This is Chapter 2 of Emmy and Her Daddy. I have a third chapter drafted and hope to post it relatively soon. I have a few ideas for continuing the story after that, but nothing definite.
I would like to thank all of you who commented on July 4th, My Sister, the Lake.
As always, all story characters are eighteen years of age or older.
* * * *
Stepping out of the shower I smelled coffee brewing. I dried myself off, put on my robe, joined Emmy in the kitchen.
"What's on the agenda?"
"Well, first yoga, then I figure we're in Miami, we should hit the beach. Tonight's a surprise. Did you remember to bring your navy blue suit. You look so handsome in it."
I smiled. I'd remembered. "Yes Emmy."
* * * *
Emmy did yoga; I worked out on an exercise bike. On our return to the hotel Emmy disappeared into her room, emerging in a short yellow dress. She took it off on the beach; underneath was a relatively modest one-piece swimsuit, the bottom black, the top alternating horizontal black and white stripes. It covered her butt and only hinted at her cleavage. And while skin tight, compared to the ubiquitous micro-bikinis around us it was nigh-Victorian.
"Whatta ya think?'
"You look great honey."
Gesturing to several near-by women wearing only tiny triangles of fabric, she said, "Would you prefer something like that?"
"No honey, then we'd be fighting off the boys."
She laughed. "That's exactly right Daddy. The only man for me is you."
We found a place to lie down. Emmy applied sun block to herself, I did her back. After I smeared it on my legs, arms, face, and chest, Emmy said, "Lay down Daddy. I'll do the rest."
I followed instructions; Emmy knelt next to me. She squirted the oil onto my back and worked it in. Emmy's slender fingers were strong; I issued a low-key moan, letting her know how good it felt. I relaxed, enjoying what had morphed into a massage. She took her time, rubbing the liquid into my shoulders and neck, then along the sides of my body.
She next turned to my legs, starting at my feet. I laughed when she reached the back of my knees; I was ticklish there. After a final twirl of her fingers, Emmy changed position and straddled my leg. She worked the oil into the back of my thighs, cupped her hands over then, fingers on each side, and pushed forward, forcing the liquid into my skin. It felt heavenly, but she was drawing close to my crotch. I thought about saying something, but how not to sound like a pervert when telling your teenage daughter she's getting to close to Daddy's privates?
Emmy pushed up one more time; her fingers reached my butt. I was about to caution her when she said, "Daddy, you've got great legs. I can feel all your muscles. Don't move, one last place."
She applied lotion to two fingertips and ran them along the edge of my butt, then lay next to me.
"Thank you sweetie."
"You're welcome Daddy."
Emmy snaked her hand into mine and rested a foot against my ankle. I closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun.
I was not sure how long it'd been – I was drifting in and out of consciousness – when Emmy said, "Daddy, would you kiss me?"
I rolled up on my elbow, said, "Sure honey," and pecked her on the cheek. Then I saw the look on her face. Something was wrong.
"What is it honey?"
"Don't look Daddy, but a bunch of guys a couple of blankets over have been staring at me, talking about me."
"Do you want me to say something to them?"
"No Daddy, but I need you to kiss me, like we're together, like I'm your girlfriend. They'll get the message."
She didn't wait for a response, but puckered her lips and ran a hand through my hair. Saying no didn't seem an option. I lowered my face and her lips molded themselves to mine, dragging over the surface of my mouth. I felt an instant jolt, an unexpected arousal. She kissed me again, the pressure of her lips stronger. She turned my head, brought her mouth to my ear, whispered, "Thanks Daddy."
I rolled onto my back and, eyes obscured by my sunglasses, I glanced at a pack of guys, a few years older than Emmy, staring at us. They said a few things, all meant to be overhead: "The old dude must have money," "Check out gramps," "She needs some real lovin'." They packed up and wandered off.
Emmy, who had taken my hand in hers, rolled onto her elbow and kissed me, this time a peck on the lips.
"We must be naturals."
We lay together, but the mood had been broken, Emmy was antsy.
"Daddy, let's take a walk, but pretend you're my boyfriend. It will cut down on the leering, it will keep guys from hitting on me."
Well, it'd worked once. I stood and helped her up. We started up the beach, holding hands.
Our experience mimicked the day before; everyone noticed Emmy, she made friends everywhere. We got involved in a volleyball game, danced with a informal gathering of reggae musicians, and shared a meal with two families barbequing on the sand. Emmy treated me like her boyfriend: held my hand, leaned her body into mine, kissed my cheek. Wherever we went we were treated like a couple. I found I liked basking in the light of my entrancing daughter.
As we headed back to the hotel I said, "I can't believe we pulled it off. Everybody thought I was your boyfriend." The excitement in my voice caught me by surprise,
"Yes, wasn't it fun. You were quite the hit. The girls kept asking me how to snare such a hunky guy. I can get you some dates with some hot young chicks."
I laughed. "I doubt if, but you're all the hot young chicks, make that gorgeous young woman, I'm interested in."
