The day dawned predictably golden on the island of Eleuthera. Lavender fingers of light were reaching up into the sky when Randy Ferris cautiously opened the door of the bungalow he had shared with his sister the night before and made his way to the red MG parked down the road. He had to work today. But he would be back at French Leave tonight… in time to get acquainted with Davie Knight! Then, tomorrow… tomorrow would be the beginning of a glorious weekend and – if Trish knew what she was talking about – a glorious fuck with the delectable virgin schoolgirl! Hell, it just might be the beginning of a ten-day orgy with the kid! Trish's plan was risky – Knight was a tough nut to crack. But if she pulled it off (and if anyone could pull it off, she could) he'd be in cunt heaven in less than thirty-six hours!
His thoughts, and the delicious anticipation of the lay that lay in store for him – oh, please! – gave him a huge erection on the way to the car. Down, boy, he commanded the willful instrument, you'll get your chance to dance… in her pants!
In another part of the compound, Peter Knight awoke at his customary time: 5:30 A.M., sporting a huge erection. He had been dreaming, and his dreams were blurred but erotic. He had slept badly the night before, tortured by the remembrance of what Davie had told him about her mother and the shocking things that went on at school. But the sordid expose had also led his sexual fantasies as he lay awake tossing fitfully, his beleaguered mind giving him repetitive instant replays of the conversation with his darling daughter. In moments of surcease he was badgered with questions, and spent the rest of his insomniacal moments trying to devise a scheme for successfully keeping Davie at his side.
He tried to force the intruding fantasies from his mind, but they persisted maddeningly. His pulse quickened and his breathing became abbreviated. His mouth was dry and the tingling in his loins increased. Goddammit! he swore under his breath, what's the matter with me? I'm a civilized man, not an animal. I can't allow myself to get hot – not now. Not with Davie in the next room!
He looked across the room and beyond, to the enclosed lanai where his daughter lay asleep on the long, broad daybed that also served as a couch. It was customarily adorned with huge, floppy cushions and was a favorite place of his for reading or just having a drink and looking at the beach and sea. Now his lovely daughter adorned it. She had kicked off the light covers and was sprawled on her back, one arm above her head and the opposing knee drawn up to her waist, exposing the crotch of the pale blue nylon pajama panties that she wore under her sleeveless, shortie gown. Even at a distance of fifteen feet, Knight could see a few wisps of delicate dark 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."
"Sure, I know what you mean. Don't worry about it. You have a beautiful tan, Trish. I can't stand the way I look next to you. I feel like Snow White!"
"Well, then, join the club!" Trish coaxed. She said no more then but lay on her stomach with her face turned away, giving Davie a chance to decide on her own what to do. She smiled to herself when she heard the sounds of a bikini being removed. She had to walk on glass, now. Every word, every gesture had to be positioned just right.
It wasn't long before she stretched out a languid arm and reached into her tote bag, fumbling for something inside. She soon produced a large bottle of sun tan oil in an amber bottle. It had a French label. "Here," she said, reaching behind her back, "use this stuff. It's the best I've ever tried. It's got a tanning booster in it too, to turn you a golden brown."
Davie took the bottle. "Don't you want to put some on, Trish?"
"After you, honey," the stewardess offered.
"I'll put it on your back, if you'd like me to," Davie said innocently.
"Hey, that would be great." She still hadn't turned around to look at the young girl's naked body. She didn't dare just yet.
The teenager poured some of the liquid into her hand and placed it on the blonde woman's warm back. As she rubbed it around the expanse of flesh, she noticed her older friend beginning to squirm slightly on the beach towel. "Don't be afraid to use it generously, honey," the woman told her. "This island sun can be brutal, even in December."
Davie administered more of tile pleasant liquid to her friend's flesh, which glistened with it under the sun's glare. Finally, Trish asked her to stop.
"That's perfect. Thanks, honey. Now I'll do yours."
She rose up and turned on her elbow before Davie had a chance to lie down on her stomach. The young girl was somewhat embarrassed to see her older friend looking at her naked body – though she had certainly been naked with some of her friends at school. Perhaps the memory those occasions gave her more reason for embarrassment.
Quickly, Davie rolled over on her tummy, but not before her oversexed companion had taken in her ripe, luscious breasts with the small, pert nipples, and the soft pubic nest that marked the seat of her womanhood. Controlling herself for the next several hours would he as great a challenge as she faced in a long, long time.
Davie's skin was baby soft, and she had no excess fat anywhere, nor any blemishes. Trish began the application of sun tan oil in a detached, professional manner. But it wasn't long before her stroking became more studied and she was caressing the girl's flesh with her hand. If Davie noticed, she didn't react noticeably. She passively allowed the blonde to apply it on her long, well-shaped legs, and to the backs of her outstretched arms. Trish kneeled beside her and lightly pressed her bent leg next to Davie's body. The stewardess was afraid to breathe, lest her breathlessness give her away. Neither of them said much. Finally, she gave Davie a playful whack on the rump – wishing instead that she was kissing it with her lips and reaching between the ripe ass cheeks with her finger – and said, "You're all set, except for the front. I think you can get that yourself." She waited while Davie turned over, glancing quickly again at her beautiful young breasts. Then she handed her the bottle, accompanying the gesture with a warm smile, and got up.
Later, she pulled a couple of magazines out of the straw bag and handed one of them to Davie; the fashion magazine. Trish thumbed idly through the VIVA copy, knowing that the sexy photographs of naked men and women would arouse the teen's curiosity. It wasn't curiosity that was aroused in Trish – it was her cunt. Lying in the hot sun, reading the frank confessions from readers and the bold, permissive captions under the glossy photographs of good looking naked studs and their girlfriends, Trish found it impossible not to squeeze her thighs together so that the lips of her pussy created a satisfying friction on her throbbing, distended clit. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Davie stealing furtive glances at the sexy spreads as she pretended to be engrossed in photographs of stilted mannequins posing in high fashion getups that were much too sophisticated for her age group.
"Well… I'll be darned!" she said suddenly, as she turned to the feature spread. "He's a dead ringer for Randy!"
Davie leaned over with great interest. "Let me see," she demanded.
Trish started to show the young girl, then withdrew the magazine, pretending concern. "No, I really shouldn't show it to you. This rag is not the sort of thing for innocent young eyes like yours, Davie."
"Don't be silly. I've read VIVA lots of times. There's always an issue or two stashed in somebody's locker at school," she insisted. "I'm not a little girl, you know."
Trish looked at her warily. "Of course you're not, Davie. I didn't mean to offend you. I just thought that it might not be the proper thing to do… to show you. These photos leave nothing to the imagination," she said, giving Davie a warm and knowing smile.
"Why do you think the kids at school buy them!"
Both females laughed then as Trish opened the magazine again to the sexy shots. There was a photograph of a good looking young blonde man straddling a full breasted oriental girl with shimmering black hair down to her waist. He was feeding her grapes, and she had her tongue outstretched and her back arched in a most provocative way as he tantalized her with the dewy fruit. It was sexy as hell. The man's muscles were highlighted and his hard buttocks glistened like the hindquarters of a stallion.
"Isn't that amazing – if I didn't know better, I'd swear it was Randy!" Trish enthused. "You saw him at the air field yesterday. Don't you think my brother looks like this guy?"
"I didn't get a real good look, but I can see the resemblance," Davie agreed, studying the photograph carefully. She was stirred by the prurient picture. It set her imagination to work, which was the intention of the editors – as well as the crafty blonde lying next to her.
"Randy is a beautiful boy, even if he is my brother," Trish went on. "Perfect build. He's a very physical kind of guy. Always doing something athletic. He was a star on the game field at school." (And he's a star in the bedroom, too, she felt like saying… as you'll soon find out, my sweet young lamb!)
Trish flipped the page. More shots of the handsome young man and his Oriental chick. He was very well hung; a beautiful set of equipment. God, he really did look like Randy… right down to his cock and balls. Trish wanted to lick the page. She wanted to suck her brother's cock again. And she wanted to suck Davie Knight's beautiful pussy!
The sexy photographs were having the desired effect on the impressionable teenager. She felt a forbidden stirring of desire in her own loins as she devoured the blatant poses of the couple in various acts of pretend lovemaking. She had never been with a boy before – Mother had seen to that; though there were some close calls a couple of times. French kissing and feeling a boy's hand on her covered breast. But there had never been the right circumstances where she had the privacy and the freedom to "go all the way". Still, she had gotten very excited during those harmless encounters, feeling an embarrassing wetness in her panties and something in her vagina that made her want to have a boy's thing inside. Several of her girlfriends were no longer virgins, and she had gotten an earful about some of their sessions with boys. It had excited her very much. But she also felt afraid.
Her thoughts turned to her father. What is he like with a woman, she wondered. She substituted her father for the man in the photograph momentarily, but her thoughts produced a feeling of guilt and anxiety in her callow mind, and she quickly blanked them out.
Suddenly Trish asked her a question she didn't expect, "Have you ever made love, Davie?"
The young girl's face grew crimson and she hung her head. "No, I've never been with a guy," she answered quietly. Not with a guy! her guilty thoughts reminded her. Only with other females!
"You're kind of young, I guess," said Trish. "No rush… although I was about your age – maybe a year younger – when I did it the first time. I never realized anything could be so beautiful…"
"Was it really, Trish?" Davie asked eagerly. She was dying to hear more. Desire for forbidden fruit was building rapidly in her young body.
"Oh yes! So beautiful. Naturally, I was scared to death at first. But I was lucky… he was a few years older; about 19 or 20, I think. He'd already had a lot of experience, so he knew what I was going through in my head. He was very gentle."
"Didn't it hurt, Trish?" Davie inquired intently.
"Oh sure, at first. But then, pretty soon it felt so wonderful that the pain went away and it was nothing but rainbows and lollipops from then on."
"But how did you feel afterwards? I mean, didn't you feel guilty or anything? Weren't you afraid that he'd lose respect for you?"
"Honey, I guess I'm the type who doesn't let guilt trips spoil my fun. No, I can't honestly say that I felt any way except absolutely marvelous and eager to be with him again. But that's just me. Everybody has to march to his own drummer. My little drummer boy says, 'Come and get it!'"
Davie laughed. They both did. But her mind was churning with a thousand unresolved questions.
"Hey, don't mind me, Davie. I guess I really shouldn't be talking to you like this woman to woman," Trish apologized.
"No, Trish, you're mistaken. I need to talk to another woman; someone who's experienced and mature. I can't talk to my mother – no way! And my friends at school, well, they're a bunch of braggarts and gossips. You never know what to believe with them. Besides. I wasn't born yesterday!"
Trish gave her young friend a wry smile. "Sure, honey. I understand. You've got a friend in me, Davie – I hope you know that. So feel free to let it all hang out!"