stood nearby and stripped her boots, dropped her jeans then ripped her camo sweatshirt off. In just moments after we arrived my daughter was wearing just her two-piece swimsuit and running for the water. As the girls bolted for the pool, I knew without a doubt, that if I were eighteen, I would have had a fucking hard-on already. Jeff and I watched them until they were wet then he invited me to sit with him. I pulled a beer out of my six-pack cooler, looked at him and he nodded. We sat back and watched our daughters playing in the clear warm water, sipped Yuengling and got acquainted.

We talked and I quickly learned that he too was skipping work to spend a day with his daughter, and he was 98% sure that our meeting in the park was prearranged, but not by us. He had a point, the happenstance meeting seemed too convenient. Anyway, Jeff was a widower; his wife, Wanda’s mother died the previous year. He used to have a Harley but switched to the Indian a few months earlier. My wife wasn’t dead, but as the close confidant and Chief of Staff for a well-known political figure, she stayed very busy, often out of the house for days at a time while Choral and I lived as if alone in the world too. I missed my wife more than I didn’t miss her.

Wanda and Choral were splashing, laughing, and having fun when Jeff suggested we take a walk. We took the hiking trail along the river and as soon as we got out of sight of the girls he asked, “You smoke pot?”

Oh, hell yeah, “Are you offering?” He pulled a tin out of his pocket, brought out a big hand-rolled, and offered me the first hit. I lit the joint then Jeff and I began to get more acquainted. We walked the back trails for over an hour, talking, and learning who we were, and by the time we’d finished two good joints, Jeff and I were bonding. We had a lot in common and at the end of the trail had agreed to a ride together to Daytona Bike Fest. As we approached the springs, we heard the peal of the girls laughing, they were still at the pond. They came into sight when we stepped around a large tree; they were sitting side by side, waist-deep in the water; both were nude. I started to say something but Jeff put a hand on my arm getting my attention, “Don’t, not yet, let’s see what they are doing.”

I was stoned and the sight of the two sixteen-year-olds delighted my eyes, and even though one was my daughter, I stepped back then Jeff and I watched the alluring water nymphs talk and play. It didn’t bother me one bit that he was eyeballing Choral, at that moment she wasn’t my daughter, she was female. However, I did focus more on Wanda than Choral, I suppose because it’s natural, she wasn’t related. I assumed he was fixated on my girl, but that didn’t raise any daddy concerns just then, the scene was too intriguing to let minor details like kinship be a bother.

Jeff and I stood behind the big Live Oak and watched them for a minute or so then we had to announce our presence. We stepped into view as if we had just arrived then Jeff yelled at them, “Hey girls, you better get some fucking clothes on.” They spun their heads to see us then Wanda shrieked with embarrassment while Choral grabbed her swimsuit. We two stood quiet while they turned their backs to us and slipped into something less transparent than thin air. The shock of being caught nude quickly faded and the girls asked us where we’d been then announced they were hungry. “Okay,” said Jeff, “Get your clothes on then we can go to that diner on 41, they serve excellent burgers.” Squeals of delight followed the girls into the bushes where they managed to put on their street clothes without being a public spectacle. 90 minutes later, after an afternoon lunch, we mounted the bikes and rode home, Jeff and Wanda followed us to our place then after a few minutes of saying goodbye and making plans for another ride, they left for home.

Later that night while Choral was telling her mother about about the day, I stepped into my backyard and sipped a couple of tokes off a bong and recalled from my memories the images of Wanda nude. It didn’t take long before my naked daughter was standing next to her friend and I was enjoying the images of both. Just as I was ready to return to the house my daughter came out to join me, she took the bong from my fingers then puffed it dead. Choral was allowed to share weed with Patsy and me since her mother caught her with a small pipe a few months earlier. Even though marijuana is legal as a recreational drug where we live, we had to be real fucking careful about when and where we smoked, if the public found out that we allowed our underaged daughter to get high with us, my wife’s career with her politician could be jeopardized, “Where is your mom?”

“She’s on the computer putting out some fire for Willis.” Willis was her political boss. My daughter and I stood under the Milky Way and she began to talk, “I like Wanda, what do you think of her dad?”

“I think your accidental meeting with Wanda wasn’t very accidental, Jeff suspects too.” I smiled down at her, “We have a lot in common, we might get along as well as you do with her.” I had to ask, “Whatever possessed you to strip naked in the springs today, that place isn’t exactly private.”

“We could see the parking lot, if someone had come in we would have seen and put our suits back on.”

“But Jeff and I were wandering around, didn’t you think of that?”

My daughter looked at me and grinned, “Come on Dad, you’ve seen me naked before and it doesn’t bother me. Wanda and I talked about if you two would see us but since you’re our daddies, it didn’t matter.”

“Jeff is not your daddy.”

“Then I bet he enjoyed the view for a few moments, didn’t you?”

Her comment caused me to pause, who the hell is this girl? “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you better go to bed.”

Choral kissed me on the cheek, “Nite Daddy, I like days on the bike, someday I want one of my own, love you,” then slipped back into the house leaving me alone with new and disturbing thoughts about my daughter. That night I told Patsy my version of our day; most of the day, I left out the part where the two teens were displaying for nature and their fathers.

In the next five weeks Jeff and I took road trips on the bikes, the first we rode with two of his friends, then the second time our daughters rode with us as I led him on a favorite sightseeing ride along a long mountain road. Our next trip would be Daytona Beach and Choral had been bugging the crap out of me to convince Jeff to take Wanda and her on the trip. We fathers gave in and rented an overpriced Airbnb on the beach so the girls could soak up a spring break lifestyle while Jeff and I killed the days doing bike fest stuff. Patsy was on the campaign trail with Willis and while they would be in Daytona for a quick handshake stop, she didn’t expect to see us, or be home for days.

It was a six-hour ride to Daytona so we left early on a Friday morning, school was out for Spring Break so the girls didn’t have to skip. When she came from her room my daughter caused me to stutter stare at her, she was dressed for the ride in the best biker fashion. Choral is a tad over 5’7 and weighs in around 115 with a 36” bust and a pencil thin waist that flared into a tight pear-shaped ass. She wore faded stonewashed denim jeans that must have taken her fifteen minutes to squeeze into and a burnt red t-shirt that announced she had been to a Taylor Swift concert in 2023, under a white denim jacket. The jacket was decorated with a she-devil stitched on the back with red thread. The 12-inch Jessica Rabbit shaped image was naked and holding a trident with three cock shaped tines. Choral accessorized with black titanium 1-inch hoop earrings, a double-strand black woven choker, and just the right amount of makeup. My daughter was more appealing to the man within than the day I saw her naked in the springs. “Jesus girl, you look fucking hot, and that bitch on your back is very suggestive; are you advertising?”

My daughter didn’t look upset or get defensive because of my salacious assessment, “No, but I’m not going to wear school clothes this weekend.” She picked up her backpack, “Let’s go, I want to see how Wanda made up, we agreed to wear spring break-type stuff.” If I had any objections to how she was dressed, I got the impression she didn’t care. When Choral got up that morning she was a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl, when she walked out the door ahead of me, she was a twenty-six-year-old female marketing her willingness to continue the species.

When we arrived at the café for breakfast with Jeff and Wanda, my breath caught in my throat for a few seconds. Choral’s friend was more alluring than even my daughter. She too wore sprayed-on denim pants, black, with rips across the left thigh and a tattered hole just below her right butt cheek, allowing a peek at smooth, creamy skin under the bulge of the smartphone in an ass pocket. She wore an open-collar button blouse that exposed the straps of a black bra and enough cleavage to attract attention. Her dark mahogany hair was pulled into a ponytail and she wore a silver and onyx necklace which complimented a set of 2-inch twisted hoop earrings. Trendy sunglasses hid her amber eyes and a sleeveless black leather windbreaker finished the ensemble. The man within reacted strongly to the young woman displaying everything she had to display. I didn’t comment on her fashion statement but I did notice Jeff mentally drooling over my daughter much as I was doing for his.

We rode for three hours then stopped for a break at a freeway rest stop. The girls wandered away to the end of a walkway while Jeff and I went to empty our bladders. After a twenty-minute break we readied to leave when Wanda approached me, “Can I ride with you, I’m tired of looking at Dad’s back.”

“Sure, if he doesn’t mind.”

“He doesn’t, he already agreed and Choral wants to ride with him.” The girl was standing close enough that I caught the scent of marijuana. I turned to my daughter, “Did you two puff some pot?”

Jeff heard my question and turned to face the pair when Choral admitted, “Yeah, we burned a joint, it will be a more fun ride now, you want some too?”

“No, not while I’m riding. We can wait until we get there.” I turned to Wanda, “Let’s go.”

The next three hours on the road I was distracted by the young woman leaning on my back. She would sit straight for a few miles then rest forward and wrap her arms around my stomach closer to my crotch than my chest with her tits burning holes in my back. A couple of times I was tempted to push her hands lower, something my wife was fond of doing, but I managed to keep myself under control.

It was late afternoon when we settled into the weekend rental near the beach. The first thing we did was go out for dinner. Since the entire patio of the restaurant was enveloped in a cloud of pot smoke, we felt secure burning one so Jeff pulled out a big blunt. We dads ordered ribs, the girls chose wings then we finished the large joint while we waited to be served. That was the first time I smoked pot with Choral in front of our friends, but Jeff and Wanda puffed away as if they’d done it before so we were comfortable getting high together. Dinner was an enjoyable hour of banter, laughter, and plans for the next day. Back in the rooms, the girls begged eagerly to go to the beach and do a little moonlight swimming. Jeff and I were easily swayed so they changed quickly into swimsuits. I was expecting to see the same swimwear they wore in the springs but when they came into the front room carrying towels, I was fucking near speechless because of the very scant mini-kinis they wore. Both wore suits that were no more than three small triangle patches of poly-something material held together by thin straps. It was obvious they had to trim a lot, or shave completely. It was Jeff’s turn to make a shocked comment, “Holy fuck girls, why don’t you just go naked, you could have saved the cost of those?”

Wanda answered him, “Come on Dad, you know damn well that subtle hints are more intriguing than total declaration.” I looked at how the thong strap disappeared between the cheeks of her butt and agreed with her.

He replied, “Those suits are not subtle at all.” Both girls smiled with feminine satisfaction. As we followed our daughters to the beach I had to wonder if they were still pure. They sure as hell were shaped for prime fucking, but had they already? A father’s question, a father’s concern.

Choral and Wanda went straight into the surf while Jeff and I sat on the sand, lit another joint and sipped long necks. After a time of splashing among a throng of beach goers the girls came to us, “Come in the water, it’s nice,” Wanda invited.

I answered the obvious, “We don’t have our suits.”

Wanda took a fresh joint from her father’s stash, lit it off then after she passed it to Choral, responded to me, “So, get naked and come in.”

I didn’t refuse her but did point out the obvious, “This is not a private beach, I’m sure the night patrol would not appreciate two nude middle-aged men frolicking with two fine young women on their beach.” Jeff didn’t say anything about his daughter’s brazen suggestion.

She conceded, “Yeah, I guess you’re right, we’re going back to the cabin.” Choral and Wanda disappeared into their room for the night, I heard the lilt of laughter and subdued conversation for another hour before I crashed.

The next day Jeff and I went to the Daytona racetrack to soak up the atmosphere, we stayed stoned most of the day. I don’t know what the girls were doing but they had phones so if they had a problem or a question they could call. That evening we met up at a restaurant for dinner where we filled the time with conversation and smartphone pictures about what we had done that day. After dinner, it was back to the rooms so they could put on the swimwear and return to the beach. That time Jeff and I put on some trunks to join our daughters. Again, the girls surprised us by wearing what the other had worn the day before, they had swapped the mini beach wear. The change in color and slight change in style, did wonders for my interest in Wanda. The beach was crowded with swarms of spring-breakers, most of whom were high, stoned, or drunk and flaunting their bodies as boldly as Choral and Wanda. My eyes couldn’t move in any direction without being treated to a hot fucking female. There was a crush of jaded bikers, just like me, watching some bikini clad co-eds play a game of beach volleyball.

Our girls came up the beach to pinch a puff from a roach then urged me and Jeff into the surf. When the four of us were knee-deep in the water Wanda splashed her father in the face which started a full-scale water battle, in moments she was trying to drag him under. Wanda alone wasn’t enough to subdue her dad so Choral joined her and the two managed to get Jeff off his feet and under the surf. He came up spitting and coughing then the two turned on me. I got tackled by Wanda while Choral dipped under the surface to capture my legs. I fell forward, across the girl hanging on to my neck and when she hit the sand, I was lying on her tits and Choral was sitting on my ass. As Wanda squirmed under me, I had an intense carnal reaction to her. We popped up for air and the girl looked at me with eyes that were not just full of fun, there were hints of possibilities. I was glad my trunks were loose enough to allow growth. We stayed on the beach for a while longer then returned to the bungalow where we enhanced our mood with another bowl then the girls vanished into the room again. Jeff and I went back out to drink a sweating longneck.

We were stoned, drinking, and enjoying a close comradery. It didn’t take long to start talking about the girls in ways fathers shouldn’t be talking about their daughters. I started it, “Do you think they are active yet?”

“Active?”

“Sexually. Getting screwed.”

Jeff didn’t hesitate, “I don’t know about Choral, but I know for sure Wanda gets some once in a while.”

I turned to face him, “How do you know? Did you catch her or something?”

Jeff looked at me for several seconds, I could see him thinking, he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if he could. “Mike, can I trust you with some shit, I mean real, deep underground shit about that girl?”

“Uh, what, is she like selling it or something?”

He huffed then hesitated, “No, not that, something way more personal.”

I vowed, “Whatever you say I promise I won’t freak out or tear her apart from friendship with Choral, what is she doing?” I was not only curious, I was inwardly begging to hear some salacious details about his beautiful, voluptuous daughter.

He looked around and saw no one near, then back to me, “About a year and a half ago, Wanda’s mother died of an aneurysm, suddenly, there was no warning, no symptoms, just one day she fell asleep while driving to the store. Her car hit another at an intersection and the medics thought she had died of injuries.” He paused to take a deep breath, “It was the autopsy that showed what happened. Wanda took it hard; it was just two days after her birthday and she and her mother were tight, bonded as friends, not just mom and daughter. She wasn’t eating, she lost fifteen pounds in a month. She spent most of her time in her room hating God, the world, and everything she could see or touch. I could barely talk to her about anything without her flying off in fits of depression and grief. After five weeks I had to force her back to school and then only after I persuaded the school to readmit her, they thought she had dropped permanently. I managed to get her into a grief counseling group with me and in a few months, she calmed down and we have become much closer, she has better adapted to life without her mother. But that first year after my wife passed away was almost a death blow to her and our relationship.