Summer Fayre

Foreplay: Apologies! This story began as an idea well over 2 years ago and has evolved far too slowly. It's now complete.

Summer Fayre

Intro

It was a mistake. A simple mistake to make, no big deal. He was embarrassed and he was sure Emily was too. She had been away at the University of Strenton for 3 months and while she'd been away Graham had got into an old habit of skipping his bathrobe. After his morning shower he was intent on towel-drying his hair as he walked back to the bedroom to get dressed. He was naked and without a care.

The shower had been hot and the powerful pulses of water had encouraged his morning glory to resurrect. It had become a steel hard solid rod, pointing as it should at the correct angle for making love. He had hoped that, for once, Beverly his wife might notice and might enjoy a good fucking. It had been 3, no 4 weeks since the last time - 4 long frustrating weeks.

"Daddy!" screamed Emily, leaving her room to visit the bathroom her father had just left. She had just got an unexpected free shot of the full length and girth of her daddy's pride.

"Sorry," he replied, his face flushing red, quickly covering his embarrassment. "I guess I forgot you were back," he mumbled as he passed her. Emily had covered her eyes but not before she'd had a chance to see her father in a totally new way.

Possessing a meaty giant ready for action had been pointless that morning. Beverly was deep in slumber and he wasn't going to wake her. Pity. That day he felt refreshed and good - Beverly had missed out, hell they'd both missed out.

Downstairs and sipping their coffees Emily and Graham passed awkward conversation, neither mentioning the earlier incident. But Emily smiled inwardly, liking immensely what she'd just seen - a massive boner, the image of which was to be anchored in her memory for quite some time.

---

Year Two - The Journey Back Home

"What time will you be here?" asked Emily, her voice breaking up on what was a very dodgy mobile phone connection.

"Say again," answered her daddy.

"What... time... will... you... be... here?" repeated Emily, slowly. The signal was hit and miss on the cheapest network she could find.

"About 5.30, that OK?"

"It's good. I'm still getting packed."

"See ya then. Bye."

Emily smiled. If only he could. He'd phoned just as she was in her room fresh from a lukewarm shower, naked with just a towel wrapped turban style around her head, nipples stood to attention. It had been a quick shower - the lukewarm water had been almost cold, the last housemate in the four student bedsits having taken the best of the remaining hot water. Typical.

By the time her daddy arrived Emily had just managed to zip up her suitcase, sat comically astride it to force the pile of mostly dirty clothes into a squashed mess. Why feed the rigged electric meter with even more coins when she could wash them at home or, even better, most likely mom would do it for her.

A broad smile, a lingering hug, and a meaningful kiss rewarded her daddy for his journey to collect her. He pulled her butt towards him, their intimate parts separated by just fabric. She said nothing as he raised her skirt slightly, his hands resting momentarily on bare skin. He'd done that before and Emily never sought to complain. Why should she? She loved her daddy as much as he loved her and it was OK.

It was the start of a hot summer, Emily wearing the remaining clean clothes she had left - the thinnest of blouses - top buttons undone, no bra, a short summer skirt and the last clean pair of panties. She'd missed him and no-one was around to witness her expression of gratitude - an expression which she knew her daddy would enjoy. The kiss lingered, her daddy pressed against her. Oh yes, she knew her daddy would enjoy it.

Suitcase, laptop and the 101 remaining items she needed to take home for the summer break just fitted into the family's SUV. Emily double checked that her notepad was in her shoulder bag and not the suitcase.

"Well that's your second year done," he said as they set off home, his boner from the hug and kiss just beginning to subside.

"I'm ready for the break," she admitted. "It's been a tough few months." She placed her hand just above his left knee, aware of the reaction his body couldn't control when he'd just hugged and kissed her. "And it's really good to go home again. I miss both you and mom." She slid her hand a little, her fingers brushing the inside of his thigh.

"Behave yourself, Emily," he chided. "I need to concentrate on how to get out of this maze of streets." He could have set the satnav but didn't want to admit he didn't know the way - even though this was the fourth time he'd navigated his way through the dense clutter of houses in one of the poorer parts of the large Midlands city.

Emily ignored him, leaving her hand where it was until the car reached the signposts to the motorway. As they picked up speed on the dual carriageway, the relief road built some 15 years ago to funnel traffic in and out of the town, Emily's fingers began to move again.

"You can stop that," he said, "Just behave yourself!"

"I didn't complain earlier when your hands were on my butt. Don't tell me mom doesn't entertain you too?" she replied. "Surely it takes the boredom out of the drive?" Her hand moved again, teasing and further stiffening his ill-disguised erection. She patted the bulge, the memory of that December morning 18 months before revived in her memory. "Just trying to repay the favour of you coming to collect me."

"Emily, please," said her father, quite firmly, pushing his daughter's hand roughly away. He missed the turn off the roundabout simply marked 'M1 The North', taking instead the one heading in the opposite direction. "FUCK! Now look at what you've made me do." It was one of those complex motorway intersections and that meant having to drive 5 miles in the wrong direction before the next junction allowed them to return, making a 10 mile pointless diversion.

It didn't work. Once back on the correct route he felt her hand return. This time she was more subtle, giving the lightest of touches along his thigh, knowing full well the effect it would have, whilst chatting non stop.

"Emily," he said, angrily, "You're my daughter. No!" He pushed her hand away. Emily's nipples were hard, erect, solidly pushing against the thinnest of blouses. Had her daddy turned his head he would have surely noticed.

"It's ages since I've seen you," she answered with a pout. "Don't tell me you haven't missed me." She paused for a few moments. "I've missed you," she added softly, leaning over to kiss his cheek, "What's wrong with me offering my daddy a gentle massage? I'm just trying to make a boring, tiring drive a little easier." She paused again, waiting for his reply. She could sense him turning her offer over in his mind. He didn't reply. Good. "And all those times you sent me cash without telling mom. Tell me just one more time to stop and I will."

She waited a minute or two - her daddy's swelling was still apparent from her earlier attention through the lightweight summer fabric of his shorts. She carefully and expertly brushed her fingers very gently along its above average length. The steady trickle of Emily's lubricating juices was hard to ignore - she was as aroused as he was. With a few gentle pushes her daddy's weapon lay sideways, pointing towards her. Reaching the very sensitive tip of his engorged cock made him gasp in pleasure. He said nothing but the expressions on his face told it all. Hell, he reconsidered, why should he complain? Such was his daughter's skill that never once was he aware he might suddenly shoot - a skill she'd learned by practice on a certain fellow student - but the prolonged stimulation; thigh, cock, pause, repeat - kept him fully hard, little by little leaking precum as his pleasure increased. He just had to admit that Emily had learned what foreplay meant and he had to admit he was enjoying every gentle touch.

Graham gave up trying to stop his daughter. He'd succeeded in stopping her on three previous journeys; those times she'd quit, convincing him she was experimenting, pushing boundaries, taking pride in learning what she could and could not get away with. This time he gave in. Hell, what was the problem? He had shelled out a considerable amount of cash in ensuring Emily didn't go without. Maybe this was her way of repaying his generosity. The considered way she was hardly touching gave way to a most relaxing sensation - Emily's obvious practice on some lucky friend had made her quite an expert in her skill. He resigned himself to feelings he hadn't experienced for a long, long time. He should have known that it was making her horny as hell but Emily seemed content to fix that when they arrived home. For the time being she wouldn't push her luck too far but by the time they got home her panties were soaked through.

***

"Just leave your suitcase," said mom, having missed her daughter almost as much as her daddy had. "I'll be washing later."

Emily dashed upstairs, urgently needing a piss. Sat in the bathroom her thoughts remained fixed on recent memories - the sheer length and width of what she'd coaxed almost into submission. She held back the flow, knowing the pressure, the need, the urgency to piss made her initial touches almost unbearable but highly arousing, something she'd found out in the past with an unfortunate outcome - in mid climax one time she had pissed the bed. Finally giving in to the inevitable she let the stream hiss, hitting the water below in noisy splashes. Only when her bladder had emptied did she allow herself to cum, in a quietened but forceful climax. Once satisfied she returned downstairs. She spent the next half hour on the phone to two of her friends while daddy unloaded the car.

"Just going round to see Jayne," said Emily. Mom just smiled.

"I'll eat there."

"See you later, then."

"Can you sort her clothes please?" asked Beverly as soon as Emily left, "While I'll make us something to eat. Then hopefully Emily might empty what's left by herself."

Graham nodded, having a past knowledge of what was required. "Sure."

What greeted him when he managed to unzip the tightly packed suitcase was nothing unusual. A complete muddle of what? 2 or maybe 3 weeks discarded clothing - bras, tee-shirts, a dozen panties, sweats, socks - everything mixed in a heap. He untangled socks from tee-shirts, bras from sweats, panties from... He paused, sneakily putting one then another to his nose, taking in the intimate scent of the fabric which had tightly gripped Emily's pussy. Some, he guessed from the grubby pissy smell, had been reworn a second day. He knew she hated doing the laundry and she'd complained many times of the rigged water heater. Some panties with traces of menstrual blood, some a darker shade of cream, some caked with dried secretions when, he guessed, she'd been at her most horny.

He hastily put them aside. His erection, already treated to well over an hour of patient foreplay, was more than bursting. He too needed to visit the bathroom before returning downstairs. He put the gusset of one particular pair to his nose, inhaled deeply then almost instantly he released the pent up torrent of cum, which spat out in all directions. He cleaned up where he'd overshot, finished the task of sorting Emily's dirty linen and returned downstairs.

"They're now in neat piles on her bed - towels, underwear, skirts, sweats, socks and tights, bedsheets, whatever," he said.

"Thanks," replied Beverly, "I'll get the washing machine on after we've eaten."

***

Nothing had been said about Emily's antics during the car journey - she'd never mentioned it and her daddy had been uneasy about speaking to her. He pondered something she'd said during the drive home.

'Sometimes I think about you when I'm in bed,' she'd confided, 'And it helps me get to sleep.'

His thoughts went back to that first time she'd returned home - a well earned Christmas break from uni life. He'd gotten less bothered while she'd been away about walking naked between bathroom and bedroom following his shower.

It was late by the time Emily returned from Jayne's, glowing from the assorted cocktails Jayne had offered her. Working part time in one of the better bars that the town offered had its benefits and Jayne's natural talent for shaking a cocktail hadn't gone unnoticed by the bar's clientele. Neither had the jiggle of her unbridled breasts under a tight black sweater. She happily chatted to the men there, always sharing a risqué joke or two. Never once need she buy her own drinks and the Toby Jug - containing tips from the bar's happy customers - filled rapidly while she was on shift.

After the fourth cocktail Emily had shown Jayne the rough sketch she had made soon after accidentally seeing her daddy's pride. Jayne had gazed wide-eyed, "Heavens," she'd gasped. "How on earth... and you saw it?"

"For a second or two. Then I did the right thing and covered my eyes."

"Are you sure you remembered it accurately? I mean that looks huge," Jayne added. "I've seen my daddy's many times but never as full as that! And the size. Hell Emily!"

How Emily had gone on to tell her about the drive back she didn't know, too much alcohol no doubt loosening her tongue.

---

The Summer Fayre

Come Saturday morning Graham peeked through the bedroom curtains, assessing the weather - a habit he'd acquired over the years. Shaking his head he muttered to himself, "Typical." The rain was steady and could ruin months of planning. Gently opening the bedroom door so as not to wake Beverly, his wife of almost 22 years, he slipped silently from the room. In the bathroom he peed a torrent that followed from cans of last night's beer, farting loudly, hoping not to wake Emily.

It had been a few days since he'd driven Emily, their only child, home from her uni bedsit. Although there had been regular phone calls and the occasional video chat, he had missed her whilst she'd been away at university. He needn't have worried for she was deep in dreamland; Emily had been synchronising her sleep patterns to normal everyday life. Most evenings at her university home were a mix of studying (if she had nothing else to do), partying, or endless chatting until the early hours to the other 3 girls she shared the house with. Summer break was a chance to catch up with sleep.

He carefully crept downstairs, wound up the kitchen blind and stared dismally at the garden lawn. It was now raining harder. He thought he saw a lightning flash in the distance and waited for the thunder. Several seconds later a low rumble confirmed his fears - a summer thunderstorm was approaching but it was still distant. By the time the coffee machine had brewed the storm was almost overhead. The flash was more visible and the thunder was almost instant. The rain was so fierce that the lawn was temporarily flooded. Despite all his efforts to build soakaways the weeks of dry weather had baked the soil hard.

Beverly smiled, eyes struggling to remain open as she fought against a sleep-fogged brain. "Thanks," she said simply as Graham placed the caffeine rich espresso on her bedside table. "How's the weather?" she asked. As if the storm itself heard her, a loud roll of angry noise exploded immediately above the house. Now the rain was bouncing on the driveway and a fast-flowing stream of water made the road look like a river. Beverly slowly raised herself up, leaned over and carefully lifted the cup. Her naked breasts were always a delight to Graham's eyes. His wife had remained slim during most of their time together, even after the birth of Emily. The curves of her waist only served to accentuate the perfection of her breasts - not large but not too small. Pert and still not drooping, nipples alert to the slightest touch, always aware that they existed for Graham's pleasure. He could have fucked her there and then but there was work to be done

"At the moment it's absolutely pouring down," said Graham, "Fit for neither man nor beast. Maybe they will postpone the Summer Fayre."

But by the time Graham had showered, gone downstairs and fixed up breakfast the rain had completely stopped. The storm - a typical passing early summer storm - had disappeared and the sun reluctantly reappeared. The village had been lucky, just catching the edge of the downpour. The storm warning had come two days earlier and the Fayre organisers did have standby plans to use the church hall at the last resort, but the storm had been passing, lasting only a short while. Hopefully the slight gradient and good drainage put in place for the village cricket team along with the brisk breeze would ensure the village green - a moderate sized well kept field at the end of the village but known to everyone as the village green - would soon be dry enough for the Fayre.

"Morning daddy," said Emily, bleary eyed. She was dressed only in a long, loose fitting lightweight summer nightie, dangling temptingly over small but firm breasts, nipples poking earnestly against the thin, almost opaque fabric. She had been known to skip panties too but Graham wasn't going to ask.

"How soon do things get moving?" She filled a mug with strong black coffee, crossing the room to kiss her daddy's cheek.

"I need to check," said Graham, aware that the brush of her breasts against his arm had caused his penis to swell slightly, and wondering if his daughter had decided to skip the tiny fabric that covered her most intimate part made it stiffen even more. Her nipples were hard, swelled by the movement of the soft cotton fabric against them. Graham noticed. He always noticed and at times he swore Emily did it on purpose. He dialled Father David, the organiser of the Fayre.

"Can you meet me down at the green in 15?" asked Father David.

"Make it 30," answered Graham. "I'm just grabbing a bite to eat."

By now the sun was fully out and the wind - the last remnant of the summer storm - had eased to a breeze. The storm clouds were but a short-lived memory. The metal frameworks of the market stalls had been assembled two days before. The wooden slats were stacked ready, but thankfully under plastic sheeting. The sun, now a rapidly warming late June sun, was shining brightly. OK, the grass was wet but it had been closely mown earlier in the week and the dry earth had allowed most of the sudden downpour to run off. "What do you think?" asked Father David. "The forecast seems good."

Graham nodded, "We seem to have escaped the worst. We should be OK. The next hour should improve things a lot."

People started to arrive. Bit by bit the stalls were assembled and decorated. Cakes, plants, bring and buy, craft, raffles, good-as-new toys and puzzles donated by local children, all arrived to fill the stalls. An hour more and every bit of parking space near the green had been taken, mainly by the charities and farmers who had brought their own wares. Also arriving were the majorettes - the first to entertain the visitors. A large BBQ's initial fumes were giving way to a wonderful, smoky aroma and soon it would be ready to start cooking a large array of bacon, burgers, meat and veggie sausages and chicken legs. The ice cream van arrived and was setting up to do business. Visitors from neighbouring villages mingled with locals and everyone seemed happy. I

Graham took his leave, content in the knowledge that all the months of planning and all the committee meetings had not come to grief. Back at the house he was happy to see that Emily had chosen to wear a bra under a sleeveless tee-shirt, even though her choice of skirt was the shortest she owned. It was promising to be a hot day. She kissed him again on his cheek, patting his butt playfully before leaving. "See you later," she said before leaving to help her mother on one of the stalls. Her perfume lingered a little. Her daddy noticed. Of course he noticed, the swell in his pants reminded him so.