pubic curls escaping from beneath the elastic band. The saucy mounds of Davie's firm, young breasts were well delineated by the supple fabric, too, and they rose and fell as she breathed rhythmically during her deep and innocent slumber.
He closed his eyes, trying to blink away the forbidden desire that engulfed him. No! I can't think such thoughts! She's a child, an innocent child. She's my daughter, for chrissakes! No!
He threw off the sheet and stumbled across the room, reaching for his shorts as he clumsily made his way to the bathroom. He turned the knob with a sweaty palm and darted in, closing the door softly behind him. He leaned against it, panting now, clutching his underwear in his hand. Sweat dripped from his brow and beaded in the crease at his waistline. He shook his head like a fighter who's been decked, trying to rid himself of his forbidden thoughts. God, he must be sick to think what he thought… his own daughter!
He gave a quiet moan and shakily raised his leg in an attempt to step into his shorts. But he fell against the shower door and had to steady himself. He reached inside and turned on the faucets. Then he tossed his shorts on the floor and got into the shower, his penis larger and harder than before. He had to have release.
Almost mindless with desire, Peter Knight planted his feet wide apart on the cool the of the shower stall floor and let the warm fountain of water cascade over his naked body as he took his granite-like cock in his hand and began to stroke the hot, petal-soft skin lightly. His other hand reached for his pendulous balls and cupped them. His mouth was open and his breathing was coarse and spastic.
Responding to the pleasure sensations that were building in his loins, he increased the tempo of his stroking and tightened his grip on his enormous prick. The head was purple with lust, and the veins bulged on the upthrust underside. Damn! It was a truncheon all right!
His balls grew taut, taking up the slack in his scrotum. His chest heaved as his breathing grew snore labored. He kept increasing the pace of his stroking. Faster and faster, harder and harder. God, it felt good. He was getting closer and closer.
The little devils of desire led lurid and forbidden fantasies to him as rapidly as he stroked his heated cock. They shoveled the fuel for his tortured fire of incestuous lust… faster and faster, harder and harder… until…
His body stiffened and his muscles tensed perceptibly. His bare feet gripped the tile floor as he gasped loudly. 'Ahhhhharrrraaaannngghh!' he cried and shoved the back of his free fist into his mouth to muffle the sound that accompanied the release of semen from his balls. 'Ooooohhhhh!' he cried again as the fiery load of cum escaped from the mouth of his glans in a creamy eruption of pent-up jism. He thought it would never stop. He threw his head back and swayed like a sapling in a strong wind until his balls gave out the last of their cargo and he was free to take his fist from between his teeth.
He braced himself against the back of the stall then, heaving a heavy sigh and allowing the descending jets of water to wash the last of his foamy cum down the drain. The handsome man was suddenly seized with a feeling of sadness. Sadness, longing, and anxiety. God, this is terrible! I can't allow myself to lose control like this. I can't allow those thoughts to overtake me. That would ruin everything for Davie and me. I've got to keep things under control! I've simply got to!
He grabbed a pair of swim trunks and hastily pulled them on. Then he went out of the bathroom and out of the house, jogging along the beach for over a mile. Afterwards, he plunged into the tepid water and swam far out to sea and back, asking the beneficent Caribbean to cleanse him of his unholy thoughts.
It was 7:40 by the time he got back, and Davie was up and dressed and preparing a simple breakfast of toast and dry cereal. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted into his nostril.
'Daddy, you're back!' she cried, running up to him and grabbing him around the neck in an uninhibited hug. She crushed her breasts against his chest and planted harmless kisses on his cheeks – harmless by intent, not by effect. The devils cackled within him, and he pulled away from her so abruptly he noted a momentary look of bewilderment on her fresh face.
'Good morning, sunshine. How did you sleep?' he asked cheerily.
'Super. Better than I can remember since the last time you tucked me in bed when I was a little girl,' she beamed. 'It's so peaceful here, so quiet and warm. No wonder you love it. So do I. I never want to leave this place, Daddy.'
'I knew you'd love it, sweetheart.' He noted the table with the food awaiting them. 'My, doesn't that look attractive. And coffee, too. I didn't know you could cook.'
'I can't, really. It doesn't take brains to put cereal in a bowl,' she grinned.
'Sorry I don't have much food in the house, sweetie. I usually eat up at the big dining room. They have great, gargantuan spreads for all the meals. It's the one thing about French Leave your daddy can take total credit for. All the other attractions have been thoughtfully provided by Mother Nature.'
Davie giggled. 'You're just being modest, Daddy.' She was relaxed and carefree and obviously very happy. He couldn't let her down. He wouldn't fail her this time…
She noticed that his cup was half empty. Without waiting for him to finish it, she got up and went to fetch the coffee pot, giving him an unrestricted view at her long, lean legs and her high molded buttocks that bounced ever so slightly as she gingerly walked over to the stove. When she turned around, he could see her sculptured young bosom standing proudly beneath the revealing pink and white striped seersucker shorts. She was an adorable little girl… his adorable little girl. But an evil voice inside his head piped up. 'Who are you trying to kid, wiseguy? She's adorable, all right. But she sure as hell isn't a little girl! She's a young woman – a beautiful, sexy young woman… even if she is your daughter! Now what are you going to do about it?'
Davie was straightening things up around the house after her father left for the lodge when she heard a persistent knock on the door. She looked up at the kitchen wall clock. 9:30. I wonder who that could be, she thought.
It was Trish, in all her suntanned glory, wearing the briefest bikini Davie had ever seen and carrying a large straw tote bag. Her eyes were hidden under enormous glasses with smoky brown lenses. 'Hi,' she said cheerily, 'remember me?'
'Hi, Trish!' Davie answered enthusiastically. 'Gee, you're up early. You look smashing! Come on in.'
'Well, where's that bikini you were telling me about? I thought you'd be down at the beaching getting toasted by this time,' the blonde stewardess said through a full smile.
'It's only 9:30, Trish. I was just getting the place prepared for my absence!' Davie grinned back at her.
'It's perfect right now. Looks like you just had a cleaning service in. Let's go, huh? You've got a lot of sunning to do, you know. Right?'
'For sure! I won't be a minute,' Davie said as she hurried into the other room to change.
They walked a long way along the beach, away from the resort. The white sand felt like sugar under Davie's feet. It was already quite warm. Trish had a lunch for the two of them packed in her tote bag. She explained that the resort provides them for its guests on advance notice, so people won't have to come back to the dining room at midday, if they don't wish to. And of course, she had no intention of breaking up her day with Davie by appearing in the dining room during lunch, where Peter Knight would see the two of them together and possibly take a dim view of the situation. Of course, she intended to justify any disapproval that might be forthcoming from that hard-to-get hunk of man – and then some! But by the time he found out, he would be in no position to protest!
Trish stole surreptitious glances at her young protege, noting with growing relish that Davie was even more promising than she anticipated. In her brief, crocheted bikini, the young girl was more enticing than ever, her firmly rounded breasts plumped like pillows in the low-cut bra top. Her skin was creamy and unmarred. It looked as soft as satin. Her young buttocks were two mounds of softly muscled flesh, and she had a trim, flat tummy and a perfect little navel that Trish wanted to stick her tongue into. Of course, that wasn't the only thing she wanted to stick her tongue in! She could imagine how sweet that little pussy must taste, how fragrant it would be. Her own pussy was beginning to twitch with desire, and she felt her clitoris swell and throb with perverted longing for the teenager. The hardest thing she would have to do that day would be play the lady, the sympathetic friend… to keep her hands off of Davie's body and her tongue out of Davie's cunt! Geezus, what a test!
They found a secluded spot about three quarters of a mile down the beach and spread their beach towels out on the warm sand. It was fairly hot by this time, and Trish wasted no time in stripping off her bikini, being as casual and offhanded about it as she could.
'I hope you don't mind, honey,' she explained, 'I just can't stand to wear these things when I don't have to. Besides, I'm the vain type – can't bear to have strap marks and patches of white.'
