Daddy's

by Helen Goodman

  "Maybe. But he could see into our minds. We all have fantasies. We just bury them deep."

  Her arms snaked around his neck, and she looked into his eyes. "I bet you have some interesting ones."

  He could feel his heart beat through his chest. Surely she could feel it as well? He tried to smile it off.

  "I hope you find someone special, dad."

  "Me too."

  She leaned up and kissed him again. A warm kiss, lingering again, his arms snaking around her waist. He noticed his groin stirring again, gently pressing against her belly.

  He needed some distance so twirled her away in time with the music, holding her hand. But she simply twirled back in, close. Eyes on him.

  "Someone to help fulfil your dreams too. You do have dreams, don't you dad?"

  He nodded.

  "Me too." She added.

  His breath was becoming laboured now. She held him close.

  "I love you, dad." She said, and kissed him on the cheek, slowly withdrawing, leaving moisture on his skin.

  He looked down at his beautiful girl. "I love you too." Another kiss. She rose to meet him, her hand to the cheek where her lips had just parted. Their lips touched and held for a moment. They separated, for one heartbeat, to look into each other's eyes, and kissed again.

  This time there was movement. Subtle, but real. She gently rolled her mouth against his. He noticed his hands drift down to the top of her backside, to the beginning of the curve. They moved further down, and gently squeezed. He heard her moan... felt it on her lips as she hardened her kiss.

  He pulled away, just an inch, to take it in. To see if this was ... happening. He wanted to say something but nothing sensible would come to mind. She rocked slowly in his arms, staring intently at his eyes, his mouth, her breathing slow and laboured. Some force made him slow down. He drew her head against his neck, not risking another kiss.

  He felt her mouth on his chest. As he breathed deeply the scent from her skin, her hair, filled him. An intoxicating blend of youth and perfume.

  He had to hold her close. To control things. But his hands ascended her back, the left gently rising to caress the nape of her neck. He found his lips making the faintest of touches on her delicate, tanned flesh. She responded immediately: arching her neck, her head deeper into his chest. He kissed her, and as he opened his mouth, he allowed his tongue to take the faintest sample of her taste before closing his lips on her again. She replied with a gentle, slow sigh. He tried to think clearly, but to no avail. He kissed her, allowed his mouth to open and gently bit her neck.

  Jasmine threw her head back. He continued kissing her throat, all the way round to the other side of her neck. He gripped her hair, and bit her again...

  "Ohhh, yessss." She purred. And in hearing her voice remembered who she was. Again he pulled back.

  "Jasmine ... this ..." he tried to find the words, again they failed him.

  Her flushed face looked up at him. "Shhhh..." She pulled his face to her and kissed again. This time her lips parted and he felt the moist, faint touch of her tongue. He received her warmly, mingling with her.

  It lasted, uninhibited.

  His hands found the zip on the back of her dress and slid it down. She responded by brushing the jacket from his shoulders.

  He kissed her shoulders as he moved the dress strap over them. It slid to the floor. Her naked beauty shone through him.

  "I want you." He rasped.

  She stepped out of her dress. "I want us to be together...just us."

  They kissed fervidly. She tore his shirt open and he lifted her around his waist. Her legs locked fast around him. He turned and carried her to the bed, his shirt open, Jasmine in nothing but her thong and heels.

  He kicked off his shoes and pulled off the rest of his clothes, as quickly as he could less the magic evaporate in a moment of clarity. He clambered between her open thighs. They continued to kiss, hungry for passion, desperate to connect. His hands took in her shape. The slight roundness of her stomach. The firmness of her breasts. He took them into his mouth in turn, sucking, gently pulling on her dark nipples with his lips. She moaned and arched underneath him, her groans driving his desire further. He smoothed her thighs with his hands, and kissed her stomach. Slowly, slowly down.

  Her legs parted as he kissed the line of her thong. Her hips rose to his mouth, and he slipped his thumbs under her last piece of clothing. She pulled her legs together and lifted her arse, allowing him to slide it over her legs and shoes. Throwing them to the floor he gently parted his daughters thighs...sliding his hand down them as he did. She gripped the headboard and held her legs wide. He looked into her eyes ... she smiled. Nothing but love and desire in her eyes.

  He leaned forward and stroked her face, kissing her just below her rib cage. He stroked her lips and she turned to take his finger into her mouth. Gently sucking. He took her nipples into his mouth again before moving down. Licking, kissing her stomach. Tracing his hand around her pubic hair and down her thighs. He kissed her lips and her body moved up to greet him. Slowly, despite the burning desire inside him, he moved his tongue over her pussy... supping her. She tasted like fresh, dark honey.

  Her noises aroused him more... the animalistic bucking of her hips. His tongue slipped into her, over her clitoris. Taking her in.

  "Oh, oh, yes..." her voice low and throaty. He grabbed her backside and moved his mouth to cover her pussy entirely. Her lips, his lips, moving in synchrony.

  "Please ... please..." He paused to look at her. "Please ... let's be together."

  He sat up, moved over her. Her body still writhing just under him.

  She reached down with one hand, and he felt her fingers curl around him. Despite the heat, he felt a freshness to her touch, a vitality. He lowered himself, led by her. He felt the warm touch of her pussy. There was a tightness there, an inviting one. A promising one. He looked into her eyes, watched them open in flashes as he moved into her. Her body gently flinched, her mouth moved noiselessly. Their gaze never faltered as Tim slowly, fully, entered his daughter.

  She let out a short, stifled cry. He paused for a moment. Savouring the feeling. She was breathing hard, but she was ok. He brought his knees up slightly, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. Her hands reached out to his face, bringing him forward to kiss. And as they did, they began to move. Slowly rocking back and forth over her hips, feeling her warm embrace on his cock. Her hips moved perfectly with her fathers. He raised himself on one hand to see her more clearly, her dark tones against his olive skin. Her slender thighs around his body...her whole being fusing with him.

  His other arm traced the outline of her body, coming to rest on her hips. Holding her closer, watching her move under him. With him. Warm lava began to build inside him. Possessing him. He moved faster, her groans like a metronome for him, matching his pace. Faster and harder now, the feeling built... he looked into her eyes... wanting this moment between them.

  The surge of heat burst through him, too intense for him to keep his eyes open, enrapturing his body. It flowed into the beauty beneath him. He forced himself to look at her, an unearthly glow to her face.

  Anxious thoughts crossed his mind. It had happened. He could feel her trembling beneath him. He lay back down and kissed her. She kissed back.

  They held each other close, not a word spoken between them.

  *********

  Tim was dreaming. In a kitchen that wasn't theirs. Jasmine was sitting at the table crying. His wife, hurling insults and blame. She produced a kitchen knife. He sensed other men in the house, one in each room, waiting for her to expel the intruder. He backed out into the garden. Now it was cold. Dark. He found himself naked. Lying on cool grass. Jasmine kneeling by him. Something was stirring. His mind resurfaced into the dark of the night.

  He heard himself moan, still unsure what was happening. He awoke, his eyes adjusting to the light, his mind to a source of unknown pleasure.

  He looked down. The sheets had been move
d down past his thighs. Jasmine held his cock in one hand, the dark tumble of her hair moving up and down, over his groin. She sensed his waking, looked up and smiled at him. Without saying anything, she traced her tongue along his length, once; twice, then slipped it back into her mouth. Squeezing with her tongue, she worked him until he came again. He felt her throat undulate as she wallowed.

  "Sorry, dad. I just wanted to do that."

  **********

  Tim awoke from a more pleasant dream, hard again. He looked over his shoulder, but the bed was empty.

  The memories from last night came back to him. A shudder went through him. Christ. Could he put it down to the drink?

  He got out of bed, grabbing a robe. The lounge area was empty. He went to the bathroom. Nothing. He began to panic, tension in his chest. He checked the wardrobe, her suitcase and clothes were still there. And her passport. Good sign. But where was she?

  Hot tub? No. She was gone. He rang reception. Yes, they had seen her. She seemed fine, but no, she didn't say where she was going. Oh, and now that he was up, she had ordered room service for him.

  Nothing to do but wait. Left alone with his thoughts.

  He supped some warm stale champagne to calm himself. Revolting, but he needed it.

  He took stock. She hadn't left. Couldn't have.

  Had she just fled without thinking? What the hell was he thinking last night? How could he make her do that for him? But she had been receptive.

  Hell, perhaps it was even fifty per cent her fault. No, you can't blame her. It was you, Tim. Shit, was she on birth control? Oh, fuck. What had he done? Yeah, but she was the one who woke you up in the middle of the night with a blow job. What had she said? Sorry, I wanted to do that. OK, so they were both in on it. But, what would be next? She'd probably never speak to him again.

  Sorry, dad, I just wanted to do that. The words echoed in his head. I just wanted to do that. Her smile, her tongue. His cock disappearing into her mouth...

  Your fucking daughter's mouth, Tim! Two lonely fucked up people playing out a Greek fucking tragedy.

  Calm down, Tim. Calm down. Speak to Jasmine, get the facts. Don't make any assumptions until then.

  Room service arrived. Eggs Benedict and a mimosa.

  He took the drink.

  **********

  It was nearly midday before he dared leave the phone and take a shower. He tried to keep his thoughts clear. The mimosa didn't help. He entered the main area of the suite and had a quick look around. Still no Jasmine. He choose some clothes, got dressed. He went out to the balcony and scanned the beach below. No, still no sign of her. Their flight was Monday evening. They had one day left to sort this out. And one night.

  He slapped his forehead. Stop it, Tim. Get a grip.

  The phone rang. He crossed the room and lifted the receiver.

  "Senor, it is a message from Jasmine."

  Tim braced himself. "Great. What is it?"

  "She says to meet in Taverna Can Margarit. She says you know where it is."

  Tim hung up. She wanted to meet in a bar. She'd obviously needed some time to compose herself. And now she was drinking, steeling herself for a confrontation.

  He stopped by the lobby bar for a quick whisky, then hailed a taxi.

  He paused outside the taverna, wondering what was waiting for him: what he had done to his relationship with Jasmine.

  He'd have to face it. It was another negotiation. It sickened him to think of dealing with his daughter in this way, but this was outside of his skill set.

  He pushed the door and entered. It was dark inside, and normally it would have taken a while to adjust. But he couldn't miss her, waiting at the bar.

  He walked over to her, stopping short of his natural impulse to kiss her. In a fatherly way of course. Well, he was her father, but ...

  "Hello."

  She didn't look at him. Took another sip of wine. She gestured to the beer on the bar and walked to a corner table.

  They sat in silence. They both took sips of their drink, and set them down at the same time.

  "Kind of like last night." She said.

  "What is, hun?" he asked, noticing the desperate hope in his voice.

  Still nothing. "You gave me a bit of a scare." He added.

  She raised her eyes to his. "Is that all I gave you, dad?"

  "Maybe, maybe don't call me dad just now."

  "Sorry, Tim."

  That sounded even worse to him. Distant. Cold.

  "Hun, I just need to know one thing. Are we ..."

  "We're fine dad ... We're fine. I know what I ... what happened."

  "How do you feel, hun?"

  "I'm, fine. It's just..."

  "If I could take it back, I would..." he pleaded. He could feel her growing more distant.

  "Why didn't you come and see me more?"

  "I couldn't. Your mother and I ... it's difficult. It's a divorce, its, there are lawyers involved and ..."

  She dropped her head, shoulders hunching up.

  "Believe me, hun. I love your more than anything. If I could see you more. I mean, she changed the home number, went ex-directory. We only talk through lawyers..."

  She stilled herself. Took a deep breath. "I know, dad. I know what she's been like."

  He tried to think of something to say. She beat him to it.

  "I need to do some stuff. I'll see you at six."

  As she got up to go, his eyes stayed on his beer.

  ********

  Tim wondered the streets alone, trying to distract himself with Gaudi and museums. He walked through the Museum of Contemporary Art without being able to recall a thing. His mind driven from pole to pole, beyond his control: between the incredible, passionate encounter of last night and the destruction of his relationship with Jasmine. At one point he found himself in a museum devoted to chocolate. His mind betrayed him, the tones on display reminding him of his daughter, imagining the liquid cocoa flowing over her body. He left quickly.

  When this got home ... his job, his friends ... Hell, why go home? Stay here. No, Spain would not be far enough. Latin America. Anywhere.

  Ten to six. Time to face the music.

  *********

  He arrived five minutes late. But still he stood outside the door to his suite. He tried peeking through the spy hole, but could see nothing.

  He punched his card and entered.

  There she was, on the balcony. A black negligee lightly fluttering in the breeze, sheer enough to see the outlines of her underwear. Her hair up. His heart started racing again. It was going to be ok. Maybe better than ok.

  More champagne. His glass already poured, resting on the table. What was it with this girl and champagne?

  As the door shut, she lowered her head as if preparing herself.

  His little girl ... standing as a woman, awaiting to deliver her verdict.

  She turned to look at him, barely 30 foot away. She was smiling. He felt relief.

  "It's ok, dad." She gestured to the champagne on the table. "I love you. Do you still love me?"

  "Always." His throat was dry, champagne was a good idea. As he drank it, without tasting a drop, she walked in from the balcony. A nervous, uncertain look played across her face.

  He followed as she walked past him. She stopped just short of the armchair in the corner. She stood still for a moment, Tim wondered if she was as tense as him. Her hands moved in front of her. The negligee fell loose around her, before she shrugged it to the floor. She sat in the chair, assuming a pose she must have already thought about: leaning one arm on the rest, legs apart with one foot on the seat, her other hand resting on her knee. Her head tilted ...

  She looked directly at him. "I just need to know one thing."

  Tim nodded, otherwise motionless.

  "I feel, I think ... its always going to be strange between us, what happened last night..."

  He found himself enchanted, already walking towards her...

  "Unless we can agree it was something we
both wanted. Did you, dad? Did you want me... do you want me?"

  He paused in front of her, his thoughts again reduced to the simplest urges.

  "Yes. Yes I do." As he closed the final distance he pulled off his shirt.

  She leant forward and reached into his pants, pulling him out easily.

  She started to stroke him ... but he didn't wait. He reached down and drew her face onto him. He cried loudly... the pleasure of watching his cock entering his daughter's mouth was incredible... unparalleled. Any man would be lucky to have such a beautiful woman, but the sensation of his own girl, breaking such barriers, loving him so much...

  He gripped her hair tightly, taking control. Looking down, watching his cock slip between her lips, feeling her tongue. As the sensation grew he began to thrust harder, forgetting her tender years, her inexperience. He heard her gasp and looked down: a small tear spoiling her mascara. He slowed, savouring her, not consuming her. She breathed heavily beneath him, a faint trial of saliva from her mouth as he withdrew. He knelt down before her, pulled her forward to kiss him. Her tongue poured into his mouth, allowing him to suck it, to enjoy every morsel of her. Her hands moved down to remove her small, red, panties... getting stuck around her knees. With Jasmine on the chair, he lifted her by the ankles and pulled them off. He dropped her legs, and they fell, spread wide. He wanted every inch of her. He gently pushed her back by the shoulder. His hand moved to her pussy... fingers finding the wet breach. Two moved into her, rotating, finding give where they could.

  She gripped the sides of the chair as he curled his fingers towards him, stroking her pussy in a beckoning motion. Her eyes closed and her head jerked back.

  "Is that good, Jasmine? Is that good for you?"

  "God, oh God. Yes, daddy. Do it."

  He was getting high from her pleasure. Seeing her writhe in ecstasy at his control. But she deserved more. He moved a third finger into her, soothing the impact by taking her clitoris into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. He thought about taking a risk with her. Just needed to bide his time. He listened to her breathing, feeling the contractions in her pussy, the movement in her hips. As she began to quicken he withdrew his digits slightly, one altogether. As they moved back into her, he allowed his third finger to gently play on her anus, the slightest pressure against it.