Familial Love Romantic Love

I emerged from the hotel proper, stepping out into the warm night air, the wonderful scent of barbeque from a nearby restaurant filling my nostrils. For just a moment, I paused to inhale the wonderful scent, remembering the meal we had shared there two nights previous. She had certainly made a mess of herself, having dropped several of her ribs – had she dropped them on purpose? – to splatter the barbeque sauce down the front of her shirt, an act which had made her breasts seem even more prominent in my admittedly-biased opinion.

Opening my eyes again, I looked toward the pool, just in time to see her surface from swimming another length. She gasped for air, standing at the shallow end and brushing the long raven strands away from her face. Even from this distance, I could discern the indentations her nipples made in the material of her swimsuit, indentations made more noticeable by the underwater light positioned directly before her.

I approached slowly, drinking in her beauty, thinking of the fun we had shared in this city over the previous few days, and especially the street race we had watched in person. The expression of pure delight when her favorite driver had reclaimed the lead exiting the final corner of the race was one I would never forget. The exuberant hug she threw at me as he crossed the Finish Line had nearly knocked me over, but there were many other fans of that particular driver surrounding us and their boisterous celebrations had very nearly knocked us both over in the opposite direction.

As she climbed the ladder out of the swimming pool, the water ran like rivulets down her body, subtly accentuating her feminine curves and greatly augmenting her sexual appeal. I tried to keep my gaze as chaste as possible, matching her smile with my own as I finally met her at the edge of the pool.

"Good swim?" I asked, gazing into the same hazel eyes I had loved so much for more than twenty years.

"Good swim, Daddy," she replied, "although I accidentally swallowed some of the water. At least the chorine level isn't too high in the pool tonight."

Looking around, I spotted her large Snoopy towel and went to retrieve it for her, turning around to find she had followed me. I spread my arms, holding open the towel for her, and she stepped against it, against me, only the large towel separating us and definitely not shielding me from the softness of her breasts. Trying to push such thoughts from my mind, I wrapped Snoopy around her, and she gazed up into my eyes, her smile sweet and genuine, demonstrating that she was truly enjoying this vacation time together, the first we had shared in nearly three years because of the money I was required to pay in alimony.

I simply held her, my young daughter... although she was not quite so young any longer. My little girl had definitely grown up, had begun to find her way in the world, was studying to become an Italian interpreter with the lofty goal of working at the United Nations. I could not be any more proud of her.

I kissed her forehead, and she sighed, a soft sound which graced my ears, and a gentle feeling which caressed my chest as her breasts shifted subtly through the towel against me.

"You're too good to me, Daddy," she whispered, her wet arms wrapped around my back. She rested her head upon my chest, and I wondered if she noticed the slight quickening of my heartbeat, or the stirring within my jeans.

"I can be even more good to you," I offered, "by inviting you to dinner."

"I accept!"

We shared a soft laugh and hugged each other a little tighter before finally making our way back up to our sixth-floor hotel room so she could shower and we could both change clothes.

*****

The hotel restaurant was expensive, but definitely worth the price. Sharing the meal with my daughter made the experience priceless.

"You've been looking at me all evening like that, Daddy," she said, seemingly out of the blue.

I sighed, sadly. It was indeed true that I had been admiring her much more than I should, and clearly I had been caught.

"I don't mind," she added quickly with a sweet red-painted smile. "Honestly."

Underneath the table, her ankle brushed mine, and retained the contact. It was clear that neither of us wanted to move away, that something was clearly at work here that was beyond our control. Perhaps it was the wine which was affecting us in such a manner. Perhaps it was the atmosphere in general, an atmosphere more conducive to romance than to virtuousness.

"Daddy," she said softly, reaching for my hand, "I will always be your little girl, at least in spirit, but I've grown up. You've seen me grow up before your eyes."

My hand closed around her fingertips, and I subconsciously realized that this was the first time in several years that I had made such a gesture with anyone. "I know," I replied softly, "but you've been away from a long time – the summer internship in Chicago, then back to school – and now that I have you back again for Fall Break, I guess I'm truly seeing for the first time just how much of a woman you've become."

She nodded. Somehow, she seemed to understand.

"I see you before me as a woman, yet I still see you as the little girl I would carry on my back or bounce upon my knee, or push on a swing, or help with her homework, or kiss when she cried, or tuck into bed..."

Pulling her fingertips from my hand, she reached for the wine bottle and poured more into my glass. Instinctively, I took a few sips, sensing the alcohol coursing through my body and toward my brain.

"Your little girl physically isn't so little now, Daddy."

"I know," I replied somewhat sadly, the neckline of my daughter's dress just low enough to allow her cleavage to emphasize her point.

"You know what I miss?" she began after a long silence had befallen us. "I miss those nights when I was really young, maybe five or six years old, when thunderstorms scared me, those nights when you would come and lay in bed with me, cuddling me close so that I could feel protected enough to fall asleep."

I smiled, remembering many such nights like that, especially during the summers when we lived in the Midwest. Sometimes, I even fell asleep with her, and my wife would come awaken me in the morning so I could prepare to go to the office. I realized that I missed those nights as well.

My wife had also once enjoyed having me hold her in bed at night, especially with the sound of rain pattering the windows and the roof...

"You really do look like your mother," I commented admiringly, "but just different enough to be truly you."

Beneath the table, my daughter slid both her ankles against mine, and neither of us attempted to move our feet away. Leaning forward, the top of her breasts became a little more noticeable, yet still in a refined manner. The dangling silver necklace hung slightly away from her collarbone and chest, swinging subtly and attracting my eyes for just a millisecond before I could remind myself that I was looking at my own daughter.

"Cuddle me, Daddy," she requested quietly. "Cuddle me tonight in bed, just like you used to do when I was little, when I was afraid of the thunderstorms. I miss it. I miss feeling protected and cherished and loved by you, Daddy."

Her puppy dog eyes and her lipped "Please" pulled at my heart, and my mind and my soul both replied with a nod.

*****

As I emerged from the bathroom wearing the sweatpants I typically wore to bed, I could still feel the headiness of the wine. I rarely ever drank alcohol, so I was not surprised to be at least moderately affected by it even though we had left the restaurant nearly an hour earlier.

In the main room, the lights had already been turned off. Through the thin white curtain, the cityscape provided enough lighting for me to maneuver my way to the bed nearest the window, the bed my daughter had selected for herself when we had first stepped into the hotel room several days earlier, and I could just discern the silhouette of her feminine form as she lay upon her back, the covers pulled up to her neck, the twin swells evidence of the breasts I had been clandestinely admiring throughout the Fall Break vacation.

Upon reaching the bed, I pulled back the covers, and was shocked, yet in a pleasant way, to see that my daughter, the young woman who had once been my little girl, was topless under the covers. In the dim light filtering through the thin curtains, she smiled, reaching out a hand to me, a hand which, after a short hesitation of doubt, I accepted, allowing her to pull me down to her, upon her...

For the first time, I kissed her not as a daughter, but as a woman. She was truly more than just a woman: She was definitely the most important woman in my life.

Under the covers, I cuddled her throughout the night. Neither of us slept. We simply touched and kissed and shared soft banter. Yet even as the effects of the alcohol finally wore off, I felt the same love and desire for this woman as I had felt earlier, and reveled in her bare breasts pressing into my chest and my manhood straining to feel the warmth of her body.

As the first hint of daylight began to brighten the room, the beautiful young woman whose bed I had shared throughout the night drew back the covers and slipped off her love-dampened thong before removing what little I wore from my body. As the day brightened, so did my hopes of a happy future together, and as I pierced her intimately and spilled her virgin blood, she cried, her tears full of a love few could ever understand...

The beautiful young woman is currently at college, continuing her studies, still intending to become an Italian translator at the United Nations. We e-mail each other daily and talk almost every evening, maintaining a long-distance relationship unlike any other. Thanksgiving will definitely be a special one for us both: a long holiday weekend during which we can build upon the familial love nurtured for more than twenty years so build a solid foundation for the romantic love we now share.