Hunger

I have always been considered beautiful and my family well off - so I had the best clothes, hairdressers, nails, even at an early point in my life. I was involved at an early stage with family parties rather than being shuffled off. I learned to enjoy the attentions of older men – and as young, insecure girl became to rely on constant attention and adoration rather than building self confidence and being comfortable in my skin. My mother was Croatian, and a fashion model – she was the life and soul of the house. She was killed in a car crash when I was just 16. My father did not know the driver - the accident happened at 2am in the morning and the man was seriously over the limit.

My father was in pieces. Not only had he lost a wife he had lost trust in the life memory he wanted to hold dear.

For 6 months he was in a bad place. So I decided to take him on holiday to our villa in Majorca. I was nearly 17. I made a mistake. My mother had beautiful clothes, beautiful underwear, beautiful basques. and so many shoes, some incredibly sexy...we were virtually the same size, though maybe she was a little taller. I took some of her summer dresses with me and some high heeled sandals on holiday, not thinking.

I was like a magpie – her clothes were classy, sexy, and i wanted to look like my mum did when she went out – sophisticated, fun loving...

On the second night I came dressed for dinner in one of her dresses - backless, cream, very sexy, short to show off my legs, clingy to show off the swell of my breasts and matching high heeled sandals. I thought I looked a million dollars and hoped to make an entrance and draw admiring glances.

My father saw not a lovely daughter to be proud of, but a ghost. Dinner was stilted, he was moody.

The next day he was even more quiet, introverted, mopey, dead. Just sitting by the pool in a black mood I had caused, not even reading or listening to music. I felt responsible. I wanted to make it up,to him but didn't know how. I cooked him dinner and we drank but there was no joy. He went to bed early.

I sat up in the night air, having a drink. Then I heard him sobbing. I went and stood outside his door for ages then went in and whispered if he was OK. He said nothing. I went to get into bed with him to cradle him tightly from behind but saw he was naked. I felt he would like my body warmth so I took my clothes off too. When I put my arms around him, feeling his hard body, my body tingled. My stomach crawled with anticipation. I could feel my heart beating in my head. I could feel my nipples harden against his back and become tender and achey and my juices starting as she began to open. I felt natural and he became quiet and still as I comforted him. He said nothing for such a long while I wondered if I should just go to my room and leave him but, perhaps sensing I was pulling away, murmured sweetly "that feels lovely".

I took that as encouragement. I ran my fingers down his arms and over his chest, twirling his chest hairs playfully, trying to lighten the mood. He lay on his back and put his arm around me, so I could snuggle into him. I caressed his chest and he smoothed my shoulders. I kissed his cheek. I could feel his face was wet. I kissed his face again, loving away the tears. I moved my leg over his to get closer, to be more comforting. It was then that I felt his cock brush against my leg. It was big. Very big. He shifted a little, away from me, realising what had happened.

At that point, the moment could have been, still, just a tender, innocent father / daughter intimacy, borne from his need. However, the feeling of that cock sent me into a heady moment of lust and desire. (I apologise if this is too much for you, but for me it was my defining moment in life).

I knew then that I needed more from him. I wanted to feel the electric excitement of his cock against my skin again and thought that if I gave myself to him I would make my father happy again. After all, I must be doing something right if he was so big, right? Warped logic, I now know. But at that moment the feeling was lovely, intense, unreal and there was an overwhelming mix of natural love for him compounded by the realisation that, despite other boys I had been with, the sexual urges I was feeling then were so much more than anything. I realised that I actually really fancied him....desired him and felt natural with him.

We lay for a while, saying nothing. He was tracing his fingers lightly up and down my arm. That felt lovely. Every now and again I brushed my leg against his cock, still big, sometimes letting it rest against him innocently, enjoying the sexuality of the moment – part innocent, part seductive – an amazing combination.

He asked if I was OK ....I told him I was just perfect. Because I was. That was the truth. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else or with anyone else. I asked if he was OK. He said he thought so but his mouth was dry and he could do with a drink! I laughed, slipped out of bed, naked, leant over and kissed him gently on his mouth....."yes dry lips" I laughed. He then laughed too –the first for ages. How good did that make me feel? And what a boost to my confidence.

I remember that moment with crystal clarity still today.

I grabbed a towel wrapped it around me and went to the kitchen to get a couple of glasses of champagne.

Before i returned I took a deep breath, freshened up my lipstick, quick spray of perfume and fluff up the hair.....all by instinct. Back in the room I went round to my dad's side of the bed put the glasses down, said "budge over". He lifted the sheet up.

I peeled away the towel, holding it in one hand as nonchantly and naturally as I could. I held his gaze, letting him look at me, appreciate me, taking in my figure, my breasts, my hips. I wanted him to desire me.......this took only a few seconds but it feltmlike an age before I dropped the towel, smiling at him as I did, and snuggled in. As I passed him the glass I kissed him first on the lips again. His breath was fresh. Seems like he too had made an effort, of sorts. We toasted each other, I kissed him again, still closed mouths, but just reassuring him and making sure that I was taking the boundaries down through frequent moments of intimacy. As he lay on his back I lay my head on his chest and ran my hands down to his groin circling my fingers around his cock - which although semi hard immediately began to grow firm.

He went silent and didn't move. After a while I could sense he was awkward (but for some reason I was not) so i just held my hand steady on him, gripping him lightly as he grew very hard. I daren't move, or caress him because of his unease until, after a while I casually took my hand off his cock and sat up to take a drink. My mouth was so dry with nerves. "Come on", I said, "lay your head in my lap and let me massage your head whilst I drink the champers".

So we spent a comfortable 15 / 20 minutes as I ran my fingers through his hair, letting him relax, letting me finish my drink. When he murmured "that was nice" I snuggled down to him, pressing my body full length against his and wrapping an arm around his neck and looking into his eyes. I kissed him again, but slowly this time, with my mouth slowly open. Success. He responded. My tongue slipped into his mouth and he kissed me back....then stopped!

Charlotte he said, this isn't right. The moment.

I moved my body against him. Kissed him again.I could feel him against me. "I'm Tihana for you, not Charlotte". I pushed against him and felt his big, firm cock. "And this is so right for us both". I took him again in my hand and began to stroke him. I could see the pleasure in his eyes so I kept massaging him, running my nails up and down his shaft, squeezing his balls gently, then with more firmness, which he liked. As he began to moan I kissed him again and he kissed me back, with passion, desire, with gentleness and with purpose. He was caressing me now, cupping my breasts, pinching my nipple ( delightful, and he could tell,I loved it as I moaned with pleasure), caressing my bottom and running his finger along my bum hole,teasing it, calling me his beautiful Tihana and seeing the sparkle in my eyes as he did so, all the time kissing my mouth, eyes, ears, neck, nibbling me sometimes, gently biting my lip, soft kisses, hard kisses, but by bit taking control of me and the situation. He was alive to my needs, guiding me, teaching me.

As he kissed my breasts and bit my nipples I know he could sense the waves of pleasure coursing through my body. As he ran his hands along my waist and thighs he could feel me shiver with delight. I could sense his wonderment, his pleasure, his desire. When he went down my body with his mouth slowly, teasingly, with my fingers wrapped in his hair, and my heart beating with anticipation, I squirmed under him, partly out of pleasure, partly out of nerves, until he pinned my body down, holding me still as he buried his head between my legs, "her" wet , swollen, aching, as he teased me, circling his tongue round and round, driving me wild with anticipation and needs me unable to move under him. I remember it clearly - his strength, my inability to move, the nervousness, the pleasure.

He was in total command now. I could feel the orgasm building...he could too. So he stopped, bringing me back from the edge. He took me in his arms, I kissed him hungrily, tasting me on him. It was so naughty. So erotic.

We started to caress each other in the most intimate way, pleasuring each other. I was so turned on by his cock in my hand and how hard he was, squeezing hard, then softly caressing. He asked me why I looked so serious. I couldn't explain. It was a mix of things but I think I wanted him to know that this was serious and genuine and very emotional for me. The way he had built me close to orgasm but then pulled back had also confused me and i wondered whether I had done something wrong? Then there was the sheer sexual delight and the emotions.

He encouraged me to relax, to open my legs for him. When he finally pushed his fingers into me I finally orgasmed shortly after...and still he kept on paying attention to my clit and rubbing her. He was aware of my body and responses, voluntarily and unvoluntarily in a way that no one before had been. As the intensity of orgasms built I cried with pleasure and grabbed his wrist, digging my nails into it as a massive shudder went through my body as he pushed his fingers deeper into me, filling me up. He was talking to me now, smiling, enjoying me, encouraging me. I responded to him, releasing the tension, telling him i wanted to be fucked. I had never spoken in such a crude, yet intensely personal way before. Telling him to rub my clit, put his finger in my bum, kiss me, squeeze my tits....be directional. I could tell he loved it as he moved his cock in my hands, me holding it tightly, feeling it. This overt sexuality was completely new to me.....tenderness had given way to raw sexual power and as I screamed with joy he came in my hands, hot, sticky, beautiful cum.

We lay exhausted, we cuddled, he was smiling and happy. I felt alive, my body tingling. He lay alongside me, looking down at me, telling me that I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The most sexy. He continually called me Tihana. Or Tia. He could see that made me very content.

He kissed me tenderly. Slow. Languid. Tongues working together. Biting my lip. Sucking my tongue into his mouth and sucking on it. He kissed my neck, my breasts, he sucked my nipples until I squirmed, he kissed my tummy then started on her, burying himself in me until I came again, helped by the fact that he was caressing my bum hole too, and then, when he was ready he lay on top of me and put his big cock into me again - I gasped. He was so much thicker than any one before and i was still tight and tiny. He just pushed slowly until he was in and then stayed there without moving. I could see in his face the satisfaction of that moment - the moment of taking me, sexual ownership, possession. He had me and i gave myself willingly. After a few long strokes he rolled over onto his back, still in me, so I was above him.

I rode him, his hands on my breasts, my waist, caressing my bum. It was just so lovely looking down at his face, into his eyes. He guided my body with his hands, tilting my body to make sure he penetrated me in the right way so I could grind my clit against him, adjusting my RYTHM slow, slow, hard, slow, fast, soft, building wave upon wave, taking me to the edge and then pulling back again, lots of nearly orgasms, controlling my pleasure and his.

The whole,experience was so profound for me. The sexual experience so intense and more than anything ever before. Add to that the illicit nature of what was happening and the natural bond of love developed over many years, the fact that I was clearly being adored and loved and that I was making my Dad happy made me cry with pleasure.

Tears rolling down my face, dropping onto his chest. Part laughing, part panting, part grunting as the orgasms came, me riding him, him letting me dictate the rthymm, gently taking control for a second or two to direct me this way and then that. He let my orgasm come and then threw me over onto my back, pushing hard into me again until he too came.

I don't know whether any woman has told you how lovely it is to have warm cum inside them...but it is. Wonderful.

The next few days were very happy. My dad and Tihana became lovers. He encouraged Tihana to wear the clothes that had belonged to Charlottes mum. They went shopping. He bought her clothes – sexual, sensual clothes that showed off her figure, her looks. Bikinis that were provocative, sexy heels for going out, for the pool and for the bedroom.

They had lunch and came back to the villa and made love in the pool. They went for dinner, and walked hand in hand drawing glances. A pretty girl and her sugar daddy. He pulled her close to him as they walked. He stopped frequently and kissed her.

They went walking in the sea. They went dancing – she was making him young and carefree and enjoying her music. They danced close, her favourite, and she marveled every time that they danced that he grew hard for her so she could grind against him.

He was making her a sophisticated woman. He taught her how to make love. How to listen to her body. How to touch his penis in the way he liked, rubbing wet fingers around the rim of his cock. How to suck him off and take him deep into her mouth. How to dress for sex.

He liked to tease her in public. A little pat on the bottom a little too hard knowing she would be shocked – it stung, but he caressed her bum so gently that the pain was gone. But he had turned her on and he knew it. He grinned a lot when he knew he knew he was shocking her....but loved it how much she embraced his wishes. He knew Tihana would do anything.

At dinner with another couple he made her remove her knickers..she did. As he entertained the table, laughing and joking and pouring drink he had his hand rested between her legs. Her pussy was smooth now, and swollen, alert, reacting to every touch. It wasn't just the physical stimulation it was the mental fucking that worked the magic. As she sat at the table, not involved in the discussion, dipping in and out and laughing on cue, she concentrated on trying not to orgasm. The more she tried not to, the more she felt the urge too. The more she wriggled and grabbed his hand and tried to look cool, the more he grinned. She loved that.

When the time came to leave he was silent. The plane home was torture, He called her Charlotte at home. Tihana had been left behind. Tihana came to visit sometimes at night...dressed for sex. But she left unfulfilled.

He took Tihana to Paris for a few days. They took up where they had left off. They went to a club....to dance. But it was also an up market sex club. He encouraged her to kiss another woman, to feel her breasts. Tihana enjoyed it. It was mild, not serious, but another little moment of development.

At home, Tihana was not welcome. Charlotte was lonely. Needy. Missing affection. She had a fumble with a nice boy. Sex was uninspiring. Tihana again visited. Still she was not welcome. Charlotte went to a party. She had too much to drink and flopped down next to a girl friend who asked her what the problem was. She told her friend that young men didn't excite her, that she had been seeing an older guy but he didn't want to know....her friend kissed her. It was spontaneous. Her friend confessed she thought she had feelings for her. They ended up making love – awkward, fumbling, unsure love but found a rhythm that worked for each other. They were happy for 3 months. An then she started seeing a boy, leaving Charlotte alone.

Tihana eventually came to Charlottes dad. She told him that she loved him and needed him. He told her that he needed her too. Tihana and Charlottes dad made love that night at home for the first and only time.

They decided to move to the south of france to live together. For four years they lived in love, together. He was wealthy and she wanted for nothing. He worked Tuesday to Thursday and they were together the rest of the time. Tihana studied art, film, antiques. She made friends and hosted dinner parties.

He took her to darker places......he loved to see Tihana with another woman but she didn't want professional people. He taught her how to seduce and then set he set her loose at a club, under his watchful eye, to identify and seduce a woman.

Tihana became very skilled – she had beauty and technique. Sometimes he watched, Sometimes he was allowed to play – but Tihana did not like him touching another woman. So he respected that.

Always after he fucked her very hard until she screamed with pleasure, often tying her up and spanking her, mixing pain and pleasure until she became uncontrollable with lust.

They had dinner in masks and basques or ball gowns or cocktail dresses. Or he liked her to dress like a school girl from St Trinians. He got inside her mind.

She was his totally. Until Tihana got pregnant.

The abortion followed. He left. The pretence was over. Reality. Same blood. Tragedy.

It took her a year to recover. Still in France she regained her confidence. There was no shortage of charming, rich, powerful men interested in her favours. She became a regular consort, accompanying people all over the world – looking wonderful, taking in the culture, enjoying the prowess of men with power.

Superficially happy and carefree, but a mask to hide her sadness, her depth.

Tihana never again saw him. Charlotte still sees her father. He re-married but is not happy. Charlottes relationship is strained.