The Letter of Approval

The Letter of Approval

his story concerns changed holiday plans resulting in a father taking his daughter to Crete for three weeks in place of his wife. Their accommodation is a very private beach apartment and gives the daughter the long-awaited opportunity to get closer to her adored father.

This is my second foray into Father/Daughter incest, prompted by some positive feedback on my first attempt. I hope you enjoy the story and I look forward to receiving comments.

Sylviafan

Knowing what I now know, intimacy between myself and my daughter was inevitable. Not, I hasten to add, through my own lustful desires, heaven forbid! Before the holiday I had never imagined such a thing. Well ok, maybe the odd fatherly glance at her breasts and legs, but that was it, I swear. No, the driving force was Sakura, my only daughter. Only child in fact. She's strong-willed and determined and full of impish humour and from an early age she's been a daddy's girl, able to twist me around her little finger.

And in case you're wondering, Sakura is a Japanese name, because I married a Japanese lady whom I met at university. Haruko Suzuki was reading English as a foreign language at Newcastle-upon-Tyne under a scholarship. We met when she was in her second year and I was starting my master's degree. In due course we were married and became Mrs Philip Prendergast and moved permanently to the UK. Her parents weren't thrilled, she was all they'd got, but they did accept me and when Sakura was born a couple of years later they were overjoyed. They'd have been less thrilled if they knew how close to dying Haruko had come during childbirth. I was pretty shaken up too and after some long discussions we decided not to try for any more children and I got a vasectomy done, which fucking stung, let me tell you, despite the local anaesthetic!

After that ordeal, life was pretty uneventful for the Prendergasts for the next twenty years. Sakura was clever and did well at school although it was clear from the subtext of some of her reports that her teachers found her a bit trying. Home life was generally peaceful; Haruko and I remained deeply in love and doted (probably too much) on our only child. She was sweetness and light most of the time unless she couldn't have her own way when she would play her mother and father off against each other with a sort of instinctive cunning. But I found it hard to do anything but adore her.

This story starts one summer when Sakura was twenty. I was forty-five, and the manager of my own electrical business and Haruka, a personnel manager, was a year or two younger than me. Sakura was at the local college, studying drama. She had a crowd of friends, male and female, but she didn't seem to be particularly close to any of them, which surprised me, especially with the boys, because Sakura is strikingly attractive.

Haruka and I had booked a three-week break in Crete in August. For one reason or another it was the first holiday we'd had for about five years and we'd splashed out on a luxury two-bedroom apartment with its own plunge pool and private beach. It had cost a packet but we felt we'd earned it and we were both looking forward to it very much. The first intimations of trouble came four days before our departure; Haruka had a call from her father to say that her mother had been rushed to hospital with suspected peritonitis. This was followed by another call twelve hours later to say that her mother was in a serious condition in intensive care and may not survive. Haruka was distraught and immediately went online to book a flight to Osaka. I said that the holiday insurance would probably cover a family emergency like this but my wife wouldn't hear of cancelling the holiday. 'I'll only be in Japan for a week or so, then I'll fly straight to Crete and join you.'

'I may as well wait for you then,' I countered, not really wanting to spend a week in Crete by myself.

'Then you'll have to pay for another flight. That's silly when you've already got one booked.'

'Why don't I go to Crete with Dad,' interjected Sakura, who'd been listening to our conversation.

Haruka looked sharply at her daughter. 'I thought you were looking forward to having the house to yourself for a few weeks.'

'Well I was, but if this is going to spoil Dad's holiday... And as you said, the flight's booked and the apartment's got two bedrooms hasn't it? And I'm not due back at college until September.'

In the end I contacted the airline and changed the name on the flight to Sakura Prendergast. A couple of days after that my wife flew from Heathrow to Japan and very early the following day my daughter and I flew from Gatwick to Heraklion and drove to the extreme east of the island of Crete to take over our apartment. I was saddened and disappointed that Haruka wasn't with me but my daughter is fine company and she made a big effort to cheer me up on the flight and the drive and so by the time we'd got to the apartment and gone shopping for food and drink, I was in fairly good spirits.

The apartment was one of six in a little complex in a secluded bay looking out over the eastern Mediterranean. It was cleverly designed so that each apartment had a little semi-private beach and a stretch of shoreline as well as the plunge pool with its patio and sun loungers. Evergreen hedges and woven fencing ensured almost complete privacy on the patio. As a bonus, the midday sky was achingly blue and there was a refreshing zephyr blowing off the sea.

Inside, the apartment was spacious and contemporary; there was a big, open plan lounge-diner-kitchen and both bedrooms were double en-suite; mine had french doors leading to a balcony with a fabulous view over the sea.

'Well this is a bit of alright,' commented Sakura after she'd explored the place. 'I could get used to this.'

'Would you like some lunch?' I asked, opening the fridge door.

'In a bit,' she replied. 'I'm going to swim first. That pool looks

so

inviting!' She disappeared into her bedroom and came out five minutes later wearing only a black bikini and sunglasses and carrying a towel. I blinked at her in surprise. It had been years since I'd seen my daughter in a bathing costume and my, hadn't she grown up.

There's no mistaking Sakura's ancestry; she looks very like her mother. She's pale-skinned and has an oval, rather broad face with high cheekbones and dark-brown, almond-shaped eyes. Her lips are full and she has a rather delightfully snub nose, which she hates. Her jet-black hair is cut in a bob which curls under her chin and across her forehead, hiding her dark eyebrows. Everything about her body is long and very slender from her neck to her narrow hips and shapely legs. She was a runner at school - I think she still holds the school record for the 1500 and 5000 metres. Her height is the only characteristic she inherited from me; she's about five-feet seven inches - four inches taller than her mother.

I tried not to look as she walked across the lounge and out through the patio doors into the sunshine. Everything about my daughter is graceful: her walk, her head and arm movements, even her speech. I watched as she dropped her towel on a sunbed and dived (gracefully of course) into the little pool. She swam for a few minutes then came to the side and called out to me.

'Never mind about lunch, Daddy, come and have a swim. It's

fantastic!

' I didn't need a huge amount of persuasion and five minutes later I was in the pool and trying to do a dignified breaststroke while Sakura splashed my face and giggled.

We stayed in the pool for half an hour or so then climbed out and lay sprawled on cushioned sunbeds, feeling the heat of the mediterranean sun on our flesh. A little while later I disappeared inside and came back out with a big bottle of factor 50 suntan lotion which I handed to Sakura.

'Oh Daddy, I want to go home with a bit of a tan, to show my friends,' she pouted.

'And you'll get one,' I replied. 'We're here for three weeks and I promised your mother that I'd make sure you were sensible about sun protection.'

She sat on the edge of her sunbed and applied the cream to all the areas she could reach. Then she handed me the bottle and lay face down on the lounger. 'You'll have to do my back, Daddy.'

I knelt by her bed and squeezed a little pool of lotion into the palm of my hand before massaging it into her shoulders and upper back, feeling her firm, flawless, twenty-year-old skin under my fingers. I worked deftly, mildly embarrassed, while Sakura sighed and stretched. 'You're very good, Daddy; that feels wonderfully relaxing.' I gulped and added a little more lotion, working it under the straps of her bikini top and feeling stirrings in my bathing shorts.

'Now let me do yours,' she said after I'd finished. I lay face down on my sunbed and tried to relax as my daughter spread suntan lotion over my back and started rubbing it in with slow, gentle strokes, using both hands like a masseur. I don't know how much suntan lotion she used but she worked on my back for at least ten minutes and it felt exquisite and I was acutely conscious that I'd got an erection. If it had been my wife doing it I would have rolled over and pulled her down onto me. As it was I lay there stiff with tension while my daughter tended to me, telling me what lovely deltoids I'd got and running her fingernails lightly over my skin and making me shiver.

We spent that first afternoon by the pool and in the cool of the early evening we showered and walked down the dusty lane into the local village where there was a taverna. I was dressed in shorts, sandals and a T shirt. Sakura was wearing a flimsy diaphanous dress in red and purple which hinted at her figure beneath it and which had the local fishermen gawping openly at her as we ate on the veranda. She was aware of the scrutiny but took it in her stride, smiling back at the old men occasionally.

Afterwards we slipped our sandals off and walked back along the beach as the sun dropped slowly into the western sky and the surf crackled up the coarse sand and sucked back into the sea. Sakura slipped her arm through mine as we walked and I felt her slim hip against mine. 'What do you think of the place so far?' I asked her.

'We're going to have a magical time, Daddy,' she said quietly, squeezing my arm. 'It's going to be really special.'

'I hope your grandmother's going to be alright,' I said with a pang of guilt. I'd hardly thought about Haruka since we'd arrived. Sakura said nothing.

We sat up late that first evening, although I was tired from the travelling, and drank a carafe of the local red wine. And while we drank we talked and made plans for the next few days, Sakura on a little two-seater settee with her legs tucked underneath her and me in a leather recliner. Eventually I was yawning almost continuously and I stood up, ready for bed.

Sakura stood too and came to give me a hug. 'Sleep well, Daddy,' she whispered, pressing herself to me and I felt her slender body underneath the filmy fabric of her dress and my cock stirred. Later, lying in bed and listening to the distant surf, I thought about my daughter. I had a suspicion that Sakura wanted to take the opportunity of being alone with me to push the boundaries between father and daughter and I told myself that I must not do anything to encourage her. What I didn't realise is just how far she wanted to push.

The next morning we decided we couldn't be bothered to make breakfast so we walked into the village and had fresh fruit and Greek yoghurt with strong, black coffee. Back at the apartment we changed into swimwear and dragged two sunbeds down onto our little stretch of private beach.

The sky was cloudless and the thermometer on the patio read 35 Celsius. A light breeze ruffled the surface of the sea. Perfection. We'd brought towels and books and water with us and I delved into the bag and handed Sakura the factor 50. 'I'll do your back if you want,' I offered, remembering how it had felt yesterday and how her hands had felt on me.

She stood and looked at me through her sunglasses. 'Daddy,' would you mind terribly if I went topless today?' I hate the idea of a bikini line,' she added, 'and I'm sure it's nothing you haven't seen before.'

I was temporarily speechless. Sakura and I had always had an open relationship but to uncover her breasts in front of me! On the other hand if I said no that would sour the moment and might also suggest that I thought it was a bigger deal than it was. I rapidly decided that the only possible response was agreement. 'Ok,' I said, wondering how I was going to get through the next week or two not staring at my daughter's tits. 'But just the top, right?' I smiled.

'Yes, Daddy,' she grinned at me, 'I'm not going to run around starkers in front of you.' I looked away as she reached behind and unhooked her bikini top and pulled it off, dropping it into her beach bag. Then I lay down on my sunbed and tried to read while my daughter coated her skin with suntan lotion, rubbing it into her arms and legs and then her torso and neck and breasts. I really tried not to stare but she was sitting on the side of her lounger, facing me, and it was impossible not to look at her small, orange-sized breasts with their neat brown areolae and pertly upturned nipples. Thank God I was wearing sunglasses!

'Will you do my back now Daddy?' she asked. I rubbed lotion into her naked back as she stood next to me, facing the sea. I felt hot and short-breathed as my hands went up and down the ridges of her spine and around the sides of her body, inches from her breasts. I had a pretty shrewd idea that if I cupped one of her tits she wouldn't bat an eyelid. The notion made me feel a hot wave of shame, with overtones of guilt and as I finished oiling her I ran off into the sea and dived into the water hoping that my erection would subside in the cold mediterranean saltwater.

Afterwards we lay and read our books and Sakura listened to music as the sun rose to its zenith and beat down on our naked flesh. We swam frequently, cooling our heated bodies. Sometimes together, sometimes not. It was fun splashing about in the surf with my half-naked daughter, kicking water at each other like two children. At one point I picked her up, her naked breasts inches from my chest, and dumped her into an incoming wave. She squealed and laughed as it crashed over her leaving her on hands and knees as the water sucked back.

About one o'clock we retreated to the patio and I made us some wraps for lunch which we ate with a bottle of chilled wine. By this time I had got used to seeing Sakura's breasts and I was no longer in a constant state of semi-arousal. In fact I was enjoying her company immensely, enjoying the simple intimacy of lunch together with some wine. The next three weeks seemed to stretch out before me in a golden haze of pleasure.

We ate at the taverna again that evening. Sakura was wearing a sleeveless belted tunic in a lightweight white material and with her black hair and pale skin she looked like a Greek goddess come down to earth. The locals evidently thought so too, judging by the envious looks I was getting. Clearly they thought we were a couple, which was not entirely surprising; she looks only a little like me and if you ignore the age gap we could have been man and wife.

The real game changer came the next morning. We went to the taverna for breakfast again and afterwards decided to chill out on the beach as we had done the previous day. After we'd sorted out towels and books and music, my daughter removed her bikini top, handed me a bottle of suntan lotion and stretched herself out face down on her sunbed. I knelt by her and applied the thick lotion to her bare back, feeling the now familiar stirrings of forbidden desire and trying not to think about what I was doing.

'Oh Daddy,' she breathed, wriggling under my hands, 'you do it so beautifully, your hands feel so nice. Will you do my legs, too?' So I did the backs of her legs and I felt her toned muscles and the softness of her inner thighs as she parted her legs slightly to allow me access. I was hot and short-breathed again, trying not to put my hands accidently on her bum cheeks, only too aware of the firm mounds under the taut fabric of her bikini bottom.

Then she turned over, and I was presented with the faint outline of her labia through her costume. I coughed in confusion and ended up squirting far too much lotion onto my hands. 'Bugger,' I hissed, wondering what to do with it all.

Sakura lifted her sunglasses to look at me with her deep-brown almond eyes. 'It doesn't matter, Daddy. You can put some on my tummy and chest.'

I was struck dumb, turned to stone. 'But...' I stuttered.

'It's alright,' said my daughter softly, 'you don't have to put it on my breasts.' She smiled at me and replaced her sunglasses. 'But you can if you'd like to.'

The sun seemed to go dim and there was a roaring in my ears. I knew what I was going to do and I hated myself for it. But this was as far as it would go! I shuffled forward and spread lotion on her flat belly, rubbing it in with circular motions, going right down to her bikini waistband and up to her sternum, telling myself to stop now and at the same time trying to muster the courage to put my hands on my daughter's bare breasts. She lay still, her arms at her sides, her eyes unreadable behind the dark lenses of her sunglasses

In the end I squeezed another dollop of factor 50 onto my hands, rubbed them together and gently placed them on my daughter's boobs. She sighed as I touched her and I felt the blood thunder through my veins as I felt her firm flesh, felt the stiff buds of her nipples under my palms. Christ, I hadn't felt this alive in years! I smeared lotion all over her upper body: neck, shoulders, tummy. But always I came back to her breasts, cupping the pert little orbs, even running my thumbs over her nipples, making her gasp softly and roll her head on her long, slender neck.

Eventually and reluctantly I stopped and wiped my hands on a towel. 'Is that ok?' I asked, my voice hoarse with emotion.

Sakura raised her sunglasses and looked at me, smiling like a cat. 'That was

wonderful

Daddy. You've got such big, strong hands.' He smile turned serious. 'Don't be afraid of touching me, Daddy, I want you to.'

So I did what I certainly shouldn't have done and I reached out a hand and stroked her left breast, cupping the firm little orb, stroking her erect nipple. My daughter looked at my hand as I caressed her and then she looked at me, her eyes dark and unreadable and I felt tendrils of desire snake through me.

'Now let me do you,' she said softly, picking up the lotion. 'Lie down, Daddy.'

I lay down on my back on the sunbed, my daughter kneeling beside me. I felt hot and uncomfortable but at the same time my senses seemed heightened: colours brighter, sounds louder and more distinct. Sakura took her sunglasses off and squirted some lotion into her palms. Leaning over me, she spread the cream over my chest, working it in with both hands, adding more, running her fingertips over my little nipples, tracing the line of hair down to my navel and across my stomach. She added more suntan lotion and started over, now rubbing my shoulders, now my pectoral muscles, now my arms, her fingers firm yet light, her movements calm and assured. And while she massaged me she looked at me with her dark eyes and I melted inside and my cock swelled unbidden and tented my swimming shorts.

Sakura ignored my erection, to start with. She carried on applying lotion to my upper body long after I was completely coated. I closed my eyes and lay motionless in a mist of pleasure and arousal and deep, deep guilt, feeling her fingers slide over my flesh, kneading, stroking, teasing.