Incest/Taboo Ricardo and Juliana

When reading the stories submitted to the April Fool's Day contest it struck me that I'd never entered a Literotica contest. This, my entry to the National Nude Day contest is the result. I hope you enjoy, and would appreciate your support.

As always, all story characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.
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* * * * *​

The gym's Stair Master beeped; I'd been at it for fifteen minutes; I re-set it for five more. Bullshit to the contrary, looks mattered in my profession and while I'd kept the same hourglass figure I'd had in college — 6 dress size, 36-24-36, "D" cups, 5 feet 3½ inches tall, 114 pounds — now that I'd passed thirty-five I had to work a lot harder to do it.

Trying to ignore the burn in my butt, I zoned out, returning to the question I'd been contemplating. I'd soon be leaving for the Costa Rican resort hosting my employer's annual Best of the Best retreat. I looked forward to the trip: by all reports the resort was beautiful and as my division's top salesperson (as I'd been four of the last six years) I'd receive the usual accouterments, first class plane tickets, a suite, and a place of honor at the awards banquet.

My problem: who to bring? I was between boyfriends. I had casual arrangements with a few guys and gals, people I could call to escort me to an event or for a roll in the hay when needed. However, the best of the men were married and the rest, well if I wanted to spend a week with them at a tropical resort they'd already be my boyfriend. As to the ladies, no, my co-workers weren't ready for that. I could invite a customer, but that might give him the wrong idea and piss off whomever I didn't ask. If I went alone I'd look like a loser and, more importantly, the Me-Too movement hadn't reached my employer. Despite recent promises to reform The Davenport Group remained as much frat house as business. Harvey Weinstein would fit right in; lewd comments were the norm (hint to the guys: I know you think my full fat lips give me a "blow job mouth," you don't need to remind me). I already had enough trouble keeping my fellow employees' hands off me. It would be impossible if I was single at an alcohol-infused foreign resort.

That's when I noticed two of the women trainers staring; my son, doing bench presses, on the other end. I wasn't surprised or offended, women, including my female friends, were always checking out my boy and he was no virgin. And that's when I had my epiphany. Randall and I were close, it would be fun hanging with him, and the guys would not cross the line in the presence of my son, the all-district outside linebacker.

I reviewed past retreats in my mind. Guys had brought their daughters and the division boss had promised himself this would be the year he'd win the company softball tournament. Now he'd have a ringer.

I'd have to talk Randall into it; I was sure he and his several girlfriends were looking forward to Mom being out of town.
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* * * * *​

After adding protein powder I handed Randall his smoothie while he reviewed the resort's web-site, then leaning on his shoulder said, "So what do you think?"

"It's beautiful and the countryside's magnificent, natural hot springs, saunas, massages, first rate gym. I can stay in training for football and," alluding to my Hispanic ancestry -- I have brown hair, dark skin, and deep brown eyes -- "you'll fit right in, it's almost perfect."

"Almost?"

Scrolling down to a notice that the area was suffering a drought he said."Well, there's the threat of dehydration, plus I'd have to cancel innumerable parties and orgies. You'll owe me big time, but shucks, anything for my Mom."
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* * * * *​

Wearing sunglasses I covertly watched the buxom blonde stewardess eye my son, turn to the slender black stewardess beside her, whisper something, then check the passenger manifest. My suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when the blonde, working her way up the aisle taking drink orders, said, "Mr. and Ms. Toro, what can I get you?"

She'd addressed no other passenger by name. Determining from the manifest that Randall and I had the same last name she was trying to figure out whether the sexy young man sitting next to me was my husband, or was available.

I could fuck with her, but if my son had a shot at this hottie, why would I get in the way?

Counting the buttons on her shirt I said, "I'd like some sparkling water, with lime, what would you like son?"

She returned, an additional button undone, leaned forward to hand us our drinks, providing Randall (and I) a gander at her impressive cleavage, then, light blue eyes flashing, introduced herself as Shae and her fellow stewardess as Jasmyn.

During the rest of the flight the four of us chatted. Liking both women, knowing my son was likely to get lucky, I made clear I had no objection. When they offered to let Randall and I ride with them on the airline's shuttle to the resort, where they and the crew regularly stayed, we gladly accepted. Once there they introduced us to several members of the staff, including Carlos the handsome business manager, and invited us to dinner. While I couldn't, dinner was a mandatory employee-only event, I did join the pilot, Shae, Jasmyn, and my son for a pre-dinner cocktail.

Randall didn't make it back to the suite that night.
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* * * * *​

It was day three and I was sitting with the division chief who stood and cheered when a sleek young man radiating strength and grace made an effortless over-the-shoulder catch of a foul pop-up, the final out of a six to three win in the finals of the company softball tournament. At least on this day I was treasured more for my progeny than my sales records. The chief invited us to an early dinner -- there was another sales talk/pep-rally scheduled that evening -- and in a coup for me John Davenport, the company president, joined us for coffee. The early dinner was perfect for Randall. He had a late date with a comely blonde stewardess.
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* * * * *​

A "Do Not Disturb" sign hung on the doorknob, a signal not that I shouldn't come in -- it was my suite -- but that I should be careful. I opened the door, stepped inside. My son's bedroom door was closed; I heard muffled voices inside.

There was a note on my pillow: "The resort was overbooked, Jasmyn and Shae had to share a room, so I invited her back here. Had fun meeting the boss."

I checked messages, undressed, heard moans from my roommate and his date. I climbed in the shower, they got louder, and fingers on my sex I brought myself off.

In bed I read awhile, heard them start up again, turned off my light, reached between my legs.
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* * * * *​

I smelled the coffee, smelled real good, looked at my clock. Considering how late they'd been up last night I figured they'd sleep in. Shae must have an early flight. I put on a robe.

In the kitchenette I found my son in shorts and tee-shirt and Shae looking radiant -- and after what I heard last night she certainly should -- in leotards. I could see why my son had grabbed a piece of that; I wouldn't mind a piece myself.

Pouring myself a cup of coffee I said, "You two are heading for the gym early."

Shae said, "I gotta be at the airport in a couple of hours so we're meeting Jasmyn for an early work-out. Wanna join us?"

"Love to, I'll change and catch up with you."
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* * * * *​

I climbed on the Stair Master next to Shae's, turned it on, pleased that although I had a dozen years on her I worked out at a higher setting.

"Your son tells me it's barely been a vacation for you, that you're at one event after another."

"They keep us busy, but today's the free day, supposed to be for families, then tomorrow more meetings, the awards banquet, we fly out the next morning.

"Good, Jasmyn and I are on that flight. What you two doing today?"

"I'm not sure. Randall's been more than patient hanging with The Davenport Group-dudes all week. I was thinking some place we won't run into anyone from the company. Got any ideas?"

Shae checked the clock and said, "No, but Carlos will be here right at 7:30, always is. He knows everything that goes on around here. We can ask him."

And, despite the language barrier, I should have listened to my grandparents and parents and learned my native tongue, and with a little help from a passing stranger, we did. He suggested a private beach ten miles from the resort. It's owner was the majority owner of the resort. Carlos said he'd clear it with him.
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* * * * *​

We drove north, beach to our left, jungle to our right, until coming out of a long gentle turn we saw a house. On the ocean, made of wood, long and low, it effortlessly merged with the land and scenery. As Randall drove by I kept my eyes on it and realized it was larger than I'd first thought with several balconies overlooking the ocean and an elegantly gardened patio on the land side.

As we continued the ocean disappeared behind a series of large rolling sand dunes. Checking the odometer Randall said, "It's about a mile from here," then slowed when I pointed to a wooden sign in an open area suitable for parking.

While Randall popped open the trunk I walked to the sign. It said "Privado," across the top with several enumerated sentences below. Figuring they were the rules, I took off my sunglasses and tried to engage my cell phone's translation feature, but, as you'd expect, it did not work out here.

Randall came up behind me carrying two chairs, saw me futilely playing with my phone, and said, "Well, I'm guessing 'Privado' is Private, as for the rest of it, who knows."

"I suggested you take Spanish."

He shrugged his shoulders and said, "You and grandpa both."

I grabbed the bag with our stuff from the back seat and after a quarter mile walk through a cut between two dunes stopped dead in my tracks.

My son spoke first. "It's beautiful."

The water was dark blue and the sand, unlike any I'd seen before, was dark, almost black, the result I'd learn of being composed of magma from the nearby and thankfully extinct volcanos.

Then, to punctuate the moment, two dolphins lept from the water in a series of long graceful arcs about 100 feet from the shore.

I peeled off my clothes to reveal a minimal white bikini, freed from the leering eyes of co-workers I was finally going to get some sun. My son, in swim trucks, took off his shirt. As he did I thought about Shae. Despite the age difference I understood what she saw in him: gorgeous, well-built, and over the past week he'd handled himself with preternatural maturity. Few young man would do so well on a business trip with mom.

I applied lotion to my body, did Randall's back, then unfurled my blanket and laid down so Randall could do mine.
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* * * * *​

I wasn't sure how long it'd been, I was dozing in and out, when Randall said, "Are those horses?"

I lowered my sunglasses, put my hand over my brow to ward off the glare, and said, "I think so."

We stood as two people, a man and a woman, approached riding horses.

And just as I was about to say it, Randall did.

"Mom, they're naked, and I don't mean the horses."

They stopped about thirty feet away, and the man, who looked to be in his fifties, said in perfect English inflected with a rather sexy Spanish accent, "My name is Ricardo, this is my daughter Juliana, are you the guests of the resort, the ones Carlos mentioned, with The Davenport Group?"

Relieved, for I'd been wondering who they were, I said, "Yes, my name is Kara, this is my son Randall."

They dismounted, walked towards us.

The resemblance was striking. Both had brown hair, his short and speckled with becoming spots of gray, hers wavy and hanging to the middle of her back. Both had sultry brown eyes, triangular faces, and were of average height, he about five feet ten inches tall, she maybe three inches shorter, both were slender with muscled builds. I figured her for 34-23-35, two dress size; as to him I wasn't sure. I'm better at estimating women.

We shook hands and he said, "Welcome. I hope you're enjoying the beach."

I said, "Very much, it's beautiful."

If they weren't going to mention they were naked, I sure wasn't.

"Thank you, my family has owned it for some generations. Many have wanted to buy it, but we refuse all offers. We want to maintain it, not develop it, at first because it is lovely, now also for the dunes."

My son said, "Why the dunes?"

Juliana said, "The Co-Cos Island Finch, an endangered species, nests here, in the grass tufts on the dunes. Our guests are free to explore the dunes, the views there can be lovely, but they should not touch the grasses. It says so on the sign by which you parked but Carlos said you do not speak Spanish and he was unsure, when he spoke to you of it, if you understood."

I said, "No we didn't, it was an impromptu translation, we appreciate your going to the trouble to ride up here to let us know."

Juliana said, "It is no trouble, when I am home Papa and I ride every chance we get. I'm a graduate student in biology, that is how we know of The Davenport Group. I work in a laboratory with Gema, Mr. Davenport's wife. Checking on the finches is among my passions."

Randall said, "Are there any other rules we should know?"

Juliana said, "What is expected. No fishing, no fires, no feeding the wild life, take nothing from the beach, leave nothing behind. You are welcome to take as many photographs as you wish."

Ricardo said, "You forgot one Juliana, it is a nude beach."

Juliana said, "Papa, we can't ask them to do that. It is clear they did not understand and came all this way."

Before anyone could respond Randall said, "Not a problem," pulled his swim trucks over his hips.

Everyone was looking at me.

Well, I didn't want to seem the prude, was proud of my body, was not going to run into anyone I knew, and it just might be fun.

I said, "What the heck, this bikini doesn't hide much anyway," and took it off.
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* * * * *​

Mounting their horses the two of them rode up the beach. My son, his back to me, applied lotion to newly uncovered areas. I did the same, then lay on the blanket. When Randall took his seat he said, "You have a nice tush Mom."

"So do you son."

He said, "Touche. They were interesting, she's gorgeous."

"So is he."

I closed my eyes, dozed off.
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* * * * *​

I woke up thirsty.

"Honey, pass me a bottle of water."

Sitting up to drink I exposed my chest to my son. I'd raised him right, he looked but didn't stare, and when I handed him the empty bottle he said, "Mom, I'd like to check out these finches, want to walk the dunes with me?"

Saying, "Sounds like fun," I took hold of his hand and, as he helped me up, saw what til then I'd studiously avoided.

He was bigger than his father, who wasn't bad.
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* * * * *​

Atop the dune we saw the grasses Juliana talked about. Each tuft was slightly taller than me, eighteen inches to two feet across, and up close you saw why they provided a safe nesting place. They were was small fortresses. The individual blades were about two inches wide, thick and rigid, packed densely together, and covered with small barbs. Still, somehow small mottled birds flew into and out of the tops.

Deciding to explore we walked along the ridge of dunes. Juliana had been right. The view of the ocean and, when we looked landside, the fecund jungle, was spectacular. We also occasionally saw the house we'd driven by; it had to be theirs, it was the only structure close enough to have ridden horses from.
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* * * * *​

We were walking up the crest of a dune, my attention on a hawk circling over the ocean, when Randall said, "Did you hear that?"

I didn't, but when he crouched I did the same and when his head reached the top of the ridge (he got there first -- he had several inches on me) he whispered, "Get on the sand," and dropped to the ground. I, thinking he'd spotted some exotic wildlife, did the same, then peered over the ridge.

Lying on his back on a blanket was Ricardo. His daughter, on all fours, was between his legs facing away from him, rocking back as his penis slid into her sex.

His hand was between her legs, playing with her clit.

They were fucking.

Then I heard it.

"Oh Papa, oh Papa, oh, ohhh, ohhhhhhh."

Turning to my son I whispered, "We should get out of here," but, voice intense, he said, "Look."

I did; Juliana had moved a hand to her breast and was pulling on a nipple.

"Oh Papa, oh Papa."

I know when someone is about to come; these two were about to come. Ricardo's jaw locked, the muscles of his arms tightened, and when he moved his hand away from his daughter's sex Juliana immediately replaced it with her own. With a guttural moan he pushed into her, his body spasmed, he groaned again, and came, spilling his seed into his daughter's sex. His orgasm triggered hers and babbling in Spanish, her tanned skin flushed, she shook, writhed, convulsed, then came again before slumping forward, her lower body on the blanket, her upper body resting on the warm soft sand, a look of pure bliss on her lovely face.

I looked at Ricardo. His dick glistened in the sun; he had nice dick.

My son said, "Let's go."

We slid down the ridge, stood when we thought it safe.

And yeah, I looked. My son was hard as steel. I said, "We better get off these dunes and into the water, we need to cool that thing down."

Looking at my breasts Randall said, "I'm not the only one who needs cooling off."

Yeah, my breasts were swollen, my nipples hard.
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* * * * *​

I intended a quick dip, but found I liked the ocean on my naked form. I felt alert, closer to the experience, as if not an observer but part of the natural world. My son responded the same way and we played in the water, splashing each other, laughing, before heading down the shoreline. There were more people on the beach, all nude, and contrary to my expectation I didn't feel self-conscious, but relaxed, the ocean breeze wafting over my skin, the sun warming my body, focusing not on how people looked, but on the moment.

We'd just spotted our chairs when we heard the neigh of horses, saw Ricardo and Juliana approaching. Their bodies were wet; they'd also taken a dip in the ocean and washed away the evidence of their liaison. Signaling us to stop they dismounted and walked their horses to us. They had the happy eyes and silly grins of people who'd just had great sex.

And with the memory of that playing in my head my breasts and sex swelled. Were they having the same effect on Randall? Was he getting hard?

Composing myself, I stroked the forehead of Ricardo's horse, then locked my eyes on his, not trusting my reaction if I saw his splendid physique and not wanting to provide him an excuse to scan the way my body was responding to his presence.

Randall said, "How were the finches?"

Juliana, I'd not earlier noted the smattering on freckles on her nose and cheeks, said, "Excellent, several new colonies have nested."

Randall, standing slightly behind me, placed his hand on my shoulder and said, "Mom and I explored the dunes and saw the nests. They're little castles."

I saw (or imagined I saw) something flash in Juliana's eye as she said, "Yes, they provide protection from both the weather and predators."

Ricardo said, "My daughter has reminded me what a bad host I am. We are having a party at my home tonight, it was the last building before the beach. Dress is informal, it starts at 6:00. I hope you can come."

Fascinated by these two and their home I looked to my son, saw yes on his face, and said, "We did see your house on the way here, it's lovely. Happily, tonight's the non-event evening of my meeting so I'm free. We'd love to come."

Ricardo leaned in, kissed my cheek; Juliana kissed Randall's, then mine. When her small breasts pressed into my large ones I wondered: could she feel the heat, feel my hard nipples?

Watching them ride down the beach I said, "What do you think?"

"Ricardo and Juliana, or the finches?"

"Not that the finches weren't great, but Ricardo and Juliana."

"They're adults, making their own choices, causing no harm, it's their business."

I looked down, he was hardening. My breasts were swelling.

"Y'know, we're supposed to be repulsed, not aroused."
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* * * * *​

What to wear, what to wear? Fascinated by Ricardo and strongly attracted to him, I wanted to make an impression, but nothing to obvious. After all, he'd seen me naked, he already knew my charms. I selected a colorful sundress; the right compromise of dressy and modest, not matronly, not desperate.

Heels, no heels? Heels would be nice, but I'd be navigating unfamiliar and possibly wet terrain. I could see myself tripping, not the impression I wanted to make. I put on two inch flats, secure to walk on and they'd still give my ass a boost.

Because the drought would make my shower unfortunately short, replaying Ricardo and Juliana in my mind I fingered my clit, jumped in, brought myself off, taking the edge off.
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* * * * *​

With an attendant's help we found a place to park in the sea of cars. Assured by the bartender it was the local specialty I ordered a fruit punch, choose from the unfamiliar and, it turned out, delicious array of food spread over several tables, then moved to the side, listening to the Mariachi band and watching the sun descend over the ocean.

"Kara, Randall, I'm so glad you came."

It was Ricardo in a turtle neck, black jacket, and black pants, and Juliana in a classic short black dress. They looked great.

I said, "Thank you for inviting us. The food is delicious and this," gesturing to my drink, for I couldn't recall what the bartender had called it, "is wonderful."

"I'm glad you liked it. It's a fruit based punch, a family recipe."

Randall said, "We were just watching the sun. The sunsets here must be amazing."

Gesturing to the horizon Juliana said, "Yes, and it should be especially spectacular tonight. There is a storm over the ocean, the clouds are thicker, more varied, more substantial than usual."

I said, "I hope the storm will not be a problem for the party."

Ricardo said, "It's not supposed to arrive until tomorrow evening, but it has unexpectedly picked up strength, speed. We are monitoring it closely. And Juliana is correct, the sunset should be breathtaking."

Reaching for Randall's hand Juliana said, "It is best viewed from one of our balconies. Would you like to see?"

"Very much."

Ricardo turned to me and said, "And you my dear?"

"Yes."

Ricardo said, "Why don't you two go ahead. There are a few things I need to check," then, holding out his arm said, "Kara, would you join me?"

I slipped my arm into his and we moved through the crowd, he talking to the people in charge of the food and music, then Carlos approached looking concerned. From what I could make out they discussed the weather.

Several minutes later we entered the house, stopping in an exquisite living room flooded with natural light and furnished with objects de art and wood furniture that were themselves works of art. The walls were adorned with abstract paintings which blended into each other, providing the room a unity that belied its substantial size.

Oddly, what struck me most strongly were the cabinets, made from a lustrous wood I did not recognize. Ricardo saw me staring at them.

"You like the cabinets?"

"Very much, I've never seen anything quite like them."

"You have a keen eye. They're made from bing-bang-go wood, a tree confined to equatorial Africa, you rarely see it in this part of the world. Juliana introduced me to it."

"You can't help but notice, they're dazzling."

We walked through the rest of the impressive house, passed through what appeared to be a guest bedroom onto what was more porch than balcony. I leaned over the wooden railing, gazed at the Pacific Ocean.

"Where are the kids?"

"I suppose on another balcony, I think they want their privacy."

I'm sure they did. I wanted mine.
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* * * * *​

We talked, nothing earth-shattering, my job, his business, our children -- Juliana would soon complete a fellowship at the research laboratory where Gema Parisi, John Davenport's recent bride, was a researcher -- my impression of his country, his of mine. Still, his questions and comments revealed both a powerful intelligence and that he listened to me. I liked that. Then it was time for the sunset. It was sensational, filled the sky, and we were quiet, for there was nothing we could add, and I thought this was a man who he knew how to talk and how not to talk and when a cold breeze came out of nowhere he, without words, draped his jacket over my shoulders and I said. "Thank you," and slipped my hand into his.

When the sun disappeared I said, "Thank you, that was wonderful."

"I'm glad we saw it together."

His phone buzzed. He looked at it, his brow screwing up for a passing moment.

"Is everything okay? Do we need to get back to the party?"

Laying the phone on a small table he said. "No, an update on the storm. It is being handled, we have time," then put his hand on my hip, and our mouths came together, our lips moved on each other, our tongues played.

I moved my body into his, wondered whether he'd think me to forward.

What kind of question was that? This man fucked his daughter.

Was Randall doing so right now? The mutual attraction between him and Juliana had been palpable; Ricardo had seemed delighted by it

Convention was not an issue here; neither was jealously or exclusivity.

I wanted this man; we didn't have a lot of time

I reached for his penis, felt it though his pants, and said, "I've heard we American girls can be easy."

Smiling, he said, "I've heard the same."

I said, "Do we have time?"

"We'll make time."

I said, "Good," lay his jacket aside, unzipped his pants, reached inside, wrapped my hands around a sizable dick, squeezed, said, "Ricardo, loosen your belt."

He did, then undid the button of his pants. I let go, reluctantly, and dropping to my knees untied his leather shoes, pulled his pants off his legs, returned to his dick, pumped and licked it, dragged my tongue over, up, and around the bulbous head of his impressive instrument, ran my hot soft warm tongue up and down its length, and, opening my jaw wide, slipped my mouth over him. After taking a moment to adjust -- he was bigger than any of my current lovers -- I slid my lips on the ridge where shaft and head meet, then worked my way down the throbbing rock-hard shaft, slathering it with my tongue, stopping when he reached the back of my mouth, and wrapped my fingers around the base. There were several inches to go, he was big. I thought about Randall's erection, these boys were in the same ball park, at least Juliana wouldn't be shocked.

I could deep-throat him, but a girl should leave something for the second date.

Still, I wouldn't mind if this man knew I had more to offer.

Re-aligning my head, I pushed, another inch slid inside my mouth, and the uncircumcised head sat at the entrance of my throat. I swallowed, Ricardo's body jerking at the unearthly suction, then reached under my dress, pulled my soaked panties down my thighs, rubbed my hard clit, moaned into the cock filling my face.

Men, in my experience, love that visual, love that sound.

I love it myself.

Still frigging my clit I licked his shaft, then, lips pressed tightly to him, slid halfway up, moved back down. On my next trip I reached the top and, holding the crown in my mouth, slathered it with my tongue before again moving down his shaft.

"My dear, incredible."

I bobbed my head, sliding my hot wet mouth up and down his impressive instrument, my fingers relentless on my clit. The blistering flame born in my sex, burned, spread, and I stiffened, grabbed the base of his dick to steady myself, moaned, "Mmmppppppfffffffffffffffff," and, my body trembling, an orgasm, short, sweet, and intense, rampaged through my body.

Wanting more I let him slip from my mouth with an audible pop, his dick, slick with saliva, slapped back against his stomach, and I took Ricardo's hand and stood. My panties slid down my legs.

He said, "Kara, you're amazing," kissed me.

I said, "I get better," and stepped out of my panties.

While he had several inches on me, taking advantage of the deck's slope, designed to ensure drainage, and glad I'd chosen the shoes I did, I positioned him with his back to the railing, stood before him, kissed his mouth, moved his dick under my dress, took a deep breath -- I'd never realized how sexy ocean air smells -- said, "I hope your guests won't mind if I borrow you a little longer," pressed his cock to my sex. My labial lips wrapping around his cock, I moved up and down, sliding them on the underside of his shaft. He reached for my hips, held me to him.

"Feels nice," I purred.

His voice husky, "Yes."

I moved onto my toes and lifted a leg. Ricardo held it, bringing our bodies closer together, and I dragged the bulbous head of his dick on my slit, soaking it in pussy juice, placed it on the opening of my sex and, eyes hooded with lust, said, "Ready?"

"Yes."

Pushing down, I purred as his large cock-head journeyed down my tunnel, stretching my sweet supple pussy.

When half of him was inside I stopped, said, "Feels so good," and we kissed, our tongues playing like long lost friends. It had been awhile since I'd had one this big and I flexed my pussy, letting my body adjust, then pushed down, moving the rest inside, Ricardo moaning, "Kara, oh sweet Kara," as tight wet pussy enveloped his large throbbing cock.

We started, me sliding up and down him, he thrusting into me, at first small strokes but, as we came to understand the way the other moved and breathed, the length and strength of our thrusts increased until all but the head of his cock slipped out of me before all of him slipped back inside. I squeezed his dick -- my time in the gym paid off -- and he jerked against me, mashing my clit with his pubic bone.

"Oh Ricardo."

We fucked in long deep strokes; he pulled me tight, flattened my breasts on his chest.

"Kara, Kara, uunnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

A younger man, driven by his own desire, would already be pounding me, but prescient in his ability to discern what I liked, Ricardo focused on my most sensitive spots. I threw my head back, my shoulder-blade length hair fanning behind me, and twisted and rotated my hips, moving him around inside me.

We fucked and fucked. I rippled the muscles of my sex, cradled and rolled his balls, felt them tighten, retreat into his body, said, "Ricardo, come, come inside me."

Ricardo dug his fingers into my butt and leg, his jaw locked, he started speaking Spanish, a groan erupted deep in his solar plexus, he got warmer and bigger inside me. Twisting my hips I pushed down, he thrust up, and then he detonated, filling me with thick warm jizz. His jism coating the walls of my sex, he came again, firing more delicious man-seed inside me.

And with that the pleasure forged in my clit mushroomed, raced through my body, and quivering and shaking I came. Inside my head I saw colors -- merging flowing glowing -- that rivaled the dazzling sunset I'd just witnessed. My knees buckled and I slumped into Ricardo, squeezed my sex, forced a final few drops of cum from him. Ocean air filled my nostrils and ocean breeze caressed my skin and the waves of pleasure washing through me left me breathless and quivering. We kissed; his mouth and tongue were wonderful.
​

* * * * *​

In a small guest bathroom I fixed my hair and make-up, considered disposing of my panties, but silk and beautiful they were among my favorites. After carefully wrapping them in a paper towel I tucked them in my small purse, then emerged to find Ricardo -- he cleaned up well -- as dashing as ever. I moved into his arms.

Then his phone wailed.

I didn't know they got that loud, and why did his work when mine didn't?

He looked at it, the flash of concern on his face unmistakable.

"What is it?"

"I'm sorry my dear, the storm. There is nothing for you to worry about, you and Randall will be fine, but I'm afraid our evening may be interrupted. Let me walk you outside."

I folded my arm into his, but in contrast to our leisurely stroll through the house, his steps were now quick and sharp.

Carlos and several others were waiting for him. They talked rapidly and, unable to follow the conversation, I looked around. The band kept playing but his guests, noticing their host's sudden pre-occupation, stopped dancing.

That was when Juliana arrived, without my son.

"Where's Randall?"

"We borrowed him Ms. Toro. The storm has strengthened, turned our way. There are relief agencies in the United States we need to contact. Their executives speak Spanish, but their staffs speak only English. We asked Randall to help us navigate our way through the bureaucracies."

As she finished talking the knot of people around Ricardo dispersed, presumably off on their assigned missions, and he turned to us, acknowledged his daughter, and said to me, "Kara, I'm sorry, I was looking forward to spending time with you, introducing you to my friends, but there are things I must attend to."

Juliana who, like me, had noted the crowd's unease, said, "Papa, our guests are worried. We need to calm them."

Scanning the assemblage he said, "Juliana you are right. I should have met Carlos inside. We should have definitive information in thirty minutes, until then would you attend to our guests."

Taking my hand in hers Juliana walked to the stage, the crowd's eyes following us, signaled the band to stop playing, then said in Spanish and, for my benefit, English, "Friends, we apologize for the disturbance. We are soon to receive an update on the storm. Papa will have the information before anyone else and will share it with you, you will be the first to know what is happening. There is no immediate danger so, until then, I suggest we dance."

Turning to the band leader she said, "El Son De La Negrab, es mi favorito," then said to me, "Let's dance. Little distracts people like beautiful women dancing."

And dance we did. Now I'm a good dancer, but Juliana was transcendent, graceful, spirited, and oozing sex. The crowd quickly stopped worrying about the storm, I think most forgot there was a storm, and danced. I, as intoxicated by Juliana as everyone else, cut loose, letting the memory of making love to her father flow through my body, matching her sexy moves with my own. At the end of the fourth song, wiping perspiration from her forehead, Juliana said, "I think our guests are enjoying themselves, I could use water and a rest. It may be a long night."

With bottles of water I followed Juliana to a quiet edge of the patio, secluded from the crowd, and we sat. She took my hand in hers and said, "There is something I want you to know, something I told Randall."

"What is it?"

"Earlier today, on the dunes, I saw you two watching Papa and I."

"I'm sorry, we didn't mean to spy."

"There is no need to apologize, you did nothing wrong, it is a risk you take when you make love outdoors, under the sky. I'm afraid I'm something of an exhibitionist, I like the nude beach, like it when I'm seen or might be seen, love sex that is dangerous. When I saw you two, it made it more intense for me."

"And your father, what did he think?"

"I did not tell him. He is more old-fashioned than I, but he accommodates his daughter."

There were, of course, other questions I wanted to ask: how long have you two been lovers, how did it come to be, and, more personally, what did it mean for me and her profoundly attractive father, but they were none of my business. Well maybe a little, after all I'd just made love to her father and she, I was sure, with my son.

Looking into my eyes, tilting her head to the side, she said, "You wish to know how it happened?"

Apparently I didn't have quite the poker face I'd imagined. With an edge of guilt in my voice I said, "Yes."

"Growing up I knew my father was brilliant and handsome and gracious and charming. Even if I hadn't noticed my girlfriends endlessly reminded me. But there was something else about him, an energy, almost tangible. I didn't have a name for it.

"I went away for college and my second year took a class with a distinguished professor of biology. When it was over we began our affair. We were together two years. He was decades older than I and like Papa handsome, brilliant, a gentlemen of the old school. My girlfriends teased me, said I had a daddy-thing. They didn't mean it, they were, as you Americans say, ribbing me with empty words, but they were right. For I compared this man to my father and for all his charm and accomplishments, and there were many, I found him wanting. He was a patient and skilled lover, I've had few his equal, but still, I came to understand my father's energy -- the thing I had no name for -- was sexual, intense and intoxicating. On the beach I saw you felt it also."

I said, "I did."

"I returned home from school determined to make my father my lover. By the end of the summer he was. We are not exclusive. I have others; your son was wonderful. He has others, with his appetites it would be silly not to expect that, he is not a man to be contained. Still, he likes you very much."

When she started I'd wondered if her message would be for me to back off, but her tone was genuine and in the present circumstance, I a temporary visitor to her country sitting on the bull's-eye of a natural disaster, she would not waste her time trying to chase me off. No, she was letting me know she had no objection to sharing her father, but it would be sharing.

She was a remarkable young woman: discerning, direct, and wise.

She was also lovely, her beauty shimmering under the night sky.

"I understand, I like your father very much."

She ran her hands through her thick dark hair, smiled, and said, "Your son has many of the same qualities as Papa, but also reminds me of you, beautiful, empathetic, sensitive. You are lucky to live with such a young man. May I kiss you Ms. Toro?"

The question came out of left field, but I knew the answer.

"Yes."

And she leaned forward and her lips were on mine and our lips moved against each other and when her tongue glided along my lips I touched it with mine and then both tongues were in my mouth playing with each other and my heart was beating a million miles a minute and there was a fire between my legs and I pushed my tongue into her mouth and she tasted good and I wrapped my fingers tight on her upper arm and the music stopped.

Juliana said, "It must be Papa."
​

* * * * *​

We spotted Ricardo a beat before he signaled us to join them. When we did he kissed my cheek, said, "Kara, you must excuse me, we'll be right back," and asked Juliana to accompany him, explaining to her what was happening on the way to the stage. She was a quick study, for holding the band leader's microphone she said (as translated by a person standing with us), "We have the latest weather report, the storm is still hours away and while there may be additional adjustments, at the moment it is headed in this direction. There is plenty of time, but in order to secure the house we need to end the party. We are sorry."

She handed her father the microphone just as Randall joined us. He put his arm around my shoulder, I leaned into him

"My staff is breaking down the food and drink service. Everyone will be provided a care package: flashlights, radios, batteries, first aid materials, and enough food and water for several days. Are there any questions?"

After a few were shouted and answered Ricardo and Juliana returned where, shaking my son's hand, Ricardo said, "Thank you for your help, you saved us countless hours, I hear you have a way of charming bureaucrats."
​