"What's the matter, Dad?" Kiki took one look at her father's expression and knew he was in pain.
"I just gotta lie down, Kiki. I pulled something, I guess." Benson Flood was limping and pushing a hand hard onto his hip. Then he saw the couch.
"Kiki, what is this? I can't lie down now!"
"Sorry, Dad, I'll move it all, just gimme a few minutes!" Kiki rushed in and started clearing her research paper off the couch. Books, held open by weights and full of bookmarks, notebooks lying open, pencils, the laptop-- the whole array took up almost all of the living room couch.
Kiki bent over gathering things carefully together while her father grimaced and rubbed his hip. He placed the work gloves on top of the tube and watched her.
What he suddenly saw was a sweet little ass bent over in a micro. A thong panty showed above the top of the evanescent wisp of skirt. The little flat triangle in shiny red narrowed to a cord descending between the globes of delicious little ass bent over in front of his eyes. The top surfaces of his little girl's buns-- glossy, creamy, fine-grained and so soft-looking-- swelled defiantly above the waistline of the mini.
"You're eighteen now, aren't you, Kiki?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Nothin'." His hip faded from his consciousness. He stepped a little nearer. Looking straight down, Benson could see the spot where the flesh in the valley took a little dip down toward her asshole, but it got too dark to see more than an undulation in the flesh. The red cord descended even further before being lost to sight.
She dresses this way all the time in the summer, he reflected. I just didn't expect this. She's a real woman. The last year had been dramatic and Kiki had filled out.
His craning to look deeper down his daughter's pants brought a fresh twinge from his hip, and he uttered a sharp cry. Kiki turned with an armload of books and saw his twisting face.
"Go right in to bed, Dad. You don't have to wait for me to do this!"
"That's a good idea. I'll have your mother rub it or make a hot pack or something."
"She's gone tonight, remember?"
"Oh, God, yes, she won't be back 'til Tuesday!"
"Tuesday afternoon. I can make a hot pack. Go lie down!"
"You can?" She nodded. "Well, good, thank you, sweetheart."
"Did you leave anything outside that I should pick up?"
"Yes, there's those bush loppers..."
"Poor Daddy! Get the shorts off and lie down. I'll make a hot pack and bring you a bourbon or something. And I'll get the bush loppers. Want ibuprofen?"
Kiki bustled around and set things in order, leaving her father alone in his room to undress and lie down.
"Okay. Bourbon! Pills! Hot pack! Oil!"
"Thank you, Kiki." Benson said from his pillow. "Oil?"
"I'm gonna rub it, and rub your back. Mom would have done it."
"I don't know, she might not have."
"Well, I will. Can you sit up and take the pills?" He managed it with only one groan, and downed the bourbon, too. Kiki noticed the man was naked from the waist down, his hairy flank became exposed down to the top of his thigh. It reminded her of changing a baby for some reason, which made her smile. He lay down again and twitched a few times like a dog settling for a nap.
"Comfortable?"
"Well, yes and no."
"Sorry. Okay, I'll put this on and then start on your back and work down." She pulled the cover back. Her dad's ass didn't look hurt anywhere. "Here?"
He directed her placement of the compress. Then he heard a jingling noise and a musical sound by the bedside table. "What's that?"
"My bangles and rings." A few more little noises. "Okay, here I come. Shoulders first." Her soft hands spread oil and massaged his shoulders.
"That's not doing much, baby. Can you get up on the bed and put your weight on it?"
"Sure. I guess. Just a minute."
The weight of the slim girl straddling his back made itself felt, but she kept sitting back onto his hip. His wincing forced a reconsideration of the problem. She arose and then her thighs came down on his pillow. Straddling his head she could work his shoulders even better, and spare his hip.
It may have been the smell. His head was in a box of soft girl flesh. If he opened his eyes he saw a closeup of inner thigh and groin that a dozen boys at the high school would have killed to have. As she moved up and sat back, the thong defined her intimate architecture ever more clearly, pulling itself between the lips and working itself taut. "What did you do with your skirt, honey?" he asked.
Every time she lifted up, those fabulous naked buns re-formed themselves into youthful perfection, and when she sat, the pussy lips splayed softly on his pillow, inches from his nose. The thong cinched itself tighter against the young cuntflesh.
Up it went, her hands ran along his back, then down came the pussy again. The cloth descended a millimeter at a time deeper into the womanly cleft, the soft lips mashed into the pillow and rose again. "Honey?"
"Duh! I took it off, of course!" She sounded impatient with the question. It was obvious what she'd done. Her hands had progressed to his rib margin, and the stretch down was robbing her of power. She rose again and did the small of his back standing on the floor.
Turning his head and dipping his chin, he could see the naked ass bending and straightening. Each bend rotated her pussy into view. Or, actually, the thong, so tight to the flesh that it might as well have been naked. The red cord didn't even hide the little anus, which moved out to say hello every time she pushed on his back. Benson had an enormous hard on, and he was beginning to sweat and feel the effects of the bourbon.
