Riley's New Bikini
Lubrican
Riley's New Bikini
by Robert Lubrican
Bookapy Edition
Copyright 2019 Robert Lubrican
Bookapy Edition, License Notes
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Table of Contents
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
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Chapter One
Life can be all sorts of things. Fascinating. Hard. Confusing. The list could go on and on. What's interesting is that, most of the time, we're not paying attention to what adjective might best describe what's going on in our daily lives. Most of the time, we're just trying to get through another day. We have tunnel vision. Get this done ... make sure you do that ... try to avoid overtime so you can get home ... whatever. We concentrate on the next couple of hours and plod steadily forward.
Of course it's not always that way. Anticipation of a particular event can fill your mind and distract you from the ordinary. But most of the time the mind is dulled by the routine of daily life.
I swear that's the only reason I bought Riley a bikini. I was thinking about other stuff and did it on impulse.
Riley is my daughter. She's sixteen and as normal as the day is long. She's sweet, and grumpy, energetic and lazy, has tons of friends, but no steady boyfriend (thank goodness). Not that the boys haven't tried. She's a looker, with long light brown hair down to the middle of her back, and curves that seemed to appear overnight.
If you've never been the father of a girl, it's impossible to explain the angst a man feels as that little girl grows up and becomes a woman. As a man, you know how to "process" a woman in your life. If she's cute, you lust after her. It's just in your DNA. If she's available, and you're not tied up in some other relationship, you might go after her. If you are tied up, and have decent values, you have an occasional fantasy about her, but don't act on it. It's the same if she's tied up. It's much more complicated than that, of course, but cut down to the bare bones, that's pretty much it. If you don't believe me, (and you're a man), think of any woman in your life outside the home. You have a relationship with her that puts her in one of three categories: "No thanks"; "I'm going to try to get closer"; or "It would be nice, but it just isn't in the cards."
That's for women outside the home.
But what do you do when you have the occasional fantasy about a woman inside the home ... who it's totally inappropriate for you to have such fantasies about?
She could be your sister-in-law, for example. Or even your mother-in-law.
She could even be ... your daughter.
Don't get me wrong. It's not like I was a ravening beast in my inner, secret mind. I just appreciated her beauty in a male sort of way. The last time I'd seen her naked chest, she'd been ten or something, and still flat as a board. Now she had great, jiggling humps under her shirts. I couldn't help but wonder what they might look like without being covered up.
Then again, I'm a tit man. I adore my wife's breasts. Amanda has a rack to be proud of and I avail myself of every opportunity to go 'hill climbing.' I check out women's breasts all the time. It's just kind of automatic. To a man, (at least for me,) breasts are fascinating, mysterious things. They're soft, but can be firm. They come in all sizes and shapes. Each one looks a little different from the others, but have similar characteristics. They can be like twin sisters to another pair, or like children from different families. Which, I suppose, most are. They make food, for Pete's sake!
Okay, so that's the background that set me up for failure. I'm a bit of a pervert with some naughty thoughts. I love Amanda dearly, partly because she knows about my proclivities and forgives me for them. She also knows I'd never cheat on her. And that's true. I've never seriously thought about cheating on her.
Anyway, when school ended and Riley's summer vacation was still just a bud on the branch, unformed but with lots of promise, we were sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast and Amanda asked Riley, "So, what are you going to do with yourself this summer?"
It was a perfectly ordinary, mundane kind of conversation. She said a lot of ordinary, mundane things. She talked about getting together with friends, and looking for a part time job. She said she was trying to save up to buy a car, and gazed at me with big puppy dog eyes in an undisguised effort to get me to say that wasn't necessary, because I was going to buy her one.
And somewhere along the way, between bites, she said, "I can't wait to work on my tan."
A day or two later, while I was tunnel-visioning my way through the day, I had to go to Staples to pick up a case of paper for the copier and there was a sidewalk vendor displaying beach towels and swim wear. It was the towels that caught my eye, over-large, brightly colored and gay. In the old meaning of the word.
We have a smallish back yard that I spent a whole summer erecting a privacy fence around, with dreams of talking my wife into sunbathing nude with me. I never thought about the fact that we had a thirteen-year-old at the time, and that we weren't nudists. Amanda didn't think it was appropriate to caper around naked in the back yard with Riley looking on. She also knew that if we did caper around in the back yard, I'd have a massive boner bouncing in the wind as I chased her.
Okay, maybe not massive. But it would be impossible to miss. It was one thing for Amanda not to miss it. It was another for our inquisitive, very young, impressionable daughter to notice such things. Even I knew that. But the fence was really nice anyway. Amanda decorated it with flower pots on hooks, and what she called objects d'art (wire sculptures and brightly colored bird feeders and such) and it was comfortable being out there knowing it was private. Amanda and I did fool around in that privacy a few times, when our daughter was engaged with out-of-the-house pursuits, but we never went nude out there.
The next best thing would be Amanda, in a teeny weenie, itsy bitsy, bikini, lying on one of these gorgeous towels, in our very private back yard. I imagined Riley, off with her friends, or at her so-far-imaginary part-time job, while I rubbed sun block all over my wife's body. Don't want to stain that lovely bikini, of course, so it would have to come off.
I was stiff just thinking about it.
So I bought some towels.
And there was this white bikini bra hanging from a hook that caught my eye.
The proprietor of this booth was a young woman, probably in her early twenties, wearing one of the bikinis they sold. She looked yummy, which may have affected my judgment.
"I need one of those for my wife," I said, pointing at the white bikini bra.
"What size?" asked the woman.
I paused.
"Men never know," sighed the woman. "How does she compare to me?"
She struck a pose.
I bet that girl sold a thousand bikinis while she was there.
"She's a little fuller in the ... ah ..." I was staring at her boobs.
"I'm a B cup. How much bigger is she?"
I held up my hands and put them to my chest, cupped. She didn't bat an eye.
"We'll go with a C cup, then," said the woman. "Chest size doesn't matter because that top ties in the back and there's plenty of cord. You want the white?"
"Yeah, the white," I said.
"Who else?" asked the woman.
"Beg your pardon?"
"Are there any others at home? Do you have a daughter?"
"Yes," I said, blinking several times.
"How old is she?"
"Sixteen."
I was just responding to questions.
"Does she take after her mother?"
"Um ... yes," I said. Riley does take after her mother. If she was five or six years older, people might think they were sisters.
"Well developed? Not so much?"
"Um ..."
I had finally reached the point where I couldn't respond.
"I'll give you a B cup for her. If it's too small, bring it back. I'll be here for a week."
"Okay," I said, still on autopilot.
"You want white for her, too? It would be cute for mom and daughter to have matching suits."
In my mind, there were suddenly two women lying on towels in the back yard. I saw my hands reaching to spread sun block on both of them and forced my thoughts elsewhere.
I got out my wallet and she rang up three towels and two bikinis. I didn't even pay any attention to how much the total was.
Then I went and got my case of paper.
It was just a minor blip on an otherwise normal radar day.
But that blip would lead to irrevocable changes in my life.
I didn't mention my purchases until Amanda got home from work. Then I gave a somewhat garbled narrative of the process. What you read above has been edited by time and reflection, which hadn't happened by then.
"You got a bikini for her?" Amanda said, in reply to my story.
"I got a bikini for you," I said. "And then, later, I got one for her, too. They match. That was the idea. Matching bikinis."
"A girl likes to choose her own swimwear, Bob," said Amanda.
"I know," I said, which wasn't true. I hadn't even thought about that. "But I thought you'd look so good in it. I imagined you on one of the towels I bought, laying out in the back yard. And then I imagined both of you like that, you know, bonding and stuff."
"I can imagine what you were imagining," teased my wife. "Okay, let's have a look at these bikinis."
Everything was all stuffed into one big plastic bag, and the towels were the only thing I could see. So I pulled out a towel and a scrap of white fell to the floor.
It hadn't looked like a "scrap" hanging up on the hook at the booth. But it did now.
"The towels make it look smaller than it is," I said, hopefully, as Amanda bent down to pick it up.
I pulled out more towels and more scraps of white fluttered to the table. Amanda laid them out on top of a folded towel.
"These are thong bikinis, Bob," said my wife, calmly.
"They are?"
She looked at me.
"Yes, honey. They are."
"Oh."
"You didn't know?"
"Uh uh," I said, shaking my head.
"Good grief," she said. "What's wrong with you?"
I've always wondered what would have happened if Riley hadn't come into the room at that point. Amanda probably would have told me to take them back. And, being a dutiful husband, I would have.
But Riley did bounce into the room.
"Bikinis!" she squealed. "Matching bikinis, right? One for me and one for Mom?"
I swallowed. That had been the idea ... my great idea ... which my wife didn't think was so great.
"Your father got them for us," said my bride. "What do you think? Take a close look."
That was it? I was astonished. I had expected Amanda to discuss how terrible this idea was with our daughter.
Riley did take a close look. She held up the bottoms of one suit. I blanched. There was almost nothing there. My daughter looked at me.
"This is daring," she said. "I can't wear this in public. I'd be arrested."
"It isn't for public," said Amanda. "It's just for the back yard."
I heard tiny gears turning in my little girl's head. It was something I was quite sure she never thought she'd own, much less get to wear - anywhere. And yet, now she did own one and she would get to actually wear it, even if it was only in her back yard.
She jumped up and down, squealing. Her breasts bobbed under her T shirt, making it crystal clear they were not confined in a bra.
"Maybe you should try it on," suggested Amanda. She was looking at me, but I knew she was talking to Riley.
"We should both try them on," said Riley. "This is so cool!"
"You think I should wear something like this?" asked Amanda, as one eyebrow arched.
"Mom, you're gorgeous. Don't be shy. Daddy will drool over you in this."
"And that doesn't bother you?" The other eyebrow rose.
"Mom," sighed our little girl. "I'm not a child anymore. I know the deal. I like it that my parents love each other and still have a love life."
I admit I was flabbergasted. Amanda, however, was not.
"Thank you, Darling," she said, hugging Riley.
"Let's go! I can't wait to try this on!" Riley jumped again.
I swear I tried to look elsewhere, but it was impossible. When she turned and skipped out of the room my eyes left my daughter's chest. I met my wife's gaze.
It was clear she knew where I'd been looking.
And I swear I didn't do it intentionally, but my eyes fell to my wife's breasts.
She pushed me, gently.
"Pervert," she said, quietly.
"I didn't know it was a thong," I moaned. "We can take them back. She told me she'd be there for a week."
"You can't take them back now," said Amanda. "Not after she's this excited about it. She wants to look sexy."
"I didn't get it for her to look sexy," I groaned.
"Oh, come off of it," laughed Amanda. "A man doesn't buy a woman a bikini without ulterior motives."
"My motives concerned you, not her," I said.
"I know. But you opened Pandora's box, my love, and now you're going to have to deal with it."
"Mom!" came Riley's insistent, distant call.
"I have to go," said Amanda. She stared at me. "I have to go be sexy with my daughter. She might not be so excited once she sees herself in it. Wanting to be sexy and trying to be sexy are two different animals," said Amanda.
"I don't know what to do," I sighed.
"Tell her she's beautiful when she wears it," said my wife. She smiled. "Me, too, for that matter."
"You are beautiful," I said. "Both of you are beautiful."
"I know." She gave me a peck on the lips. "And while you're telling us we're beautiful, try not to let her see your erection."
"What?"
"I know you. She may be your daughter, but you're a lecherous old pervert."
"Don't be crazy," I said.
"Don't you be in denial."
"I do not lust after my own daughter," I said, darkly.
"You will when you see her in that bikini," said my wife. "She's going to be practically naked when she wears it, and I'm going to feel like an old hag."
"Fuuuck," I groaned. "I'll take it back."
"You can't. She's just at that stage where she's coming to grips with things. It was fun being slim and pretty while she was young but then she grew lady parts, and boys started saying things and men started looking at her. It's not like growing up as a boy. Boys can express their sexuality and nobody thinks a thing of it. Tits can be great for her ... or not, depending on what, exactly, they attract. The behavior they attract I mean. The power equation can go either way. She's going to need a male she can trust to ask questions to."
It occurred to me that my wife wasn't unhappy about the concept of me lusting after Riley. Well ... maybe she was more worried about Riley being able to deal with the fact that men (in general) would lust after her than she was that this particular man did that. What Amanda seemed to be saying was that if Riley realized I also lusted after her, then it might not be so foreign or scary.
After all, her daddy would never hurt her. She and I both knew that.
"So what do I do?" I asked.
"Just talk to her. Let her know that being sexy is okay, and teach her how to be safe about it."
"And you think I'd be better at that than you?"
"I'll be talking to her, too."
"Okay." I frowned. "But just so you know, my take on it is that the less sexy she is, the better it is."
Amanda smiled.
"You should have thought of that before you got her a bikini."
"Okay, okay. I'll pay for my sins. I'll talk to her. That's assuming she wants to talk to me."
"Good," she said. "And be patient. She might be embarrassed, at first. She's going to have to process this. Me too. Wearing something this tiny is harder in some ways than being naked. I'm worried about how I'll look in mine."
"You're not a hag," I said. "Compared to you, Megan Fox is a hag."
"You're sweet," she said. "Ridiculous, but sweet."
She left, to go join our progeny. I snorted. She was worried she might not look good?
My wife is 32. She runs five miles a day and has a better six pack than I ever had. She's a stone fox and she knows it. Why she picked me as a mate I still don't understand. Amanda and I still have an active sex life, of the three-times-a-week kind, no doubt helped by the ideal nutrition she enforces. Our sex used to be frantic, but we've learned to make it last. We used to fuck. Now we make love.
I know how lucky I am to have her.
I went to the den, and turned on the TV. I was standing in front of the screen, perusing potential selections on Hulu, when I heard them coming. They were talking and my daughter sounded much less enthusiastic than she had before.
"I love it, but it's positively obscene," came Riley's voice.
"All the critical things are covered," said Amanda.
I turned to look as mother and daughter, in matching bikins, oozed into the room.
The saleswoman's guess about bra size wasn't bad. Amanda's bra was full to overflowing, but since it consisted of only two triangles that were pliable enough to mould over any shape of breast, it didn't actually look too small for her frame. Riley's breasts ... well, the phrase that comes to mind as I remember that was that they looked happy. They filled her cups happily. I guess the description might be that Amanda looked busty, and Riley looked like a swimsuit model. The bottoms were of the same pliable material, and it cupped their genitals lovingly, sweeping low over their mounds. Again, what comes to mind as I remember seeing it for the first time is that it looked like the cloth weighed pounds instead of a fraction of an ounce, and the weight was dragging it down. Or maybe it was that their genitalia weighed pounds, and they were dragging the cloth down.
One thing was crystal clear, instantly. These suits were not made for swimming. They were designed specifically to show off the women wearing them, to accentuate her sexuality, to lovingly nurture lust in the observer.
I'm thirty-five. I've gotten thousands of erections in my life. But I doubt I ever got one faster than I did that day. It was like an air bag went off in my pants.
Amanda twirled. From the back the only thing that marred her expanse of skin was the cord that was tied in a bow between her shoulder blades, and an identical one, sans bow, across the dimple of her lower back. She grinned at me. I think she was trying to give me an excuse for the boner that was straining the zipper of my pants.
Riley did not twirl. Her shoulders and arms looked stiff. I think she was making a physical effort not to cover things up with her hands.
"Riley thinks her suit is too small," said Amanda.
"It is too small," said Riley, staring at my groin. She tugged the fabric across her mons ineffectively towards her belly button.
"Is mine too small?" asked Amanda.
"It's too small for public consumption," said Riley.
"This isn't public," said Amanda.
"You're wearing that for Daddy," said my daughter.
"You can wear yours for him, too," said Amanda.
"Right. I can't wait to tell my friends I got a killer bikini, but only wear it for my father."
"You can invite them over. They can all get teeny weeny bikinis, too."
"And wear them for Daddy?"
"Trust me, Darling. He'd love that."
"That's obvious," said Riley, looking at my groin. She walked over to stand over me.
"Are you a pervert, Daddy? Is that why you got me this little thing?"
"I didn't know it was a thong," I groaned. "I offered to take it back."
"You'll have to excuse me," she said. "My mother suddenly wants me to be sexy, and my father got me a bikini a stripper would probably blush to wear. I have some adjusting to do."
"Take all the time you need," said my lovely wife.
Riley was bold enough to make it obvious she was staring at the tent my groin had become.
"Just how long will it take for that to disappear?"
Amanda must have been having fun. She felt completely secure in the presence of a young goddess.
"It depends," she said. "It's all a matter of technique."
"Mom," groaned my daughter. "Too much information!"
"Are we really beautiful?" asked my conniving wife.
"Gorgeous," I sighed.
"Really?" asked Riley. "You honestly don't think it's too small?"
"It's definitely too small," I sighed.
"So ... you don't like it?"
"Oh, I like it," I said. "That's the problem."
The angst on her face melted like snow on the fourth of July. She beamed.
It was then that I realized that, not only was my wife not outraged that I had improper thoughts about my daughter ... my daughter wasn't outraged about it, either.
It was too late in the day to actually sunbathe, but the ladies went out into the back yard to see how it felt to run around half naked in the open. Riley was flushed and excited when they came back in. Half an hour later she was dressed in shorts and a T shirt and plopped down on the couch beside me.
"Thank you," she said, leaning to kiss me on the cheek. "I love it, and I love you for getting it for me."
"You're welcome," I said. "I think," I added.
"It is kind of sexy," she said. "A lot of dads won't let their daughter try to be sexy."
"I probably shouldn't, either," I said.
She hugged my arm, pressing a braless breast against it.
"Mom said it will be hard on you." There didn't seem to be any double entendre in her voice. "She says you're very brave."
"I'm not brave," I said.
"I'll try not to tease you too much."
I looked at her.
"Why would you tease me at all?"
She grinned.
"Well, I for sure can't tease any other guy, wearing that bikini. You're the only man that will ever see me in it."
"Give it ten years," I said. "Then you can wear it for somebody else."
She laughed, and stayed there, and hugged my arm while we watched TV. Not long after, Amanda came in and sat on the other side of me. She lay her hand on my thigh.
About three inches from my very erect penis.
The next day was a Saturday, and the morning was normal. After lunch Riley made the cheerful announcement that the sun was out, and the Robinson clan was going to avail themselves of it.
"We're all going to lay out," she said.
"I don't need a tan," I suggested.
"You have to be there," said Riley, firmly.
"And why is that?"
"Because Mom and I are going to be helpless and practically naked. You have to be there to protect us from bad men."
"What bad men? It's a private back yard," I said.
"Details, details," she said, waving a hand. "You never know who snuck in last night and is hiding behind the bushes."
"The bushes are eighteen inches tall," I pointed out.
"You have to lay out with us, Daddy." My daughter's voice brooked no objection.
"I don't want to," I said, my voice sulky.
"It's okay, Daddy," said my nubile daughter. "Mom already told me it will happen again, and I understand."
"What will happen?" I asked, falling into the trap.
"She said you'll get a hardon ... I mean erection. But I know it's just what happens to guys. I don't mind."
"Easy for you to say," I groused.
"Oh, come on. Please, please, please, please?"
She has that quality of somehow making people want to do what she wants them to do, and ten minutes later I was pulling on my swim suit. It's what used to be called "Baggies", with a blue background and black palm trees on it. It's very loose and made to be worn with a jock strap. I don't own a jock strap. Hell, the last time I went swimming was when we went to a water park two years earlier.
So there I am in this thin suit. I already know what the girls are going to look like. My mind is off on a tangent, thinking about sun screen being rubbed onto almost naked bodies.
To cut to the chase, when I emerged from the house, the front of my trunks was tented out. I tried to pull my boner up, but the weight of it still dragged it down until the tip caught on the cloth of the suit. I looked like Chester the Molester.
I was the first one out, thankfully. I spread a towel out and lay down on it, on my front, of course.
As they came out, I heard Riley say, "I want to feel sexy, but maybe this is too sexy."
"I love the way it makes me feel," said Amanda.
"Of course you do," said Riley. "You have Daddy."
"You'll find a man some day," said Amanda. " You're not a little girl anymore. You're almost an adult. Soon you'll go out in the big, wide world, find a man, and make a life for yourself. Being a little sexy will help you increase the field of men to choose from."
"I'm not used to you saying things like that," said Riley.
I lifted my head and looked up. From the front, both suits looked pretty normal.
Well ... if normal means showing the three/fifths of their breasts that weren't areolas and nipples. And if normal means the top edge of their bottoms swooped low enough that, had they not shaven - and both had obviously shaven - their pubes would have shown.
I felt my cock clench.
Both had obvioulsy shaved. My unruly mind supplied images of what that might have looked like.
"So," said Amanda. "How do we look?"
"If word gets out that you two have those bikinis, I'm going to have to build a moat around the house," I said. "And walls. Big, thick stone walls."
Both women laughed.
"Go ahead and laugh," I said. "I'm going to go buy guns later today."
They spread towels on either side of me. Amanda sat down beside me and I looked at her. She sat facing me, Indian style, obviously teasing me, and started slathering on sun screen. I looked for a camel toe.
"Guess what?" she said, her voice normal.
"I give up, what?"
"The bottoms have a removable modesty panel."
I blinked.
"We left them in," she said. "I thought that might be a bit much."
"That's not already a bit much?" I asked.
She grinned.
"Not if it gets you going."
"Get a room, you two," came Riley's sardonic comment.
"Sunbathing first," said Amanda. "Then the room."
"I said I'm happy you guys have a love life, but I didn't ask for details."
"Doctor Sol Gordon thinks you should get them at home," said Amanda.
"Who's Doctor Sol Gordon?"
"He was a British psychologist. He believed that sex education should start at home, rather than leaving it to schools."
"Believed? What changed his mind?" Riley could be pernicious, like any teen.
"He passed away in 2008."
"Oh."
I turned my head to look at Amanda. She'd never mentioned Doctor Sol Gordon before this. But she was a voracious reader, so I was sure there were lots of things she'd read that we hadn't talked about. She smiled at me for some reason and lay down on her stomach.
I said the bikini looked more or less normal from the front. From the back it looked like it wasn't there at all. I rolled my head to look at Riley. Same thing. She had ear buds in and her eyes were closed. That was good because I was pretty sure my stare would have given me away. Or scared her. Or something. Her ass looked just as muscled and tight as my wife's.
I felt said wife's hands spread oil on my back. Apparently she wasn't lying down anymore.
"Mustn't burn," she said. "I'm going to want you to be able to lie on your back, comfortably, later, when I ride you like a wild mustang."
"Mom!" Objected Riley. Apparently her music wasn't turned up all that loud.
Grinning, Amanda reached under my suit on the side away from Riley and wormed her hand under me. She felt for and grabbed my bulge.
"Are you a pervert, Bob? Or is that just because of me?"
"Don't be ridiculous," I said.
"It's all mine?"
"Of course it is," I grumbled.
She removed her hand and started rubbing sun block over my legs first, and then my back and arms.
"Turn over," she said.
"I don't think so," I mumbled.
She pinched the beginnings of my spare tire and tickled me to the point where I had to roll and she ended up sitting on my thighs. My erection was right in front of her and on full display through my suit, but her thigh hid it from Riley. A quick glance told me Riley's eyes were still closed. I relaxed, but I shot my wife a mighty frown. At least I hoped it was mighty.
Amanda ignored the frown and reached to smooth her hands over my chest. She scooted forward and, shamelessly, started rubbing the wisp of cloth covering her pussy lips against my hardon. I closed my eyes, primarily because I was watching Amanda's breasts sway in her top, and wanted to take it off and play with her tits. I turned my head to look at Riley, to make sure her eyes were still closed as she listened to her music.
Not so much. She'd turned on her side and was watching us from a foot and a half away. Her tender, young breasts held their shape flawlessly, under the cloth. No sag there. Not even a hint of it.
Amanda purred, and rubbed faster.
"Come on, you two," complained Riley. "I told you to get a room."
My wife astonished me by saying, "We own the yard, and it's private."
"Not private from me," said Riley.
"I told you, you're growing up," said Amanda. "You're old enough to see this."
"Mom, kids don't dream of seeing their parents doing the deed."
"You can go inside if you want to," said Amanda. "But before you do, I need oil on me, too. I'm not planning on moving very soon."
Riley sat up and I thought she was going to flee to the house. But she didn't. Instead, she got the oil and went behind her mother. She began applying oil on Amanda's back, shoulders, and arms. Amanda held out one hand for a squirt of oil and, when she got it, she rubbed it on her breasts, under her new suit.
"Mother!" said Riley, clearly chastising.
"It's going to come off, Darling, just as soon as you go inside."
"And what if I don't go inside?" teased Riley.
"Then you get to see what making love looks like."
"I don't believe this," whined Riley.
Amanda reached behind her and pulled at the bow on her back. The front of the suit gave up trying to contain her breasts and her nipples played peek-a-boo under the cloth. She pulled it over her head and tossed it to the side.
Riley went back to her towel and sat on it, facing us. She sat Indian style, too. My wife had told me about the modesty panels ... but I couldn't help it. I looked anyway. I tore my eyes away as she started oiling herself up.
Don't ask me why, but when Riley stayed, I lost my reservations. I suppose the more nearly correct phrase was I lost my inhibitions. Massive quantities of testosterone surging through your veins will produce that effect. In my defense, Riley was a big girl, and she could make her own decisions. And while no man likes to contemplate it, most of us are aware that, by the time our daughters are sixteen, they have some experience with male/female relationships. It was entirely possible that Riley had already seen or (shudder) done something like this. And yes, I know I'm rationalizing things. That's because I have a conscience. I might be a pervert, but at least I feel bad about it.
But that's now. Back then my conscience was in abeyance.
"We need to get some flavored suntan oil," I said.
"Do they make that?" asked Amanda.
"Probably not, but it would be nice."
"Why?" asked Riley, who apparently wasn't going to just watch. She thought this was interactive.
"He likes to do this," said Amanda.
She leaned forward and dangled an already stiff nipple above my lips. When I opened them she gently inserted the nipple. I sucked.
"You guys," moaned Riley, drawing out the "I" sound.
"And I love it when he does it, too," sighed my wife.
"This is crazy," I heard Riley whisper.
"Most men, when they're young, don't know how to treat a woman," said Amanda. "The phrase 'Wham, bam, thank you Ma'am' isn't a joke. You can learn something by watching your father, and teach it to some lucky young man some day."
Apparently Doctor Sol Gordon had impressed Amanda and she was in solidarity with him on his theories.
I switched nipples and reached to play with her hanging boobs.
"This feels good," said Amanda, rubbing her pussy on my groin. "But it would feel better naked."
She was warning Riley.
Riley didn't move.
Amanda scooted down, gripped the waistband of my new trunks and pulled. I was too far gone for logic or reason to have any effect on me. The two new bikinis had robbed me of the control society demanded of me. I lifted my hips. My boner bent downwards and then slapped my belly hard when it was released.
I heard Riley's gasp, but didn't look at her.
Amanda stood, shimmied out of the thong and, with no fanfare, squatted to impale herself on my prick.
"Ohhh yesss," she hissed. "I love this so much. The only way I'd love it more is if you'd gotten cut when I asked you to."
"That was right after Riley was born," I said. "I thought we might want another."
"And we decided not to."
"You decided not to," I reminded her.
"I wanted to pursue my art," she said.
"I can't believe my parents are having sex right in front of me," said Riley, "and arguing while they do it."
"You got an IUD," I reminded my wife. "You've had several, in fact."
"And this one is over five years old. It could be losing its effectiveness. If you'd have gotten cut I wouldn't need one."
"I guess I just never got around to it," I said.
"No, you keep hoping you'll knock me up again."
"Okay. I keep hoping I'll knock you up again."
I looked over at Riley. I could see her nipples, straining through the top of her bikini.
"Want a little brother, Riley?"
"Don't bring me into this," said my daughter. Her eyes looked huge.
Amanda stopped arguing and leaned forward to bring her weight onto her clit. She shamelessly rubbed out an orgasm and enjoyed it, right in front of our daughter. I reached to pinch and pull her nipples as she had it. I knew that heightened her pleasure.
Amanda went back to languid humps, and sat up straight. I knew she was rubbing the tip of my cock against her cervix. She loved that, too. Her hands came to squeeze her tits and nipples.
"You're so hard!" she groaned. She looked down at me. "Harder than usual. Maybe you are a pervert."
"Are you saying it doesn't excite you for her to be here?"
"No," she admitted. "I hope she's having as much fun as I am." She blinked. "Well not as much fun. You know what I mean."
"I'm right here, guys," Riley reminded us.
"We know, dear," said Amanda. "That's the point. Having you here is making this better for us."
"I don't get that," moaned Riley.
"Your father is a bit of a pervert," said my loving wife. "He's extra hard right now, because he wishes he was doing this with you."
"Fuuuck," I groaned.
"Daddy!" squealed my daughter.
"Don't worry," said Amanda. "It's just a fantasy. And don't blame him. He's a man. Any man standing around would want to fuck us both. It's just how men are built. That's why it's important for you to be sexy, and desirable to your husband. You want him to choose you over all other women."
"Is that true, Daddy?" asked my innocent daughter.
I rolled my head to look at her. Her question could be about any of a number of things her mother had asserted as truth. My mind was only on one of them.
"I'd never hurt you," I panted.
"Answer the question, Daddy." Riley could be stubborn. She got that and her looks from her mother. It was also clear that she was thinking about the same part of Amanda's little diatribe as I was.
"Sweetheart," said Amanda. "A girl should never make her daddy admit he wants to fuck her. He's embarrassed enough about it already."
Riley subsided, but Amanda, after letting me off the hook concerning Riley, turned screws on another issue.
"I've had a lovely cum, Darling," she said. "Would you like to squirt, now? Of course you would. And of course you want to leave it in me, instead of pulling out so I can suck your lovely sperm down into my stomach."
I heard Riley gasp again.
"You're hoping there's an egg floating around in my womb right now, aren't you?" teased Amanda. "You want to shoot me full of sperm to fertilize that egg, don't you. You want my belly to get all big and fat again. Go on, admit it."
"Mandy," I groaned.
She leaned over and started using her pussy muscles on me, milking me.
"Or do you wish your nasty old penis was in poor Riley's pussy? Do you wish you were trying to knock her up, Bob?"
I wish I could have controlled my cum, but she was too good at using those pussy muscles. And she knew me too well. She could suck the cum out of me on command. It would have been better, though, if I hadn't cum right after she accused me of wanting to impregnate my own daughter.
But I did cum then. And it was obvious.
To both women.
Chapter Two
I opened my eyes to see my daughter looking at me. There was a strange look on her face, one I'd never seen there before. I expected to see anger, or disgust, but neither of those emotions were present, at least not visually. It was a little like she was examining some bug, mounted under glass, of a sort she'd never seen before.
"I would never hurt you," I gasped.
"I know," she said. She got up. "I'm going inside, now."
I was astonished to see a stain on the gusset of her new bikini. That stain had penetrated the modesty panel, too!
Watching us have sex had gotten her going!
Our mundane lives can be affected, now and then, by an unusual happening. A car wreck will do it, or a bad storm that damages things. The news that a loved one in the family has a dangerous illness can shake things up. Getting fired is a doozey. All those things, though, get adapted to and, eventually, incorporated into your lifestyle. Normalcy returns. It might be a new normal, but you still think of it as normal.
The strangeness of all this, though, didn't abate. Nothing was awkward, exactly, after that, but it wasn't the same as it had been, either. I expected the women to be tense. I thought Amanda would feel guilty, and I thought Riley would be weirded out.
But both women seemed more relaxed than ever. When Riley left, later, to go to a friend's house, she gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, just like always. When she got back that night, everything seemed normal. I mean the old normal.
As for Amanda, she acted like nothing had happened at all. The only reference she made to it was later that night, when she reached to find my soft cock and get it hard again.
"You were fabulous, today," she said, pulling me on top of her. She reached to get me inside her. "Be fabulous again for me."
"It was different today," I suggested. "You surprised me." That's how affected I was. Everything I said was understated.
She shrugged.
"It occurred to me that kids these days watch porn. You can't stop them from doing it. And I figured seeing the real thing would be better than porn. What she saw today was real love, real tenderness, real passion. That's what I want her to have."
That was all she said.
But it made me think of Riley while I fucked her.
And, when I jetted into my wife's pussy ... I was still thinking about Riley.
A week passed. I knew nobody had just forgotten about it, but nobody talked about it, either.
The next Saturday Amanda had a show to go to. She had five paintings in the show and wanted to be there, in case someone wanted to buy one. She said she'd be gone all day.
I was puttering in the kitchen, making breakfast, when Riley came in. She was still in her "jammies", which consisted of a T shirt and panties. The T shirt was an older one she'd had for a while and was a little small for her. I could see the faint darkness of her areolas under the cloth.
"Mom has a show today, doesn't she," she said.
"Yeah. She's already gone. Want some breakfast?"
"Just toast. What are you doing today?"
"Nothing," I said. "Just being lazy."
"Want to spend some time with me later?" she asked.
"Of course," I said. "What do you have in mind?"
"I'll tell you later," she said. "I have some stuff to do, first."
"Okay. I'm just going to read or play computer games. Yell at me when you're ready."
"Okay," she said. She got her toast and left.
I realized she had a lot of tight ass packed into those panties as she walked away.
Instead of reading or playing games, I decided to jerk off.
I was doing that, in fact, when my daughter gave a perfunctory tap on the door, opened it, and waltzed into my bedroom.
"Hey, I was wondering," she said as she breezed in. She opened her mouth to go on, but then realized what I was doing.
I was stark naked on my bed, cock in hand. I had frozen as she came in. It just happened to be in the "down" position, which meant my foreskin was peeled back and the purple knob of my prick was exposed.
"Shit," we both breathed at the same time.
I changed to the "up" position, so the top half of my prick was encased in my hand. Don't ask me why, but I felt more covered.
"Sorry," we said, again in tandem. It was like we'd practiced it.
"I'll come back later," said my daughter, who was now blushing.
I reached for the only thing I could cover myself with, which was a pillow. I know I looked ridiculous lying there with a pillow across my hips.
"It's okay," I said. "What can I do for you?"
She looked startled, and then burst out into laughter.
Laughter is infectious, so I joined in, in an awkward sort of way.
It got more awkward.
When she stopped laughing, she didn't leave.
"Can I ask you a question?" she asked.
What did I have to lose?
"Sure," I said.
She opened her mouth, and then closed it.
"Never mind," she said. "It can wait."
Then she turned and left.
My cock had half softened, and I wasn't in the mood anymore, so I got up.
It wasn't until lunch that I saw her again.
"After lunch I want to spend time with you," she said.
"Okay."
While I did the dishes she disappeared.
When she got back, she had on the bikini.
"I want to lay out with you," she said.
Riley is more lightly built than Amanda, but the same five foot four; so far at least. She probably has a bit more to fill out yet, but she will stay more slender, I think, especially if she gets taller. Still, her body in that bikini was like the art you see of Elven warrior women, lithe and muscled, with proudly thrusting breasts above a narrow waist, and hips a man wants to grab onto.
I think Elven warrior women, lithe and muscled, with proudly thrusting breasts, are sexy.
I had a dilemma. On one level, I knew what was happening. My daughter was using her new bikini to feel sexy. She was doing a fabulous job of that. That part, I got. What I didn't get was why she wanted to do it with me as a witness. Of course being sexy alone isn't very fulfilling. It helps if there's validation from another source. By asking me to lay out with her, she was making me that source.
Riley wasn't stupid. She got good grades and didn't have to study that hard to do it. She proved how smart she was when she went on.
"I know this is awkward for you, Daddy," she said. "I know you'll get another ..." she looked away for a second, and then back, "um ... erection, but that's okay. Mom says it's normal and I'm okay with it."
"It is awkward," I said. "But right now, the most awkward part about it is that you're okay with it."
She folded her arms under her breasts. It was like an invisible wonder bra had suddenly been applied.
"Do you love me, Daddy?"
"Of course I do," I answered, instantly.
"Well, that's all I really care about," she said. "I'm not going to compare you to other men. You're my daddy, and if you love me, then everything is okay."