She must have bought that swimsuit just to piss him off. Tiny and blue, with an array of ruffles. Like something a two year old would wear potty training. He watched her moving lightly through the dunes, carrying the two folding chairs and one of their fishing poles, and let himself feel a flare of anger at how easily she tiptoed through the vegetation. Pulling their bait cart behind her, he felt himself struggle to catch his breath, and made yet another resolution to get back into shape. He watched her rinse off in the hose, cleaning the sand off her feet and calves, rinsing her hands, and thought about what a nice red handprint on one cheek would add, just to throw off the symmetry of her ass. He considered bending her over right here, in front of the neighbors peering down from adirondack chairs on their raised porch.
Did you ignore me intentionally?"
She turned back, just inside the screen door, dripping on their pelican-themed welcome mat, her face vaguely questioning, still distracted by her plans for the rest of the day. He saw the finger-sized bruises on her thighs from the last time they played this game. Clearly he had not made himself understood. He would have to try harder.
"It's bad enough the neighbors think you're my daughter. I told you to dress like an adult."
He saw the understanding on her face, saw her rock her hips into the instantaneous rush to her cunt that was her pavlovian response to his tone. "I can't help that you're old and infirm. It shouldn't limit my options." It was the laughter underneath her words that did it, the taunting. Flipped it from passing desire to absolute immediate need. "Do you want me in a full length bathing costume with a little parasol? Is that more your speed?"
He stepped inside quickly, throwing her off her footing as she backed up to accommodate him. Fear and excitement flickered on her face. He turned her around by her upper arm, then gripped the back of her neck to guide her the fifteen steps to the kitchen. He had learned the exact spots to press to guide her where he wanted, but he liked it if she stumbled a little.
"I told you to find a grown up suit. I won't let you forget again." Reaching up with one hand to hold her firm by her hair, he pulled kitchen shears out of a drawer with the other. She hissed on inhale when she felt the cold edge between her breasts, and exhaled with a gasp when he cut the cord holding her heavy tits into the nylon. He tapped her left nipple with the shears and paused to watch her face darken. Then he clipped each side of the obscene suit bottom, catching it before it fell to the floor, and listened to her muffled moan as he shoved it in her mouth. He let go of her hair, moving to pull the bikini top still hanging on her shoulders down, using the mangled blue suit to tie her wrists behind her back, and bent her forward over the kitchen table on top of the remains of their tomato and cheese breakfast.
He stepped back to admire his handiwork. "That's better. Now you look closer to your 38 years. More like the used up whore who's just here for the taste of my cock." He circled her slowly, kicking her feet a little farther apart so he had a better view of her asshole and cunt, watching her face turn from pleasure to frustration. He waited, listening to her quick breaths, knowing that if he waited just a few seconds longer, her cunt would start twitching and she would start begging. Two more steps back. He saw her start to lift up to drag her nipples against the table, trying to gain traction, get a little relief.
