Incest/Taboo Emmy and Her Daddy

My daughter insisted she didn't lead boys on, they just followed. There was some truth to this. She never promised more than she delivered. Emmy was clear: she had no interest in a boyfriend and stopped at kissing. No guy at her high school could say he'd gotten any farther then a quick, unwelcome, squeeze of a boob.

Yet, as I watched Emmy in our pool with Robbie Jones, I felt sorry for the kid. My daughter's bikini was minute. The top, two tiny triangles decorated with the American flag, barely covered her nipples. The bottom, another tiny triangle, was held snug - there could be no doubt - to a cleanly shaved vagina. It snaked around to her backside in a narrow band, ending as a thong.

Five feet, 7 inches tall, 115 pounds, and D cups. Slim waist; relatively wide hips; plump, full, sultry lips. In later years people would wonder whether those oversized breasts or thick lips were real, but the kids in her high school, like Robbie, knew they were. They'd known Emmy since childhood. I felt sorry for the boy. He'd be frustrated tonight.

Emmy had invited Robbie over for a swim and lunch before they worked on a school project. I stepped on to the deck with two bottles of water and the Thai chicken salad I'd prepared. Robbie and Emmy were standing waist deep in the water. She was laughing and splashing water on him.

"Lunch is ready."

"Thanks Daddy,"

"Thanks Mr. Jaworski."

I put the food on the table and tossed each of them a towel.

"I'll be in my office. See you kids later."

I spent the afternoon working on my business. Whenever I poked my head out for a glass of water or to hit the head, Robbie and Emmy were at the kitchen table working on their presentation about the Thirty Years War. Robbie would have done the entire thing if Emmy'd asked - she had only a light wrap on over that bikini - but she was not only doing her part, she was pushing Robbie to do a first rate job.

It was late afternoon when Emmy knocked on my door and stuck her head in my office. They'd finished. They were going to check some stuff out on the computer before Robbie headed home. The family computer was in the next room. Over the next hour Robbie wheedled a few kisses from Emmy. When she walked him to the door he planted a final wet smacker on her face and said goodbye.

I heard her coming down the hall. She opened my office door, walked towards me, smiled, fixed her deep brown soulful eyes on me.

"Hey Daddy."

She had discarded the wrap; she had on only the bikini. She wore no make up; her dewy flawless skin required none. Her brown hair, which hung free, reached her shoulder blades. She had adopted a pouty saucy look, like she wanted to be innocent, but with that body and face she couldn't quite pull it off.

"Daddy, do you think I'm a tease?"

"Yes Emmy, Daddy thinks you're a tease. I'm afraid poor Robbie's gonna be hard all night."

"Do you think he'll play with his thing thinking about me?"

"I'm sure of it."

"It's not fair. The boys in school, they all know I don't put out. I tell them so, but still, they all try to get in my pants."

"With your body, in that bathing suit, honey, they can't help themselves."

"Oh, I see, it's my fault."

She sat on my lap, straddling my legs, facing me.

"I guess I'm a bad little girl for dressing like this. It's just that, well, the way guys look at me when I dress like this, it makes me all hot."

She reached behind her neck and untied her bikini top. Her large round breasts, tanned evenly with the rest of her body, fell forward. The upraised brown areolas were large, bigger than silver dollars. Her small brown nipples were erect.

She took a breast in her hand, held it, touched the nipple, shuddering at the sensation.

"Daddy, when boys look at me like Robbie did it makes me hot inside. It makes me want to fuck."

She took my hands and covered her breasts with them.

"See what I mean."

She was correct. Heat radiated from her swelling breasts.

"Emmy, you're right, your breasts are warm."

I squeezed, ever so slightly. She closed her eyes and let out a low moan, akin to the purr of a cat, shifted her hips, leaned forward, flattening her breasts flattened on my chest and whispered in my ear, "Maybe, later, you should spank me - I've been very, very bad. But right now I need you to fuck me. Please Daddy."

She sat back up, looking into my eyes, mouth partially open. Her lips were moist.

"Emmy, I thought you said you didn't put out for guys."

She kissed me, enveloping my lips with hers, then dragging them slowly over my mouth. Oh, could that girl kiss. It was like there was an extra portion of her brain devoted to it.

"Daddy, you're being silly. I said I didn't put out for boys. I always put out for my Daddy."

"I don't know honey. Maybe, after what you put poor Robbie through, I shouldn't reward you."

Emmy stood. Her bikini top fell off, landing in my lap, then dropping to the floor. She snaked two fingers under the bikini bottom. For a moment the damp fabric clung to her sex. She'd been out of the pool for hours; this juice had seeped from within her. She pulled it over her hips, then let go. It fell to her feet. She kicked it away. It landed on my desk. Her clean shaven pink pussy lips stood out against her tanned skin.

"Please Daddy, I need it so bad."

She stuck two fingers into her pussy, withdrew them. They were covered with cream. She sucked them into her mouth.

"I'm so wet Daddy, I'm burning up inside. Only you can make me feel better. I need you to fuck me. I want you Daddy. Please Daddy, fuck me, I need it so bad."

She reached up, her fingers tripped across her breast, then touched her lips. She stared at my crotch, my erection outlined in my blue shorts. Her gaze drifted upwards, to my face. She smiled, leaned forward, put her hands on the back of my chair. Her heavy breasts were hanging before me. She dragged her tongue over the surface of my ear.

"Oh Daddy, you're hard. I can make your dick feel so good. My cunt is hot and warm and wet and tight and waiting for Daddy's big cock. You'll love being inside me. Please Daddy, please fuck your little girl."

She fell to one knee; I lifted my ass. Emmy undid my belt, pulled my shorts and boxers off, then stood and straddled me. She wrapped her strong fingers around my dick and lowered herself onto me. She was right, her pussy was warm wet tight exquisite. She let out a long low soulful moan.

We required no foreplay. The entire day had been foreplay.

Years of yoga had left my daughter with unworldly control of her core. She squeezed her cunt muscles, then rippled them up the length of my cock.

"Oh Daddy."

Her arms lay across my shoulders; her hands were on the back of my head. She continued working her cunt on my cock, growing wetter. The muscles of her abdomen contracted rhythmically while her hips jerked spastically, without a pattern.

"Oh Daddy, so good, oh Daddy, its so good, oh Daddy, you're so big, you fill me up so good Daddy."

She sat straight up, brought her hands to her breasts, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh. I pushed her hands away and filled my mouth with them, licking her nipples. I rolled my hips, rotating my dick within her.

"Oh Daddy, yes Daddy, yes, I'm gonna come, gonna come, come on my Daddy's cock."

Her cunt muscles gripped, clenched, clutched my cock. I felt her spasm inside.

"Oh Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Eeeyyyyyyaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh."

She shook, then yanking her breast from my mouth, slunk into me. She softly kissed my lips.

"Daddy, you make me come so good."

And with that she was ready to go again. She sat back up and started rocking, barely moving, just enough to drag her clit across my pubic bone. The walls of her cunt came alive, massaging my erection. Her control was amazing, flooding me with pleasure, but never driving me over the edge, dragging out, prolonging the sensations dancing up and down my dick. I matched my movements to hers, increasing the pressure on her clit. Her breathing deepened; she babbled my name; her cunt gripped and released me; juice seeped between cock and cunt.

"Oh Daddy, I love the way you fuck me, you make your baby girl feel so good, I love my Daddy, I love my sweet Daddy."

She shuddered, she moaned, she gasped, she came, then came again in a series of short staccato explosions. Driving herself against my pubic bone in sharp sudden jabs, she was swept along by the wanton desire flooding though her.

"Daddy! Ohhh, oh gawd! Aaaaahhh!!"

Her body tensed; her moans intensified; her full weight was perched on my body. I arched my back, pushed my hips up and, taking hold of her ass, forced her into me, capturing her clit between our bodies.

"Ahhh, AHHH, Oh God, oh, oh, AHHHH!! I'm there. I'm there, Daddy, I am there. Eeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

Her body shaking, she came in a final violent explosion. Her skin flushed; drops of sweat beaded, then rolled down her naked form. She lay her head on my shoulder, draped her body to mine, two bodies melded into one. While she marinated in post-orgasmic haze I kissed her, told her how much I loved her .

It was several minutes before she whispered in my ear, her voice low and soft, barely audible. "Daddy, you're the best lover a girl could ever want." Then, slowly regaining her strength, she kissed my neck and cheeks. She kissed my lips. Her tongue entered my mouth, slipped behind my lips, ran over my teeth, played with my tongue.

Finally she sat back up and looked me in the eye. "Okay Daddy, it's time. Fuck me Daddy. Fuck me, fuck me hard."

"Yes sweet daughter."

Until now Emmy had led; I'd matched my movements to hers. With her extraordinary control of her vagina, she had rocketed from orgasm to orgasm while giving my cock a work over, but keeping me short of blowing my load. Now she wanted Daddy in charge

Emmy planted her feet on the floor, flexed her leg muscles, and slid up my cock. I pushed into her. She lowered herself, then began bouncing up and down, gasping each time my cock skid into her belly. Her fat tits swayed; perspiration glowed on her face and shoulders. She, like I, was lost in our incestuous pleasure.

I held onto her hips; she grabbed my arms. The musky smell of our arousal, the sound of my cock churning in her wet pussy, filled the room. She cried in joy, "Oh Daddy, fuck me."

I increased the speed and power of my thrusts. She placed her forearms on my shoulders, rocking back and forth, riding my bucking body. I licked her nipples when her breasts swung past my face. Her mouth partially open, her head fell back, gasping each time I slammed into her.

I grabbed her ass and moved faster, pistoning my cock in and out. Her vagina contracted and although my dick was slick with her juice, the vise-like grip of her cunt grew ever tighter. I wouldn't last much longer.

Emmy was babbling, a smorgasbord of moans, screams, talk filthy and arousing. "Yes, yes. God, oh god Daddy. Fuck me Daddy, fill up my cunt, I'm yours, I love you Daddy. Oh god, oh fucking god, ohgodohgod, Aaaaaaagh."

Her fingernails dug into my back.

"Suck my tits Daddy, oh please Daddy, bite my nipples."

Her breasts were swollen, filled with blood; sweat flowed over their formidable curves. I wrapped my lips around a brown nipple, rolled it around my mouth, then opened my mouth wider and captured the entire areola. She whimpered in delight, grabbed my head, pulled it into her, burying my face in tit-flesh. I pounded my dick into her.

Then I felt it, the cum in my balls boiling, an orgasm hurdling towards me with the subtlety of a landslide.

I yanked my face from her breast. "You are mine," I grunted, pumping my cock into her. "Mine." I ravaged her body with full hard thrusts. I was insane with desire.

"Yes Daddy, yours now, yours forever, yours for all time! Yours. Yours, yours, yours, yours."

She squirmed and shook, her gyrating became violent. Her eyes were glazed; her mouth open; she sucked in air in short sharp gasps. Afraid she might topple to the floor, I grabbed her shoulders.

It was too much. "Baby, I'm going to come."

"Oh my god, Daddy! Fill me, fill me with your cum. Oh my god! Me too Daddy. Me too. Keep doing it... I'm going to... I'm going to..."

"You ready my sweet little girl."

"Your little girl, yes your little girl Daddy, oh fuck Daddy, oh fuck Daddy, oh fuck Daddy..."

She screamed, near the top of her lungs, and squirted, gushing cream. She fell forward, but continued bucking her hips up and down, back and forth, and kept talking, her tone intense and desperate, "Oh god yes Daddy, come inside me. Fill me up. I need you to come inside me, oh Daddy I need it."

My cum left my balls, geysered up my dick.

"Here it comes. Unnghm. Ahhh. AHHH. Oh God. OHHHH. YES BABY, DADDY'S CUMMING!!"

I was enveloped by the first wave of my orgasm. It felt like I was pumping a quart of cum into my child, turning her pussy into a swamp of incestuous lust. The sensation was overwhelming, incredible, driving me to the edge of consciousness. And my daughter kept talking. "Yes Daddy, yes. Come for me, come with me, come in me. Oh yes Daddy, I can feel it, I can feel you coming inside me."

I slammed by dick into her and reached for a breast, in my frenzy twisting her nipple harder than I'd intended. That set her off and she was swept up by the same tidal wave that had engulfed me. Impaled on my dick, she shook and thrashed as my cum coated her womb. Fireworks filled her mind; Emmy swayed back and forth. I grabbed her hips, holding her to me.

"Yeah, oh yeah. Pound me, pound me, fuck me, fuck, oh god Daddy yes, fuck fuck fu-fu-fu-fuck, fuck your daughter, OH YYEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH."

She fell into me, jerking spasmodically; sweat covered her perfect form. Her limp body molded itself to mine. Her tits were pressed to my chest, our racing heartbeats merged. My desire for my daughter was all consuming, matched only by her lust for me. And the longer it went on, the more intense it became. We did not care how wrong it might be.

We sat like that for awhile, holding on to each other. Then, her voice weak, her tone certain, she said, "Oh Daddy, life is so good."

It took several more minutes for Emmy to regain her strength and leave a trail of soft sweet kisses across my face. She ended at my ear and whispered, "Did I make you come Daddy?"

I laughed. "Yes honey, you made Daddy come. You always make Daddy come. You're the best lover any Daddy's ever had."
​

* * * *​

My wife left when Emmy was four years old. We'd been a mis-match. I had just started my security firm and worked constantly. She was a good time girl who figured money, somehow, just showed up. I was conservative and careful; she was impulsive. In retrospect, we married, I suspect, because we knew our limitations and thought we could resolve them in each other. Oh, and there was another reason, she was stunning. My daughter's good looks came naturally.

At first I dated regularly, but stopped when Emmy reached the age of reason and I could no longer explain the overnight guests. But, more than that, I stopped because of my observation of blended families. They worked when parents gave each other full authority over both sets of children. In my head I could accept another adult disciplining Emmy; in my heart I knew I never would.

So I raised Emmy. Her mother, whose dissolute lifestyle was increasingly evident in her face, was an irregular presence. By her last few visits the dark circles under her eyes, the premature wrinkles, the pasty skin, it all scared Emmy. After her mother would leave Emmy would crawl into my lap and cry. She was twelve when her mother last appeared. Some years later I tracked her down. She had passed away.

I'm not asking you to feel sorry for me. My business, which I loved, was doing well; we were profitable and served four states. There were also a few neighborhood ladies and business acquaintances whose situations were similar to mine and to whose bed I was a regular visitor. But yes, I put serious romance on hold until Emmy got older.

Happily, Emmy was all I could ask for in a child. She did well in school, had a plethora of friends, and did not do that teen-age rebellion thing. She did more than her share of the house work, without being asked. She even earned her keep. A client of mine who owned a restaurant that catered to young businessmen hired Emmy as a waitress. Sometimes I'd go, sit in a corner, and watch my beautiful daughter work a table. She was sweet, flirty, engaging; the guys never stinted on the tip.

There was one area of concern. Boys her age swarmed around the house; college guys called; my male friends let their eyes linger on her longer than they should. And she, with a kind word, a quick laugh, and those darting brown eyes, charmed them all. At age fourteen we had the sex conversation. I offered birth control, no questions asked. She laughed and, touching her groin, said she would not let any boy stick his thing in there.

Still she never lacked for dates, had the coquette thing down, and her clothes, while not trashy, accented her fabulous form. Occasionally I re-visited birth control, always to the same result. That is, until a month before her eighteenth birthday.

I was watching television when Emmy sat down and slid against me, partially crawling into my lap. She was wearing a white tank top that stopped a few inches short of her cut offs. At first I didn't think anything of it. During the last few months she had taken to leaning into me when we sat on the couch together. Her movements were graceful, almost feline, and she'd end up with a leg draped over mine, an arm on my shoulder or across my chest, our bodies pressed together. It seemed borderline inappropriate, father or not I was aware of my daughter's magnificent body, but when I mentioned it Emmy reverted to little girl mode, stuck her tongue out, and asked why not, a girl feels safe with her daddy. I felt silly, said nothing more and, to be honest, loved the feel of my daughter's warm body against mine.

I sensed something was up, but was still surprised when, the program ended, Emmy said, "Daddy, about birth control. I'd like to try the patch."

There was, as far as I knew, no special boy in her life. The desire to ask if there was strong, but I'd told myself when this day came, I'd say nothing. And so I didn't.

"Okay honey, call Doctor Fulgum's office and make an appointment. If they have any questions, tell them to call me."

"Thank you Daddy."

She moved back and sat on the couch in the lotus position, facing me. "There's something else. You've been asking about my eighteenth birthday. I know what I want. I want to celebrate it with my Daddy, just you and me. Over Thanksgiving I want to go to Miami. I checked your calendar, you're available."

I ran my schedule through my mind. She was right; there was nothing that would prevent the trip.

"Sure, but I figured you wantede to spend it with your friends."

She took my hand in hers, absentmindedly playing with my fingers.

"I thought you were my friend Daddy. But Nina," Nina, a cute little red head with a funky persona, was Emmy's best friend, "spilled the beans. My friends were planning a party, but couldn't agree on when. Some wanted it on my birthday, but the people who were going out of town for Thanksgiving wanted to do it the weekend before. Nina, on the sly, asked my preference. I told her to go with the weekend before my birthday. That leaves me free to be with you."

I was gratified by her solicitude. I was lucky to have such a daughter. "Well Emmy, I can think of nothing I'd love more than to be with my beautiful daughter on her birthday."

Some hairs had fallen across Emmy's face. She took hold of them, twiddled with the ends, pushed them behind her ear, wrapped her arms around my head, snuggled up to me, kissed my cheek.

"Do you really think I'm beautiful Daddy?"

Was she serious or just playing, fishing for a compliment? I wasn't sure.

"Yes, the prettiest girl in the world, soon to be the prettiest woman."

With a slight blush, she kissed my cheek, her lips dwelling on my skin a beat or two longer than normal. Her hand was on my chest.

"Thank you Daddy. I think you're the handsomest man. When we get to Miami, the night I turn eighteen, I'm gonna ask you for another present, but for now it's a secret."

I never heard from Dr. Fulgum. Had Emmy changed her mind? Probably not. More likely Mary Ann Fulgum, a family friend and Emmy's doctor for years, decided to maintain my daughter's privacy. I pushed it out of my mind.
​

* * * *​

We arrived in Miami Thanksgiving morning. It was a special occasion and I booked a two bedroom suite with an ocean view at the Ritz Carlton Bal Harbour. Emmy had packed as if we were going on an expedition; I tipped the bellman after he deposited her voluminous baggage in her room.

Emmy had, for the most part, kept our plans in the dark, generically instructing me on what to pack. I was told to bring credit cards and cash; Emmy had said she had a few special treats in mind, but she wouldn't be paying for everything. We ate Thanksgiving dinner at the hotel; it was unexpectedly good. I wore slacks and a sports shirt, she a green loose-fitting shirt with three quarter length sleeves and a tiny black skirt. She was, I thought, a young woman, not a teen-aged girl. After we ordered dessert Emmy reached into her purse and pulled out two tickets. They were for the Miami Heat game that evening.

I love basketball.

"Ohmigod honey, I can't believe this. How did you, where did you, they must have cost a fortune. I'm supposed to be treating you."

Her broad smile showed she'd gotten the reaction she'd hoped for.

I leaned over to kiss her. She turned her head, offering me her lips. We kissed and I took her hand in mine, "Thank you Emmy, thank you very much."

"Anything for my handsome Daddy."

We took a town car to the game. The seats were mid-court, ten rows back. Emmy folded her arm in mine. At halftime we were shown on the scoreboard - they're always looking for pretty girls - which elicited a happy laugh and a quick wave from my delighted daughter. After the game, the weather perfect, Emmy suggested walking back to the hotel.

The streets were crowded, the curbs lined with food trucks. Emmy and I washed down ceviche de corvina with coconut milk straight from the coconut, listened to street musicians, marveled at the murals and local architecture. The smell - a combination of ocean spray and Cuban spices - was intoxicating. Emmy clung to my side, laughing, eyes sparkling. I was with the prettiest sweetest lady in the city.

We got back to the room after midnight. Emmy asked me to take the first shower, she said she needed an extra long one. I obliged her and was sitting in the living room in my robe when she ducked into the bathroom.

Still wound up from the evening I turned on the television, but found nothing of interest and decided to fetch my Kindle from the bedroom. When I passed the bathroom I heard a moan. I stopped, unsure of what it meant. It was followed by a second moan. It's meaning was clear. Emmy was masturbating.

I'm not sure why I was surprised. Still, I was startled, frozen in place. My mind's eye envisioned Emmy, water cascading down her body, a finger on her clitoris, two more thrust inside her. Then she moaned again, this time more intensely, interrupting my reverie. I scurried to my bedroom, grabbed the Kindle, returned to the living room, but couldn't focus. I was still thinking about what was going on in the bathroom, but the shower was too loud, the distance too great for me to hear anything more. Eventually the water was turned off and I heard Emmy's voice. She'd cracked open the door, a sliver of her face visible.

"Daddy, I forgot my nightie. Can you get it?"

"Yes honey, where is it?"

"I left it on my bed."

"Do you need a robe?"

"Yeah Daddy, I packed mine, but I forget which suitcase. Once you get my nightie I'll find it.

The lingerie was where she said it would be. A coral satin slip, I held it up to light. It was sheer. It was also small; it would barely reach her butt. I looked at her luggage. What else was in there? Emmy joked about spending all the money she made waitressing on clothes, which left me out of the loop on what she bought. Maybe I should pay more attention.

I walked back down the hall, knocked on the door, a hand emerged. I handed it the slip.

"Thank you Daddy."

"Where did you get that thing?"

"Why, do you like it Daddy?"

"It's tiny."

"Well Daddy, if it makes you feel better, you're the only guy who's seen it."

"Okay, lets keep it that way."

The door shut, reopening minutes later. At the sound I looked up from the book I was not reading. There was a mirror on the wall; I saw Emmy walk down the hallway to her room. I knew I shouldn't, but I watched. Her back was to me. The slip had molded itself to her still damp buttocks. I had seen her backside dozens of times, she preferred a thong when lounging by the pool, but there was something about this moment that was different. Was it the forbidden nature of my covert glance?

I could hear Emmy rummaging through her luggage before she reappeared wearing a pink full-sized dressing gown. Bare foot, she padded over and sat next to me.

"Daddy, this was the best Thanksgiving ever."

I lay an arm over her shoulder and pulled her close.

"It was great."

We talked briefly of the day. Emily leaned into me, fiddled with her hair, walked her fingers up and down my thigh, promised more fun tomorrow. I said I was ready for bed; she said she'd stay up awhile and text some friends. I kissed her on the cheek and headed for my bedroom. Emmy turned the television on. Good, I thought, ambient noise. I pulled out my penis. I did not, I swear I did not, think of Emmy. I thought about a saleswoman for Grainger who'd been an occasional guest in my bed. And yeah, her butt reminded me of Emmy's.
​

* * * *​

I woke the next morning, made a cup of coffee, and opened my computer to check on the office, responding to the most important messages. I did not know my barefoot daughter had entered the room until she leaned over me from behind, wrapped her arms around my chest, pressed her body to my shoulders, kissed the top of my head.

"Morning Daddy."

"Morning."

"Working?"

"Just checking on a few things. There's coffee in the kitchen."

"Thanks." She glanced at my mug. "Almost done Daddy? Need a refill?"

I looked at my cup. She was right. "Sure, thanks."

She walked around the couch and bent at the waist for my coffee cup. Her hair fell across her face. I looked up and saw her full breasts over the hem of her gown. I turned away, but not before being struck my how well-endowed my daughter was, even more so than her mother.

She stood up. "Let's see if I remember. Glass rinsed out, a little bit of skim milk, a half pack of fake sugar, the pink kind not the blue kind, shaken not stirred. Do I have it right?"

I laughed. "Yes honey."

When she returned from the kitchen she sat on the coffee table in front of me, closed my computer, pushed it to the side, and leaned forward, her hand on my knee.

"Daddy, I don't tell you often enough how much I appreciate how hard you've worked to take care of me."

I blushed. "Thank you."

She shifted her position, moving closer. Our knees touched. She stretched, her body swaying back and forth, as if getting used to being awake. She returned her gaze to my eyes.

"I was thinking we couldn't just party while we're here, so I scheduled a yoga class and some gym time this morning. The Ritz-Carlton has a deal with a local gym. They got a kick-boxing class I want to try. That way when a bunch of beautiful women attack you on the beach I can fend them off. As for my handsome Daddy, I was thinking some weights and the treadmill."

She ran her hand down my leg, squeezing my calf. Several strands of hair fell across her face. She pushed them behind her ear, then, absentmindedly, brought them back to her mouth, chewing on the ends. "Whatcha' think?"

I can't say hitting the gym was tops on my list, but Emmy was right, it was a good idea. I nodded my approval. My daughter smiled. She had perfect teeth and a beautiful smile.
​

* * * *​

I've never been big on yoga; I've attended only a handful of classes. Emmy, on the other hand, was devoted to it. While I struggled to assume a facsimile of each pose, I marveled at my daughter's grace and flexibility. When we were done she took hold of my hand and introduced the two of us to the teacher; they spent several minutes discussing yoga in a parlance with which I was unfamiliar. She then headed for the locker room to get ready for kick boxing. Despite my initial reluctance, I got in a strong kettle-bell work-out. I did the same on the treadmill, although I had to get one of the club's twenty-somethings to show me how to work the damn thing, its bells and whistles a mystery to me.

When done I wandered down the hall to the boxing ring. I stood to the side, outside Emmy's range of vision, not wanting to disturb her workout. She was standing, her feet at shoulder width, forearms in defensive position, gloved fists pointing at the ceiling. She jerked her right knee up, lowered it to the floor, then kicked again. This time her extended leg smashed into a heavy bag, forcing it back several feet. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that. Alternating legs, she repeated the process for about three minutes.

When the trainer blew his whistle Emmy, clearly exhausted, walked to the side of the ring and laid her hands, encased in oversized white boxing gloves, on the middle rope. Her tank top exposed her midriff. Her hair, pulled into a pony tail, was askew, draped over her shoulder. Her face was flushed; she was covered with a veneer of sweat. She was breathing heavily. She leaned her head back, her mouth, framed by her full lips, slightly ajar. I glanced to my right. Several men were staring at her. I couldn't blame them. She was stunning.

The trainer blew his whistle, time for the cool down. Emmy pulled off the gloves, picked up a jump rope, and effortlessly completed the task. I thought about her as a child, jump roping with friends, always claiming to be the best on the block.

When the class was dismissed I waved. Emmy walked over, wrapped her arm around my waist, slid her slick body against mine, kissed my cheek. Her breasts, still heaving as she caught her breath, were pressed to my side. Guys looked at her; desire on their countenances. Guys looked at me, admiration, or was it jealously, in their eyes. I may have been her father, but a part of me liked this image: a still-in-shape older man and his beautiful young girlfriend.

"How long you been watching?" she asked.

"About ten minutes."

"How'd I do?"

"You're unreal, a combination of grace and strength."

She took my hands in hers and stepped back, the look on her face one of genuine pleasure. "Thank you Daddy." She squeezed my arm. "How 'bout you Daddy, you have a good work-out."

"Sure did."

We headed back to the gym. "Daddy, instead of showering here, let's do it in the hotel. I checked the stalls, they're kinda yucky. We can sneak in the back door; that way we won't make spectacles of ourselves."

I thought about my sweaty daughter walking through the hotel's lobby in that outfit. No guy would object. Still, I saw her point.

"Sure honey. I'll get my stuff."

I'd been chatting with the front desk clerk for about twenty minutes when Emmy arrived, gym bag slung over her shoulder. She'd fixed herself up: applied a bit of make-up, reworked her pony tail, and was wearing a light green jacket with the gym's logo on it. When she saw me her face lit up in a wide bright smile. The girl had a way of making you feel special. She declined my offer to carry her bag, locked her hand in mine, and we walked back to the hotel.
​

* * * *​

After my shower I put on my robe and, having no idea what she had planned, headed towards my daughter's room. "Emmy, what are we doing today? What should I wear?"

Emmy yelled, "I laid your clothes out on your bed Daddy," just as I came around the corner. Her back to the half-open door, Emmy was leaning over her bed, arranging a few things. She was naked. I stopped and caught my breath. I was staring at her ass. While Emmy was thin, somehow she still managed a bit of heft on her rump. The hours she spent in the gym were also evident; her butt floated in the air, immune to gravity. A bit oval, more apple shaped than round, weight nicely centered. Her skin was flawless.

My daughter started to turn. I stepped back. I had just checked out my child's behind.

"Daddy, is that you?"

"Yes pumpkin. I didn't realize that you were..." I stopped. Should I confess that I'd just seen my daughter au natural?

"I'm sorry Daddy. I should have closed the door," and then, after a pause, "Did you like what you saw?"

"Its hard for me to accept you're all grown up."

I was still only a few feet from the door, her image pulsated in my brain. I couldn't flee down the hall, she was talking to me. Then her head snaked around the door frame.

"Daddy, even when I'm an all grown up, I'll be your little girl."

An arm emerged. She blew me a kiss. "Promise me Daddy, promise me I'll always be your best girl."

I was staring at her face, imagining her nude body. I said nothing; it must have been obvious my thoughts were scattered. Emmy raised an eyebrow, waiting for my response.

"Of course Emmy, you'll always be my best girl."

Again, her full lips parted and she smiled, not a wide grin, but a sweet subtle one, one of happy acceptance. She reached out, took hold of two of my fingers, and pulled me towards her. Her hand went to the side of my head, cupped my face, drew it to hers. Her thick lips met mine and she kissed me, enveloping my lips in hers. It lasted less than a heartbeat. It seemed much longer.

She pulled back. "Thank you Daddy, that's all I've ever wanted to be, your best girl." Her head disappeared. She shut the door. I stood there. There was a definite throbbing in my groin.

I took a deep breath, went to my room, dressed, returned to the living room, checked e-mails. About forty-five minutes later Emmy walked in, announcing her presence with a "Ta-da!"

She was wearing a tiny pair of denim shorts, Dr. Martens leather boots, and a backless halter top held on by spaghetti straps. Funky round sun glasses were tucked in her cleavage and she sported a metal bracelet and a few rings. It was a hippy happy look, but a kind that only a beautiful woman confident of her appeal could wear. That was Emmy.

"Whatta ya think Daddy-O?"

"I think I might need to hire you a bodyguard."

She laughed, walked up to me, ran her hand down my biceps. "I was hoping my handsome Daddy would take that job."

I smiled; she continued. "Today's a big day for street festivals in Miami. I've scoped out some, but best I can figure spontaneity is key. So I decided to dress comfortably."

And so we hit the streets. I couldn't remember having more fun. We watched the crowning of a beauty queen, enjoyed the work of local artisans, wolfed down Cuban fare from omnipresent food trucks, and more than anything else, danced. No matter what was played - Latin Jazz, Funk, Caribbean, Reggae, Salsa, Merengue, Bachata, Balada - the rhythm would inhabit my daughter's body and she'd move as if born to it. Wherever we went Emmy made friends; she mixed with the musicians, the vendors, the sponsors, strangers from the crowd, laughing and dancing with all of them, but always reserving the final few numbers for me. At first I tried to refrain - afraid of looking like an old fool - but I always gave in and, as time went by, and aided by some Bacardi, I relaxed, happily letting her drag me into the crowd. I had, in my youth, been a good dancer - it was something Emmy's mother and I loved to do. I found I could still cut a rug.

For the evening's finale, a concert by Skakira, the crowd migrated to the beach. Skakira danced and sang and Emmy was lost in the music; her body one with the sound. I may have been Emmy's father, but there was no mistaking the unalloyed sexuality of either woman. And Emmy, who had freely danced with others throughout the day, insisted that when it came to Shakira, only Daddy would do.

We got back to the hotel after midnight. It was now my daughter's birthday. I asked her to wait on the balcony. Although she'd said the only thing she wanted for her birthday was the trip, I had noticed her admiring a friend's woven braided gold necklace. When I joined her on the balcony she could tell by the gleam in my eye something was up.

"What is it?"

"Turn around, I want to put it on you."

She turned, facing the harbor and downtown. I kissed the back of her head, said happy birthday, and slipped it around her neck. She looked down, ran it through her fingers, turned, smiled, blushed slightly.

"Daddy, thank you, its so beautiful. You didn't need to, all my life you've done so much for me. I told you all I wanted for my birthday was your company."

"I remember sweetheart, but you only turn eighteen once. And you make it look beautiful."

My daughter stood on her toes and kissed my lips, then turned in my arms, her back to me. She looked out over the city. When she shivered I wrapped my arms tighter around her. She leaned into me.

"You have fun today, Daddy?"

"Yes Emmy, I can't remember enjoying myself more."

She placed her hands on mine and rolled her shoulders, snuggling against me. "I'm glad Daddy, I want this to be the best vacation ever."

"Well, sweetheart, you succeeded. I'm lucky to have a girl like you."

Again she turned in my arms. Facing me, she touched her necklace, kissed my cheek, then whispered in my ear. "I'm the lucky one Daddy. No girl's ever had a Daddy as handsome and wonderful and kind and caring as you." She lay her head on my shoulder. "I loved dancing with you today. Could we dance again, right now?"

We swayed together, holding each other tight, moving on the balcony, listening to the sound of the night. When done Emmy kissed me, her thick lips dragging over mine. We walked back inside holding hands.

"You want to take a shower Daddy?"

"No honey. I think I'll lay down and pass out."

She made a face, the kind that says men can be so gross, and kissed me again. I went to my bedroom, stripped, listened to my daughter's light step in the hallway, heard the shower turn on, imagined her stepping inside, imagined her masturbating, took my erection in my hand. As I came I heard a ping on my phone. It was a selfie of Emmy blowing me a kiss. The message was simple: "Thanks for a wonderful day. I love my Daddy."​