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
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