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Mf14, fath/dau, inc, cons, 1st, oral

An adolescent daughter's determination. A father's love. Seduced by paradise.


She watched him through adoring eyes of youth, sparkling deep jade eyes. She watched him through eyes of love, true love, a painful, aching desire, intensified by every kind and thoughtful gesture that demonstrated his affection.

She observed him though sparkling jade eyes of knowledge, seeking his approval, eyes that admired his intellect, eyes that observed every detail of how he moved, his fluid grace, his quiet strength, his care for her. She studied him through maturing eyes, eyes that radiated admiration and yearning, love, desire.

She felt him, his presence alone enough to make her chest constrain, a band tightening when he'd look at her just so. She felt the strength of his personality; it stole words from her mind, made her heart pound, need bloom, and mind narrow to just one thing; him. She felt his existence, a physical presence, a planet in her orbit, his gravitational pull drawing her inexorably closer.

She felt the pain of desire, the pain of love, an ache deep inside her, and she didn't know how to express it, or expel it. She felt locked in its vise-like grip, a grip that stole her breath, a power that had stolen her love. She looked at him through sparkling jade eyes of love, wanting to cry, to scream, to grab him, kiss him, oh God, just to hold him and nuzzle close, feel his body against her. The way he stood, the angle of his body, half turned, his intense smile hurting her. If only he . . .

"Kyla?"

"Huh? Sorry, Dad."

"Where were you, honey?" I asked, standing at the front door, leather aviator jacket hanging over my shoulder from a finger. Kyla had walked out of the kitchen and frozen for a moment, almost as if she was gone, her mind taking flight, a startled gazelle. It gave me an opportunity to study her. I was so proud of her, so proud.

I felt the physical manifestation of that pride, something that was happening with greater frequency these days; an iron band tightening around my chest, shortness of breath and a feeling of light-headedness, as if I was mildly intoxicated. Kyla had gone through a metamorphic change over the past three years. Puberty had taken root and flourished as if fed from the fountain of life itself. Her face had changed in small ways, almost indefinable ways, yet gradually beauty had displaced cuteness, cheeks had lost their childish roundness and cheek bones had emerged, her red lips had become more lush, her smile so sweet, suddenly so attractive, elegant refinement just around the corner.

Adolescence had stormed her body, sculpting her; a work of art in progress, and in my eyes, a masterpiece was emerging. Kyla had suddenly grown graceful and slender, willowy and delicate. I could see grace in how she held her hands, adjusted the clothes she wore, touched my forearm when listening to me, and their animated movement that added expression to her conversation. It had visited the shine of youthful health on her mahogany red hair, hair that had lengthened, now layered to her shoulder blades, curls becoming stunning thick waves, endless variants of dark red streaking through her mane, rich colors I spent time admiring.

And, through the eyes of a biased father, Kyla was blossoming into a young lady, her personality gelling and emerging, gentle, considerate, yet fiery and fiercely protective, with traces of childish fun peeking out delightfully. When she looked at me, there was something in her penetrating deep jade-colored eyes that threatened to overwhelm me with pride and tugged at my heart, something in her far-too-intelligent gaze that touched me deep, unsettling me, as if they were sending me a message I was incapable of reading; some secret only she knew, a secret I wanted her to share.

I felt pride as a physical force, weighing heavily in my chest. Just shy of fifteen, Kyla was growing too fast for me.

"Come on," she said, slipping her hand through my bent arm. "Let's go."

Escorting my daughter to the high school baseball game brought me an inordinate amount of pleasure. I'd recommended she have her boyfriend take her, receiving a snort of laughter, "I don't have a boyfriend, Dad." That both pleased and worried me.

I'd suggested she go with her friends and she'd turned to me, smiled enigmatically and said, "You. I want you." It had pleased me no end, unreasonably so. But I had a dark secret, one that had been emerging slowly, linked lock-step to her wondrous pubescence, her adolescent glory, something I'd never been exposed to in my past. I had secretly started wishing.

I had started wishing she'd never get a boyfriend; that no one but me would ever get to comb their fingers through her thick mane of hair, something I found myself occasionally wanting to do. I had started wishing that no boy would get close enough to hold her, to wrap their arms around her and pull her tight. I had started wishing no one would get close enough to even inhale her scent, fruits from shampoo, lemon grass with a hint of jasmine from her perfume, and underlying it all, Kyla, all Kyla. I had started wishing I'd met her when I was sixteen. Like butterfly wings, I'd felt the light brush of envy touch me, a soft whisper in my ear, "she's growing, you'll lose her soon."

I'd been told by friends that raising a daughter on my own would be hell. It seemed those advising me of my pending purgatory were all married, had partners, and had no actual experience raising a child as a single parent. It hadn't been hell; quite the opposite, in fact. I liked Kyla. Sure I loved her. But I actually liked her. And I think she liked me, too. We got on famously, enjoying each other's company, at ease with each other, a companionable relationship. I set the rules, she disobeyed, I complained, she laughed; my chest would constrict. I loved her rather fiercely.

She'd saved me from depression when her mother left us. My total devotion to her, trying so hard to make sure she was okay, make her show me that hurting smile, make her laugh, have fun and enjoy life, had had a reverse effect. She made me smile, made me laugh, and made me have fun. Before I knew it, I was long past depression. Kyla saved me. She filled me. She completed me.

Life was settled, routine established, and rules broken with amazing regularity. And then Kyla turned fourteen.

It could have been transference, my feelings for her mother moving to her, but it didn't feel like it. There was nothing but fatherly love and pride for the first seven years. It was the emergence of blushing puberty, its delicate beauty, the sweet announcement of adolescent maturity, that first made me look at her differently. And it was as I looked at her differently that I noticed her personality, how much I truly liked Kyla. She was my type. I found her enchanting. Like ghostly fingers, I'd felt the tendrils of jealousy touch me deep inside.

"Dad?" she asked, watching her school team at bat, the crack of a ball slapping against ash wood echoing through the still evening air. Parents hooted and hollered, a race started; boy to first base, ball thrown from mid-field. A collective groan announced the result followed by yells, "Next time," "Go team!"

"Hmmm?" I encouraged, brushing away a mosquito that buzzed annoyingly in my face.

"Could we go on a vacation somewhere?" Kyla wanted to go on a trip, have Dad to herself. Summer holiday was three weeks away.

"Sure," I replied automatically. I usually did; agree to whatever Kyla wanted, that is. I had to have a specific reason to say no. I think it might have been a Pavlovian response, something she conditioned in me. The smile she'd give me when I'd agree to something and the look in her intense green eyes was addictive. It was like a drug, pleasure flooding me, a daily fix I craved. "Where? Florida? The Rockies? How about New York? We could take in some shows, see some museums," I suggested.

Kyla slipped her arm through mine and rested her head on my shoulder, the action pleasing me so much, familiar, loving.

"How about Thailand . . . or Fiji."

"Wow, Kyla. You mean a vacation abroad?" We'd never traveled outside the States together.

"Uh-huh. Somewhere we can be lazy, but still see sights," she said, adding, "And warm, Dad. I want to sunbathe, and swim, and eat in restaurants, and get room service, and . . ."

I laughed, reached my arm around her and hugged her to my side. "Sure. I'd love to. You do the research, okay?"

"Thanks!" she exclaimed, smiling, eyes shining, my heart thumping.

Kyla left me at the end of the game, jumping up to go chat with her friends, no doubt telling them she was going abroad over summer. I sat on the raised bench and followed her with my eyes, smiling rather stupidly. The idea of travelling with Kyla was exciting. I thought a vacation with her could be fun.

Every so often Kyla would look over at me, stare into my eyes and smile, making my heart constrict. Yes, I loved my daughter rather fiercely; more so when I noticed some of the boys crowding around her and her friends. I caught myself frowning, my protective nature emerging, and the ghostly fingers of jealousy reached out and touched me again, "she's growing, you're going to lose her soon."




Kyla lay on her bed, knees bent, ankles crossed, feet waving back and forth in the air, laptop open and surfing the internet, her mind conjuring up possibilities. She knew what she wanted. It had to be romantic, warm, beach and sun. She wanted some spot where she and Dad could do lots of things together, or not if they didn't feel like it.

She'd known he would agree. Dad always tried to agree. The way he did, his sexy eyes crinkling when he smiled, would make her heart patter. The past week, with greater frequency, she had found herself looking at his mouth, wondering what it would be like to hold his cheek, feel its roughness in the palm of her hand, look into his eyes and kiss him. The thought made her feel warm and excited. Maybe someday . . .

Oh. Look at that! Mauritius. God, it looked perfect, she thought. She'd suggest it tonight, she decided with a smile. Resting her face on the bed covers, staring at the image of a pristine white Mauritius beach on the laptop, she pictured herself walking on that beach, hand in hand with Dad. She imagined Dad stopping and turning to her, looking at her with that intense look, hazel eyes so sexy. She imagined Dad smile, "I love you so much, Kyla," pull her to him, his hard body against her. She imagined his large warm hands stroking her bare back, slipping down to touch her bikini bottoms, pull her tight to his groin, "Can I kiss you, honey. I've dreamed about it for so long," head bending, sexy mouth descending . . .

On her bed, Kyla unbuttoned her light-blue Capri pants, reaching down. She let her fingers slip over her cotton panties until she was cupping her mound and stroked the outline of her slit slowly, caressing herself, gentle arousal building, heat growing in her pussy, Dad's mouth touching hers. She curled her middle finger, pressing in, tingles starting, clit pulsing gently. Her eyelids closed. She smiled and imagined Dad kissing her, opening her mouth for him, inviting his tongue in. Hips moving gently, she imagined him moan into her mouth, excited by his need, imagined the thrill of feeling his excitement as he became erect against her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. Finger stroking more urgently, hips undulating gently, moisture dampening the gusset of her cotton panties, Kyla imagined breaking the sensual kiss, whispering in his ear, "Will you make love to me, Dad? Would you like to? Please?" Her body shook. Stroking her slit harder, her climax blossomed, pleasure thrumming through her as, in her mind, Dad smiled, "I'd love to, Kyla. I've dreamed of making love with you. I've wanted you for so long." Kyla's face turned into the blanket, she moaned, hips jerking as she drowned in the intense bliss of her orgasm, oh Daddy, I love you so much.

"Move," she said, shoving him gently away from the stove with her hip, hands full of broccoli florets. "So as I was saying, I found the perfect vacation. You'll love it. It's hot and sunny and has these amazing beaches. The water is crystal clear and blue, like really blue, and lots of nice hotels to choose from and sightseeing if you want."

"Okay. So where is this paradise?" I asked, charmed by her enthusiasm.

"Mauritius," she exclaimed.




"Look, Dad," Kyla exclaimed excitedly, leaning back in her airplane seat, pointing out the small oval window, "Look at the color of the water. It's amazing."

I leaned across her, glancing out. Indeed it was. The deep blue Indian Ocean turned to light blue, then turquoise, then almost green as it neared painfully white beaches surrounding a lush tropical paradise. Two islands dotted the ocean, shallows of light blue and green water surrounding them, coral reefs undulating white under the surface.

"It's . . ."

Whatever it was I had planned to say evaporated in an instant. Pulling back from leaning across her I had glanced down. Kyla's cream-colored silk blouse was open at the top, draping slightly and, as I had pulled back, I caught a glimpse of a lacy white bra, swirling patterns with thin lace between, a remarkably sexy bra cupping two perfect, adolescent breasts. I saw them distinctly, petite mounds with the tease of white skin and pink at their tips. It took my breath away it was so unexpectedly sensual, so mature. I became intensely aware of the perfume she was wearing, that lemon grass and jasmine scent, very nice.

Kyla smiled to herself. She'd been planning a little peek all through the long flight, waiting for her opportunity. She'd dressed very carefully for the journey, picking her best lace bra and matching panties, ones that made her feel so sexy and alluring. She'd picked her silk blouse carefully liking the way it draped over her and outlined her small boobs. She especially liked how it would fall open if she moved forward slightly, allowing a sexy peek down the front. With her cream-colored silk blouse, she'd worn a new pair of jeans, ones that fit like a glove and showed off her ass.

Watching Dad glance down her blouse and become speechless pleased her immensely. He'd seen. I'm not a little girl anymore, Dad.

"It's what, Dad? Beautiful?" she asked with an innocent little smile.

"Um . . . Yes. Beautiful, quite . . . amazing," I answered robotically, my mind suddenly full of Kyla.

As our imminent arrival was announced over the PA system, I felt pressure pop in my ears, the plane descending, heard the grind of landing gear lowering and the whine of flaps being extended, and through the seat of my pants, felt the thunk of landing gear locking in place.

"Buckle up, Kyla," I reminded her as she stared out the window, buckling my own seatbelt, watching her hands snap buckles together. Her hands seemed so delicate and slender, nails perfectly manicured, trimmed short. I couldn't resist. Reaching across I took her hand in mine. I loved how she automatically intertwined her fingers with mine. I was very conscious of the fact that the back of my hand was resting in her lap. I liked holding Kyla's hand, really liked it. It didn't feel the same as it had when she was seven, or six. This felt different. It was the way her fingers were interlaced with mine, such a familiar, even an intimate and loving gesture.

Deplaning, warm, tropical, salty air filled my lungs and a peace descended over me. It was almost magical. I felt stress and worry melt away, felt relaxation seep into me. I didn't feel the normal urge to rush through passport control or hustle to collect suitcases, happy to go with the flow. I completely enjoyed holding Kyla's slender hand, leading her through the throngs of people to pick up our rented car. I started to really look forward to the three weeks of vacation we'd booked ourselves. And every time I looked at Kyla, saw her smiling so much, her pretty eyes bright and excited, it made me so happy my heart ached, my pride so great it hurt.

"You were supposed to take a left back there. You're lost, aren't you?" Kyla said firmly with a smile, eyes studying the map on her lap. How could he get lost on an island?

"I'm not lost," I said confidently, "I thought it would be nice to take the scenic route. We are on holiday, Kyla. There's no rush. Look, a palm tree!" I exclaimed, Kyla bursting into laughter.

I was totally lost. I didn't even know which direction was north. We'd booked into a villa at the Sugar Beach Resort on the south west coast, the calmer side of the island. With the sun pretty much overhead, I couldn't even use it to orient myself.

"You're totally lost," Kyla laughed.

"Stop laughing!" I said with indignation. "Anyway," I added, "It's an island. If we follow the coast, sooner or later we'll get to the hotel."

No sooner were those words out of my mouth when the road turned inland. Kyla screamed with laughter in the passenger seat. It made my face hurt I was grinning so hard.

"Go left," Kyla said as we approached an intersection some twenty minutes later.

"No, Kyla. We turned left last time so we need to go right."

"Dad, it's left. Trust me."

"No it isn't. Besides, women have no sense of direction," I advised without thinking. She punched my arm.

"Dad! Really! Okay, go your own way," Kyla said trying to frown, a smile curling instead. She didn't care if Dad got lost. It was vacation time, alone with Dad in paradise, perfect.

As we checked in I was feeling pretty tired from the two and a half hour drive. Kyla politely inquired with the receptionist how long the journey was from the airport.

"Oh, on a busy day it might take as much as thirty-five minutes, ma'am," the pretty receptionist said with a smile, "Traffic is getting worse every year."

Typical, women banding together, I thought. Kyla's elbow in my side made me smile, though. I had goofed up quite badly. When I finally conceded I might be a touch disoriented, Kyla had navigated me effortlessly to the hotel. We had done a lot of sightseeing, I seriously advised Kyla. She just laughed at me. "Nice try, Dad."

The bellhop, a sixteen year old with dark, suntanned skin and brown eyes looking at Kyla with far too much appreciation for my taste, took our luggage and led us in the late afternoon sun to our villa. The hotel reminded me of an old plantation, just larger. Two stories high, it had a balcony running across the full length of the hotel, white metal ironwork and white-painted wood columns separating each room. The main building we were leaving was U-shaped facing a large immaculately manicured green lawn dotted with old, tall palms, and beyond, a white sandy beach.

We followed the bellhop along a packed sand walkway lined on both sides with tall palms, fronds rustling from an early evening breeze coming in off the ocean. Wending our way south of the main building we came to a cluster of small, private villas, each discretely screened from the other by seven-foot tall flowering hedges, bright red blooms spotted here and there.

Kyla's head was rotating left and right, eyes wide as she drank in the sights. I was preoccupied with how spectacular the location was. A warm balmy breeze brought the relaxing scent of salt water, the beach about fifty feet from the villas. I think I was in a fog; relaxed, enchanted by the location, feeling the delicious anticipation of three weeks of paradise ahead. Seeing the way the bellhop kept glancing at Kyla made me mildly angry. I reduced his tip and glared at him, sending an overprotective fatherly message; off limits, kid.

So preoccupied with hustling the bellhop away, it wasn't until he left that I realized we had only one king-sized bed. That must be wrong.

Despite Kyla's sly grin, a surprising little blush, and reassurance it was okay, my urgent call to the front desk confirmed it was what had been booked.

Putting the phone down, I turned to Kyla. "Kyla? Care to explain?" I asked.

"Dad," she said breathlessly, eyes wide, "Look at this." She pointed around the bedroom and out the double glass doors that framed the beach, palm trees and a calm ocean. "They don't have doubles in their villas. But don't worry, I won't attack you," she added with a grin.

What Kyla might do wasn't my primary concern.

The villa was indeed the lap of luxury, and costing us a small fortune. It featured a full sitting room with a small kitchenette discretely hidden behind a chest-high bar, stools in front. The bathroom was all marble and gloss, his and hers sinks, artwork on the walls, a large, deep bathtub big enough for two and a glassed-in shower in the corner, which Kyla advised me had seven showerheads, awe in her voice.

Perhaps the piece-de-resistance was the bedroom. The bed itself was a modern interpretation of a four-poster bed made of deep brown cherry wood, straight, slightly tapered posts in each corner connected across the top with delicate cross beams. The headboard, also dark cherry wood, was simple, almost austere, with fine vertical slats carved in a row across the full width of the bed, four perfectly aligned fluffy pillows resting against it. The mattress was thick, sheet and blanket perfectly made, without a wrinkle. To each side, simple cherry wood side tables supported a glass lamp with a cream lampshade. The crystal glass flowed like water rising from a fountain.

Across from the bed, to the left was a low dresser, LCD TV on top, to the right, a dark cherry wood desk and chair, the back of the chair matching the headboard with vertical slats. Between the desk and the dresser was a wide sliding recessed double door opening to the tastefully decorated sitting room. Walls of light taupe were framed by white sconces and baseboards. Large cream tiles inlaid with brown marble accents covered the floor, cream-colored plush area rugs here and there.

I forgot my concern over only one bed as I absorbed the luxuriousness of our villa. Walking over to the sliding glass double doors, I pulled them open and stepped out onto a private patio, inhaling the smell of paradise deeply. More cherry wood in the form of two chaise lounges with thick cream-colored canvas cushions faced the ocean, a small table between them. Privacy hedges extended outward on the sides, two wooden and canvass umbrellas providing shade. Breathtaking, I decided.

By the time we'd unpacked, it was just past seven. Early. But we were both tired from our sixteen hour journey despite the excitement of being there. I took Kyla's hand as we walked back towards the main hotel for dinner. Somehow, I felt like I used to when on a date, only better. I was holding the hand of someone I cherished. And I absolutely adored how my daughter intertwined her fingers with mine automatically, such an intimate and loving a gesture.

Perhaps, if I hadn't been so enchanted, I'd have recognized the signs. But I didn't. I happily let myself go, let myself relax in paradise, let my daughter charm me with her company, her conversation, and her enthusiasm.

We ate outdoors on the restaurant patio, succulent grilled grouper, fresh vegetables still crisp yet cooked, accompanied by a fine white, Pouilly-Fumé, a seductive Sauvignon Blanc from the Loire Valley, dry, full of smoky flavors; one of my favorites. I let Kyla have a glass, which she sipped once and left alone.

"Dad, I was reading you can go snorkeling in the reefs. Apparently the tropical fish are amazing. Can we go tomorrow? And parasailing, can we try that? Do you think we can rent a boat and explore? Wouldn't it be nice to go all the way around the island? How long would it take, do you think? How come you're not talking?"

I was grinning so hard it hurt my face. "Kyla, honey, we have three weeks. We've only just arrived. Can we have one day to recuperate from the trip before you haul your old man all over the place?" I made no comment about the green beans she'd carefully pushed to the side of her plate; something she'd done since she was four years old. At least she'd eaten the fish.

"Kay. But, can't we try parasailing? They do it right here at the hotel," she advised me, all youthful enthusiasm.

"Okay. You try it. I'm planning on making like a walrus and basking in the sun on the beach, maybe have a drink. Yes, one of those drinks with a little umbrella in it."

I was pleasantly buzzed when dinner finished, relaxed and really feeling like I was on a vacation.

"We should walk on the beach," Kyla insisted as we strolled back towards our villa, tugging my hand and pulling me onto the beach. We took our shoes and, me, my socks off. Walking along the beach in the moonlight with sand squeezing through my toes was remarkably relaxing. Holding Kyla's hand, with the influence of a bottle of white wine shading my perspective, it was startlingly romantic. Mauritius was seductively weaving a spell over me.

But I was tired. I was sound asleep before Kyla finished in the bathroom.

Kyla finished brushing her teeth, rinsing and spitting into the sink. She was still buzzing. It was perfect, just what she wanted. She was on a beach, in a sunny and hot paradise with Dad, and best of all, only one bed! She felt a bit guilty at how she'd deliberately not told Dad about the one bed. But her guilt had been subdued by the idea of sleeping in the same bed as Dad, the temptation too much.

Dad had made dinner perfect for her. She'd loved holding his hand as they walked to the restaurant and interlacing her fingers with his, something that felt so adult, as if they were a couple. At first, when she'd seen the other women in the restaurant, so many really pretty women, she'd been jealous, worried they'd take Dad's attention from her. But Dad had completely ignored them, his sexy warm hazel eyes focused on her. He'd smiled and been so relaxed he'd even allowed her to have a glass of wine, the waiter smiling as he served her. She'd loved how his light brown hair seemed slightly unruly, a rebellious spike here and there, and wished she could comb her fingers through it to try to tame it. And his smiles, that sexy mouth, had been so attractive. Yes, dinner had been perfect.

And then, to top it all off, she'd walked barefoot along the beach, hand in hand in the moonlight, too! So romantic. Just what she'd dreamed of and it was only their first day.

Staring at herself in the large mirror, she studied her face. She thought she still looked too young, even though she'd liked the changes that had arrived with adolescence. But she thought her chin might be a bit too pointy, and she really wanted to shape her eyebrows, they seemed too thick. Kyla grinned when she imagined asking Dad how to make herself prettier. Huh, maybe she would. His answer would be interesting, she thought.

With excitement building, she checked her oversized soft cotton T-shirt, smiling. It was Dad's, too large and smelling of him; musky with remnants of aftershave. On the back it had 'DADD', and below, 'Dads Against Daughters Dating'. It made her smile because he kept getting frowny faces when she talked about boys and boyfriends, reluctantly encouraging her to date. She didn't want to. She wanted Dad; someone charming, mature, and handsome. Someone she knew loved her; someone she loved. She wanted Dad.

Satisfied, pulling her ponytail tighter, she left the bathroom. In the moonlight she saw Dad sleeping on his side, facing away from her side. She sighed, battling tiredness and excitement at the fact she was getting into bed with him. She slipped under the sheet, moving close enough to rest her hand on his side. Tiredness took control, she slept, a smile curling her lips.




Morning light brought brightness to the bedroom, her eyes opening slowly. She'd slept well, deep and refreshing. Yawning, she stretched, legs pushing, toes curling, arms over her head. Then she remembered. She was in bed with Dad! Glancing to her side, the bed was empty, disappointment creeping in. She heard water in the bathroom, sink tap running, Dad brushing his teeth.

Smiling, feeling naughty and a nice stab of excitement, she rolled out from under the sheet. The idea of brushing her teeth in the bathroom with Dad was so intimate, me and Dad, sharing a bathroom.

"Morning," she said casually as she went to the second sink. She ogled him in his boxers. "Nice tush, Dad," she said with a grin. She laughed when he choked on his toothbrush.

"Kyla!"

"Well it is. Sort of compact and sculpted with buttocks that make me want to . . ."

"Kyla!"

Her burst of laughter made me smile. It lit up the bathroom, filling it with unrestrained pleasure. Damn I liked her. I carried that joy with me as I left the bathroom, closing the door behind me to give her some privacy. I was wearing my bathing suit by the time she emerged and started hunting through the dresser. Breakfast was now on my mind.

"Do you want to go to the restaurant for breakfast or get room service?" I asked from the living room, inspecting the room service menu.

"Room service! We've gotta have room service! Where did I put my bikini?"

All thoughts of breakfast and room service seemed to be displaced instantly. "Bikini? You have a bikini?" I asked.

Kyla's face peeked around the door, big smile lighting up my heart. "Of course I do. What? You think I'm gonna wear a one-piece and get a tan?"

"But . . . but . . ."

She disappeared from the doorway, "Don't be a prude! Oh, here it is. Scrambled . . . With toast and OJ, please," she added in a louder voice.

Somewhat robotically I picked up the phone.

"Room service. How can I help you, Mr. Knight?"

"Uh . . . bikini," I blurted, my brain somewhat scrambled.

"Sorry, sir?"

Embarrassed no end, I finally managed to order and plunked myself down in an armchair. Bikini? Kyla?

"Ta Da!"

I felt my jaw drop. Kyla sported a bright yellow bikini, a stringy thing with triangles of yellow cloth, strings tied in a bow on each hip. My daughter had shape; a rather slender and attractive shape, too! Her body tapered into a waist and flared out gently to two boney hip bones, then curved unacceptably to slender thighs and long legs. She had this gap at her crotch that emphasized a yellow-clad mound filling her loins. The small piece of yellow cloth formed tightly around her young pubis which pressed against it unacceptably, as if it was bursting to get out. Glancing up, two yellow triangles covered widely spaced young breasts, still petite breasts that now seemed fuller than I'd imagined, ripe but firm. And the bikini material was so thin I could see the bumps of her nipples! Staring at my daughter, with the exception of three triangles of yellow, it was almost as if she was naked! And God, with mahogany hair tumbling over her shoulders, she was spectacular.

"Jesus, Kyla. You can't go out like that!" I blurted.

"Thanks," she said, smiling with pleasure.

"No. I mean you can't. I mean . . . Look at you! You're . . . You've grown!" I sputtered, feeling like a tongue-tied doofus.

"Nice, huh?"

I crossed my legs, trying to make it look casual. I knew I loved my daughter, and adored her personality. But the sight of her, so sensual, young adolescence so magnificent on her, it generated a physical response I was unable to control. I felt my heart ache and had a desire to grab and hug her. Kyla was dangerously attractive. When the waiter arrived with breakfast I was growling at him from the way he stared at my almost fifteen year old. He didn't seem to care that he'd lost fifty percent of his tip by ogling her. I almost kicked his ass as he left. The impertinence! That's my daughter!

Breakfast distracted me somewhat, enough for the embarrassment in my groin to subside. With Kyla holding my hand, fingers intertwined, she led me to the pristine white sand beach, towels over our shoulders. I was beginning to drown, and not from water over my head.

I wondered if she knew what effect she was having on me and, judging by some of the looks from others on the beach, an equally strong impact on them, too. I found it hard to believe she was ignorant of it, yet she behaved perfectly normally. She was in every way my sweet, lovable Kyla, seemingly innocent, coltish, and exuding youthful enthusiasm.

Kyla smiled to herself as she led Dad to the beach, sand hot even early in the morning. She saw some of the other guys on the beach look her way with interest, and almost giggled aloud when Dad muttered something about killing them for looking at her and "Where did you get such a damned sexy bikini?" She loved it. He'd been so stunned by her bikini, visibly stunned. That had been fun. His sexy hazel eyes had stared, but not just at her bikini. They'd gone from her feet to her head, pausing at her bikini bottoms and at her bikini top. It had made her flush with heat.

Best of all was seeing him blush slightly and cross his legs. Maybe he got an erection and tried to hide it. How exciting! All-in-all she was really pleased; until they started sunbathing, that is.

"Dad, stop smiling back at them! It only encourages them, for goodness sake," Kyla said heatedly. She was pissed, pissed! Those big-boobed, bikini-clad women all seemed to flock to him and give Dad sexy come-on smiles as they stared down at him. One even had the nerve to tell him, "Your little girl is quite lovely," the bitch!

Kyla felt herself getting progressively more angry, and that wasn't what she'd come to the beach for. Finally, she'd had enough. Standing, she brushed off sand absentmindedly and reached for Dad's hand. "Come. We're going swimming. Right now," she ordered.

I was having a riot of a time. At first I hadn't noticed Kyla's reaction to the nice ladies that smiled at me as they walked by or stopped to introduce themselves. I'd just been admiring them as they strolled, loving how soft yielding sand made their bodies move with interesting exaggerated hip sways. But, after the third or fourth said hello, I noticed clouds gathering on Kyla's face. At first concerned she wasn't having fun, or something was wrong, I quickly understood why, a frown developing with each visit, eye's spitting green fire at the lady who called her a little girl.

My daughter was jealous! How wonderful that felt. It made my heart sing. I liked it so much I started smiling at passing women just to experience Kyla's jealousy. I grinned when she complained, but my heart swelled, heavy in my chest. And, when she turned those intense jade eyes on me, aflame with anger and indignation, eyebrows narrowed in disapproval on her beautiful face, I simply fell in love. I drowned in her eyes, felt myself consumed by them. I fell in love; head-over-heels.

It had been building, small things that had bothered me, the little attentions others paid to Kyla annoying me. I realized when I saw her in the bikini at the villa; it wasn't just shock that my little girl was, in fact, a young lady, but jealousy that had made me react, jealous someone else might see her like that, all on display for their pleasure. I didn't want to share. The final straw was her scolding me for smiling at those women. I fell in love, something I'd only experienced once before.

I let Kyla pull me up by the hand, somewhat bemused by the realization I loved her, my fourteen year old daughter. Lordy I was in trouble.

Following her shapely, compact little bum to the ocean brought on a physical appreciation for how her small, sensual buttocks moved so seductively, only partially covered by a triangle of yellow cloth. I was fascinated by the sexy crease where small buttocks met slender thighs. The movement of her petite bottom was hypnotic. I started wondering what the bikini lodged between her buttocks would look like. Before she could notice my condition, I dropped her hand and ran into the ocean, diving into the salty water, coolness bathing my heated body and mind.

Somehow I managed to survive. We frolicked in the ocean, swam, raced each other, splashed, and eventually, tired, Kyla clung to me as we bobbed in the gentle swells. I was intensely happy.

"How about some lunch?" I suggested, kissing her cheek before heading in. I loved the slight flush in her cheeks, jade eyes sparkling. Kyla was a gorgeous girl. Following her up the beach, I couldn't help but stare at the way her wet bikini outlined her small buttocks, emphasizing the valley between. I ogled her bum until it disappeared under a T-shirt; my T-shirt. I liked that she was wearing my clothes, too. I was a bit besotted by Kyla, and it felt good; dangerous but very good.

As the days passed, Kyla felt the draw, a magnetic attraction that made her heart pound. She felt the power of his personality filling her world, his hazel eyes gazing at her with a new intensity, love and appreciation. She felt herself drown in his loving attention. Her eyes were drawn to him wherever he was, her mind on him whenever he was out of sight. Despite her laughter and her smiles, she started hurting inside again. She so desperately wanted him. And, while coming to the resort was great, by late afternoon on the third day she was beginning to wonder if it might have been a mistake. She hadn't expected to hurt. But she did, her love and desire a pain felt deep inside her. At home she could hide. Here she couldn't. God, but she wanted him so badly.

"Kyla!" I yelled from the patio, stretched out on the chaise lounge, the last of the sun casting weak rays of warmth as it headed towards the horizon. I took a sip of ice-cold Phoenix beer. "Kyla?"

"Dad, there's no need to yell. I was in the bathroom. What is it?"

I looked over my shoulder and grinned. "Tonight we shall dress up and go have a lavish dinner. How does that sound?"

"Formal?" she asked, eyes widening. Very pretty, I thought.

"Yup. I wish to take my beautiful lady out and show her off to the world. Do you think you could, like, dress up or something? No jeans? Make yourself pretty?" I asked, grinning. The play of emotions was fascinating; a big smile of enthusiasm that hurt me, fading to a soft smile of coyness, jade eyes glinting, then a false frown making her lips pout seductively, an expression of false disappointment.

"You mean you don't think I'm pretty enough unless I dress up, Daddy?"

"Damn right that's what I mean. So. Can you? Or should we just eat in?"

With a toss of thick mahogany hair, she turned and left, lovely little bum twitching in indignation as she walked back into the villa. "I'll see what I can find," she advised me without looking back.

I was slipping on a dress shirt while sliding my feet into black Italian loafers when Kyla walked out of the bathroom.

It was like I'd been hit with a Taser, the electric shock paralyzing me. I became hyper-aware. I felt blood flow forcefully, my penis thickening and lengthening as an erection formed. I felt every beat of my heart thumping in my constricted chest, heard my breath hiss in and out of my lungs. I was locked onto the sight of Kyla.

She'd arranged her hair in a French braid that pulled it back from her face and fell in a thick mahogany rope down her back. But, God. Kyla came out of the bathroom in skimpy white lace panties and bra. It was so lacy I immediately noticed areolae on firm sensuous yet small breasts, fully formed, gravity-defying, intensely erotic, and delightfully petite. I then noticed how seductively the panties formed to her young pubis. My eyes bore into her with a laser-like focus and, mother of God, I saw my daughter's pubic hair; a hint of dark mahogany behind lace, so soft looking.

It took a superhuman effort to turn my back to her as she slipped pantyhose over her foot, the knee lift as she reached down making her pubis mound out and the satiny double gusset hug her vulva. I felt sweat at my temples as I buttoned my shirt, and it had nothing to do with the temperature. I heard every motion behind me, Kyla dressing; the slinkiness of her pantyhose, a swish of her dress, a zip sounding unnaturally loud. My heart was thumping and I had a driving urge to take her in my arms, hold her tight and . . .

"Ready."

Bracing myself, I turned. It didn't help. Breath whooshed from me. "Jesus, Kyla," I managed. She was stunning, edibly stunning. Pantyhose made her legs look longer and tanned. Simple black shoes with a slight heel suddenly gave her height, making her appear even more willowy, a gazelle. The mid-thigh blue dress seemed to hug her body, emphasizing seductive, adolescent curves; a slender flare of hips, petite mounded breasts. She'd put on just a hint of eye makeup that made her jade eyes glow. My daughter was gorgeous. My daughter was dangerously attractive. I felt the tug. I was stunned. And I was immediately, immediately jealous of anyone else seeing her.

She laughed. "Is that a good 'Jesus', or a bad 'Jesus'?"

"Um . . . Good I guess. I'm going to have my work cut out keeping guys away from you," I advised, completely truthfully. No one was getting within ten feet of her if I could help it.

"What if I want someone near me?" she asked coyly, reaching for my hand, fingers slipping between mine as she led me out of the villa.

"I don't care. I won't let them," I replied with unusual firmness.

She turned her face up to me, smiled softly, spoke quietly, "Even if it's you?"

My heart jumped in my chest. I could feel my self-control slipping, the assault of her attractiveness an almost physical feeling.

The maître d' completely ignored me. It was as if I didn't exist. He was all smiles at Kyla, bowing, telling her how stunning and lovely she looked as he consulted his table plan.

"We must give the lady the best table in the house. Would you like to dine inside or out? Perhaps, if I might suggest, a table at the open patio doors? A bit of both that way." With a final look at the table plan, his arm stretched out, "This way, please," he motioned and led Kyla away, wending through white cloth-covered tables and around potted fronds. He completely ignored me. I was tempted to remind him it was a table for two.

Kyla's face glowed with pleasure as she followed the maître d'. I saw heads turn slightly, other diners noticing Kyla. It was hard not to; she was at that perfect age, sweet innocence offset by the attractiveness of adolescence, a developing sensuality; a beautiful girl on the cusp of becoming a woman. The maître d' pulled her chair out for her before I could, deliberately I was sure. Despite the table being perfectly located, I was beginning to dislike him for some reason.

And then the staff poured attention on her, hovering in case she wanted anything, waiting for her smiles, behaving like bloody puppies in love. I had to repeatedly ask for things until I wised-up. Realizing the mystical sway Kyla had over the waiters, I started asking her for whatever I wanted and, lo-and-behold, it would appear with alacrity.

I actually enjoyed watching her order a bottle of Amarone della Valpolicella, a rich Italian dry red wine crafted from partially dried grapes that gave it an intense body; one of the three greatest Italian wines. I really, really enjoyed watching the sommelier uncork the bottle and decant it with much fanfare after offering her the first sip for approval. Kyla smiled and nodded after taking a sip. I was smitten, completely, totally.

Dinner was so damned romantic. It felt like a magical charm over us; soft candle light, sumptuous food, delectable wine that Kyla actually liked, a gentle salty ocean breeze, and at some point in the evening, piano music started. I was charmed, enchanted by a gorgeous nymphet.

"Would you like to dance?" I asked, seeing other couples dancing on the patio, her smile of pleasure making my heart ache.

Kyla was slender, willowy and graceful in my arms, moving with me, light on her feet, her perfume gently seducing me. She felt so good as I held her I quite forgot she was my daughter, that she was only fourteen. I lost myself in her arms. And then I reacted to her closeness, too, flushing in embarrassment.

"No. Don't," she said, pulling me back against her.

"But, Kyla . . ."

"Shhhh. I like it. I like knowing you find me attractive that way," she said softly, looking up into my eyes. "It makes me feel good, sexy."

A whiff of jasmine and lemon grass perfume tickled my senses as Kyla's cheek returned to my chest. I let myself go and indulged in the sensuousness of dancing slowly with her in my arms. I let myself go and luxuriated in the feeling of my daughter pressing her slender body to my erection. I let myself go, let my heart swell, let it race as love suffused me, accepting the ache it caused, excited, feeling like a teenager dancing with a girl for the first time.

I held my slender daughter closer, tighter, enjoying feeling her body pressed to me. When the song ended Kyla turned her face up, sparkling jade shining with love and excitement, and I couldn't resist, the pull of her sexy eyes too strong. I bent and kissed the corner of her mouth softly, softly. It was the sexiest thing I'd ever done, bar none. The radiant smile that broke out on my daughter's face was all I saw. I was completely gone.

After dessert and coffee, we danced again, my reaction the same, Kyla pressing herself to me. We danced slowly, I drowned. I lost myself in her. It was impossible not to.

Kyla took my hand, smiling shyly. "Come on, Dad. Let's go back to the villa," she suggested when the music finally ended, pupils dilated with pleasure.

"No." Her look of surprise amused me. "I want to walk on the beach with you," I said.

We walked slowly, bare foot, shoes in one hand and holding each other's hand. Kyla had reached under her dress and wiggled out of her pantyhose, a remarkably sensual movement I thoroughly appreciated. Small, calm waves curled and slapped onto the sand, rushing at us with a hiss, swirling coolly around our feet, sand yielding. Water tugged at our feet as it rushed back, as if it was trying to draw us in for a swim. Bright moonlight lit the beach, made the ocean inky black, and glittered off the waves. A gentle breeze, almost unfelt, carried the scent of brine.

I was remarkably happy. I was holding the hand of an angel walking at my side, a slender girl glowing with happiness, green eyes adoring, my daughter, Kyla.

"It's so pretty," Kyla said with a sigh, resting her face on Dad's arm. She was still in wonderland, feeling a slight buzz from two glasses of wine that was surprisingly good, a delicious dinner, and Dad's attention. She was still dancing with him, could still feel the dampness in her panties. She knew with absolute certainty she was going to make love with Dad tonight, she was going to kiss him, snuggle, and have sex. She knew it the moment she'd felt his erection as they danced, an immediate storm of arousal and excitement had hit her. Daddy's turned on by me!

When he'd tried to pull back, she'd tugged him close. He wasn't getting away, he wasn't. She liked feeling his erection pressed against her. She loved knowing he found her sexually desirable. It had worried her that he might not. But he did!

His arms around her had felt perfect, hands gently caressing her back felt perfect. But, when he bent and kissed her on the edge of her mouth, oh . . . pure heaven. Yes, she was going to make love with Dad tonight. She'd dreamed of this.

Stopping, the sound of waves gently thumping onto the beach, rushing in, hissing out, moonlight making the deserted beach glow, Kyla looked up at Dad. "Will you kiss me again, Dad. Please?"

I looked down at a face shining with love and desire, jade eyes bright with expectation. My hand cupped her sweet face, thumb caressing her cheek. I didn't have to ask if she was sure, it was there in her eyes. I didn't have to tell her how I felt, she knew. She'd felt my reaction to her, and seen adoration in my eyes. The gentle mist of love and desire settled over me. I welcomed it, bent watching my daughter's face, staring into loving eyes. My lips touched hers and Kyla melted against me, arms circling my neck, body arched against me. I watched her eyelids close as her lips parted and felt the tip of her tongue touch me. I drowned; paradise found in the loving kiss of a daughter.

"Nice," she whispered. "Again?" she asked, her arms around my neck tugging. I bent and kissed her sexy mouth, played with her tongue, and became hard, rigid, a full erection straining the front of my pants, our kiss suddenly becoming passionate, urgent, Kyla pressing her pelvis against me. It left me breathless when it ended.

"Dad . . . Can we . . . Can we make love? Please? Would you like to?" she asked, amazing me with a shy smile.

The ground fell away from me, silence stormed in, my heart thumping as if I was having a heart attack, aching, hurting. Jesus I wanted to. The sight of hesitancy in her beautiful face, the significance of what she'd asked, what it must have taken for her to ask, was so arousing. I dived in.

"Kyla, I'd love to. You're sure that's what you want?" I knew it was what I wanted without question, but I worried that it might be the effect of wine, a romantic dinner and dancing together that made Kyla want to. I desperately hoped not. God I wanted to make love with my Kyla.

She graced me with an angelic smile, pulled my head down, put her lips to my ear and whispered, "I've dreamed of making love with you, Dad." She pulled back slightly to look into my eyes, showing a maturity I hadn't noticed before. "Can I tell you a secret? I planned it. That's what this vacation is all about."

My resistance, what little of it I had, melted away. I'd felt my attraction to her, felt jealousy, felt protective of her way beyond the bounds of a father. I'd fallen in love with my daughter and, no matter how wrong by society norms, I wanted her so much I was in physical pain.

"Can I tell you a secret?" I asked with a smile. Bending, I whispered in her ear, "I love you, Kyla. You're everything I want."

Unshed tears gathered in exotic jade eyes, a beatific smile emerging. She grabbed my hand and tugged, "Come on. Hurry."

Kyla led me to our villa, pulling me with urgency. Like a lamb, I let her lead, and somewhere on the beach, a father was left behind reeling, wondering what had happened.

Kyla was shaking with excitement, her heart pounding. Dad loved her! He wanted her and he loved her! She tugged his hand, feeling an urgent need inside her, an ache deep inside. She wanted him badly, her panties moist with arousal. And she knew exactly what she wanted. She was going to make love to Dad the way she'd dreamed of, like a woman, be his lover, and satisfy him completely.

She was going to make him feel so good he'd never look at another woman, ever. If Dad was going to be hers, she was going to have to satisfy him sexually, make it good for him, and she knew how; she'd done her homework. She knew what men wanted. Excitement thrummed through her body.

Kyla led me into our bedroom, the moonlight so bright it was almost as if we had lights on. She turned to me, face glowing, smiling. I felt my heart beating hard in my chest.

"Dad," she said softly, "Undress me, please."

Kyla stood so still in front of me, her request so simple. Yet fire burned through me, hands trembled at the prospect of seeing my daughter naked, seeing the glory of pubescence on her young body. Fire made my heart pound loudly in my ears, made my vision narrow to Kyla, just Kyla, my Kyla. I moved towards her, staring at her face, the excitement, the trust, and love shining brightly. God I wanted her.

Carefully reaching behind her, I found the zipper and lowered it to her lower back, the rasping sound echoing in the room. Trembling hands touched her shoulders.

Kyla's hands rose to cover mine. "It's okay. It's what I want," an angel assured me, jade eyes burning into me. She took my hands and guided them down to the hem of her dress, waited until I gripped the hem and raised her arms above her head. "Go on. I want you to see."

My eyes dropped. Slender thighs appeared, a gap separating them, my heart pounding. The gusset of her panties, full and forming to her vulva, appeared, my erection throbbing. I inhaled shakily when delicate lace appeared, hugging Kyla's plump pussy, and God, behind the lacy front, the shadow of mahogany pubic hair. "Kyla," I managed so say.

"Go on, Dad. All the way."

I tore my eyes from her panties, so sexy, and looked into eyes that burned with arousal, eyes that sent chills through me. I lifted the dress over her head, up her raised arms and let it fall to the floor, my sight dropping to her lacy bra. "Beautiful," I whispered breathlessly as I drank in the sight of two perfect adolescent breasts cosseted in lace, pink areolae clearly visible, two small nipples. My erection pulsed and started leaking.

"Take it off," she said softly as her arms came down, her hands guiding mine to the front between her seductive little breasts. "I want to feel you touch me," she whispered.

I was shaking as I fumbled with a tiny clasp. God, I was about to see my child's breasts. The clasp snapped loudly, slipped out of my fingers and her bra fell to the sides. Like a dope, I stood paralyzed; staring at her gorgeous petite breasts topped by pink, crinkled areolae, nipples two small beads. Utter perfection, young, adolescent, firm, and sexy as hell.

Kyla took my hands, "Feel them," she said softly, guiding my trembling hands to her breasts. "Do you like?"

"Oh God, Kyla," I answered, feeling firm young breasts, upright and resilient, so petite in my hands. Jesus, I was feeling my daughter's breasts! "So beautiful," I managed to whisper in awe, letting my thumb gently scrape over her nipples. I felt her tremble as I caressed her perfect breasts. Looking at her, I saw her staring at my hands, intently watching her father fondle her. She looked up at me as if she could feel my gaze, smiled so sweetly it made my heart ache.

"Now my panties," she said softly, her hands taking my wrists and guiding me. My palms slid down her sides, followed the inward taper to her slender waist, and the sexy, sexy gentle flare of youthful hips. The edge of her panties slipped under my hands, my fingers resting on her small buttocks. Her panties were satiny, pure white, petite and sexy. Holding Kyla like that made her feel so much more delicate, so slender, so young, so, so desirable.

I knelt. Holding her hips, I pulled her towards me and kissed her soft tummy then kissed her pussy through her lace panties, smelling the musk of my daughter's arousal, sexy, delectable. It excited me even more; my little girl was aroused, horny. My heart rate accelerated, precum uncomfortably dampening my underwear. I curled my fingers into the elastic waist and slipped the back of her panties down over two rounded buttocks, cool to the touch. Inhaling deeply, I pulled the front down, eyes locked onto the plump pad of her pussy as it was revealed in all its glory, my breath sighing out.

Kyla's pussy was stunning. At once chaste and young, her silky, downy pubic hair formed a small bush not yet mature enough to completely cover her mons, very alluring. As I pulled her panties down her legs, they clung to her vulva before snapping down, the gusset stained with moisture. I wanted to kiss her pussy, press my mouth into the thick pad of her mons, and feel her silky pubic hair on my lips. But more than anything, I wanted to probe the tightly closed cleft that was clearly visible under mahogany pubes; the plump cleft that swooped seductively into the gap between her thighs. I wanted to touch the silky moisture of her arousal that teased my senses, and taste her. I wanted, God I wanted.

Kyla stepped back. She felt the tremors in her body, the heat between her legs, moist, so aroused. Dad's hazel eyes had looked at her with such worship, such amazement, and his love burned her. She smiled, "My turn," she said softly urging Dad to stand.

Standing in front of Dad naked, she felt surprisingly good. She didn't feel the embarrassment she thought she would, didn't mind that she was wet below. Through his eyes he made her feel sexy, desirable, attractive and mature. Through his gentle eyes he made her feel longing and need, a desire to see him naked, see the erection she'd felt when dancing. Through his eyes she felt love burning. God, I love you so much, Dad.

Reaching up, she used her fingertips to undo the buttons on his shirt, working her way down. "No. Don't touch," she said when he reached for her, "Wait."

Slipping the shirt from his broad shoulders was very sexy, even though she'd seen his bare chest before. It was undressing him that was so exciting; her undressing Dad! Fingertips gently opened his belt buckle, unbuttoned his pants. She felt heat inside her intensify at the way his erection was so starkly outlined in his pants. Pride flushed through her. She'd made Dad erect, made Dad horny! The zipper sounded loud to her, louder than the beating of her heart. Carefully she pushed his pants down, letting them fall to his feet, her eyes completely entranced by Dad's erection tenting his boxers. There was a large damp spot to the side where it had been pressing and, as she watched, she saw it move, saw a damp spot appear. God, Dad was so aroused!

"Nice," she whispered, passing her palm along the shaft, feeling it jerk as she slipped her hand up to the waistband of his boxers. She glanced up, thrilled by the heat and longing shining so strongly from his handsome face. "Don't move, Dad," she instructed. Taking a deep breath, Kyla pulled the waistband out and slipped his boxers over his erection, her eyes locked on Dad's penis as his boxers fell to join his pants around his feet.

Geez it was big, she thought. Much bigger than she'd expected. And thick. The mushroom tip was swollen and dark red, a clear liquid leaking, a drop that oozed out and slipped over and down. Her pussy clenched. Tentatively she reached out, heart thumping. I'm going to touch Dad's erection!

It was hot, hard yet soft, so thick her fingers didn't quite meet. It was alive, pulsing and throbbing. It was the most exciting thing she'd ever experienced. My Dad's erection! A tremor of apprehension passed through her when she realized that was going to go inside her; she was going to have to take that inside! How? She'd felt her opening, it was tiny and tight. It was going to have to stretch so much. Feeling his penis pulse in her hand brought her back. She knew what she had to do. She'd read it in Cosmo and other magazines, all their advice on how to keep your man happy and sexually satisfied.

"Don't move," she instructed and knelt. Now level with his crotch, she saw his testicles. Reaching out, she cupped them gently, smiling when Dad groaned. With her other hand she held his erection, so hard, so stiff. Leaning forward, she kissed the tip, thrilled with his moan. She tasted the liquid with the tip of her tongue, bland, slippery. Holding his erection up, she kissed the shaft, slowly kissing higher and higher. She felt Dad twitch. "Don't move, Dad," she reminded him softly, then leaned forward and slipped her mouth over his crown, lips stretching wide, mouth opening wide, pushing forward, forcing it in, big, filling her mouth. God, she had Dad's penis in her mouth! So big, Daddy.

"No!" I gasped, gently pulling her off my erection. Where had she learned that? It was too much for me. I'd felt a clench in my body as her soft lips had stretched and slipped over the crown, another as the flared ridge had disappeared into her wide open mouth, and another stronger clench when Kyla's jade green eyes had looked up at me, her father's erection in her mouth, one hand gently holding my shaft, another cupping my testicles. I didn't want to cum in her mouth. I didn't. I wanted to cum inside her, deep inside her. I wanted to feel myself spurting into her while holding her slender, young body to me. God, I wanted her so much it hurt.

"You didn't like it?" she asked, surprise in her eyes.

Lifting her to her feet, I caressed her soft cheek. "Kyla, honey, I liked it far too much. So much I was about to cum," I said softly.

"But Dad, that's what I wanted," Kyla answered. It was. Cosmo said men loved oral sex. It's what you did if you loved your man. She wondered what it would have felt like to have Dad cum in her mouth.

My heart hurt, erection raged. Jesus, my daughter wanted to give me oral sex. My daughter! "No, Kyla, my love. When I have an orgasm, I want it to be with you, together, joined, loving each other. I want our first time to be as close as two people can be."

Kyla didn't hear. My love, he called me my love! Oh, Daddy. Her heart burst. She jumped at him, wrapping her legs around his waist, arms around his neck, kissing his chin, his cheek, his neck. "I love you so much, Daddy."

I was dazed, Kyla kissing me fervently, telling me she loved me, her naked firm body wrapped around me, my hands full of two perfect adolescent buttocks. She writhed against me, her small body rubbing, petite firm breasts rubbing against my chest, her bush tickling my shaft, her silky warm tummy rubbing my crown. I was dazed and felt a sexual fog descend, excitement explode. God, I needed Kyla badly.

Carrying her to the bed, we lay down, side by side, her sweet body moving seductively, leg hooked over my thigh. She was a bundle of sex, all beautiful, bedazzling girl, all seductive pubescence, my daughter showering me with small kisses on my cheeks, my chin, the edge of my mouth, befuddling my mind with sensuous murmurs and purrs. It was too much for me.

Rolling her onto her back, I slipped over her, relishing how she parted her legs, thighs rising, heels hooking behind me.

"Yes, Daddy, hurry. I'm ready."

God, I was lost in her. Bending, I kissed her petite breast, moaned, opened my mouth and sucked, tongue scraping over a taut nipple, need and desire thrashing me. I sucked her nipple hard, heard her moan as I nipped it with my lips, felt her writhe, her slender young body exciting me. Passion was blinding, overriding, need a punishing urge inside.

"Hurry, please," Kyla pleaded again, her body crying out for release, her hand burrowing down, forcing it between them, reaching. "Yessss," she gasped when she gripped his erection, big, thick and pulsing. She was so wet, so horny, pussy throbbing, clit aching. "It's so hard, Daddy." It felt like she had no control, every fiber in her body driving her, aching, aching. "Now, please," she pleaded, pushing the tip of his erection down, hunching her pelvis up.

I'd lost all control. All I could think about was how sexy Kyla was, how unbelievably sexy she was. All I could hear was, "I need you," echoing through my head. When her delicate hand held my erection, a bomb went off. On my elbows, I lifted my weight off her petite body, giving her hand room, cupping her beautiful flushed face, staring at her magnetically attractive jade eyes. Bending I kissed her sweet lips as she pulled the tip of my erection down through her slippery cleft. I was lost. I wanted to fuck my daughter so much, needing to take her, make her mine, the storm of arousal raging through me, lucidity departing.

I felt the tip of my erection slip over her pubic bone, the tickle of silky soft pubic hair, then warm moisture surround the crown. Jesus, I was there. Kyla had guided me to her entrance. She was so warm and moist, so slippery, I felt her opening stretch. Holding her slim shoulders I pushed carefully, arousal inside me screaming for me to thrust. I felt her opening dilate, a tight ring stretching and slipping over my crown, agonizing ecstasy. Jesus I was about to fuck my daughter!

Kyla wrapped her arms around my chest, knees curled up to my side, legs hooking around my waist, and shoved her pelvis off the bed. I plunged into her as if a wall had collapsed, my erection sinking deep, gripped by a velvet sheath. She cried out, "Daddy!" in pain. I felt the tip of my erection thump against the entrance to her womb. She cried out again and her vagina clamped on my erection, painfully gripping it, so tight, so tight.

Breath I'd been holding exploded out. I felt dizzy, lightheaded, my erection lodged deeply in her, swelling rhythmically with the pounding of my heart. God, I was fucking my little girl! Somehow, suddenly, that scared me. I withdrew, pulling out of her tight pussy. Fourteen! She was only fourteen and I was hurting her!

"No!" she yelled, grasping me as I withdrew from her velvet grip, "Please don't!"

Looking into her eyes I saw tears of pain, brightness of excitement, and love burning.

"Please," she whispered, pleading, "Don't stop, Daddy. Please don't stop."

God, I didn't want to stop. Kyla's pussy felt far too good gripping my erection, her young body far too good underneath me. I wanted to love her so much I hurt.

"Okay, baby," I whispered. Hunching, pressing gently, my aching erection slid into her, parting her inside, a slick hot sheath gripping me. It felt so good, so tight, far, far too good, in fact.

"I want you so much, Kyla," I moaned, my erection pulsing strongly inside her, the tip pressed against her cervix. I pulled my erection out slowly, gently, until just the crown remained in her velvet grip, sighed and slid in gently, deep, her pussy slippery, silky and warm.

"So big. Do it again," she sighed, arms hugging me.

The withdrawal was exquisite torture, the tight ring of her opening sliding up my shaft, locking just under the flared ridge. I slid back into her slowly, torturing myself with the sensuous feeling of Kyla's internal walls stretching and sliding over my crown, groaning when the tip nudged against my little girls womb, so tight, so deliciously tight. This slow love was far more exciting than the fury that had possessed me. This was pure paradise.

Kyla moaned. Her pussy clenched. I groaned at the vise-like grip, so good.

"Does it feel good? Do you like it? Am I making you feel good?" she asked softly, eyes looking me with such love.

Jesus. She was worried? I'd never felt anything like it, anything so exciting, and she was worried? I let her shoulders go, wrapped my arms around her small body and rolled, bringing her on top. This should be about Kyla; about Kyla's pleasure. Reaching down, I held her compact rear, my other arm holding her slender back. I pulled her up, sliding off my erection, reversing just as the crown emerged, pushing her down, sinking deep, so tight. In this position I knew her clitoris would be rubbing on me, bringing her pleasure.

It was. "Oh! Daddy!" she gasped, moving her bottom herself to repeat the motion. Slowly Kyla started fucking me, pulling off, shoving back, huffing, her face nestled into my shoulder, curling her hips to scrub her pussy against me.

"Faster," she urged, now undulating, humping, "Hurry, almost, almost . . ."

Her bottom started thumping down on me, shoving my erection deep to slam at her womb. She fucked me hard, passionately, panting and moaning.

"Oh God, Daddy . . ." her slender body froze for a second. "Cumming, cumming!" she gasped, slamming herself down on my erection. Kyla's cries, her little yips of pleasure, hot breath against my neck, drove me over the edge.

My erection swelled feeling tight and the storm of my orgasm was unleashed. "Cumming baby," I managed to gasp. Pleasure exploded in me, semen burned up my shaft. Shoving deep, burying myself in her glorious tight warmth, pushing her bottom down, my erection lodged at her young womb, I erupted, semen jetting out in exquisite agony. "Jesus, cumming!" Another huge explosion of pleasure hit me, my body wracked with the agony of semen spurting out, hot, wet, flooding my crown, flooding my little girl. I gripped both of Kyla's buttocks and thrust hard, spurting gloriously, cumming hard, semen exploding, beautiful pleasure, beautiful. I thrust into her slick tightness, spurting into her until I was dry heaving, stomach cramping, my toes curled. I came in my darling, hugging her tight, I came hard, God, so hard.

She lay on top of me, limp, her body twitching with remnants of her orgasm. Kyla's breathing slowly calmed, her tight pussy clenching every so often, echoes of her climax. I felt my erection fade, completely drained. Slowly her clenching forced my soft penis from her pussy. A warm flood of semen gushed out over my pubic hair. I held my daughter in a close hug, held her lovingly, stunned at how strong my orgasm had been.

With the release of sexual tension, love flowed in, blossoming inside me, filling my body, my heart swelling, chest constricted. Kyla had just given me her most precious gift, and I loved it. God, I loved her so much.

"Dad?" she spoke gently.

"Mmmm?"

"Was it good for you?" she asked softly. "Did it make you happy?"

"Kyla, honey, it was better than I've ever experienced. It was perfect," I answered.

"Me too, Dad," she said, "Perfect."

I never knew Kyla snored. It was soft, like a purr, intoxicating.




With a hand over my eyes to shade them from the intense sun, I watched Kyla waving to me from up in the air, the large parachute billowing out, long line attached to a speed boat as it plowed up and down through the waves. I replayed waking up with her.

Kyla had woken me by purring like a kitten and snuggling into me, pressing her sexy naked body to my side. She'd wiggled against me, sighing and emitting all these gorgeous noises.

"Are you awake, Dad?" she'd asked, her knee slipping up over my thigh.

I'd grinned, feeling an erection forming. "I am now," I'd answered opening my eyes to see a beautiful face smiling at me.

"Good. I'm really hungry. Order breakfast, kay?"

She'd grinned and jumped out of bed, running to the bathroom, sweet little buttocks undulating seductively. "Hurry up. Fried eggs and bacon. Lots of bacon!" The bathroom door shut behind her.

She'd come out into the living room in a powder blue bikini, identical to the yellow one she'd worn the day before, strolled over to me, smiled sweetly, and kissed me gently. "Your turn," she'd said nodding to the bathroom.

My panic attack happened when I was brushing my teeth. I'd casually glanced across to the other sink and seen her toiletry bag open. What brought on my panic attack was seeing feminine hygiene pads and tampons. Kyla was having periods? Oh shit, how could I have forgotten? Kyla was fertile! I was in trouble.

Her worried expression when I'd come charging out of the bathroom, toothbrush in one hand and bare-assed naked, had turned to smiles, then laughter when I'd explained my shock. Kyla had laughed so hard tears had come to her eyes.

"Dad! Dad!" she'd gasped, laughing, "I'm on the pill. I went to the doctor and got the pill. We're okay!"

I was about to have a long chat with her when the knock at our door made me beat a hasty retreat. Kyla was still chuckling when she went to let room service in.

Kyla looked down from the parasail, seeing Dad standing in the surf, face turned up towards her. She waved and grinned. The view was really amazing, green verdant trees covering the interior hills, the water below sparkling and almost crystal blue-green, white sandy bottom undulating outwards. The harness was a bit painful. Then again, her pussy was sore. She smiled. Last night had been so surprising. Her climax was far, far stronger than any she'd gotten when diddling herself. But, man it had hurt at first. Even with how wet and slippery she'd been, the spike of pain had taken her breath away. Then everything got nice.

This morning, if it wasn't for her soreness, she'd have jumped Dad again. He'd looked so delicious and edible standing naked with toothpaste foam on his mouth, toothbrush in hand and panic on his face. That had been funny. It was even funnier to see the pride on his face at breakfast when she explained how she'd planned everything, even the pill.

But, the part that she cherished, the memory she held close, was Dad pulling her to his side last night, after she'd slid off him, just before she fell asleep exhausted. She'd heard him whisper, "I love you Kyla," so softly, thinking she was asleep. She hadn't been. God, Dad. I love you, too.

Suddenly the parasail ride was over. She felt herself drop, the ocean rushing up towards her as the boat curved around. Two guys caught her as she hit the water and helped unbuckle the harness.

"Thanks. It was fun," she said, charging off through the surf towards Dad.

I stood in the surf, still angry at seeing two guys with their hands on Kyla. It had been involuntary and I knew they were catching her as she came down, still, it pissed me off. The anger, or jealousy, stayed with me as Kyla came crashing through the surf, water spraying up, powder blue bikini flashing and a big sexy smile on her face. I finally smiled when she threw herself at me, jumping into my arms and wrapping her arms and legs around me.

"God, you should have seen the view from that high up. The water was incredible," she enthused, nuzzling her face into my neck. "Thanks!"

I was really, really glad I was still waist deep in the ocean. Kyla bit my earlobe and then started sucking it! It gave me the beginning of an erection. "I'm horny, Dad," she whispered. My erection stormed in, hard and rigid in my bathing suit. Damn!

Moving slightly deeper so the water covered us to mid chest, I slipped my hands into the back of her bikini. "Aren't you sore?" I asked quietly, burrowing down to fondle two silky, adorably firm fourteen-year-old buttocks.

Kyla pulled her face away from my neck. I think she'd been in the process of giving me a hickey, at least that's what it felt like. She looked at me with a big smile, eyes glittering. "A bit. But I read there are other ways we can have fun." She leaned back in, hot breath at my ear, "I read guys like anal sex, too. Do you? Would it make you happy?"

"Jesus, Kyla!" I exclaimed. "Where did you hear that?" Christ, my daughter just talking about anal sex seemed so outrageous . . . and arousing.

"Cosmo. What's the big deal? Where do you think I got the idea for oral sex from? Hey, maybe we should try that." Kyla gave me a sexy little smile, jade eyes twinkling, "Do you like my bum? You're squeezing it pretty hard."

I yanked my hands out of her bikini bottoms, grinned and threw her out into the ocean, liking her squeal of laughter as legs and arms went flying. The problem I faced was, now she'd put certain images in my mind, I was pretty sure I'd have to wait until nightfall and an empty beach before daring to get out of the ocean.

There was one niggle in my mind as we cavorted and splashed, my erection eventually subsiding as I became wrapped up in just enjoying her youthful enthusiasm and the pleasure shining so strongly. Why was Kyla so preoccupied about how I felt? Why was she asking if sex would make me happy, or like last night, if I liked it, did it feel good, was she making it good for me?

That little worry came out as we lay on the chaise lounges late that afternoon, me sipping a beer, her, a Coke. The sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon, sending blinding shards of light at us. It was still warm, but pleasant. I was feeling completely relaxed and remarkably happy. I asked about her preoccupation.

"Dad, it's simple," Kyla said. "You're mine. If I don't keep you happy, you'll have sex with other women. That's what all the magazines say; men have affairs because they're not being sexually satisfied at home. So, see? I love you and I don't want to share you, so I need to make sure you're happy. How will I know if I don't ask?"

I glanced over at her. Kyla was absolutely serious, her face carefully studying mine with a level of determination I'd seen before when she was going to get her way. "Sweetheart," I started.

"No. Don't. Don't say a thing. I don't want to hear it. It's what I want."

Bemused, and, being honest, quite thrilled with the prospect of Kyla's determination, I nevertheless told her, "Kyla, no it's not okay. You have to promise me; promise me you won't do something you don't like. Do I have your promise?" I had visions of Kyla hurting herself just to make me happy and that would kill me. She needed to understand that.

"Kay. I promise. So, I read that guys like dirty talk in bed. Do you?" she asked with a big pleased grin, laying back, hand shading her eyes as she watched people strolling along the beach. "Oh, and I meant to ask you, do you think if I plucked my eyebrows I'd look prettier?"

I laughed. "Kyla, you're gorgeous. I love you the way you are. Please don't pluck anything."

"How about shaving my pubes?" she asked, pulling the front of her bikini up and peering down at her pussy. "You didn't answer me about the dirty talk, Dad," she added as one hand slipped in to brush her mahogany pubic hair. I found myself staring at her hand movement. I'd really like to . . .

"No and no," I answered firmly. "I like your pubic hair, although I haven't seen enough of it yet. And, no, I don't think dirty talk from you would turn me on. Sexy talk would, though," I added with a smile.

Kyla turned on her side towards me, grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Did I mention I love you?"

"Yes, several times. I love you rather passionately, too, sweetheart. And, just so you know, I ain't sharing you with anyone."

Her grin widened, "Did I mention I'm horny? Feel like inspecting those pubic hairs you don't want me to shave? Huh? Would it make you happy?"

She launched herself onto the bed, telling me to close the curtains as she rolled onto her back, arms stretched out to her side, legs parted. "Well? What 'cha waiting for?"

Kyla was showing me a remarkably free-spirited side to her nature, one I hadn't seen since puberty set in. It was almost as if that one act of making love had opened up a door for her. She appeared to be intensely happy and, when I looked into her gorgeous jade eyes, all I saw was love and it made my heart ache. This beautiful angel wanted me. Me!

"Hey, you've got a boner! Ooops. Is that dirty talk?" she asked with a frown.

I smiled. "Nope. Dirty talk is . . . dirty." Hmmm, how do I explain it? Even the prospect of saying some of those words to Kyla felt uncomfortable and wrong.

"So explain."

"Uh, I can't." I couldn't! I actually felt embarrassed!

Kyla burst into a fit of giggles. "Dad! Dad! You're blushing! How cute is that!"

I was. I grinned, still standing looking at my fourteen-year-old splayed out on our bed in a powder blue bikini whose bottoms had stretched rather tightly over her pussy. My erection pulsed pleasantly at the sight.

Kyla proceeded to make me blush furiously as she threw words at me, asking if they were sexy or dirty. I was simply amazed at the depth of her knowledge. "Where did you learn these words?" I asked in amazement.

"Jeez, Dad. Ever heard of the Internet? Or school friends?" Kyla answered, grinning far too much at her father's discomfort. "So if I understand right, saying . . ."

We sat in the informal dining room. Dinner was a club sandwich and fries accompanied by a cold beer for me, Kyla munching on fish and chips, telling me the plans for tomorrow, charming eyes distracting me.

I hadn't explored Kyla's mahogany anything that afternoon. Our conversation, once my embarrassment abated to the point I could talk, evolved into what I thought was sexy. Kyla interrogated me like an accomplished Guantanamo interrogator. She'd bore in on things she didn't understand, ask for examples, all the while sitting cross-legged on the bed in her bikini, intense jade eyes wide, absorbing everything like a sponge. I suffered on-again-off-again erections, some of my deepest secrets embarrassing me when told to a fourteen-year-old, yet also exciting me. I had difficulty keeping my eyes on her face at times, my attention drawn by the powerful attraction of a luscious plump pussy pressing tightly against a powder blue bikini. My heart raced at one point and I became besotted by a single silky pubic hair that had escaped from the gusset. I mapped the shape of her pubis like a cartographer, memorizing every sexy curve.

When I wasn't infatuated with my seductive and inquisitive darling daughter, I asked Kyla what she thought was sexy, and the fascinating world of young teen love and arousal was revealed.

It seemed all those things I'd do that I thought were considerate, Kyla thought were sexy. Who knew my hugs were sexy, or age crinkles at the corners of my smiling eyes made Kyla hurt inside? I loved touching, expressing my love for my daughter with a caress of her back, resting a hand on her shoulder, loving physical contact, and apparently Kyla thought it was all sexy. Jeez, just smiling at my daughter was sexy?

She enthusiastically told me about how she wanted to cuddle, all the things she dreamed of doing, so many of them seeming non-sexual to me, yet she insisted were highly arousing. And, as she explained how her body reacted to my touch, how her nipples would tingle, "my boobs feel heavier when I'm horny," and how she would sit squeezing her thighs together when I had my arm around her, I found myself mesmerized by just how sexual she was. She dashed my preconceptions of the sweet innocence of young teens. She also made my heart hurt and my chest constrain painfully with the realization of just how much I loved her.

"Dad? Dad!"

"Huh?" Kyla brought me back to the present, my hands paused halfway to my mouth, club sandwich in mid air. I'd suddenly felt my erection storm back, something that had been happening regularly since our chat, replaying Kyla's big grin as she'd explained how uncomfortable it was to feel her panties wet with arousal at school when she'd dream of me, how she'd have to stuff toilet paper into her panties, "I'd leak so much," she'd said earnestly.

"So you agree? We'll try it tomorrow?" Kyla was in seventh heaven. She grinned at how Dad had squirmed when she'd told him about how he turned her on and loved the blush when she'd told him about her panties getting damp at school. She'd also been fascinated at what made Dad horny, what he found sexy, and couldn't wait to use her new information. And then he'd become distracted staring at her crotch. When she'd glanced down and seen one pubic hair peeking out, and then seen Dad with an erection, she'd wanted to jump him then and there despite still being sore. She would have, too, if he hadn't decided it was time for dinner.

"Try what?" I asked.

Kyla let out a charming giggle. "Where were you?" she asked.

I leaned over to her and whispered. Her beautiful face flushed beet red. "Really? That excites you?" she asked.

"Honey, I can't tell you how exciting I think it is," I answered. "Anyway, try what?"

"Oh. Water-skiing. I asked if we could water-ski tomorrow. I want to learn." Kyla paused then added "Really? You'd really want to?" her face flushing again.

When dinner was finished we headed out in the rented car. "Turn left, Dad," my daughter advised her directionally challenged father. We were heading into Flic en Flac, the nearby town, to do some evening sight-seeing. I felt a familiar thrill when, upon arriving, Kyla took my hand and slipped her fingers through mine. Now, that action of intertwining fingers was even more meaningful; my daughter was my lover, the thought causing tightness in my pants.

We strolled along the beachfront, found little that interested us; just the occasional tourist shop, a Hindu temple with white and red filigree woodwork, and other tourists out for an evening stroll. With newfound knowledge and insight into teen romance, I'd stop every so often to hug Kyla, "I love you, sweetheart," and kiss her soft cheek gently. Or, rest my hand on her slender shoulder and stroke the fine hair on her neck with my thumb.

When standing to admire the beach or look into a store window, I caressed her back, letting my hand slip down to just above her bottom, or played with her thick hair, combing my fingers through it, something I'd wanted to do for quite a while. And once, when we were alone, I kissed her gently, loving the green glow of pleasure in her seductive eyes.

By the time we pulled into the hotel parking lot it was late. Hand in hand we strolled to the villa.

"Dad?" Kyla asked. "Can we sit out on the patio for a while? Maybe have a drink? It's so beautiful."

The moonlight shone bright, lighting up the landscape, calm evening waves filled the night with a soft, rhythmic music; slap, whoosh, pause, slap, whoosh, pause. The air was still. It was truly paradise. "I'd like that, Kyla. What would you like to drink?" I asked as we entered the villa.

"Can I have some red wine? Do you mind?"

Smiling, I uncorked a bottle. I'd had three bottles brought to the villa after discovering my daughter liked red wine. Two glasses in hand, I went in search of her, finding her on the patio, sitting on the chaise lounge. I felt my breath catch. Kyla sat on the edge of the chaise, head turned towards the ocean. In the moonlight her thick, wavy hair seemed almost black. Wearing a silk blouse and white canvass-like shorts, her legs, stretched out in front of her, seemed so slender and long. She leaned back on straight arms and the silk blouse draped over her small breasts, emphasizing how firm and upright they were, perfectly proportioned for her body, perfectly gorgeous.

Her head turned at the sound of me opening the sliding glass door, a smile forming that stole my heart, made me hurt.

"Thanks," she said reaching for the wine. "Here." She patted the chaise cushion. "You lay here." The back had been raised.

I settled, placing my glass of wine on the side table. Kyla put hers down, turned and sat between my legs, back against me so we could both see the palms, the beach, small waves rolling in, moonlight glinting. I slipped my arm around her front, across her middle, and took a sip of wine. I sighed; paradise found in holding a daughter, my little lover, on a tropical island under a carpet of stars and a radiant moon.

Kyla's heart thumped pleasantly, breath slightly short. Sitting between Dad's legs, his warm hand on her tummy, and a romantic beach in front of her was really exciting. And his small touches, his caresses and kiss when out walking had been perfect, so incredibly romantic. She felt heaviness inside her, love a weight in her chest. Dad had done all the little things she'd talked about earlier, all the small things that demonstrated his love. It was perfect, paradise found in the arms of her Dad. She put her wine down, placed her hand over the back of his.

"Dad? Remember dinner?"

"Hmmm?"

I was completely at peace, completely relaxed. I felt Kyla wiggle slightly. It felt nice. I liked resting the palm of my hand on her stomach, feeling it move gently as she breathed. I felt Kyla take my hand, moving it. Suddenly I felt cotton on my fingertips.

"Remember what you whispered? Well, guess what?" she said, slowly guiding my hand. "My panties are damp! Wanna feel?"

Soft cotton rubbed over my fingers, a zipper cool against the back on my hand. Damn, Kyla was guiding my hand inside her shorts. I felt the seductive rise of her mons, full, plump, nestled in soft cotton. She pushed my hand down, holding my wrist. I felt her suck her tummy in, felt her part her thighs, and suddenly, oh God, I had a handful of youthful pussy with a large damp spot at my fingertips, warm dampness, Kyla's moisture, Kyla arousal. I got an immediate erection, my penis unfurling, pushing to my side, Kyla's back adding pressure to it.

Kyla had blushed so hard when I'd whispered at dinner that I thought damp panties were so, so sexy. And here she was, pushing my hand into her shorts, letting her father feel her moist panties. It was incredibly exciting.

"Jesus, Kyla. Do you have any idea how sexy that is?" I asked, somewhat heatedly.

"Does it feel like you imagined? Does it make you happy, Dad?" she whispered. A soft sigh escaped from her when I curled my middle finger, caressing her cleft with a feather-light touch.

I bent slightly and whispered, "Kyla, honey, it makes me very happy. Can't you feel how happy I am?"

She giggled, pushing her back against my straining erection. "Uh-huh. So, do you feel like inspecting those pubic hairs you didn't want me to shave?"

I caressed her sensual mound, squeezing it gently, so round and full, stroking the outline of her little cleft, spreading her moisture, loving how damp my daughter was. I traced the remarkable roundness, the fullness, slipping my fingers into the creases at each side, touching the elastic leg bands of her cotton panties, then the steep rise on each side. Kyla's pussy felt warm, almost hot, plump and lush, and I was thrilled, surprisingly thrilled with how exciting it was to fondle my daughter, to feel her soft cotton panties, to feel Kyla aroused, God, my little girl horny. When she moaned quietly, moving her bum slightly, her hand, resting on the back of mine, pressing my hand to her pussy, I felt a surge of desire and the familiar fog of arousal descended, a seductive drug that pulsed through my veins, exciting and stimulating.

Rising, wine forgotten, I carried her into the villa, laying her gently on the bed. Moonlight made Kyla's hair dark, her skin dusky.

"Close the curtains," Kyla said, smiling, "and turn a lamp on. Didn't you say seeing was sexy?" Kyla lay on the bed doing nothing. She knew Dad wanted to see her naked; he'd said so. But he'd also said undressing her was really sexy, that it turned him on no end. She watched Dad close the curtains, wanting to rub her breasts. They ached, felt heavy. She squeezed her thighs together as Dad turned on a bedside lamp and stared at her, heat in his hazel eyes, so handsome, and mine, all mine. Her heart pounded as he slipped his shirt off, his heated gaze locked on her. She felt mild trembles shake her when Dad stripped his pants and underwear off, his gloriously big erection rising, rigid, thick. God, I got that inside me? Moisture leaked into her panties. Suddenly she felt hot, too hot.

"Dad, undress me. It's hot in here," she almost pleaded, arms rising, reaching out to him.

I looked at my daughter laying on the bed, her silky blouse draping sensuously over her small breasts, breasts that, on her back, still held their incredible shape. Her long bare legs and slender thighs disappeared into her cuffed white shorts, button at the waist still open, zipper still lowered, and Jesus, soft white cotton panties showing. My erection ached at such a spectacular sight, my teen daughter reaching for me.

Crawling across the king-sized bed, I studied Kyla's face, so sweet and seductive; her remarkable eyes shining, soft lips, gorgeous small mouth. I stared at those lips as I neared, my heart pounding. God I loved her. "Kyla," I sighed as my lips touched hers, my hand holding her beautiful face, thumb caressing a soft cheek. Passion erupted inside me, pressure in my head, when I felt Kyla's lips part, felt the touch of her tongue, the tip tentatively pushing at my lips. I opened my mouth to let my daughter's tongue in. Shuddering, I slipped my hand down to her blouse.

A deep, deep groan, my groan, sounded loud. Jesus, Kyla had no bra on. My hand slipped across silk and felt the incredible firmness of an adolescent breast, a breast rising steeply from her chest, small, perfectly shaped, so damned sexy!

With a sexy suck of her lower lip, I broke the hot kiss, rising to my knees next to her, my hands shaking and reaching to unbutton her blouse. She smiled, her hands steadying mine. "For you, Dad, just for you," she whispered, eyes burning me. I pulsed, my erection bobbing. Slowly, slowly I unbuttoned her blouse, watching smooth skin appear, staring at the seductive mounds of her petite breasts still covered. There was something so erotic seeing Kyla with her blouse open, shorts open, partially undressed for her father's inspection, knowing I was going to strip my fourteen-year-old, see my daughter naked, and all for me, just for me. It had me shaking with desire.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath. It whooshed out when I peeled her blouse open. I was stunned by how sexy her small breasts were, gorgeous mountains topped with pink areolae and small pebbles. Perfect, firm, so young.

Kyla smiled at me and lifted her bum off the bed. "Now the shorts," she directed softly, her eyes locked on my face.

I smiled. "Beautiful breasts, sweetheart, just beautiful," I murmured, stunned by the flush of pleasure that dusted her cheeks.

Alternately pulling each side, I worked her shorts over her firm bottom, soft cotton panties partially pulled down. Kyla kicked off the shorts, wriggled and pulled off her blouse, tossing it over the side of the bed, laying back. I pulsed, my erection bobbing, and felt the cool dampness of precum on the tip. Kyla lay almost naked in simple, plain, white cotton panties, panties that seemed so chaste, and it was thrilling, incredibly arousing. Cotton had never looked so sexy.

Sliding my palm up her thigh, I cupped her pussy, plump and mounded. Kyla's eyes narrowed, her breath catching. I tore my eyes from her face and looked down, heat flushing through me as she parted her legs. I felt her moisture, the dampness in the gusset. Bending, I kissed her tummy, then kissed her spectacular breast. Tracing her short cleft, I nibbled on her breast, sucking her areola, her nipple beading. Kyla moaned, her hands combing through my hair. When I rose, her areola had darkened from a flush of blood, so sexy, so sexy.

Shuffling down, I moved between her legs, caressed her slender thighs, slipped my hands up to grip her panties, my eyes locked onto the prominent curve of her mons pubis. I took a steadying breath. Kyla lifted her bottom for me.

Her mound slowly appeared, first the seductive rise from her tummy, then a small deep mahogany pubic bush, still thin with silky soft hairs. I felt like I might have a heart attack, my heart was thumping so loudly. Slipping her cotton panties over her buttocks, Kyla raised her legs up into the air. I pulled them off and, as I glanced back down, moaned at the sight of her pussy nestled prominently between her thighs, a plump mound pushing out. I couldn't move, too fascinated by the sight of Kyla parting her legs, dropping to each side, feet resting on the bed, knees raised. Kyla lay naked before me, a gorgeous naked nymph, slender, young, perky little breasts, a seductive swell to her bottom and, God, a stunning pussy, full, mounded and filling her groin, seductive cleft closed, labia thick, sensual soft pubic hair too young to have spread, neat and emphasizing the shape of her sex.

My erection was so hard it hurt, precum dripping down my shaft. I had that tight feeling I'd get when close to cumming, and it grew stronger when Kyla smiled at me and let her knees fall to the sides. Her cleft flowered open, the long clitoral hood appearing, filling half her slit, the tip rounded, small still immature inner labia framing a moist reddened cleft. I was shaking at the sight of her tiny vaginal opening glistening with arousal, a dark entrance, so small, so small. How had I gotten into her? How had she taken my erection inside her? It looked impossible.

A delicate scent wafted up to me, drawing me down, tugging at me, calling to me. I smiled at her. "Gorgeous, sweetheart, you're so damned sexy," I murmured, laying down, inhaling deeply.

"Daddy," she sighed when I kissed her pussy, felt the tickle of silky soft pubic hairs. I kissed her moist cleft, touched her clitoris with my tongue, a hard nub. Kyla trembled. Sliding my tongue down through her slit, I tasted her, a faintly musky ambrosia so slippery; young arousal. I feeling of lightheadedness hit as I probed her vagina gently with the tip of my tongue, thrilled with her moan that filled the air. I realized I was humping the bed, pressing my straining erection against the sheet.

Kyla felt a jolt of pleasure when Dad kissed her pussy and a storm of arousal when he licked her. She was stunned at how arousing oral sex was. She'd never felt so hot, so horny. As Dad's tongue probed her vagina, she moaned and gripped her breasts, squeezing them, heavy, aching. Her body jerked when Dad sucked, eyes closing, drowning in sensations, God Daddy, so good, so wet Daddy. Perspiration beaded her brow. She started panting, not enough air.

Her body shuddered, heaviness building in her pussy, Daddy sucking her clit. Oh God, Daddy! Her hips jerked, pressure building, a storm forming. "Daddy," she gasped when she felt his finger press at her entrance, sparks of pleasure, so close, muscles tensing, tightening to brace against the oncoming storm.

She tried to hold on, tried, tried. Then Daddy's lips squeezed her clit. He sucked. Toes curled. Fireworks exploded. "Cumming Daddy!" she gasped, her hips surging off the bed, body cramping, knees slamming together against his head. Pleasure erupted. Oh God! Oh God! Her orgasm slammed into her, crashed in, painful, painful, heat and bliss radiating up from her pussy, through aching breasts, slamming into her head. "Daddy!" she screamed, pleasure pounding her body. She felt herself squirt, pussy cramping, body writhing, it hurts, it hurts! Another wave tore through her, ecstasy, ecstasy, God so good. Tears formed as she drowned in the exquisite beauty of the most powerful orgasm she'd ever experienced, body shaking, body shaking, too much, too much. Reaching down she pushed Daddy's head away as blackness threatened, curling onto her side, her body jerking, tears dampening her cheeks. Too much Daddy, too much, God so good.

I held Kyla's twitching body to me, stunned by the intensity of her climax. Her mother had never climaxed so hard. Her poor body kept jerking every so often and, through my hand on her back I could feel her heart pounding. Gradually she calmed in my arms, breathing slowing, her small body relaxing. As I stared at her beautiful face, I realized she'd slipped into sleep. Her face, the face of an angel, was completely relaxed, long dark eyelashes resting on damp cheeks, small nose flaring gently as she slept, sexy mouth relaxed. I wiped the perspiration from her brow, reached up and turned the bedside lamp off, pulling a sheet over us. My erection was painful and I needed release desperately. But I couldn't move. I didn't want to wake her, her hot, flushed body cuddled to me was just too good. Laying in the dark room I replayed the amazing experience. I loved how hard she'd climaxed, loved it. It was without doubt one of the most exciting things I'd ever experienced, bar none. Her enjoyment was so pure. I loved her so much for allowing me to experience it.

Sleep took a long time to arrive, my mind full of things I wanted to do with my little girl, thinking of over two weeks with my darling still ahead.




Morning light peeked through the curtains. Senses returned slowly. In that moment when dreams and reality overlapped, I held my daughter, cuddled up to her back, Kyla such a petite girl smelling of sleep, of girl, my little girl. I felt her body naked against me, her skin silky and warm. I had a perfect little breast in my hand and a compact firm bottom in my groin. I felt her chest moving gently as she slept in my arms. This was paradise.

In that exquisite moment when dreams and reality overlap, in that completely relaxed state before stirring to greet the new day, I felt my love for her seep through me, powerful love flowing though my veins like heroin. I felt pain inside I loved her so much. I ached, I hurt. Kyla was the most precious thing in my world. I wanted her to be with me forever, just like this, a beautiful girl in my arms. I wanted the day to go away, leave us alone, let me stay in paradise.

Kyla stirred, a small movement. I heard her breathing deepen as she woke up. In the low light seeping in through the crack in the curtains, I watched my love turn, watched a beatific smile grow, eyes shine. God I loved her.

"Morning."

"Morning, sweetheart."

Kyla gave me a quick kiss, "Gotta pee," she said with a grin, squirming out of my arms. I tried to stop her by throwing a leg over her. She giggled. "Dad! I have to pee!"

I let her go very reluctantly and, before I could chase her seductive little bottom into the bathroom, a knock on the door announced room service; I'd forgotten I'd ordered it last night.

An hour later we hit the beach.

Kyla came up spluttering, the lifejacket looking much too big. "Again! I almost had it!" she yelled, eyes excited.

Kyla was learning how to water-ski, and it looked as if it was going to be a long lesson. But every time she went under instead of up, she struggled to the surface laughing hard and wanted to try again. Sitting at the stern of the motor boat, keeping an eagle eye on her, I admired her determination and worried she'd hurt herself, or drown, or choke on water, or break a leg, or . . . I worried a lot.

On about the eighteenth attempt, she rose out of the water, bent forward at the waist to keep her precarious balance and hooted her success, immediately falling, crashing into the ocean in a fountain of spray. When she came up again she was screaming with laughter and wiggling around. "Dad! Guess what? My bikini came off!" she laughed.

I wasn't quite as amused as she was, my eyes searching the surface for a yellow bikini. "I can't see it, honey," I yelled.

"No!" she sputtered, giggling, "My top slipped up. My boobs are bare! Hold on!" She proceeded to wrestle with the life jacket, reaching underneath, laughing hard. "Got it!"

By the time we waded ashore, I was tired from the constant worry she would hurt herself. Kyla was grinning, enthused despite not quite succeeding. "Tomorrow I'll get up properly," she said with conviction. "It was a hoot!"

I left her at the beach chairs and went to fetch drinks.

Kyla lay on the canvass beach lounge chair, feeling hot sun bask her body, perspiration forming on her upper lip and between her boobs. It was only nine-thirty and already hot. She looked down her body and studied the mound of her pussy pressing against her bikini. On her back it seemed much bigger, and her hip bones stuck out making the waist hover like a suspension bridge over her tummy. A flash memory hit; Dad's sexy eyes shining with excitement between her raised legs as he ate her pussy. It made her tingle. She was still shocked at how intense her orgasm had been. It was magnitudes bigger than anything she'd experienced before. She decided sex was far better than anything, like by miles. And it was with Dad! My Dad!

Her mind went back to the talk she'd had with Dad. She thought she understood the whole dirty talk thing, what was dirty, what was sexy. But there were a couple of other things that still puzzled her. She'd figured out that Dad was a hopeless romantic. That had surprised her. But he was a real softie, so he didn't like words that took the romance away. He'd talked about how he liked cuddling and kissing, things she rather enjoyed, too. She'd been thrilled to find out Dad was an ass man. She loved his tush, so she was an ass girl, she decided with a grin. But what happened when . . .

"Dad?" Kyla turned to look at him, hand over her brows to shield the sun as he handed her a Coke. He had a nice flat stomach, too, she decided. Maybe she liked the soft hair on his chest more. She'd need to check out his tush again before deciding which part of him was best.

"Mmm?"

Kyla checked around to make sure there wasn't anyone close. "If I understand it right, making love is like everything, including intercourse, right?"

"Yup."

"Okay." She paused. "Dad? Is it always making love? I mean, what if I'm, like, just horny?"

"Are you?" I asked, suddenly very interested.

"Uh-huh. Quite a lot, actually. I think it's your tush that does it. It's so compact."

"Um . . . Surely you've heard of a quickie. Haven't you?" I asked.

"Yeah. But isn't that just like, sex. I mean, isn't it sort of bad. No love, no cuddling, just sex?"

I chuckled. "Kyla, sweetheart, when two people love each other there's always love, even when it's a quickie. Sometimes it's fun to feel the joy of an orgasm, let loose and have sex for the sake of sex. There's never anything wrong with that. It's part of a loving relationship."

"Okay." She paused again, thinking. "Dad?"

"Mmm?"

"What happens if I want to try something different? I mean, how do you ask without getting embarrassed?"

"Like what, honey?"

"Just stuff. If I wanted to try something, how do I know if you'd want to?"

I smiled. "You just ask," I told her, wondering what was on her mind. "As long as it's a private conversation, you should feel comfortable asking anything. I'll tell you if I don't want to. You should never be embarrassed for wanting to explore a relationship."

"Kay. So . . ." she said with a naughty little smile, "I'm horny. Wanna have sex for the sake of sex? A quickie?"

Well, fuck me. She spoke again before I could answer.

"Like out there," she said nodding to the ocean.

"Jesus, Kyla. We can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because people will see us moving. They'll know what we're doing and then I'll be arrested, that's why not," I said firmly.

"What if I have a solution? Wanna try? Would it make you happy?"

"No. But tonight I might," I said with a smirk.

"What? I'm supposed to wait until tonight?" she asked with a frown. Then she grinned. "I'm not sore anymore. Did I mention I'm horny?"

Jesus, Mary and Joseph! I grabbed my beach towel and draped it over my lap, hiding a sudden development. Kyla burst into laughter, eyes glinting with mischief.

"What's the matter?" she asked, giving me a sweet innocent smile.

I rose, covering my front with the towel, and grabbed her hand. "Come on. Hurry," I said, yanking her to her feet. She screamed in laughter as I hauled her towards our villa, other people on the beach smiling at her laughter, their eyes following her. I was grinning pretty widely myself.

The front door was loud as I slammed it behind me, my eyes riveted on a compact little bum disappearing into the bedroom. My bathing suit hit the floor as I entered the bedroom, erection waving around. Kyla's bikini bottoms hit me in the face, her giggle hurting me. She launched herself onto the bed and, just as I was about to dive on after her, she yelled, "Wait, Dad, Wait!" giggling hard.

I stood, erection jutting out, Kyla tugging her bikini top off. She threw it at me with a laugh, jade eyes sparkling with excitement. Then she almost made me cum.

Rolling onto her hands and knees, she looked over her shoulder at me, and wiggled her little bum, her plump pussy peeking out between her slender thighs, cleft tightly closed and glistening with arousal. "Woof?"

God damn I wanted to fuck her, and fuck her hard. I hadn't cum since the first time, the day before yesterday, and I was horny as hell.

"Kyla, I'm a bit, uh . . . I'm really . . . Jeez, you've made me so horny . . . I don't want to hurt you," I managed to say, my erection painful.

"C'mon, Dad," she said, urgency in her voice, eyes intensely staring at my erection, "I'm horny." She wiggled her sexy bum again. "A quickie?"

Too much for me. I growled. Kyla burst into laughter.

On her hands and knees, Kyla's bottom curved out so sensuously, two seductive firm and rounded buttocks parted, her rosebud dark. With her legs slightly parted, her pussy seemed to hang down, filling the gap, her cleft tightly closed, the sprinkling of silky dark mahogany pubic hair on her thick labia so damned sexy. It made her look young, yet not. It was erotic as hell, and I couldn't wait any longer.

No preliminaries, no hugs, no kisses. No nothing. All I could think about was driving my erection into her sweet pussy, rutting, cumming, my need to take her a driving urge.

On my knees, I shuffled up behind her, straddling her ankles, pushing them together, my eyes feverishly glued to the indent leading to her vagina. It glistened with moisture, so fucking sexy. My cock looked huge, the crown massive, Kyla so petite, so deliciously delicate, so damned young.

I reached around her, holding her under her tummy, and took my erection in one hand. "Ready, honey?"

"Uh-huh," she panted, wiggling her bum.

Blood pounding through my veins sounded like a waterfall in my ears, pressure in my head growing as I watched the tip of my erection nuzzle against Kyla's young pussy, precum glistening. Shaking, I slipped the tip up and down her little slit, working my way in, scraping across her clit, fat labia pooching out. God I looked far too big for her. Passion and need drove me, a fire inside, burning, need Kyla, need Kyla.

I felt the crown slip over her pubic bone and lodge at the miniscule entrance to her vagina, so damned small. The world went silent. Kyla's tiny vaginal opening started yielding to the pressure, stretching. I felt the ring of her opening dilate and watched her sexy pussy ooze over my crown, staring at the incredible sight of a young teen pussy taking an adult erection. She was so tight, squeezing the crown, tight, my little girl so tight.

Suddenly I popped in, pressure easing, her opening snapping around my shaft. Sound came rushing back, Kyla's cry. Before I could pull out, Kyla pressed back, shoving her pussy at me. She slipped down my shaft, warm, moist, my erection disappearing, a tight velvet glove holding me, her insides slippery and caressing my crown. I was feverish, erection pulsing. Jesus, fucking my daughter, fucking Kyla!

"Oh Jesus, Kyla. You're so tight!" I gasped when the tip nudged against her womb.

"You're really big," she moaned, her head falling, mahogany hair shaking.

She pulled off partway, shoved back. I grabbed her slender hips, held her tight and started thrusting into her, long exquisite strokes, tight vagina, velvet, hot, moist. I withdrew, watching the ridge of my crown ooze out of her stretched vagina, and thrust back in, sinking deep, paradise found in the tight grip of a teen daughter's pussy.

"Uh! Gawd Daddy. So deep!"

I stared at my erection sliding in, sliding out, glistening, her sexy pussy almost inverting, then labia pressed in. A whitish foam was building where we were joined, my erection painfully swelling, so close, heaviness building. The slap of her buttocks against my groin was loud. A mist descended, fucking her, fucking her, God, fucking my daughter.

In the heat of passion I imagined my semen spurting directly into her little womb, imagined filling her with her father's cum. Oh God, I imagined impregnating her, giving her a baby! My little girl with my baby! Too much.

"Kyla," I gasped, "Cumming baby." I thrust, I thrust, pressure releasing suddenly. Shoving myself deep, I sealed my erection to her womb. Semen exploded, charged up my shaft, jetting out into her, hot, God pleasure, pleasure. I pulled back, shoved hard, semen exploded flooding my crown.

Kyla gasped and shook, her pussy cramped on my erection, painful, painful. We climaxed, Kyla jerking, collapsing to her elbows as my groin slammed into her pert little ass. I fucked her with short hard strokes, tugging her small bum back against me, burying myself, exquisite pleasure bursting with every hard spurt, cumming in her, cumming in my darling, cumming baby, God cumming.

I collapsed, spent, forcing her down on the bed, laying on her, panting, sweating. I'd never cum so hard. It was so much more intense with Kyla, perhaps because she was my daughter, perhaps because she was so young. But I'd never experienced anything like it.

"Heavy, Dad," she said softly. I groaned and rolled off her, my softening penis slipping out of her hot clasp.

"You okay, honey," I managed to ask now that rationality had returned.

"Uh-huh. You must have cum buckets. I'm leaking like crazy."

I watched her scramble off the bed, hand cupping her pussy, buttocks jiggling beautifully as she ran to the bathroom. Exhausted and completely happy, I closed my eyes, again marveling at how exciting it was to have sex with Kyla.

A gentle shaking woke me. Two jade eyes peering at me. "Almost lunch time, Dad," she said with a smile, "I'm really hungry."

Back in bathing suits, hand-in-hand we strolled towards the poolside dining room.

"I like this quickie thing," Kyla told him. She'd been so horny that it hadn't taken much for her to climax. But Dad had, like, really fucked her hard, as if he was desperate, and now she was sore again. Then she remembered. He hadn't cum since the first time, the day before yesterday. Jeez, she couldn't let that happen again.

"Yeah. Me too," I said, squeezing her small hand and smiling at her. "Want to go for a quick dip in the pool before eating?"

"Can't."

"Sure we can. We'll eat out on the patio. They don't care if we're wet."

"Dad," Kyla said, blushing, tugging his hand and making him bend down. She whispered in his ear, "I can't swim. I'm wearing a pad. I'm still leaking your . . . you know."

I turned to her suddenly. "Sweetheart, go get us a table. I have to take a dip right now." I ran and dived into the deep end before anyone could see my erection. Damn. I'd cum an hour ago and I was erect again! Kyla was going to kill me with her sexiness. I wondered if she knew how arousing that statement would be.

As I finished the last sip of an ice cold beer, pleasantly full and beginning to feel drowsy, Kyla leaned over to me. I signed the tab.

Kyla leaned over and pulled me close, whispering, "Does it excite you to know I'm full of, you know, that I'm still leaking. It's warm. I really like it."

Kyla's screams of laughter were not amusing and, ignoring the age old advise not to swim immediately after eating, I dived into the pool, and hid in the deep end until my damned erection subsided. I was beginning to realize the punishment I'd inflicted on myself by telling Kyla what I found sexy. She was becoming merciless in wielding her knowledge.

Back on the beach, erection finally under control, I lay on my front, sun tanning my back, a safe position incase Kyla got up to more trouble.

Kyla rolled into a sitting position. "Gotta pee," she said. "Be back soon."

I grinned. "Go in the ocean," I suggested rather naughtily.

Kyla gave me a big grin. "Ooh, that'd be fun. Maybe next time." She bent down and whispered, "Have to take out the pad."

I grinned and watched her sexy rump play music as she ran to the villa, my erection back in full force. It was still hounding me when she strolled towards me. My eyes immediately went to her crotch. No pad, all pussy. Delectable pussy. Reaching under me, I rearranged myself so my erection wouldn't be quite so noticeable, watching Kyla approach. She smiled and, to me, seemed to put an extra undulation in her walk. Damn but I was in love.

"Come on. Swim," I said, talking her hand, the other strategically in front of me. The ocean was crystal blue, white sand underneath clearly visible. It had a gentle slope so we could wade out thirty-odd yards before water reached my chest, Kyla floating at that stage. I'd held her hand and gently led her all the way out. Standing on the sandy bottom, I pulled her to me, turned her and pulled her back against my front, holding her around the waist, facing back towards the beach.

"You, my dear, are a little trouble-maker," I said with a smile.

"Am not," she insisted, then giggled when my other hand cupped a petite breast under the water.

I nuzzled her neck, whispered, "I still love you, though." Grinning, I found her small nipple and proceeded to pinch it lightly.

"You'd better," she responded, giving me a tiny wiggle of her bottom, rearranging herself so my erection formed to her small butt crack.

"No, Kyla. I mean I really love you, as in you're the one. You're it. You're all I want." I slipped my hand down from her delectable boob which now sported a hard nipple. I slid my fingers under the waist of her bikini, feeling the amazing rise of her pubic mound, a sexy little pubic bush. Reaching down further I cupped her sexy, plump little pussy, sighing with pleasure. I loved Kyla's young pussy, a perfect handful, mounded, so arousing. I kissed her neck lightly. She moved gently with the swells.

She was quiet, not making a sound, not moving, her hands resting on my forearm that wrapped around her waist.

Kyla couldn't help it. It just happened with no control. Dad telling her, "you're the one," was too much for her, her heart bursting. Tears just came unbidden, falling gently. God, I love him so much, she thought. Tears of joy and more, relief maybe. She wasn't sure. But until that moment, she hadn't known for sure. Now she did. He truly loved her. Daddy loved her, just her. She was Daddy's girl, his lover, his partner, everything she'd wished for. Tears slipped, yes, relief. She was so glad she'd come to Mauritius; a beautiful paradise.

She felt his erection, smiled and squeezed her bum cheeks slowly. "Your erection feels so nice, Dad." She moved out of his arms, her bikini bottom almost coming off as his hand was pulled out. Swimming away, she rolled on her back, looking at him, so handsome, all mine. She smiled at his heated expression. She was beginning to recognize arousal in those sexy hazel eyes and thrilled that it was her making him aroused; that she could turn him on so easily.

She drifted back towards him, casually looking around, checking to see if anyone was near. Gliding up to him, she reached around his neck with one arm, her other hand rubbing his chest, looking into his eyes. "Dad, what do you fantasize about? When you think of us, what do you wish you could do with me?"

I felt her delicate hand start rubbing lower, circling my stomach, edging lower, befuddling me. My erection strained anew and I wanted Kyla's hand to slip into my swim suit, grip me, bring sweet ecstasy. I also knew if I let her touch my erection, I'd lose any control. We were in a public place; far too dangerous.

But, as I gently took her hand off my lower stomach, I drew her close. I knew exactly what I dreamed of ever since this had started. Smiling, I whispered in her ear. Her sexy jade eyes opened wider, a smile grew.

"Tomorrow or the next night. Just for you," she promised. "I'm a bit sore from this morning."

It was something that had emerged concurrent with the sexual relationship with Kyla. She'd either awakened something inside me, or given me ideas. Either way, it was pure self indulgence.

I was surprised to say the least when, climbing into bed, the effects of a day of sun and exercise and swimming, of sex that morning, and several cocktails with little umbrellas, a couple of beers, and Kyla cuddling to my side, sex didn't even cross my mind. I hugged her to me and let her warm comfort send me to sleep, a very deep sleep.

Kyla heard Dad fall asleep, his breathing becoming steady, arm around her relaxed. In the moonlight she studied his face, handsome, and a sexy mouth she'd kissed lots of times now. Her heart squeezed again remembering Dad whisper, "you're the one," her love so strong it brought tears. She couldn't believe it had worked out so well. She was afraid she'd wake up and find it had all been a dream. She was having so much fun with Dad, drowning in him. Despite her laughs and giggles, in fact, even when laughing or giggling, she'd feel her heart ache, mine, he's all mine!

"You're the one, too, Dad," she whispered to him.

As she drifted to sleep, she knew she would do anything and everything for Dad. She had to. She'd never let him regret, never.

She fell asleep determined.




"Ow. Slowly Dad. Ouch! Wait. Wait." She breathed deeply, curled hands gripping the sheet. "Okay, try again." This was hard, much more painful than she'd imagined.

"OW! Stop. I can't. It hurts too much." Kyla felt Dad move off her. She opened her eyes, face still pressed to the bed. When he lay next to her, she smiled ruefully. "Sorry. It was too painful," she said.

I caressed her thick hair, stared at intense jade eyes. I'd warned her anal sex was nothing like vaginal sex. But she'd been determined to try. I was still erect, the sight still burned into my brain. Kyla had laid flat. I'd straddled her slender thighs, pried her sexy little buttocks apart and, with plenty of suntan oil, pressed the crown of my erection to her tiny rosebud. I'd loved how small her bottom appeared, especially with my erection pressed between her round cheeks. But she'd been too tight, just like I'd warned her. I'd made no progress at all. Even using a finger had hurt her; she was too tense.

"Kyla, I warned you. You have nothing to be sorry about. One day, okay? It'll happen one day."

She rolled onto her side and grinned, "I'll practice in the shower," and her eyes trailed down my body. Her hand reached out, fingers curling around my slippery erection. "Looks like it hurts," she said softly, stroking gently. "Let me make it all better," Kyla murmured, rising and kneeling. She grabbed the sheet and wiped my erection, bent and kissed the tip. Her other hand cupped my testicles while the first gently squeezed my shaft, a bead of precum oozing from the tip.

Kyla grinned at me, a sexy mischievous grin that made her eyes twinkle. She bent and, in one movement, licked my shaft like a Popsicle from base to tip, her hot tongue swirling around the tip. She grinned again at my groan. "Ooh, Daddy likes," she said softly.

"Dad?" her normal voice came back as she plunked her bum onto her heels sitting up, still holding my erection, "Do you know how to deep throat?"

I think my stunned expression amused her. She giggled. "I tried on a cucumber and choked, but you're not quite as thick. That cucumber was big!"

"Jesus, Kyla . . ."

"Tammy told me to relax and, like, swallow. But it was too big." She turned and considered my erection, her hand waving it back and forth. Turning to me, she grinned. "But she could do it. Would it make you happy?"

"Jesus, Kyla . . ."

"Wow, I felt that," she exclaimed, gripping my erection. "It swelled. You'd better calm down or I'll never be able to."

"Jesus, Kyla . . ."

"What's the matter? Can't you talk?" Kyla used a finger to push her hair out of the way behind her ear, smiling, "You've gotta be able to see. Didn't you say you like seeing?"

Before I could inhale to answer, she bent, slipped her mouth over the tip, lips parting, stretching, small mouth slowly, exquisitely surrounding the helmet. I felt her tongue caress the side, trace the flared ridge, and, Jesus, watched her cheeks indent as she sucked. Her mouth popped off. She grinned, "Like it?"

"Jesus, Kyla . . ."

With a laugh, she asked, "Can't you say anything else?"

Before I answered, she bent, slipped her small mouth over my erection, lips stretching. I watched avidly as her red lips slipped down my shaft slightly, groaned deeply when the tip of my erection touched the back of her mouth. She pulled her mouth off with a slurp. Looked at me and grinned. "Ready?"

I opened my mouth to . . . "Jesus Christ."

Kyla slipped her mouth over my poor erection, lips stretching, they sealed around my shaft and she pushed her mouth down. I felt the tip nudge to her throat, felt her actually relax, she swallowed and relaxed and my crown pressed deeper. She gagged and pulled off with a slurp.

"Almost," she said with some pride. "Did it feel okay?" she asked with a naughty grin, her hand waving my erection around.

I opened my mouth to reply.

Her face descended, mouth opening, taking me in, pushing down. She stroked my erection making it strain and swell. Mother of God, she grinned with a mouthful of me! Eyes glanced up, twinkling. She pushed down, I felt her swallow, felt her throat open, the tip squeezed as it edged in.

"No!" I gasped, pulling her head up. She was going to hurt herself she was so determined. I'd never been deep-throated before, couldn't imagine a fourteen-year-old being capable of it without some damage and I just wasn't willing to take a risk.

"What?" she demanded, her hand still firmly holding my throbbing shaft.

"Please, don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't deep-throat, okay? It doesn't feel right," I lied.

"Kay." She glanced at my erection, considering it. "It feels rubbery in my mouth."

She bent, one hand cupping my testicles, the other still stroking my erection. With a flash of a smile, she bent, slipped her sweet mouth over my crown, lips stretching, and swirled her tongue around. I felt her probe the pee hole, felt her suck gently. Kyla then proceeded to bob her head on and off my crown, stroking and caressing me. She looked up at me, jade eyes watching me, sucking, stroking, hot tongue caressing. One hand gently caressed my balls, the other stroked my shaft in time with her mouth. Suddenly I was close, aching, throbbing, the sight and feel overwhelming me.

"Careful, honey. Gonna cum," I gasped, stomach straining.

I felt every little bit of my climax. I felt heaviness build. Kyla must have felt my erection swell, felt it pulse, as, at the moment when my climax erupted, at the moment when semen started up my straining shaft, her mouth stopped moving, lips formed to the tip of the crown, she sucked hard, cheeks indenting. "Cumming baby!" I gasped, a surge of pleasure crashing into me.

I exploded, cum rocketing out into her mouth with a burst of pleasure. I saw her swallow. I heaved, exploded again, semen jetting out in a long agonizing spurt, her cheeks puffing out, pleasure, pleasure, heart beating hard. Kyla swallowed again, lips forming into a slight smile, eyes twinkling at me. I moaned and heaved, another load jetting out, hips lifting from the bed, ecstasy thundering in. Reaching out I held her head and fucked into her mouth slightly, spurting hard, cumming, cumming, Jesus, sweet bliss, sweet bliss.

Cuddling to his side, Kyla decided oral sex was okay; she preferred it when it was Dad going down on her. But, she needed to keep him happy. She'd have to work on that deep-throat thing. Oh, and anal as well. She knew he wanted to have anal sex, his erection had been really hard, his eyes so excited. Besides, he said he was an ass man, and he'd proved it yesterday judging by how hard he'd taken her. Yeah, she'd have to work on it.

"Your semen is really salty," she said, glancing up at him with a smile at his soft expression, all puppy dog. "Are we going to get out of bed today?" It was almost eight-thirty in the morning.

Eventually I managed to move.

The grin on my face hurt. Kyla was whooping and hollering as she water-skied, wet hair flapping behind her, waving to me every time the boat hauled her past, the wake rocking my body. She looked so small in the adult life jacket. Kyla had decided, in her usual forceful manner, she was going to finally learn to water-ski, and we were going sight-seeing in the afternoon; the Alexandra waterfalls, the Seven Colored earth of Charmarel, and others, ending up in Port Louis for dinner. I had other plans. We eventually agreed on sight-seeing, her choice, and dinner, my choice; not Port Louis.

A quick, quiet call to the concierge while Kyla was in the bathroom and my plans were set. That afternoon we went sightseeing.

I had to admit the Seven Colored earth was quite unusual; lava flows had cooled at different rates resulting in a wild range of browns through reds through vivid pinks of undulating landscape. The Alexandra waterfalls left me wanting. Having seen the majestic splendor of Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe years ago, Mauritius was a poor second, even third, cousin. It didn't matter, though. Kyla held my hand, fingers intertwined, exuded enthusiasm and charm and contagious excitement, the love shining in her jade eyes making my heart constrict. She could have shown me a pile of dung and I'd have been happy.

She was also a little nymphet, keeping me constantly on the edge of arousal with a surprising mastery for someone so young. It started with the suntan as we walked towards Alexandra falls.

"Dad, I think I'm burnt," Kyla said, tugging my hand. "Look. Is it burned?" she asked.

I stopped and looked. Kyla had her face turned up to me, jade eyes twinkling in the sun, index finger tugging the neck of her T-shirt out. I looked and inhaled. The slight redness at her neck wasn't what caught my attention. Nope. My daughter was bra-less, two enticing firm cones riding with unnatural perkiness on her chest, pink areolae deliciously crinkled, nipples seductive little beads. I wondered what they'd look like when she'd run; imagined how they'd jiggle seductively.

"How does it look?" she asked with a mischievous grin. "Wanna feel? I think my skin is radiating heat. Dad? Dad? Hello, earth to Dad!"

I felt my face flush slightly, an erection stir. Kyla giggled and held my arm close. I distinctly felt the remarkable resilience of fourteen-year-old breasts rub on my arm.

In the middle of a crowd of sightseers at the Sugar Museum, Kyla tugged my head down, "Guess what?" she whispered in my ear, "I forgot to wear panties. Is that bad? Wanna feel?" Instant erection. And, making matters more strained, so-to-speak, Kyla calmly took my hand as we admired the stunning vista from a lookout at the top of the Black River Gorges, guided my hand to her back and, calm as you please, slipped it down inside the back of her shorts.

I didn't notice the verdant valleys covered in a rainforest, a waterfall looking like a slender white string in the distance, or the rainbow shimmering in the mist of the falls. No. I fondled a silky soft and cool bare bottom, explored the curves of nature, my daughter's curves, explored the valley, my daughter's valley, and got a raging erection. The little nymphet hugged my front, "Love you, Dad," she said, grinning as she pressed herself to a rather firm development.

By the time we returned to the hotel, I was feeling as if I'd gone fifteen rounds with Muhammad Ali, my body aching from a constant state of . . . horniness. Kyla stripped in front of me as if I wasn't there, deliberately, I thought. "I'm going take a shower," she advised. "What are we doing for dinner? I'm hungry."

I grinned and slapped her bare bottom as she made for the bathroom, enjoying her squeal of delight, the bounce of her rear, and the sight of a slender young naked girl sashaying away. I was tempted. I was sorely tempted. I felt the need to follow that sexy teen into the shower, grab her and wash her with my body, inside and out. I felt sure those perky buttocks ached and needed massaging.

With a sigh, I started changing, selecting jeans, Polo shirt, and sandals. With the sound of the shower running, I hunted through the mini fridge until I found the last bottle of Phoenix beer, taking it out to the patio. Laid back on the chaise lounge, an intense sun sliding towards the horizon in a cloudless blue sky, I considered my good fortune. Loving Kyla was natural; she'd always had my love. But being in love with Kyla was entirely different. She made my heart ache, made my heart sing with joy. She was an addiction. I craved her smile, her company. Physically loving Kyla was incredible, simply incredible.

Sipping my beer, I wondered why. Why was it I found her so sexy? Why did she turn me on so, so much? I wasn't a pedophile, was I? I'd never experienced an attraction to a child. Yet, damn if I didn't feel a powerful attraction to Kyla. Was it incest that appealed to me? I knew I found her not-yet-mature body powerfully arousing, felt my penis stir just thinking about her seductive firm body.

And, where would this relationship go? Where could it go? I didn't like those thoughts. I did not want to . . .

"Ready, Dad? How do I look?"

She took my breath away, again. She'd put on another silky blouse, white. She had tight navy blue Capri pants on that emphasized the slenderness of her hips, the length of her slim legs, sandals, and red toenail polish, I saw. Kyla's face glowed, hair pulled back at the sides, pinned back high behind, mahogany waves cascading down her back. She stood with a bony hip cocked, a grin that stabbed my heart. She was gorgeous, attractive, fourteen and sexy as hell. Jesus I was lucky.

I took her hand. "You look fabulous. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To dinner."

"Left," Kyla said as I turned right at the exit to the hotel. "The town's to the left, Dad." She assumed I was taking her to a restaurant in town.

"No it isn't, Kyla. I think too much sun has messed up your sense of direction."

"Daaad! It's left. You're just gonna get lost again and I didn't bring the map."

"Kyla my sweet, beautiful, directionally challenged girl, it's this way," I said with a grin at her.

I saw a smile emerge.

"Goof."

Twenty-odd minutes of Kyla chastising me for going the wrong way, I turned into a cul-de-sac, bounded over a rutted sandy lane and emerged at the edge of the ocean. A small pristine cove lay in front of us, sand undisturbed, palms crowding the beach, water lapping gently at the edge. The beautiful cove was lit by the final, dying rays of sun, the water sparkled; paradise found.

As the engine died, total silence flooded in. The sky was a painting of yellows, amber and red streaks.

"So," I said turning in my seat to Kyla. "What do you think of dinner on the beach, maybe some red wine, and if it suits you," I added with a grin, "some skinny-dipping? Maybe a frolic? A grope or two?"

It made my heart sing. The smile that blossomed on her face made me hurt, my chest constrict. I loved how the playful expression grew on her face.

"It depends," she said cheekily, "What's for dinner?"

"Cold roasted chicken, crisp coleslaw, fresh-baked rustic bread, a selection of cheeses, sparkling water, and a bottle of red wine," I announced.

She grinned, my heart swelled. "And desert?"

"Me?"

Her peal of laughter echoed in the silence. "No, really. What's for dessert?"

"Cake. It's all they had that wouldn't melt," I said, climbing out of the car. With the picnic basket the concierge had arranged for me and two beach towels, I led Kyla onto the sand. Lying on the towel, on my side, I watched her hunt through the basket, pull out a bottle of red, check the label, "Nice," and hand it to me. "Open," she instructed.

We ate, relaxed, sipped wine, ate, relaxed; generally did a lot of nothing. It was paradise.

I had that pleasant half hard on through our meal; the delicious tingle of arousal, of anticipation. Studying her profile, I liked her small nose, almost perfectly straight. Her lips looked lush, mouth sexy. As she lay on her back resting on her elbows staring out to the ocean, my eyes trailed down her compact body, appreciating how her petite breasts looked so desirable draped in white silk, loving how flat her stomach was, and really, really liking how the waist of her Capri pants seemed to stretch between two prominent hip bones and hover slightly off her lower stomach.

I felt an erection form as I picture slipping my hand into that gap, feeling her undies, the steep rise of her mons, the . . .

"Let's swim!" I suggested, now horny.

Kyla glanced across to me grinning. "You just want to see me naked," she accused.

"Guilty as charged, honey. So . . . go on," I said nodding to her, "Strip, expose yourself, flash me, go on."

Kyla's jade eyes seemed to darken, a sultry expression forming. Her fingers fiddled with the button of her pants. "This?" she asked coyly. She let her hand move up, staring at me, undid the top button of her blouse. "Or, this?" she asked. I felt my penis grow. Kyla seemed far too adept at seducing me.

A second button popped open. "Like this?" she asked. "More?" A soft smile curled lovely lips.

I was in agony as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse until it lay parted, the tails draping to her sides exposing a flat stomach, little belly button, yet still covered her petite breasts.

My heart was beating hard, eyes riveted to her fingers as they toyed with the button on her pants. I sighed when it popped open, held my breath as she smiled, jade eyes twinkling, and lowered the zip.

"Put the food away," she instructed. I scrambled around and started packing the leftovers. A peal of laughter had me turning just in time to see a naked little girl diving into the surf, flashing me with a beautiful white bum.

I stripped in record time, raced towards the water. Kyla's head bobbed in the gentle waves. "You've got a boner," she yelled gleefully. "How come?"

I'd never noticed how fast she could swim. Kyla seemed to slip through water like a penguin, a perfectly streamlined body shape. I was panting by the time I grabbed a thrashing ankle, grinning as I hauled my catch in, delighted with landing such a delectable morsel. And it all sort of faded away when she turned and wiggled close, gently captured and clenched her slender thighs around my erection, slipped her arms about my neck, and rubbed two perfectly firm petite breasts against my chest. Two jade eyes looked at me with adoration that made my breath catch. I wrapped her in my arms, drew her up, kissed sweet lips.

Kyla, supported by salt water, felt weightless. Her body felt smaller, intensely exciting. I loved how her small tongue was so active, giving as good as she got. Sucking on it was so sexy, but it was so much better when I chased it back into her mouth. French kissing my fourteen-year-old was more erotic than any kiss I'd had before. It was intense, illicit, thrilling. It made my erection strain and swell; drove my passion higher.

"Dad," Kyla sighed when the passionate kiss ended with my sucking rather forcefully on a lush lower lip. "Can we make love here? In the ocean? Would it make you happy?" She reinforced her desire by wrapping her legs around my waist.

"Would it make you happy, Kyla?"

A sweet smile emerged. "Uh-huh."

"Wait," I said, using my arms to draw us back towards the beach. Soft sand brushed on my feet. A couple more strokes and I could stand, water up to my chest, a gorgeous daughter naked and pressed to me, slender legs holding me close. Reaching down, I cupped her compact buttocks, pulled her up until I could kiss her petite breasts. Kyla sighed and rested her cheek on my head as I kissed, played with her nipples, sucked gently, alternating between sucking the nipple and opening my mouth to take as much of her teen breast in as I could, a perfect, firm, upright little breast.

I let my fingertips lightly caress the sides of her vulva as I held her bum, teasingly tracing the edge of her cleft, never quite touching her clit. Kyla moaned and held my head tighter. I heard her murmuring, "Daddy, Daddy." My heart swelled.

The ocean felt cool on my erection, nice, sensual. At some point the sun had dipped below the horizon, only a trace of light brightening the horizon with fiery streaks of blood red and purple. As she slid down my body, her lips locked onto mine, her sweet kiss immediately passionate, probing, and hot, arms around my head. Kyla moved her bum in my hands, eyelids closed, head tilted, quiet moans of arousal and active tongue seducing me. God I loved my little nymphet. I was already intensely turned on.

The kiss broke. Kyla sighed. "I'm ready, Daddy," she whispered into my ear, laying her cheek on my shoulder, arms holding me. I was, too; very, very ready. I felt with my fingertips, guiding my straining, thick erection to the sexy indent at the base of her pussy, shuddering at the first touch of warm skin in the cool ocean, erection pulsing, hard, stiff, feeling like it was ready to burst.

Kyla shivered against me. She moved her bottom, small circles, small circles, pushing down gently. That exquisite moment was on me, the moment when her pussy started dilating and penetration began. I felt her slowly work, slowly stretch, a warm embrace slowly sliding over my crown, stretching, so unbelievably arousing. Kyla's body moved gently aided by small evening ocean swells, pushing down, easing, pushing down. And slowly, agonizingly slowly, Kyla eased my erection into her, slipping suddenly to absorb my crown.

"God, Kyla, you feel so good, so tight," I sighed, "I love this." My erection swelled rhythmically, her velvet vagina gripping me.

"Me, too, Daddy," she whispered, squeezing me. "I love feeling you inside me." She confirmed it by slipping down, my erection burrowing into her seductive silky pussy, heat wrapping around my shaft. I felt her legs tighten and pull, felt lightheaded when the tip gently pressed against her womb. I was buried in her, completely, utterly buried in paradise.

There was peacefulness about the cove, the oncoming night silent except for small waves softly rustling on the beach. The air was still. I was still, standing in the ocean, a naked daughter wrapped around me, penetrating her sexy body, soft murmurs in my ear. We didn't move, just let the pleasure of our joining, of the setting, of our love wash over us. Our only movement was a gentle motion as small waves moved out bodies.

Kyla raised her head, smiled at me. "This is perfect, Daddy," she said softly. "Can we stay like this forever?"

I let go of her buttocks, held her slender back with one hand, the other spanning her bottom. I caressed her back, feeling the curve of her spine. Concentrating, I could feel her firm little breasts pressed against my chest. I wallowed in the incredible sensuousness of the situation. "I wish we could," I said.

Kyla moved first. Starting with a small kiss and a smile that made her so beautiful, she gently tightened herself, making her already snug vagina almost painfully tight. She grinned when I winced. "Am I too tight?" she asked. "Don't you like it? Doesn't it make you happy?"

"Kyla, sweetheart, you are pure trouble. You're going to kill me," I accuse her, with a smile and flex of my erection.

I loved her gentle giggle, the way it faded as she lifted slightly, the way her head rested on my shoulder. "Now, Daddy," she whispered, curling her hips, pushing me firmly against her womb. "I'm ready."

Our motion started, timed with the waves, a gentle withdrawal, a gentle thrust, exquisite tight warmth, cool ocean, hot, velvety moist pussy. Our movements were short, lazy, languid, moving at the pace of gentle ocean swells. As time passed, our strokes lengthened; slow longer withdrawals, slow penetrations, exquisitely sensual, Kyla sighing in my ear, arms hugging. Our passion built gradually, never frenetic, softly sexual, excitement melding with love, little murmurs.

Kyla kissed my neck, curling her sexy bottom at me. I rubbed her back. We moved, made love slowly, erection swelling, my daughter tight, tight. My ecstasy arrived, a swell of pleasure like the ocean washing over me.

"I love you, Kyla," I said gently, holding her slender young body tight. My climax erupted. I couldn't hold back, too sensual, too arousing.

Holding my darling tighter, semen burned up my shaft. My erection swelled, expanded. Semen jetted out into her. Pleasure, pleasure.

"Yessss," Kyla sighed, her bottom twitching, vagina suddenly squeezing, arms hugging tight.

I withdrew and slid back into her snug warmth gently, lodged deep, swelled, semen exploding, hot, thick, flooding my crown, pleasure crashing into me, stealing my breath.

"Yes, cum for me Daddy," she whispered.

The gates opened wide. I moaned, thrust gently and came hard, sliding in and out of her velvety pussy, spurting hard, spurting painfully, cumming hard in Kyla's tight grip, cumming in my baby, cumming, sweet Jesus, cumming.




We lay next to each other by the swimming pool, Kyla in her yellow bikini, me with a Mai Tai that sported a little umbrella. Our three weeks were coming to an end, three weeks of pure paradise. I admired the golden bronze color Kyla had developed. The constant sun had also given her mahogany hair light burgundy red streaks, quite stunning. I studiously avoided looking at her body, knowing I'd get an erection if I did.

Over three weeks I hadn't tired of the excitement of our relationship. If anything it had grown progressively stronger. Kyla was a chameleon. One minute she'd be the sweet daughter and two seconds later do or say something that went right to my groin. She demonstrated a remarkable understanding of how to flirt subtly, how to arouse with a gesture or a soft comment, a smile or grin. I was quite hopelessly in love with her.

Kyla kept an intense focus on what I liked, what turned me on. She was almost obsessed with making sure I was happy and no amount of discussion could sway her. "Daddy," she'd say with a cute frown between her eyebrows, "You're GOING to be happy. I'm NOT sharing you." Who was I to complain?

I absolutely loved how she continued to spit jade fire at any woman who approached, muttering uncomplimentary names when they passed, making derogatory comments about their bodies or morals, before turning to admonish me for encouraging them. I did encourage them, too. I loved Kyla's jealousy. It made my heart sing, made me feel good.

Kyla reached across and rested her hand on my forearm. "Dad? Do you remember your fantasy? Tonight, okay?"

Placing the Mai Tai down carefully, my hand trembling slightly, I slipped into the pool and tried to hide my sudden embarrassing condition. Kyla's giggle didn't help. Damn she was such a minx.

I escorted a beautiful daughter into the formal dining room that night. She wore the same sexy blue dress she'd worn at the beginning of our vacation, the one that clung to her, her hair in the same French braid. The maître d' ignored me completely, again. Waiters fawned over her. I didn't care. She was mine, completely mine. I actually pitied the poor sods. They'd never experience paradise the way I had.

Succulent steaks in a mushroom pepper sauce, crisp roasted fresh vegetables and a stunning red wine all added to the magic of the evening. This time, when the piano music started, Kyla took my hand. "Let's dance," she suggested with a smile that hit me deep. We did. I danced with my darling, not caring if it seemed unusual to other diners. We danced.

As I signed the tab, Kyla leaned close. "Dad, go have a drink in the bar before coming back. I need to prepare."

As Kyla slipped between other tables making her way out, I signaled to a waiter and ordered a cognac. I couldn't stand at that particular moment. I decided I was odd, and didn't really care. I had to be odd, anyway. In love with my daughter? Having sex with her? A fourteen-year-old? Yeah, the truth was, no matter how intense my love was, I was odd. I didn't care.

When Kyla had asked me, "What do you fantasize about? When you think of us, what do you dream you could do with me?" I knew exactly what I fantasized about. I fantasized about slipping into my little girls room at night while she slept, sliding into her bed, touching her in inappropriate places, exploring her young body. I fantasized about having sex with her, starting while she slept. I fantasized about her waking up to her daddy, liking it, encouraging me.

But my fantasy didn't stop there. I fantasized about us falling asleep with my penis still buried in her young pussy, waking up during the night and fucking her, sleeping, waking up, fucking my darling, sleeping. That's what I fantasized about. It was illicit, pornographic, entirely self gratifying, and intensely exciting to me. It had appeared as a fantasy after making love to Kyla. Where it came from, I didn't know. I only knew that the fantasy gave me an erection every time.

The villa was dark when I approached. In the distance I could hear the piano music, bursts of bright laughter floating on the night air. Crickets clicked out their night music. I heard waves gently thump and hiss, almost a percussive pressure, rhythmic, hypnotic, almost sensual. The breeze was only strong enough to rustle the palm leaves. The sky seemed bedecked with stars.

Turning the door handle, I entered. The villa was dark, not one light on. It was quiet, still. Moving through the darkness I made for the bedroom, pausing in the doorway. Double glass doors, curtains pulled to the sides, let moonlight flood the room, a ghostly pale light that washed out colors. In the large king-sized bed I saw the outline of Kyla as she slept on her side, a thick mass of mahogany hair spread over the pillow, appearing black in the light of the moon. My heart constricted. In the play of light and shadows, with a single cotton sheet draped over her body, I saw the seductive swell of her hip, of her bottom, emphasized by her position. My daughter looked so small, lost in the big bed, a child.

I undressed, my gaze locked onto Kyla. My erection sprang up when released, already taut, filled with blood, pulsing. Lifting the sheet, I slipped into bed, catching a glimpse of plain white cotton panties, my heart spiking. Carefully I moved to Kyla, slipping up behind her. I inhaled the scent of little girl, a soft seductive scent, a cuddly and arousing scent, so unique to young girls. With infinite care, I worked my left arm under the pillow, slipping it under her, listening to her gentle breathing. Heart pounding loudly, I cuddled to my daughter, gently pulling her to me, spooning her small body, my erection nestled against soft cotton panties, pressing between firm little buttocks.

My right hand rested lightly on her hip, on her soft cotton panties. I paused enjoying her against me, my little girl, cuddling, erection throbbing deliciously.

Gradually I started to caress her hip, small motions, light. I felt her bony little hip, the silky skin on her thigh. With my fingertip I traced the elastic leg band of her cotton panties, feeling how it pressed into her flesh, how it curved seductively over a delectable buttock. Moving my pelvis back slightly, I cupped my darling's bottom, so petite, so sweet, so young and firm. I traced the elastic leg band down, feeling it curve in. A shudder coursed through me. I felt the subtle mound of her pussy. Gently, slowly, I curled her knees up, let the tip of my finger trace where her thighs met, following the crease, inhaling as I touched cotton. I probed, carefully feeling the rounded plumpness of her pussy pressing against cotton. Precum leaked, my crown rubbing against her lower back spreading my slipperiness. I felt an urge to push, to rub my erection against her slender back.

My hand trembled slightly as I felt my way to her waistband. I followed it to her spine, hooked my fingers into it. Pausing I took several deep breaths. The room was silent, Kyla breathing gently, her back moving with each breath. Slowly I pulled her panties down, working them down over her small bottom, pulling the center, then the right, and then, more carefully, the left where she rested on the bed. Carefully I worked her cotton panties down until I had them at mid-thigh. It became easier, they slipped off. With my foot I pushed them down into the bed covers. Kyla was naked. God, my daughter was naked, asleep, open to me.

Straightening her legs I moved down slightly, let my straining, damp erection nestle into the crease of her thighs, my erection now jerking, precum oozing. I moved gently, letting the tip slide, precum suddenly making her slippery. I moved gently inching ever higher. A surge of excitement pounded me when the tip kissed her pussy, kissed the perfect spot where labia met and her buttocks started, the sexy indent leading to her immature vagina.

My hand trembled. I held her hip, bony, small, very small. Throbbing and leaking slippery warm precum, I held her hip more firmly, excitement punishing me. I pushed slightly. Lordy, but feeling the tip of my erection slip in, her little pussy oozing apart around my crown sent sparks of desire through me. She was smooth, soft, sweet and young.

I felt my darling stir, felt an exploratory flexing of her small bottom, squeezing pressure on my crown.

"Daddy? What are you doing? It feels good," she whispered, pressing back slightly as if testing the sensation of having an erection nestled to her pussy.

"Sweetheart," I whispered very quietly, "Please forgive me. I need you so much. Daddy wants you so much, baby."

"It's okay, Daddy. I don't mind."

I hugged my daughter, held her small hip, my thumb caressing the top of her buttock, fingertips slipping down into the crease formed by her sexy thigh and plump pussy. I started rocking, rubbing my erection against her, using the valley of her thighs to guide my erection. Precum made me slick, made Kyla slippery, so arousing, so sexy.

I moaned. I couldn't help it. Suddenly I felt my little girl's moisture silky and warm against my tip, my darling aroused! My penis slipped up, heat around my crown. I was there! I felt the tiny opening to her vagina pressed against my aching erection, my heart thudding in my chest. I was about to fuck my little girl! I was about to fuck my sweet daughter!

"Go on," she whispered. "It's okay. I love you, Daddy."

"God, baby, Daddy loves you, too," I moaned into her thick hair and hunched slightly. Stars burst in my mind. My baby's vagina stretched seductively, she pushed with a sweet little moan, her entrance squeezed over my crown. My heart rate surged when her tiny vagina popped over the crown, locking tightly to my shaft, velvet heat gripping me tightly, tightly. Suddenly I was in! I was fucking my little girl!

"Oh Jesus. Can't wait, sweetheart. Too good," I gasped, holding her small hip. I pushed and almost cried at the exquisite feeling of my erection slipping into a tight velvety sheath, the crown burrowing in, moist heat surrounding my erection. I pushed, shuddering from the exquisite pleasure of penetrating my child, of fucking my baby. She was silky, snug, incredibly sexual, so small, so small, just a child.

Two little buttocks touched my groin. I hunched, burying the last of my raging erection into her tiny, tight pussy, moaning loudly when the tip pressed against her end, a hard rubbery feeling. I was in, in fully. My erection was lodged against my child's cervix, my erection lodged at my child's womb. I was in. So exciting.

I felt her squeeze slightly, testing how full, how stretched she was with her Daddy's penis in her. "It's really big, Daddy," she whispered with a slight tremble in her voice. "Do I feel good? Do you like me? Does it make you happy?"

"Oh Lord, baby," I gasped. "Daddy loves it." My erection swelled massively, her vagina so tight, so tight. I felt the desperate urge to fuck, a primal urge. Reaching around my little girl, I lifted her slender young leg up over my thigh, cupped her plump sexy little pussy, felt where my erection penetrated her, how stretched she was, so exciting. I felt her little cleft spread wide, touched her clit. Holding her pussy and caressing her hard little clit, I withdrew, pulling my straining erection almost out, cool air on my shaft. Reversing, a fierce urge to be buried in my child, I fucked into her slowly, her velvet pussy sliding down my shaft. I nudged against her womb. My body shook from arousal, from the excitement of fucking my little girl.

Arousal flooded my body like heroine, penis swelled, ached. My baby's pussy was so snug, gripping me tightly in a hot velvet vise, too good, too good. I started fucking my child, penis pulsing, long smooth strokes, slippery, moist, holding her small pussy, pulling her to me, sinking deep, all the way. I fucked my baby gently feeling my orgasm build, balls heavy, pressure slowly grow. I hugged my little girl to me, fucking her, thrusting, withdrawing, fucking, my pace slowly increasing, urgency growing.

My little darling started breathing faster, started moving her small bottom, joining in, fucking back against her Daddy, rubbing her clit on my finger, curling, pushing back, fucking with me. Excitement pounded through me, beads of perspiration coating my brow. I felt the storm of a massive orgasm gather and approach. Urgency took control, a need to cum, to inseminate my child, spurt into her, cum in her.

Hugging her moving body tighter, I fucked my little girl harder, long strokes, faster strokes, hunching, fucking, penetrating her little pussy deep.

"Daddy!" She gasped, her body jerking hard in my arms. She froze, her body rigid. "Daddy!" she cried out loudly, jerking hard, shoving her little bum back against me. Suddenly my baby started writhing, my child climaxing, her tight pussy cramping.

My orgasm raged into me. "Jesus, cumming baby," I gasped, fucking her hard, hard, my erection swelling, tight, so tight. I roared as pressure suddenly exploded, semen released to barrel up my shaft. Shoving deep I sealed my crown to her womb, pain ripped through me, semen jetting out. Without time to breathe, I pulled back, fucked into her again and a massive wave of pleasure tore through me, semen exploding into her tiny pussy, warmth flooding back. The gates of heaven opened. I fucked my child hard, spurting gloriously, tugging her petite body to me, fucked, spurted, semen flooding her little womb, flooding her tiny pussy. I fucked my little girl and came, pleasure punishing my body, ejaculating hard, thrusting wildly, cumming hard until I was dry heaving, my stomach cramping, toes curled, cumming baby, Daddy's cumming.

Kyla's leg slipped off my thigh as calm descended, both of us panting. Peace flowed through me, my muscles relaxed. I could feel my darling twitch as remnants of her climax faded from her body, her vagina gently clasping my softening erection.

Letting her pussy go, our groins wet with my semen and her moisture, I cupped a petite breast. She snuggled back into me with a little murmur. "Thank you, sweetheart," I whispered. It had been intense, my fantasy making my orgasm spectacular.

"Love you, Dad," she whispered.

Sleep descended, paradise found.

I woke in the middle of the night. Memories stirred in the half sleep stage, the part dream, part reality of utter peace. Blood flowed. I felt my penis still held in my darling's small pussy, her warm seductive bottom pressed back against me. Without moving I reveled in the feeling of an erection forming inside her, feeling my penis thicken in her tight vagina, feeling it slowly lengthen, pushing up her sheath, hot and slippery from semen I'd deposited earlier. I let my erection grow, basking in the incredible feeling. As it grew, Kyla's vagina felt like it was tightening on me, the crown slowly oozing up into her. I let it grow, let my excitement grow. Kyla was asleep, her breathing light and regular and I had my penis in her, I was going to fuck my sleeping daughter; so exciting.

Fully awake, I lay without moving, just enjoying how my erection felt surrounded by her silky firm grip. I let my erection swell, stiff, rigid, and pulsing pleasantly in her, the tip nudging to her cervix. Holding my darling in my arms, my hand still cupping a petite breast, I flexed my penis. Tight, she was tight. I wanted to fuck my darling while she slept, somehow the idea so exciting, so arousing.

Moving only slightly, I slipped my erection out an inch or less, just enough for her insides to caress my crown. I slipped in slowly, gently, slipped out, slipped in, only my hips moving, listening to her breathing softly, asleep. My erection pulsed. Good, incredibly good. With slow gentle movements, small careful strokes, I fucked Kyla in her sleep, let her incredible pussy massage my erection. I fucked her languidly feeling the amazing sensation of her pussy massaging me. I fucked her slowly, gloriously, letting my excitement build. What was it about fucking a sleeping little girl that excited me so much? Why did it arouse me so intensely that she didn't know her father was having sex with her? I didn't understand. But, God, fucking my sleeping angel, my fourteen-year-old was so, so good.

I fucked her slowly, each exquisite movement, each sensual rub of her snug vagina on my erection building towards my orgasm. Moving no more than an inch, I fucked her until I felt the need to cum, felt the need to climax. It hit me suddenly. It hit me hard. It was spectacular. My erection swelled and semen burned up my shaft, jetting into her, sweet pleasure blooming. I swelled and semen charged up my shaft, exploding into her tight pussy, beautiful ecstasy, beautiful ecstasy. I swelled and spurted as I moved seductively, moved slowly, semen jetting into my darling with each forward movement, each short shove, cumming in my baby, cumming, cumming exquisitely, emptying myself into my little girl.

Peace descended, body relaxed, muscles warm and calm. I relished the knowledge I'd just fucked Kyla in her sleep; so arousing. I relished the fact that my child now carried more of my sperm in her little womb. As an exhausted sleep crept over me like a soft warm blanket, I hugged Kyla to me, hoping I could wake one more time, repeat it again.

It wasn't to be.




Kyla buckled her seatbelt, staring out the porthole, her mind buzzing. She didn't see the concrete runway slipping by, the terminal shimmering in the heat, or notice the palm trees moving gently from a hot breeze. Kyla's mind was preoccupied. She couldn't fight a sadness that weighed her down. Her vacation was over, she was leaving paradise. She knew beyond doubt that Dad loved her. Smiling, she remembered how he had tried not to wake her the second time. She'd pretended to sleep so he could have his fantasy. And, doing that, she'd been surprised at the feeling of pride that had grown when she felt him cumming in her. It was such a beautiful experience to feel his pleasure.

But the vacation was over. They hadn't talked about what would happen; as if both of them were scared to contemplate it. She didn't want to go back. She couldn't go back to the heart ache, the pain of longing for him.

"Dad?" She reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his, pulling his hand into her lap.

I looked across at Kyla, felt the sudden acceleration press me back into the seat as the airplane brakes were released, heard the powerful roar of two large Rolls Royce engines.

"What's going to happen now?" she asked in a small voice.

The plane lifted off the runway suddenly, dipping to the right, climbing and shaking through the heavy ground-level air. Through the porthole I saw a flash of turquoise water deepening to blue, the curve of a white coral reef, boats leaving white tails as they motored slowly. I saw paradise fading away. I saw worry in my daughter's beautiful jade eyes. I knew exactly what was going to happen in our future. There was only one course our illicit relationship could take. I wondered how my sweet daughter was going to react when I told her. I wondered if it would make her happy.

 
     
 

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This is a work of fiction. The author does not condone any sexual activity among persons under the legal age of consent. This story is copyright protected.
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