Bikini Inspection Ch 01

Just as he was about to doze off for his regular Sunday afternoon nap, someone knocked on Tom's bedroom door. He was instantly annoyed. His wife had just left for an afternoon of shopping with her sister. Tom's son was away at camp for two more weeks. And Carrie, Tom's daughter, was probably on the lake with her friends. She'd just graduated high school, after all.

So Tom assumed it was his wife, coming back home to ask him for more shopping money.

"What is it?" he growled, sitting up slightly on the bed.

"Daddyyyy?" Carrie, his little girl, purred from the other side of the door. He knew that tone in her voice: she was annoyed or about to beg for money.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Can I come in, daddy?" she whined.

"Hold on."

Tom crawled out of bed, sighing heavily. He was almost 50, and his body was starting to revolt. What was once a tight tummy was now a lumpy mass. He was losing some hair up top, gaining some everywhere else. But his cock? Still impressive. Tom's wife, after 20 years together, remained enamoured of the hefty tool. It was thick, sure, but it was also so beautiful. When hard, it expanded into a smooth weapon, which he looked amazing when soaked by his wife's pussy, pistoning with fury. Tom was a hard fucker

And a naked napper. He grabbed a pair of boxers from the end of the bed, where he'd kicked them off just seconds before the interruption, and yanked them on while stumbling half-alseep to his feet.

"OK, come in."

The door opened quickly and his daughter, Carrie, strolled in confidently. Since graduating high school last month, she wore a strange new confidence. Strange, at least, for her. For years, she was shy and skittish and slightly neurotic. She dressed the part, too --- bulky sweaters even when it was too warm, loose corduroy pants, sneakers, her hair piled in messy scraps atop her head.

But now? The girl standing in front of him was, at 18, had a pre-teen attitude combined with a marvelous woman's body. Bratty with big tits. Petulant with a perfectly round rump.

Right then, she wore a terrycloth robe, tied tight at her demure waist. And christ, it was short. Stopping mere centimeters below where, Tom shuddered involuntarily to imagine, her pussy was.

She had grown quickly into this new creature Tom had noticed at the breakfast table the morning after her prom. Normally, his daughter shuffled to the breakfast table in musty pajama pants and a wooly blue sweater. (If she came down at all.) She went to prom with two girlfriends---other nerdy girls like Carrie who didn't have dates. In the middle of the night, Tom and his wife heard their daughter come through the front door. Tom checked his alarm clock and muttered to his wife: "3 a.m. Wow, I'm impressed."

Tom's wife rolled over, right back to sleep.

As nibbled on his bagel the next morning, Carrie plopped down in the chair next to him. She

plopped

. He didn't look up at her when he said, "Goooood morning."

"Good morning, daddy," Carrie said in a voice Tom could only think of as peppy.

He looked up. He was stunned. Carrie was wearing a tank-top. His daughter was wearing a tank-top. That homely girl was wearing motherfucking

hot pants

and a

tank top

.

Her tits were epic.

Tom had always been a "breast man" in the purist sense. Meaning: the bigger, the better. It wasn't a strict maxim, but generally, since as young as he could remember, Tom had been obsessed with big tits. Over time, this refined itself to: big

round

tits. Then, sometime after college, it became: big, round tits on skinny girls. The greater the difference between a woman's hips and bust, the more drool to be found on Tom's lower lip.

So how ironic, then, that Tom's wife had small tits. But he'd resolved himself to that years ago. He found plenty of outlets, however, for his pent up breast obsession: The Internet. He had gigs and gigs of memory on his computer devoted to big-tit porn. He could watch 24-hours of big tit porn and never see the same clip twice. Not that he did, or would – he often needed only a quick 90 seconds, sometimes much less than that – but that's how much porn he had.

Sure, he'd noticed Carrie's tits in passing. He had a sense that they were larged, but this wasn't a girl who showed herself off. She went out of her way, in fact, not to give anything away. Never wore a bikini. Never "laid out" in the sun. Never got caught naked in the hallway, 'cause she had her own private bathroom. Never sat around the house in anything mildly revealing. So sure, Tom could tell that beneath that ratty sweatshirt was a hefty set of boobs, but they were so long ago desexualized—and, frankly, never "shown off" enough—for Tom to pay any attention to them. Carrie's body as a whole was, until she crisply sat in the breakfast table chair that post-prom morning, a non-issue to Tom.

She was tall, about 5'8''. Her hair was thick and sat on her shoulders in gorgeous blonde curls. She had an hourglass figure: wide bust, tiny hips, and significant hips. But the crowning achievement of her body was surely her tits. Tom noticed them for the first time a week earlier, when she came to the breakfast table wearing a tight tank-top---something she'd never worn before.

Her breasts were abnormally large for such a slender girl. And they were truly round. Not oval, not egg-shaped. They were perfectly round—like volleyballs, basketballs, soccer balls. They sat on her chest, with just enough hang to prove their authenticity. They pushed out boldly from her thin neck, but below them was firm smooth stomach.

Carrie, it turned out, was a Barbie doll come to life. Tom was shocked by her change for the first week or so, but now his surpise had transformed into nagging tingling sensation. Was he lusting after his daughter a little? Apparently, he was.

Carrie stood like a brat at the end of Tom's bed. He squinted down at her. In the dim light from the window, her tan looked especially golden, especially constrasted against the sheer whiteness of her small robe.

"Daddy, I'm mad!" Carrie said, kicking her hip out to the side. "I was just about to go out to the lake, and mom saw my new bikini and said I had to change. She said it was too small. And then she just left!"

"Well, you should listen to your mother," Tom said. He was both annoyed and turned on at the thought of a too-small bikini. Ashamed of his growing lust, he was trying to get rid of his daughter.

But Carrie was seriously annoyed. In one quick motion, she untied the robe and let it slip from her shoulders.

And the bikini bottoms? Another small tringle over her pussy, with the thinnest strings wrapped across her curvy hip. Otherwise, she might as well have been naked. The sight of her, still standing there in full "brat position" but essentially nude, woke Tom up. He opened his eyes wider, blinked a few times, and drank her in from head to toe.

"So, daddy? What do you think?" Carrie said, all-business. "See? It's not thaaaaat small." And she placed her hands on her hips. She was breathing a little heavy from her anger, so her breasts rose and fall in steady movements. Tom sat up completely in bed, still staring at his daughter's exquisite body. How had THIS girl come from his wife who, while beautiful, had a boring body? Carrie, so young and so sweet, was now a hard-bodied, big-tittied, firm-hipped whore.

Now, his once-ignorable daughter was standing at the end of Tom's bed in the tiniest bikini Tom had ever seen. It was pure white, which was another nice contrast against her tanned skin. But there was so little bikini, it was hard to tell. Two tiny triangles were positioned over her nipples, but otherwise, her tits were completely bare. This was the most of Carrie's body Tom had ever seen.

Her boobs plunged out from her body in the front, and slightly to the sides. They seemed to defy gravity. Enormous but perky. And her hard, flat stomach only made them seem larger. Where did this heavenly tits from from? Why hadn't Tom paid more attention before?

"Seeee, daddy? It's not so bad."

Tom rubbed his eyes and spoke: "It's quite small, sweetie. It shows off a lot."

"But these are niiiiice, daddy! Why shouldn't I show them off?" she pleaded.

"They are very ... just, just try wearing something with a little more support," he said.

"Support? I don't need support, daddy!" And Carrie grabbed her tits, lifted them up, and dropped them. They quick regained their shape and perkiness. They barely shook.

"You're right, sweetie. You don't neeed support, but it's probably best if you listen to your mother. Otherwise, the boys at the lake will be all over you."

"But that's the point, daddy!" Carrie squealed and giggled. "I'm not going to DO anything with those boys, so there's no problem with them looking, right?"

"Well..." Tom said, sneaking a glance down at his daughter's long, lithe, tan legs.

"Come on, daddy! Let me wear this!" Carrie pleaded and leapt onto the end of the bed. She was now just inches away from him, on her hands and knees, staring at him. He didn't look directly, but from his peripheral vision, he could tell her gigantic boobs were swinging nicely.

"Your mother would be so upset," Tom said.

"Then let's not tell her, daddy," Carrie said, crawling toward him a bit. He was laying back on a stack of pillows. Any further, and Carrie would be on top of him. Under the blanket, Tom's cock started to stir for the first time. More than stir, it began to harden. Quickly.

"Sweetie..." Tom said, too distracted by this smooth, young, gorgeous, busty girl crawling toward him --- pouting her lips, staring into his eyes. He was breathing heavily.

"What could I do to convince you, daddy?" she said, suggestively. He looked hard at her, but couldn't tell what she was doing. Was she teasing? Was she coming onto him?

"I don't know," Tom said. Which was as good as saying nothing. He was now rock hard, and if Carrie actually climbed on top of him, she'd surely feel it, even through the---

And then she did. She crawled onto his lap, and her knee nudged between his legs, pressing hard into his erection. She stopped suddenly. He looked at her, humiliated inside but too turned on to move. Carrie smiled a bit and looked down. Through the bulky covers, she couldn't see his dick, but there was doubt she could feel it.

"Mmmmmmmmm..." Carrie purred, and looked back up at Tom. "I know something I could do." And suddenly, she grabbed the blanket and yanked it aside. Tom tried to stop her, but she moved so quickly, he couldn't. He was now laying there, his tiny and busty daughter on top of him, his enormous dick pressing straight into the air through his thin boxers.

"Looks like this bikini is just the right size, daddy," Carrie said, staring at his dick. He looked down at it, too. This was too much! What was going on! He should leap up, leave the room, put his foot down, and not lust after his daughter --- no matter how much of a Barbie dolls she might be.

"Can I see it?" Carrie said. That snapped Tom out of his haze. He looked from his cock, up to her dangling tits, and into her eyes.

"Sweetie, this isn't what it looks like."

"Sure it is, daddy. You like my body, and it made your big dick hard."

She shook her shoulders side to side, still on all fours. Her tits swung in rhythm with her. She looked down at them. As did Tom. They were so huge! And on her tiny frame, from this point of view, they seemed almost comical. But still, the deep, tan cleavage between the tits made Tom's cock twitch. Carrie noticed it move.

She shook harder. Her tits swung more.

"You like these, daddy?"

Tom did. Of course. He was staring at them. And then Amber made a move he never expected, and it changed everything...