The next few weeks were hectic. I finished school. Graduation came and went. My brother came in for the graduation. Based on how he had behaved when Mama died, I figured he would want to “play”, and, even though I was still pissed at him, I was kinda wanting something to happen, too. But he brought a girlfriend with him, with whom I shared my bed for the night while he slept on the couch. I was fucking jealous. Was she getting it from him? She was sweet and we hit it off well enough, but they left the next day.
A week or so later, Daddy announced that he was taking me to the beach as a graduation gift, if I wanted to go. I had a summer job lined up, tutoring some struggling high school kids in math, but it wouldn’t start for a couple of weeks. Daddy had a friend who offered him the use of his condo. I loved the beach, so I was very excited.
During these weeks, Daddy had not so much as seen my knees, except in a dress. He certainly had not seen my breasts. I don’t wear dresses that reveal a lot of cleavage, so he didn’t even see that. He never brought up our incident, and neither did I. I didn’t sit in his lap and I didn’t rub his shoulders. I was as chaste as a girl can be, except in my bedroom, where I masturbated nearly every night, almost always thinking of him. I kept telling myself to think of something else, even my brother, but no matter what, I kept coming back to how eagerly he devoured my wet pussy and what a massive and manly load of Daddy-cream he had given to his little girl. FUCK!
I realized that I needed to go shopping to go to the beach. I had not been to the beach in several years and rarely wore a bathing suit in public. We had a pool, so it didn’t matter that my swimwear was old. But we were going to the beach! I needed swimsuits, maybe a nice sundress, and a nice dress to wear out to dinner. Daddy liked eating at nice restaurants with Mom, so maybe I would be his “date” to a nice restaurant when we went on vacation.
That got my mind wandering again. Being his date. Oh, FUCK! Being on the beach with him, wearing a new bikini! I had a good tan, already, from being out at the pool, usually when Daddy was at work. (Wouldn’t want him to see me and maybe have a lustful thought!)
Daddy gave me his credit card and specified a dollar amount, so shopping I went. I found the nicest little short, black dress that was so elegant. It fit me perfectly. It was practically backless and it did show cleavage. Why not? It was on sale. I found a nice sundress that was more casual and somewhat less revealing in the front. Very pretty, though, and it was on sale! Then I looked at bikinis and one-piece swimsuits. I found a bikini that was exactly what I wanted. It was yellow and, for a bikini, fairly modest. I might get some stares, but it wasn’t obscene. I also picked a couple of, more modest, one-piece suits. I could imagine Daddy admonishing me for wearing a scanty bikini to the beach, so I would be prepared.
As I was about to leave, however, I noticed a manikin dressed in the tiniest green thong bikini imaginable. I almost laughed out loud. Who would wear such a thing? I would have to get a wax to wear it, even though I kept myself very trimmed. Wow! Just imagining wearing it made me both nervous and excited. I tried it on. Pardon me, but I looked fucking good in it. I had never imagined wearing a garment this brief in public before. I would buy it and pack it and, if I lost my nerve, never wear it!
We drove to the beach. 10 hours. We listened to Alternative Rock (my favorite), the Braves (of course) and part of a book on tape that Daddy had gotten from the library. Something about the Lusitania. Pretty interesting. I’m nerdy enough.
My mind was wandering. I had made it a point to “behave” for over a month now. Now we were going to the beach. I was going to be laying out in the sun in a bikini. I certainly wasn’t ashamed, but I couldn’t possibly continue to abide by my own self-made rules of not showing Daddy any skin. And suntan oil – wouldn’t we be rubbing suntan oil on each other? I knew that anything like that would excite me – would it also excite him? Would it lead to something? I couldn’t get my hopes up.
After arriving at the condo, we went out to eat. Dad loves seafood; it’s not my favorite, but I am from the South and I’ll eat most anything fried. Daddy doesn’t drink much, but on a special occasion or on vacation, he will sometimes have beer or wine. Mom always complained a little because she wouldn’t touch alcohol at all. I had very limited experience with it, myself. Daddy ordered a beer and asked me if I wanted one. I must have looked shocked. “You’re eighteen. Go ahead,” Daddy urged.
“Sure, bring me what he’s having, then,” I smiled.
As we ate, I discovered that the beer tasted better than I had remembered. I probably had not drank over 4 beers in my life, and most of the time it was just a few sips. It seemed to taste okay with the fried food, though. Daddy ordered me a second one and, for the first time in my life, I learned what it meant to be tipsy. It felt wonderful! Daddy was laughing at me as he led me to the car. Of course the buzz didn’t last very long, but it was still fun.
On the way back to the condo Dad stopped at the grocery store to stock up for the week. When we got to the beer coolers, he said, “you gonna drink any? I’ll get extra.”
I grinned. “Sure. Can we try different kinds?” I asked as I noticed all the different colorful packages. So we got plenty of beer. Daddy bought an ice cooler to take to the beach. Mom would not have approved. It appeared that Dad was planning on having a good time. That made me happy.
The next day found us at the beach. I was in my new yellow bikini (I wasn’t sure yet about wearing the green thong) and was sipping a beer. Daddy had guzzled a couple. He and I strolled along the beach, allowing the waves to hit us, sometimes with a force strong enough to knock me into him. We held hands. It felt good. I felt wonderful.
When we returned to our beach chairs, Daddy lay on his stomach and asked me to rub sunblock on his back and legs. (Well fuck yeah!) I smoothed the cream on his muscular back, loving the feel of his warm, strong muscles under my fingers. Then I rubbed his legs, daring to rub between then all the way up to his trunks, which were gathered not far from his treasures. He rolled over and I rubbed the lotion on his chest, which just has sparse black hair and his very hairy, flat belly. FUCK, his tummy is so sexy!
Then it was my turn. Daddy popped another beer open and took a deep slug, then started rubbing my shoulders. How long had it been since he touched my bare flesh? It felt so good. His fingers felt so loving and so strong and masculine. He rubbed my whole back and, by then, I knew that I was wet. It wouldn’t show, I didn’t think, because we had gotten wet on our walk down the beach. Then he rubbed my legs, between my thighs and up to my butt cheeks right below my bikini. I was so turned on that I could barely stay still. He didn’t know it, but I wasn’t that far from orgasm. How did he turn me on this much??
That afternoon was so hot that we went to the condo to just sit on the patio, under the fan. We had some food and plenty of beer. Daddy wasn’t drinking much because we were going out to eat that night. I drank 3, the most I had ever had in my life. I was tipsy and Daddy was enjoying it immensely. I was slurring my words. Daddy suggested that I take a shower and a nap to refresh me before we went out to eat. He also told me that we were going to a nice restaurant, so I should wear my new, nice dress.
“Are we going on a date, Daddy?” I was drunk. There’s no other word for it. I was not used to drinking, at all, and I was really feeling it.
“If that’s what you want to call it, sure,” he laughed. “It’s a date.”
I got up to go shower. I ran into the side of the hallway and fell, laughing. Daddy came to see if I was all right. He said that he needed a nap and for me to come and get him if I needed him.
I stumbled into the shower. It was refreshing, but didn’t totally sober me up. I had forgotten to bring any fresh clothes with me into the bathroom, so I dried off and stumbled out, totally naked. The door was directly across from Daddy’s bedroom. His door was open, he was laying on the bed, and he was gazing directly at me.
“Oops,” I giggled. “I forgot my clothes.” I stood there a moment, but he never took his eyes off of me and he never said a word. I managed to go to my room, although my body was urging me to go to him. I suddenly felt sober, and very, very, very, horny.
I dressed in my little black dress. Looking in the mirror, I realized that I had never worn a dress that showed this much cleavage. ‘Not as much as a bikini shows, though,” I thought.
When Daddy saw me he actually whistled. “Pammy, you look beautiful,” he said. He put his hand on my bare back, sending shivers of lust through my body, guiding me to the door.
The restaurant was so nice. Again, it wasn’t really my favorite kind of food, but I let Daddy order for me, and it was okay. Daddy told me not to drink alcohol because he was having wine and probably should not drive. They started with some kind of nasty salad and then there was some kind of lobster dish, then some cheese bread, which is more what an all-American girl wants.
I noticed, or imagined, that Daddy was staring at my cleavage the entire evening. He was drunker than I had ever seen him. Not falling down drunk, not even as drunk as I had been that afternoon, but his speech was slurred and he wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he was staring at my tits. When the waiter asked if we were having dessert, Dad laughed and nodded at me. The waiter smiled. What did THAT mean??
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