Jewel Breckenridge - Daddy_s little girls

Roger stood with his eye pressed hungrily to the hole he'd just drilled as his curvaceous teenage daughter pulled her sweatshirt quickly up over her head, unzipped and dropped the short skirt, and turned unknowingly to face him as she removed her brassiere. Her full, uplifted breasts swayed lushly into naked freedom right before his eyes. Against the milk-white skin of the proud young breasts her small erect nipples stood out as inviting pink buds, as cherries only waiting for someone to pick. Roger's eyes scarcely had accommodated themselves to his daughter's quivering white breasts when she slowly peeled down the sheer pink panties and tossed them onto the floor, revealing a tiny blonde triangle of sparsely curling pubic hair, at the bottom of which he could see the start of the gentle fleshy folds of her pussy. This was his daughter – God almighty! What a body! What a tantalizing and unbelievable body! Young and virginal, but physically a full woman, perfect in her lush nakedness.

Ellen was not posing, did not suspect that she was observed, and as soon as the pink lace panties dropped to the floor she bent immediately to pick them up, turning her back to the wall, the round trembling cheeks of her buttocks spreading enticingly as she stooped, revealing the other end of her thin pink vaginal slit through the curly blonde pubic hair from the rear, and farther up the shadowy cleavage between the upturned half-moons of her buttocks, Roger stared heatedly at the tiny secretive ring of her anus.

She sprang back to her feet and moved around the room putting her clothes away. Her ripely jiggling young breasts popped in and out of view as she walked about the room, and her firm but fluid buttocks rose and fell, rose and fell, as they had on the street except now it was so much more lust-inciting to see them naked. Roger was sure she was unconscious of his gaze, yet even so she seemed to like being naked, or at least not to consider it unusual as she put her clothes away, straightened up the cosmetics on her dresser, moved to a window to glance through a crack in the drapes out at the sky and the ocean.

All the while Roger kept his eyes glued to his daughter's body. And what a body! He had never suspected it was this good – before today he'd never given it a thought. Occasionally the alcohol he'd drunk dimmed his focus, but generally his view of his young daughter's curvaceous body was extremely clear, as the large straining bulge in Roger's pants obscenely announced. He looked at the tender, still unwrinkled body as it nakedly circled the room, still tanned from last summer except for the two narrow strips of white from where the skimpy bikini bathing suit had been. He watched the round, pliable cheeks of her smooth young buttocks knead against each other, swaying side-to-side at the bottom as well as up and down while she walked; he drank in the upturned spheres of her ripely budding breasts set close together with the taut pink nipples rising into tantalizing little buds; he studied voraciously the lips of her virginal cunt which undulated beneath the sparse blonde triangle as she walked.

With Roger's eye at the nail hole so full it was popping from his head, Ellen suddenly pulled a pair of white nylon panties from the closet and tugged them on, for a moment giving an unwittingly good view of her entire young pussy. Then she took a sheer white brassiere, worked the soft flesh of her breasts into the lacy cups, and forced the back shut. As she topped this off with a short, loose-fitting house dress, her smooth cream-white body already began to fade into Roger's memory.

But what did not fade in Roger's mind was the guilt.

He returned to his desk and passed what he had done over and over in his mind, unable to think of any excuse or justification for his behavior. She was, after all, his daughter! His own daughter, only a child! Yet that body…

One excuse in time did occur to him and now sat almost empty at his side – his ender of troubles these last weeks – the bottle of Scotch.

Roger heard Ellen close the door to her bedroom just as he was fighting an impulse to check the hole again to see if she was still fully dressed. Roger groaned, and forcibly steadying his hands, poured himself another large, stiff drink, downing it with a shudder.

Cape Cod was nice in the spring, but as he walked, Roger Johnston was only partially aware of the green trees on his street, the sounds of the many birds, and the seagull coasting overhead. The spring was well along now, and throughout it Roger had been – to his credit – more aware of the spring than of the fact that he owned a Rolls Royce, yet this awareness was crushed by his brief look at his young adolescent daughter Ellen's body. He had not looked through the hole in the wall again – though he had not patched it up, either.

Still a block distance from the neighborhood grocery, Roger was intrigued to see Ellen emerge onto the porch of the Green house along with her boy friend, Mark Green. They were holding hands as they walked down the steps, then Mark seemed to look around them to see if they were observed, not noticing Roger in the distance, and they went toward the Green garage. The garage door opened, in went Ellen and young Mark, and the door silently closed.

Mark was only fourteen, a tall thin boy, slightly awkward and shy, and Ellen was only thirteen. Yet Roger had just seen them with his own eyes go into the garage and he was genuinely shocked because Ellen was not even allowed to date. She called Mark her boy friend, but that only meant they went to one another's houses and to the beach, under parental supervision. Parental supervision! There seemed to be little of that at the Green house! But that's just what he himself would supply, and he would supply it right now. First, however he had to make sure his suspicions were correct.

Roger scanned the quiet, empty street to see if he was being observed, then walked to the side of the garage until he was totally hidden by a row of bushes and the garage wall. There was a small window, and he cautiously raised his eyes to it until he could see inside to where Ellen and Mark, in profile, were sitting next to each other on a pile of boards about four feet away from the window. Mark was saying something to Ellen and she was only smiling in return, although her long blonde hair tumbled onto his shoulder. Perhaps this was not so bad after all; it seemed innocent enough.

Roger was preparing to leave when he saw Mark suddenly push his hand up and clumsily grope at one of Ellen's ripening young breasts.

He saw it! His daughter being pawed! And by that conniving young snipe, Mark Green, who had eaten with them many times, who he'd driven to the beach, who he'd sat up evenings playing checkers with – who in short, he'd trusted. Roger would walk in right now and paste Mark in the nose – but no, Mark was too young. Better to simply break the two of them up, and then to later vent his rage verbally on Mark's father, Jason Green, the car salesman, who Roger couldn't stand anyway. He was about to take this course, when taking a last glance in the window, he noticed his daughter's reaction and it held him spellbound.

Her lips were parted in passion, and she was gyrating her softly mounded breasts beneath the young boy's exploring hands.

Then she reached up and, without further ado, began to unbutton her blouse as Mark watched with greedy, bulging eyes the wide cleavage of her young budding breasts come into tantalizing view. Then Ellen shrugged her blouse to the ground and it was clear that she – innocent Ellen! – had worn no brassiere. Had she planned for this outing? Her softly swelling young breasts stared out into the garage in quivering, self-conscious nakedness.

Roger was shocked beyond words, yet his attention was fully captivated by the salacious sight of his daughter's taut little breasts, one of them being gently cupped and massaged by Mark as he fastened his eyes on the other one and Ellen threw back her head. Her nipples were cherry pink, small and nicely shaped, and protruding straight out. She took Mark's free hand and forced it onto the other naked breast and now Mark was kneading the pliant dough of both shamelessly naked mounds, forcing them together, then flattening them, squashing them, squeezing them, and churning the sensitive nipple-buds into pebble-hard passion. Ellen dug her fingers into her boy friend's hair, and forced his head down until his mouth found one excitedly throbbing little nipple.