Daddys Magic Fingers

Foreplay: This is basically a short daddy/ daughter story from the daughter's viewpoint and has hardly any graphic language. It shows how much, within 24 hours, life and relationships can change.

*****

"Oh come on, Denise, it's a free trial - it won't cost you a penny and several of us go already so you won't be on your own." This was the fourth or fifth time Geraldine had tried to talk me into joining the gym.

"Yes," added Caroline, "And they're mixed sessions too, so you get to see some fit blokes as a bonus."

"Mixed showers as well," chipped in Geraldine, then after too long a pause, "NOT!"

I'd had both of the girls on at me to join. If I put either of their names down on the application then they got a tenner off the extras, such as a spa treatment at the new gym. With money being tight, not enough people were joining for the gym to make a profit. The recruitment drive was on; I got one month's free membership and if I joined my colleagues, one of them got the voucher.

"No commitment," added Carolyne, "Give it a try and you'll feel great."

I remained unconvinced but the two bugged me so much I gave in. "OK, OK, I'll see you there Sunday morning." I'd finally relented, which was another bad move as I always had a lie in at the weekend, daddy bringing me coffee in bed and hoping the caffeine would un-numb my brain and coax me into waking up. Daddy had done that most Saturdays and Sundays for as long as I could remember, usually followed by a full English breakfast when I arrived downstairs. Funny, I thought, because my brother never got the same treatment.

Giles had just turned 14 and was the family swot, his head always in a book and always in the top 5 of his year at school. He was 'mummy's pet' - my term, because he could always wangle anything he wanted. Mum wanted one of us to go to uni and there was a pot of invested money to pay towards either of us achieving a university place, plus an extra pot from grandma's legacy, which together could see us through without much student debt to follow.

I was different. I got through school on my wits and by forging letters from mum to get out of sports and exercise, with the exception of swimming - the only sport I loved. Now 19, almost 20, I had an office job thanks to daddy's business contacts. OK, I had to start at the bottom as a gofer and work my way up; my first year as a typist was filled with 'go for' this and 'go for' that, including the bun run to the local baker's shop just before mid-morning coffee break, the time I loved the best.

I've always been daddy's darling and I know, from my friends, that I wasn't alone. Although I wouldn't consider myself being beautiful I suppose it's just the natural way of life that most females attract males and vice versa. Where Giles, my brother, gets praise and treats from mum for success at school, daddy's always treating me to chocolates and new clothes for no reason whatsoever.

Sunday morning I was already awake when daddy brought my regular cup of coffee. Unfortunately I was out of bed; I'd just taken off my PJ's and only had my knickers on when he opened my bedroom door.

"Oh heavens," he said, "Sorry I didn't know ..." His words trailed off. Although he turned around just after he'd had an eyeful of my tits, I was still caught by surprise.

"Couldn't you knock first? I replied, angrily.

"I'm really sorry," he repeated, turning back towards me, his eyes roving about. His fast moving eyes gave him away and he now also knew what knickers I'd slept in. A stare from me meant he turned again and quickly retreated, the coffee slopping on to the carpet.

I grabbed a sweater and held it in front of me, "It's OK now," I said, still stressed at the sudden embarrassment. He hastily moved to put the cup on my bedside table and left in a fluster.

I was downstairs a couple of minutes later and he already had breakfast on the go.

"I guess I hadn't realised how beautiful you are," he said awkwardly, picking my plate from the plate warmer. "What would you like?"

I'm sure I blushed, "Thank you," was all I could think of, "But I'm still annoyed, and I don't want much before I go out. Bacon and a slice of toast will do fine."

He poured me another cup of black coffee, putting his hand on my shoulder as he placed it next to my plate on the table. "I'm sorry," he said, putting his other hand on the opposite shoulder, at the same time rubbing his thumbs on the muscles just behind. It felt good, as it always did when I was stressed and the muscles tense.

"Quit that, I'm not in the mood," I lied. It always felt good when he did that, whether I was tense or not. Daddy made no reply and the air was also tense as I left, sports bag in hand, to catch the bus.

On the way to town my anger gradually eased. I should have reminded daddy that I'd made arrangements to meet up with the others. I should also have remembered that sometimes when he brought me coffee up, every weekend, my PJ top wasn't always buttoned up, especially in summer. Hell, I owed him - he'd always been so good to me. I admit there'd been times when mum was out I'd sat on his lap to give a quick kiss, and he'd told me how much he loved me.

"Hi Denise," chimed both the girls I worked with, you didn't chicken out!"

I smiled a false smile, filled in the application, gave my credit card details (in case I decided to stay after the free month), signed the rules and disclaimer form and followed my very fit personal trainer towards the equipment.

"Just take it steady to start with," he said, "And tell me when you're ready for the next exercise."

Being stubborn and determined to make the best of my first visit I guess I tried too hard. Of course, I felt I had to keep up with the others but I hadn't thought it through. My trainer had other members to care for and as he was busy I just copied what the others were doing.

"How did it go?" Geraldine asked, in the showers afterwards.

"Fine," I answered, "My legs and arms are a little tired but I'm OK." To be honest, the warm shower water was helping to ease the aches. I stood for several minutes just letting the water soothe me. Eyes closed, lost in my own thoughts, lather from the scented shower gel gently tickling my skin, I began to think more about daddy. The gentleness but sureness of his neck massages never failed to ease those tensed muscles. More than that they even sent messages to way inside me, making me feel good, making me sometimes feel horny.

I suddenly pulled my fingers away from their target, the sound of Geraldine's voice ringing in my ear. "Hey, daydreamer. Don't take all day, we're going to the cafe. Are you coming?"

"Sorry," I said, knowing I'd been totally absorbed in thinking of daddy. "I'm OK thanks. I'll be having lunch soon."

"And miss out on all the gossip?"

"I'll survive," I quipped back. That was me, the survivor. If there were 19 available hunky men in a room and 20 girls, I would be the one to survive without a man. Although I'd had boyfriends, it was a role I'd played many times.

On the bus home I scolded myself for being so abrupt. Hell, daddy had seen me in a bikini and even in bra and knickers a couple of times ... except that this morning I was still wearing the briefest of knickers from the night out before. In summer there had been several times when my PJ top was unbuttoned and even with the bed cover pulled up he could have caught more than a glimpse of my tits as I reached for the coffee. The steady smooth movement of the bus, and the energy I'd expended at the gym lulled me into thinking more. Would daddy have been turned on seeing my tits? My knickers? I giggled, keeping my eyes shut, hoping other passengers might not wonder what I found so funny. I mean, well, I had plenty of breast to look at and I knew daddy loved leering at the buxom barmaid at our local. Sure, seeing my tits would have pleased him.

I quickly looked around. Everyone else had the same bored look as on any bus journey. I shut my eyes again, sneaking my hand down to where it might satisfy the sudden warm feelings I had down there, wondering if daddy had got hard seeing me there, scant knickers, bare tits. I moved my bag on to my lap, hoping that at the next stops no-one would get on and sit next to me. My fingers moved slowly closer until I felt that familiar feeling in the place I'd often visited before. The bus suddenly jerked, the driver shouting annoyance at an inconsiderate van driver and bringing me back to my senses, though leaving me with a longing to finish what I'd started.

By the time I'd walked the short distance from my stop to our house I'd regained control. It was well after lunch that I'd chance to talk to daddy alone in my room, mum on the sofa sleeping off Sunday lunch and my brother running off his lunch playing football.

"I'm sorry," I began, "I was out of order."

"And I was wrong too, not turning round as soon as I realised you weren't dressed."

I smiled, "Nothing much to see anyway."

"Now don't talk yourself down. I remember when your mum and I first met. You're in better shape than she was."

'And I have bigger tits,' I thought.

"So why did you marry her?" I enquired.

"Love has more to it than looking sexy. I love your mum AND you look sexy, so I've got the best of both worlds."

I was surprised. I'd got on well with daddy for many years. OK, he'd said 'You look nice' or 'Wow, that dress looks lovely on you,' or similar things, and he'd told me he loved me zillions of times, but that's what daddies do, don't they? I just smiled, "Thank you," And I kissed him.

"I really mean that," he added, "And you've got a great figure."

I just smiled.

I was tired after the gym visit and daddy left me to rest. Chances were he'd be off to the local pub to chat up the barmaid. No problem, most of the regulars did.

I lay back on my bed, thinking over what he'd said. He'd seen my tits, my waist and my knickers and he said I'd a great figure, and he'd said I was sexy. I closed my eyes and tried to think back ... he'd looked once, twice, and for a third time just before he'd shut my bedroom door. He had looked a bit flustered, as if I'd turned him on. I loosened the cord of the tracksuit bottoms I was still wearing and let my mind wander. Within a few minutes relief flooded through me and I slept, happy.

I woke around an hour later, my whole body starting to ache. My arm muscles hurt, my legs hurt, my shoulders and back hurt and I found it difficult to sit up and swing myself off the bed. God I ached and I could hardly sit to take a piss, let alone stand up again.

"You must have overdone it at the gym," said mum, always capable of stating the bloody obvious. "There's some painkillers in the cupboard." So much for sympathy.

I went out for a walk, along my regular path beside a field full of wheat or was it rye, or barley? Daddy had told me the differences several times but I could never remember. I was thinking of him again without realising it. He and mum weren't doing too well at the moment. He spent more and more time at the pub to get away from an argument about this or that, usually something very trivial. I knew that their relationship was unsteady and just a week or two ago, after a few pints of beer, he'd confided that they didn't make love very often. He'd had tears in his eyes.

The walk got fresh air into my lungs and loosened my leg muscles, though my shoulders and arms still ached despite the painkillers. I'd had a lot of time to think and I decided I was giving daddy too rough a deal. He was home when I arrived back though mum was giving him earache about his visit to see 'that bitch of a barmaid'. I must admit though that I spent much of the rest of the day watching boring Sunday telly. The evening passed and by 10pm I was in my room, ready for bed. I took 2 more Brufen but they did little to help and I lay awake for ages before I finally got to sleep.

I woke around 2am, aching more than ever and unable to get back to sleep. The day and evening had been quite warm and I'd skipped wearing my PJs and knickers in bed. Sleeping naked felt good in hot weather but I only did that when I was far too hot, often putting my PJs on if I awoke later, much cooler. Reluctantly, still tired and aching I put on my towelling robe and I went downstairs, filled the kettle and popped 2 more Brufen while it boiled. Cup of tea made, I sat at the table and opened my laptop. I logged in to the gym website to see if they advised on how to ease joint and muscle pain but all they said was to consult my GP if it didn't ease with time.

It was then I noticed the photo gallery of the facilities and staff, including one of the fit guy who'd shown me the equipment. There were more photos of the other trainers. I let my robe come open and started to circle my hand around my left breast, gently touching the sides, brushing across and catching my nipple. It was something I'd done many times. Reaching down I searched for the spot I'd rubbed earlier, closed my eyes and ... damn, daddy came into my thoughts again. I could picture him, taking a shower although I'd only witnessed this a couple of times when I'd been bursting to pee.

So absorbed was I in pleasuring myself I didn't hear the lounge door open, nor daddy walking in until he spoke. "I wondered who was moving around down here," he said, taking me completely by surprise. I rapidly closed my robe.

"Oh, daddy" I said, "You startled me.

He looked at laptop screen. "Is that where you were this morning?" he said, completely forgetting it was now Monday.

"Yes," I answered, completely flustered. Had he seen where my fingers had been?

"You fancy the personal trainers?"

"Something like that," I said, still embarrassed.

"No boyfriend at the moment?"

"We split."

"It must be frustrating, a bit like me."

"Daddy! That's personal."

He put his hand on my shoulder, I flinched. "Sorry, sore?"

"I guess I got carried away at the gym."

"It might be personal and I don't want to embarrass you, but it is frustrating isn't it?"

I smiled and nodded. Daddy smiled back.

"So why are you down here?"

"You just answered that, touching my shoulder. It hurts bad; shoulders, neck, arms, legs. I can't sleep. I've just had 2 more Brufen but it still hurts. Anyhow, why are you awake?"

"Oh, your mother is still in a mood, moaning about my drinking and the barmaid." Daddy sounded quite peeved. "I'm frustrated too." He thought a moment, "I was going to offer a massage, but I can see you're not dressed."

I realised my robe was showing quite a bit of cleavage. I pulled the lapels together, then I thought. My pain overrode any embarrassment, and daddy had already seen a lot only hours before. I let go of the lapels. "It's OK," I conceded, "It hurts too much to refuse."

"There's some gel in the medicine cabinet," he said, "If you want I can rub some gently into your skin."

"OK," I answered, "That will be nice."

The gel was something stronger than the pills I'd taken. As daddy gently soothed it in, his magic fingers felt good. I let the robe fall off my shoulders and pulled my arms free of the sleeves. Now I was topless.

Dad audibly drew in his breath, "Wow ..." then immediately apologised, "Sorry sweetheart. I don't want to embarrass you again but ..."

"But I remind you of the barmaid?" I said, with a wry smile.

He laughed. "I don't get to look so close, but she's rather top heavy. Your ... erm ... breasts are ... fantastic."

My mood lightened. Daddy's hands were working miracles on my arm muscles and I didn't want him to stop. "So you're an expert?" I laughed.

He moved round, stepped away, "I don't need to be an expert. Your ... erm ... breasts are big enough to be pleasing to any male eyes, but not too big."

"My

tits

," I emphasised the word I knew I heard him say many times. "My

tits

are OK?" I cupped them, and held the pose more than one of my boyfriends had appreciated.

"Your tits are fantastic." Moving behind me again, daddy continued his fingertip magic. The job done, he put the cap back on the tube.

"Daddy," I said, "All my leg muscles hurt too. Could you please massage them as well?" Hell, I was getting horny. I WANTED more touches from his all so gentle, very relaxing, magic fingers.

"As long as you're sure." Daddy seemed nervous.

"I'm sure. They hurt a lot."

He moved round, unscrewing the cap as he did so. I opened my robe, fully revealing all I had. "Oh my god," he exclaimed, "You've no knickers on."

I'd temporarily forgotten that. "Yes, I know, it's OK." I lied again but it was now irrelevant. Again the pain overrode the embarrassment, but daddy had a most odd look on his face, tears welled in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he explained, searching for the words to use, "It's so long since I last saw your mother's ..."

"Pussy?" I offered.

"Pussy, yes. It's been so frustrating."

I empathised with him. I'd heard girls mention so many times their frustration, usually admitted after a few drinks or at sleepovers. 'Frustration' was often temporarily relieved but the fingers cure was no alternative to the real thing.

He squeezed the gel on to his fingers, expertly massaging into my calf muscles. Such was the magic of his fingers, the effect was both soothing and erotic. My arousal was building.

"Higher?" he asked, always the gentleman and always thinking of my feelings.

"Yes please," I said without hesitation. This was GOOD. Parting my legs to allowing him access meant he could see the most private part of me, a secret place I knew well but very few others had seen.

It would have been impossible for him not to take a good view. "You're so neat and tidy," he said, a guarded way of saying I'd shaved my pussy, "Unlike mum." He squeezed more gel, but now it was much more the massaging of my thigh muscles. "Wait," he said, and went to fetch a bottle of baby oil. "You don't have to be a baby," he quipped, "It's excellent for massage and moisturising."

As he gradually worked up my inner thigh my eyes closed. Noises escaped my lips that were unplanned, noises of contentment, of pleasure, of erotic delight.

"Am I OK?" daddy asked, "Further?"

"Daddy, this is absolute bliss. Yes, yes, yes."

"I know," daddy chuckled. "Your vagina is telling me so." And it was, copious pleasure moisture was seeping through. "Can I kiss? Can I taste?"

'

Why the hell not,' I thought. 'I've gone this far and daddy has only given me pleasure, not pressuring me like boyfriends did.

"Yes daddy. You don't need permission any more." My inner voice was telling me all would be perfect.

"You smell fantastic," he said, tickling my sensitive lips with his nose. Then I felt his tongue and all thoughts of the outside world ceased. I could feel pleasure nerves deep inside me giving me goosebumps, giving me tiny electric shots moving from my brain to my clit then back again.

"Do you want to come to my room?" I asked. Daddy never answered but simply took my hand and we walked quietly upstairs. I owed daddy for the years he'd helped me, nurtured me, inspired me and loved me. I didn't know how how much he hurt inside from mum's refusal to allow him the sex he needed and I was happy to be able to quench that need.

"Are you sure," he whispered, listening out for any noise. The light snoring from their room assured him that mum was asleep.

"I'm very sure," I said, and I allowed him inside me. Dad is big; and by that I mean he's way bigger than any of my boyfriends have been, either then or now. I thought he was going to hurt me, even split me inside, but he was very gentle. In attempts to not make any noise lest we awoke mum or Giles, daddy moved very slowly inside me.