29 comments/  597728 views/  133 favorites

Nude Melissa

By: geronimo_appleby



Writer's note:

All characters are over 18 years of age -- blah blah blah, etc.

This is my entry into the Literotica Nude Day Contest 2013. It's an incest piece -- which is pretty obvious given the story category I submitted it to -- that begins with Melissa, Eammon, Julia and Ben heading off for a holiday in a caravan by the sea on the south coast of England.

Ben, Melissa's boyfriend, much to her overbearing father's chagrin, accompanies the family. Julia, Eammon's wife, Melissa's mother, takes a shine to the young man ... and it goes on from there.

It's a long piece at just over 40k words because I found had to draw out the seduction scenes in an attempt to at least preserve some degree of believability. That was my intent, to make it at least a little bit credible since, "Hi, Dad. Wow, that's a big cock, let's fuck. Hey, Mum, Dad's got a hard-on, it'd be a shame to waste it", just doesn't seem plausible to me ... Well, maybe on the Fens in the east of England that'd work, but...

Anyway, I digress.

I apologise for any errors that (almost certainly) remain in the text. I hope typos and gaping plot-holes don't detract too much from any enjoyment you may glean from my humble offering. I had a plan for the submission, but it went off at a tangent during the writing process as these things tend to do.

As usual I'd appreciate feedback. This is significantly longer than anything I've submitted to Lit before and, since I usually write in the first person I'd also be interested to know how that went down.

Feedback can be by public comment below, a PM to me directly or by email. If you want a response from me, email is best.

Right, that's it. I'll shut up and leave it. I hope you enjoy the following.

GA -- Calp, Spain -- 26th June 2013.

Prologue

Eammon

Eammon Morgan's fingers tightened on the steering wheel when he flicked a glance at the rear view mirror and his eyes brushed over the young man sitting in the back seat. It wasn't that he disliked Ben, nobody could say he'd been impolite or hostile in his dealings with him, what he felt was the natural concern any father had for his daughter -- his darling Melissa. His princess. It didn't matter that the girl was all grown up. To Eammon, she was precious, and he intended to protect her from the world, from pain and heartbreak, as long as he had breath in his body.

"Everything all right back there?" he called, and then threw a look over his shoulder to check on the gap between his daughter and her recently acquired boyfriend.

Melissa's eyes rolled with theatrical exaggeration. She heaved an exasperated sigh and replied with, "Will you stop going on. How many times do you have to ask?"

"It's all fine Mister Morgan," Ben interjected, flashing a white-toothed grin, the smile bright in his tanned face.

"We should be there in half-an-hour," Eammon said, the light tone belying the inner turmoil he felt at the younger man's presence. He turned his attention back to the road, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling with suspicion at what could be going on behind him, only vaguely aware, as usual, of his wife in the seat beside him.

Julia

Julia Morgan stared out of the window with a blank expression papered over her face. She sat there unthinking, her mind simply drifting, bored with her husband, bored with her marriage, sick of her life and numbed at the prospect of yet another holiday, camping.

And why-oh-why did he insist on Melissa coming too? He was a bully and bloody control-freak, that's why. A man so afraid to let his daughter go, a man too wrapped up in his work to notice that his wife was on the verge of a breakdown.

Her husband was a selfish pig. Why couldn't he just listen to her? What was wrong with something different, something ... exciting? Julia fancied a safari holiday in Kenya, that's all. It wasn't like back-packing through Central America. It didn't even have to be that adventurous, she didn't need to see elephants and giraffe in the wild, Julia would be happy with a trip to Benidorm, anything but the same old thing: a week in a caravan by the sea.

From the corner of her eye Julia saw Eammon swivel in his seat. She heard him speak to the couple in the back seat and listened to Ben's reply.

At the thought of Ben Julia squirmed in her own seat, a flare of desire catching her by surprise. Now he was something special: tall, fit and good-looking, all tightly packed muscle -- nothing too overdone, just nicely proportioned and toned. 

Julia smiled at her reflection in the window a few inches from her face, glazed and vacant eyes focussing after gazing at the interminable motorway scene for what seemed an age. The holiday might not be too hideous for a change. At least this time there was the prospect of getting an eyeball full of a gorgeous young hunk in a pair of swimming shorts.

Melissa

She was determined that things would change. It was time to break out, to show her father that she was now a young woman, no longer a little girl. Melissa would always be his princess but she needed some space. 

It had been so difficult asking her father if Ben could join them on the holiday. She knew he'd come up with all kinds of reasons for not allowing Ben to join in, that he would bluster and make noises about it being family time, how he didn't spend enough time with Melissa and her mother, although he would blame work, as usual for that.

There would be words about inconvenience and sleeping arrangements, she could just picture her father's mournful expression as he tried to guilt her about having just met Ben and was it wise to have him with them for such a condensed period. But, to her immense surprise Eammon had acquiesced when, in an uncharacteristic show of determination, Melissa had laid down her ultimatum: Either Ben comes with us or I'm staying at home.

Her father had buckled, preferring the man's presence to leaving his precious daughter alone for ten days. There was no way Eammon was going to have her out of sight for that period. Alone with the new boyfriend on the scene? Not a chance.

Melissa slid a look towards Ben, winking when she caught his eye. You okay? she mouthed, rolling her eyes towards the front of the car.

Ben, following a quick check of the rear view mirror to make sure the old man had his eyes on the road, nodded, his lips forming the words, I want to lick your pussy.

Melissa blinked and blew out her cheeks, a tingle of lust between her legs at the thought of Ben's tongue sliding over her clit. The girl allowed herself a quick reverie of the risky sex she'd enjoyed. She thought about how she'd been stood, her arms braced against the wall while Ben lifted her skirt and eased his cock into her from behind. The chance that her father could have walked in on them at any time had given Melissa such a thrill that she'd been forced to stifle her cries of pleasure by biting the web of one hand, her orgasm so intense that her clenching pussy had milked Ben's cock within a few strokes.

She was looking forward to more of the same during the holiday: hot sex with Ben, the riskier the better. This newly discovered penchant for taking chances, especially risks fraught with the danger of her father catching her at it had the girl wondering which of her parents, if either, she took after. Somehow she couldn't see her uptight, domineering father being into it, and her mother -- so brittle and aloof these days (when had that happened?) -- would probably rather die than admit to the sex act even existing.

Melissa knew that it hadn't always been that way between her mum and dad. She could remember her mother being pretty and vivacious. Melissa's opinion was that her mother still looked good; a bit plumper than the girl remembered. But on her mum it looked good, even Ben had dropped a comment about Julia's voluptuous curves. Melissa had feigned disgust when her boyfriend had made a quip about seeing Julia in a bikini, punching his arm and throwing back a pithy retort when, in actual fact, the thought of Ben ogling her mother had turned Melissa on.

It might not be such a bad holiday after all. The only problems were her father's overbearing attitude, and his indifference towards his wife was deplorable, but, for herself, Melissa also hoped that having Ben with her on the holiday would finally make her father see that she had her own life to lead. Her mother could deal with her own shit.

Ben

He wanted to touch her, craved her lovely pudding-sized tits in his hands while he leaned in and sucked her nipples. The frustration was almost too much, made him crazy with desire, and Melissa's old man's constant observation was getting to him too. Not that he could blame Eammon, Ben could understand the bloke's attitude towards him. After all, Melissa was the man's daughter; she was gorgeous and desirable, a walking fantasy, and it couldn't be easy knowing that some randy squaddie had designs. Ben was sure that if he ever had a daughter, years in the future, that he'd be as suspicious and protective as Melissa's dad.

But Ben was young and full of it and especially horny after six months in the Afghan with the Royal Artillery. Melissa had answered an ad in a magazine for forces pen-pals, and her letter had found him after four months in-country. 

Their correspondence had taken a predictable course: a couple of letters each way, tentative at first, with both of them shy at the strangeness of it before their confidence grew and they exchanged email addresses for quicker communication.

The messages to-and-fro became ever more flirty until, as time went on and they grew, through words and photographs, to like each other more and more, the scenarios they conjured between them growing hotter and sexual, they arranged a meeting upon Ben's safe return. 

It went on from there.

To Ben, even after the privations of six months away -- less several days R&R -- the girl was incredible. He'd been captivated by her at first sight, finding her even more attractive and sexy than any of the pictures he'd seen, and some of the images Melissa had sent were pretty close to the bone. She was slim, pretty, her hair reminiscent of Jennifer Aniston in one of those old episodes of Friends. Melissa's eyes, pale green, reminded him of a cat's, and he loved the way she stared at him when things were growing heated between. The girl's nose would crinkle as she offered her sly smirk, her eyes narrowing to slits while she did something to provoke him; something like cup her bare boobs and tease her own nipples, or sit in one of the deep armchairs in her parents' living room and flash her plump vulva while her father's back was turned.

Ben saw that Melissa got her looks from her mother, and he wouldn't have minded giving Julia one -- if he wasn't already involved with her daughter, and, of course, if Julia wasn't already married to Melissa's father. The old bird had something about her that got him going: eyes the same green as Melissa's; the same shape with a slight slant. She had a nice set of knockers on her too, big and round with a lovely bum acting in counter-balance. Ben got a sense that Julia, like him, under different circumstances, might be interested in a taste of the forbidden. He'd caught a look from her once or twice. Seen something shift behind her eyes, noticed an odd look on her face.

He looked out of the window at a plane coming in, low on its approach to Gatwick Airport as the car's tyres hummed along the surface of the M23 motorway. He pictured Julia -- again -- in a swimming costume, hopeful that she might even be brave enough for a bikini. He nodded internally, amused as he wondered briefly about the boys from the Battery who, at that moment, were scattered about the country, some away on the beaches in Greece, Spain, even Thailand, and what adventures they were having.

Ben was happy enough; this could turn out to be a nice little holiday: a hot girl to fuck and a sexy older woman to look at as well.

He looked up and caught Eammon Morgan's beady stare. Ben grinned and winked. "All right, Mister Morgan?" he asked, knowing that by playing the good guy would wind Melissa's father up all the more.

The man said nothing, just grunted, and Ben settled down to a daydream that featured his girlfriend and her mother.

Part One

1

On the first morning Julia woke up early. She boiled the kettle for her morning coffee and was sitting in one of the folding chairs, smoking an illicit cigarette, when Ben surprised her.

Shirtless, Julia was quick to notice, the young man, at a low trot, obviously having been out for a run in shorts and training shoes, jogged along the track leading into the campsite from the dune behind her.

After Ben had appeared so suddenly around the corner of the caravan, in the seconds before he noticed her, Julia took the opportunity to ogle the ridged outline of the man's abdomen, the plates of his muscled chest, those lovely arms and the long muscles of his thighs. 

When the young man saw Julia sitting there his face split into a smile, a cheeky grin that sent a pulse of desire through the woman.

"Hello, Mrs Morgan," Ben began, making no effort to cover his torso. He was well aware of the effect he had on Julia, could see the hungry gleam in her eyes, and he thought it might be fun to give the old bird a bit of a thrill. Just tease her a little. "I didn't know you were a smoker."

Julia grimaced and, Ben noticed, threw a contemptuous glance towards the caravan. He assumed the look was meant for her husband, he'd noticed there didn't seem to be much communication between Melissa's parents. No touches or smiles, not much talking either now he came to think of it. A small voice spoke to Ben, a quiet word of warning from inside about being very careful with Julia. Teasing her with his physical appeal, flirting with her ... it could get out of hand if the woman got the wrong idea. Not that it bothered him too much, but it was early days with Melissa and he wanted to have some fun with her before his leave was up.

"Eammon disapproves." Julia took a drag and blew a viper's breath of thin blue smoke towards the blue morning sky. She rolled her eyes and added in a monotone, as though reading items from a very tedious list, "And I know it's bad for me, and I know it's anti-social and I'm a social pariah ... But I enjoy a cigarette with my morning coffee. I don't give a stuff what anyone says, I'm not hurting anyone but myself, so bugger the world."

Ben eyed the woman with new respect. 

"Good for you, Mrs Morgan," he said, nodding. "I'm not a smoker myself, but like you said," he cast a look around the quiet site, no sign of life in any of the vans, "you're not hurting anyone."

Julia sipped from the cup before looking up at the tanned Adonis, offering, "Would you like a coffee, Ben -- before everyone else wakes up?" It was an innocent invitation but what she meant really was Please stay and let me look at your lovely body. 

A glut of sexual arousal, thick and heavy, settled in the pit of Julia's stomach. Ben really was a spectacular animal. So bloody gorgeous.

Disappointing Julia, Ben replied, "No thanks, Mrs Morgan. I'd better get a shower before I cool down too much. Don't want to get a cold."

The croaked sentence was out there between them before Julia realised what she'd said. 

"If you want anyone to wash your back..."

The woman's eyes widened when her own voce came back to her, wishing she could snatch back the words, thick, heavy bubbles from a throat swollen suddenly with desire. 

Her fingers came up to her mouth. 

"I'm sorry, Ben," she mumbled, horrified that she'd blurted such impropriety. But if she was so appalled, how come there was that insistent lub-lub between her legs?

In the few seconds before Ben replied, in the way those moments do, Julia's fantasy stretched out in front of her, a soft-focus image of her and Ben under a shower spray; not the tiny cubicle in the mobile home, but in some anonymous suite in a luxury hotel somewhere exotic: Barbados or Cuba. 

Julia was soaping the man's broad back, savouring the springy texture of his abdomen when her arms encircled his body, her fingers moving lower to find the iron-hard length of his cock while his buttocks, taut and tiny, pressed against her.

She imagined Ben turning, his dark hair wet, rivulets of water pouring over his face while he grinned at her, one hand lifting her leg and, while she sat in the chair outside the caravan, Julia swallowed the real-life gasp that threatened to burst out of her when her fantasy body opened to accept the relentless invasion of Ben's erection.

In her mind they fucked with neither finesse nor regard for the other's needs. Their coupling, almost vicious in its clutching, gasping intensity, was more a desperate effort by Julia to achieve a long-awaited climax, a drive for pleasure that she hadn't experienced for so long.

Real-life came rushing back when Ben spoke.

"Don't be sorry, Mrs Morgan ... If it wasn't for Mel, and Mister Morgan I don't think I'd mind you doing that too much."

Those words and the breath upon which they were delivered sent a shiver along Julia's spine; she felt as though Ben's fingers had brushed her bare skin with a touch like a sigh. She felt her insides melt with warmth, the pulse blooming to a full-blown throb.

Strong emotions, the reawakening of a deep yearning for physical fulfilment, overwhelmed Julia. She stared at the man standing in front of her, and with her mind empty to thoughts of her husband and daughter, carried away with the desire to be touched by Ben's fingers, to feel his tongue sliding into her mouth, to taste him and savour the feeling of having him deep inside her, she mumbled, "Oh God, Ben, do you mean you want me to do that? Would you like me to wash your back ... under the shower? Both of us together?"

Knowing it was a stupid thing to do and with total disregard to that little voice telling him he was playing with fire, Ben still replied with, "I wouldn't mind that at all, Mrs Morgan." He let his eyes move over Julia's body, his tongue moving over his lips as he appreciated the swellings in the woman's tee-shirt. Ben paused, allowing his meaning to filter past Julia's surprised face and into her brain. When the flicker of understanding reached the woman's eyes he added, "As long as I get to wash your back, too." He hoped his expression conveyed the message that he would happily soap Julia's lush body all over, especially those big titties.

Julia blinked and allowed the cigarette to drop from her fingers. She looked down at the smouldering butt and, without really registering what she was doing, in an automatic action born out of habit, crushed it beneath the sole of her flip-flop. The chair creaked, its aluminium frame protesting as Julia rose to her feet.

"Are you playing with me?" the woman murmured, face questioning as she tilted her head to one side and looked into Ben's eyes.

"A little," Ben admitted, swallowing in guilty response to Julia's percipient question. He nodded and threw a furtive look at the caravan. "I mean, there's Melissa and Mister Morgan..." He grimaced when he saw Julia wince at the reminder of the realities, immediately regretting starting the game.

"Oh, Ben--"

But the young man didn't find out what Julia intended to say next, not since the caravan door opened and Eammon's foot plonked onto the two-tier metal frame that served as steps below the door.

"Have you been smoking?" Eammon greeted Julia, his lip curling after he sniffed the air and eyed the flattened dog-end. He shifted his attention to Ben, eyes narrowing as he took in the man's bare torso and a flicker of jealousy soured in his guts.

While Eammon's mind dealt with the repugnant possibility that his daughter found the tanned oaf attractive, he missed the moment his wife took a step backwards with a decidedly guilty look on her face.


Nude Melissa



"You know what, Eammon," Julia began, frustration and resentment bubbling inside her when she recovered from her husband's abrupt arrival. "Stop being such a supercilious wanker. I'm forty-three for God's sake. If I want a cigarette, I'll bloody well have one. It isn't as though you care about me, is it? It's just that you can't control me. That's the fucking truth of it."

And, with her cheeks burning with bitterness and the beginnings of embarrassment at her outburst in front of Ben, ire burning inside her, Julia pushed past her gape-mouthed spouse and stomped into the caravan.

"I'll be off for a shower," Ben said, nudging his head towards the brick building at the edge of the camp that housed the ablutions. He supressed a smirk when, through the sheeted aluminium wall of the mobile home, came the sounds of Julia thumping around inside the mobile home. "See you later, Mister Morgan," he added, turning his back to walk away towards his tent, the little domed bivouac being a condition Eammon had set down for Ben's inclusion on the trip. 

I'm not having a single man in his twenties in the van with you a step away.

Eammon had been adamant on the point, which Melissa, during the battle of words and wills between father and daughter, had to concede was reasonable enough. Losing one battle didn't necessarily mean the war was over. 

He can eat with us but there'll be no sleeping or showering. I don't want him poncing around with a towel around his waist. Not in my caravan.

Ben stuck his head into the tent and grabbed a towel and his wash kit, his mind full of Julia Morgan as he walked away, leaving the woman's husband staring at his back.

2

Appreciation for his girlfriend's figure swelled Ben's cock when, with him behind Melissa as they approached the crest of the dune between the camp site and beach, he ogled the slim lines of her bare back and rounded buttocks. The girl had appeared at the flap of his tent and suggested a walk along the beach, her grin and the sparkle in her eyes conveying her intent: Melissa wanted mischief.

"Shit," Ben had muttered when he encountered her after crawling headfirst out of his tent. Melissa stood there wearing faded denim shorts and bikini top, the ragged hem of the Daisy Dukes high on her thighs. "You look fucking gorgeous."

Melissa had smirked and nodded. "I thought my dad was going to keel over when he saw me."

"He's just trying to protect you from randy blokes," had been Ben's reply, his gaze roaming over Melissa's torso. He stared at the soft midriff, the rack of her ribcage and her breasts, high and tight and presented like gifts in the hot pink bikini bra.

Melissa, giving her habitual eye roll, something she did often in response to any mention of her father's irritating concerns for her, responded with a contemptuous, "Whatever," and, with a jerk of her head towards the rear of the camp, added, "Let's go to the beach." She nodded at the cotton bag by her feet, one of the kind that supermarkets sell as a 'bag for life'. "Grab the bag, Ben. It's got a couple of beach towels and a bottle of water in it."

When Ben suggested he would just pull on a tee-shirt Melissa scoffed and told her boyfriend to come as he was, and so Ben shrugged and picked up the bag, he didn't mind either way.

Melissa slipped on her sunglasses and led the way across the caravan park. In the few seconds it took the couple to climb to the top of the dune, took in the gentle curves of his girlfriend's body. 

Melissa looked great from behind, and Ben was forced to supress the urge to grab her around her narrow waist and pull her down into the sand. He gulped down the impulse with a heavy swallow, resisting the lure of the girl's rolling hips and denim-clad arse. He even found the knobbed ridge of the girl's spine arousing. 

When they arrived at the apex of the ridge they came to an abrupt halt, Ben muttering a curse at the sight of the packed beach, bodies everywhere with barely any sand visible.

Melissa surveyed right and left, one hand to her forehead in a salute, shielding her eyes, despite the sunglasses she wore, from the sun. The crowds on the beach didn't bother her at all; she just wanted to get away from her parents. Ben had told her about the morning's altercation and Melissa was sick of her dad's bad mood, his ever watchful eye and her mother's sulking.

With a squeeze of Ben's hand, Melissa said, "Let's explore along the track. We might find somewhere we can be alone." She pressed her body close to his and whispered, "I'm really fucking horny, Ben."

Ben looked at her, taking in the swellings of her breasts, the long legs and training shoes. He licked his lips and gave the entire length of girl an appreciative scan. 

"Somewhere I can get you out of those shorts?" he suggested with a leer. "I wouldn't mind giving your pussy a good licking, Mel." He leaned in and murmured into Melissa's ear, "And then I'll fuck you rigid. All that time in the Afghan, looking at those pictures of you ... I lost count of the number of times I pulled my cock thinking about your sweet cunt."

Goosebumps rose on Melissa's arms at the revelation. She wasn't averse to a bit of the dirty talk, and Ben's profanity had aroused her passion even more. 

"I want to watch you wank," she breathed. "Out here somewhere. There has to be somewhere we can go to get away from my mum and dad." The sweep of Melissa's arm encompassed the beach. "And all of these people," she added before focussing her attention on Ben. "I want us to be together, both of us naked." She smiled into his face. "Wouldn't it be fantastic to be nude? I'd love to do it outside on a day like this. It'd be great to feel the sun warming me while I sit on your big cock." 

The prospect of stripping out of her shorts and exposing herself to the sun's kiss thrilled Melissa. She found the idea of al-fresco sex so daring, such a turn-on that she shivered despite the warmth of the afternoon.

"That idea really gets me going. I'm so hot down there, Ben," Melissa murmured, tilting her face up for her boyfriend's kiss. She gave the front of Ben's shorts a rub with the palm of one hand while their tongues danced. 

Ben's groan broke the kiss and they parted, both of them breathing hard, lust ignited.

Melissa gasped, "I want your hard cock, Ben." She blushed and tilted her face away, embarrassed to utter the word in front of Ben for the first time. "I want your big, hard cock in my little cunt." To mask her embarrassment Melissa grabbed Ben's hand. "Come on," she mumbled, turning her face from Ben's leer as she tugged him down the slope towards the beach. "Let's find somewhere ... Quick."

With excitement coursing through him in hope of making the girl moan with his tongue, anticipating the taste of her and how she would feel clenching around his cock, Ben allowed himself to be dragged away.

For a few hundred yards they hurried along a rough track between the beach and the dune, their course parallel to the shore. There were people in the water and sunbathers of varying shades of colour -- blue-white to mahogany -- sprawled on towels and beach mats like survivors of some maritime disaster. Families with fractious children squatted with territorial determination and eyed their close neighbours with suspicion, ready to protest at the slightest threat to their borders. The young lovers ignored them all, too intent in their search for a clandestine spot to take in any detail of the crowd.

Melissa halted and nudged Ben with an elbow. 

"How about we take a look up there?"

Ben followed a line indicated by the girl's pointing finger. He cast a disdainful look at the melee on the shore before nodding, replying with, "It's got to be better than this."

They set off towards the break in the dune, and when the cacophony receded immediately, the bank of sand and scrub acting as a baffle between them and the beach, Melissa grinned.

"This is more like it," she said, and then hurried after Ben who had moved quickly ahead.

The couple hurried along the rough path, the straggly vegetation on either side giving rise to denser, lush greenery, bushes with a firmer grip on the soil. Soon enough they came across a smaller track, an almost invisible tributary to the main path which led deeper into the undergrowth.

When it seemed they were completely alone, having not encountered another soul after breaking away from the beach, Ben paused and kissed Melissa, the bag dropping from his fingers.

"What do you think?" Melissa whispered, her breath quickening, her ardour flaring between her thighs. She moaned when Ben grinned and nodded, his hand gliding over the skin of her waist. Melissa pressed her body into Ben, rotating her hips as she ground her pubis against his muscled thigh.

It was Ben's turn to groan. 

"Mel..." He grimaced and sighed, eyes rolling when Melissa tugged at his shorts and her fingers curled around his erection. "I want to fuck you, Mel. God, I want to stick it into you and fuck."

Melissa's grin widened as she jacked her fist along the length of hard cock. 

"I want you to fuck me with this," she breathed, her thumb smearing gooey pre-cum over the blunt head. "Out here, both of us naked. I want to get on my knees and suck your cock."

The enforced abstinence of an operational tour in Afghanistan meant that having a gorgeous, sexy and willing young woman was something of a novelty to Ben, an enhancement to the pleasure he already experienced since that girl was also tugging his cock. Ben was moaning and sighing and gasping. He felt the tingle of an oncoming orgasm and knew he was about to let loose with a deluge of semen.

"Not here," Ben managed to croak. "It's too public." He grabbed Melissa's hand and forced her to release his member. "Anyone could walk past and catch us."

Laughing at her boyfriend's guttural grunt, Melissa's fingers snatched at him. 

"That's even more fun. Getting caught. I'd love to have someone watch me fucking. I wouldn't care." She looked around at their secluded enclave. "Don't be such a wuss. I thought you were a big, brave soldier? Come on, nobody's going to just walk in here and catch us. They all head for the beach."

Ben gulped when Melissa's hand began working at him again. He let it go, capitulating to the overwhelming sensations, allowing himself to be convinced by Melissa's assurances that it was unlikely they'd be disturbed. Besides, the idea of some voyeur spying on them while they fucked was a horny thought, one which caused arousal to surge through him. Ben looked down to see his girth caught in Melissa's fist, the size of her hand, her small and finely boned fingers making his dick appear huge.

The rush began and Ben's toes curled inside his training shoes while spurt after spurt of semen squirted out of him to plop in a heavy rain into the sand at his feet.

"Oh! Melissa yelped. "Look at what I've done." Her hand continued to work. "Come for me, Ben. That's making me so hot. Seeing it coming out like that. Is It good? Does it feel good?"

Ben could only respond with a grunt and a nod.

"I've never done it outside before, Ben," Melissa blurted, excitement evident in her squeak. "It feels so lovely out here. I feel so ... free."

In the heat of his climax Ben gasped and moaned and pulled Melissa close by hooking an arm around her waist. He kissed the girl, groaning into her open mouth as her hand slowed and she milked the last dribble from his cock. Then, after pulling herself free of the tight grip around her body, Melissa shrugged out of her shorts and reached to the nape of her neck to tug at the knot of the bikini top.

"Nude, outdoors," Melissa said after unclasping the strap that ran around her back. She flashed a grin at the man staring at her. "It's gorgeous to be naked outside." The girl's eyes shone with desire when she slipped her sunglasses up into her hair and smiled at her boyfriend. "You, too, Ben. Get naked with me."

The sight of his girlfriend standing there with her hands on her hips, head tilted, the challenge evident in her stare and the jut of her jaw, had Ben nude in seconds. A simple matter of, as it had been for Melissa, of yanking down his shorts and stepping out of them.

The man's cock waggled, a heavy jib that remained semi-erect when he reached into the bag and hauled forth a bright beach towel. 

The towel snapped open with a flick of Ben's wrists.

"Lie down," he growled, indicating the makeshift bed with a flourish. "Open your legs. Let me see your pussy."

Melissa felt her insides melt, her tummy flipping with a greasy mix of shame and delicious anticipation as she lay back and allowed her legs to fall apart. She felt so vulnerable and exposed, her cheeks burning with the knowledge that Ben could see all of her.

"This is so humiliating," Melissa murmured. But her actions belied her words as she hauled herself up onto her elbows. She craned her neck to examine the front of her body, excitement bubbling at her opening when she lifted her feet from the ground and spread her thighs wider. "You can see all of me, can't you, Ben?"

The man stared at Melissa's core for a few seconds before he lifted his heavy-lidded stare to her eyes. His fist worked along his length. "Open yourself," Ben croaked, his voice hoarse. "With your fingers. Open your cunt and show me."

A pang of desire twisted and rolled in the girl's stomach. This was the most daring she'd ever been in her life. She couldn't quite believe it of herself but, nevertheless, there she was, reclining on a beach towel while a gorgeous man fisted his own length and stared at her. Ben's glazed eyes, his face slack, almost idiotic, spurred her to move her hand between her thighs and use her fingers to splay the folds of her labia.

Melissa moaned when, at an almost incomprehensible grunted instruction from Ben, she slid the tip of a forefinger into her opening. She collapsed back onto the towel and rubbed the moistened fingertip over the nub of her clit, moaning and gasping at the burst of pleasure.

"Rub it," Ben groaned, his fist working faster in response to the sight of his girlfriend's twisted expression. "You're fucking beautiful, Mel."

He took it all in: Melissa gnawing her bottom lip as she moaned in delight. He watched her stomach tense with effort, her breasts heaving while she gasped and sighed, fingers describing quick, urgent circles in the mush of her vulva.

When Ben felt the beginnings of his second surge he released his dick. It wouldn't do to come again, not so soon, and not before he'd given Melissa what she wanted. He stepped onto the towel and, after gazing at the girl for a few seconds, just soaking up the image of her, knelt between her legs.

"Ben..." Melissa breathed when the man eased her hand away from her body and his face moved to her sex.

The girl's climax rolled in fast, a tidal wash brought on by a combination of being naked outdoors and her lover's tongue lapping at her clit. The relentless pressure of Ben's licking took Melissa to a gasping orgasm. She clawed at the towel, bunching the heavy cotton in her fingers while babbling an incomprehensible flood of words. She came up onto her elbows again, eyes slits, the cords in her neck as defined as knife blades as she hissed with appreciation and craned to watch the man working at her sex.

"Put it in," Melissa grunted, finally regaining the ability to speak, her face twisted into a grimace. "Fuck me, Ben. Hard ... Fuck me hard. Pound my pussy."

He was inside her in an instant, fucking into Melissa with robust strokes, the backs of the girl's knees hooked around his forearms.

Ben, holding himself above Melissa on straight arms, her pubis at his mercy, stared down at the girl, drilling deep into her body, the head of his cock probing at her.

"I'm going to split you in two," Ben snarled, lust flaring inside him. If she wanted it hard and fast he would give it to her that way, he had months of it stored up and now there was the opportunity to let her have it. "You want fucking hard, do you? You want your pussy drilling?"

"As hard as you want." Melissa's hips moved and she thrust up to meet Ben's downward stroke. 

Their bodies slapped together, both of them working hard at each other, both intent on proving a point.

Ben's eyes rolled in their orbits before he glared down at the girl. 

"Move your arse. Fuck that pussy onto my cock."

"Fuck my pussy, Ben. Drill my cunt. Come on. Get me there. Ride the fucking arse off me," Melissa spat back immediately, her breasts trembling with the vehemence thrust of her hips back-and-forth.

They rutted with barely constrained violence for a minute or two, only stopping when Melissa squealed out her desire to change position. When Ben withdrew, as he rocked back on his haunches and swallowed great gulps of air, Melissa rolled onto her side and hauled herself up onto all fours. She presented her rear to Ben, her hips rocking from side-to-side.

"From behind. Do it to me that way."

He was back at her a second or two later, the cock-head nudging into Melissa's body.

The girl gasped, turning her head to face Ben, squinting back at him over one shoulder. 

"That's good," she breathed, her voice curdled with lust. "I'm going to get there, Ben. Like this; I'll come his way."

Melissa felt so tiny, her slim body writhing as Ben encircled her waist with one arm and leaned over her back. He cupped one breast in his palm, savouring the texture of firm, plaint flesh while her insides clenched around his girth.

He listened to the girl babble, a disjointed litany, the words spilling out of her.

"Naked ... Outside ... Fucking outdoors ... Oh, fuck, that's a lovely cock. I love it. I love it all. The sun ... Nude..."

"Mel," Ben grunted. "I'm going to..." He gasped and hissed, leaning away from Melissa, his back bending, fingers digging into the girl's hips.

"Me too," Melissa moaned, her buttocks slapping against Ben's abdomen. She pressed her palms into the towel, the ground beneath allowing her to thrust back onto the length of living gristle that touched some place deep inside her body.

Melissa reached back with one hand to finger her clit, rubbing herself to a climax.

They came simultaneously, Ben groaning, his eyes squeezed tight while the semen squirted out of him in bursts, his jizm flooding Melissa.

The girl fell forward, unable to support herself on a single arm. She grunted and moaned as her fingers worked at her clitoris and viscous ooze slid from her opening, her climax rolling on and on.

Ben grabbed himself and tugged, his eyes fixed on Melissa as she writhed and squirmed on the towel, his jaw slack with amazement.

With their attention focussed purely on their own pleasure, naturally intent on their individual thoughts, emotions and responses, neither Ben nor Melissa noticed the man hidden in the undergrowth. Even in the aftermath, as their ardour cooled, they failed to see or hear him crawl away, both unaware that their intense coupling had been witnessed.

Eammon Morgan, his chest heaving with emotion, thoughts tumbling inside his head, scrambled away from the scene. It wasn't until he was sure he was far enough away to remain unheard that he finally allowed himself to suck in great draughts of air, deep sobs wracking his chest while he struggled to come to terms with what he'd witnessed. What was worse for Eammon, even more disturbing than seeing his daughter with ... with ... him, was the reaction from his own body. He was stiff, his cock iron hard with desire for his daughter.

3

With Melissa and Ben away on their walk, and with Eammon disappearing soon after the couple had left, Julia Morgan decided to make the most of her unexpected time alone. The caravan, spacious as it was being at the upper end of the scale, wasn't exactly conducive to what she called her "quiet time". She was a moaner, very vocal when it came to fucking and the label of quiet time wasn't exactly correct. With an ironic grin Julia considered whether "alone time" might be more appropriate. After all, she'd been left to her own devices for so long Julia had given up on Eammon. She'd considered starting an affair but, as yet, hadn't had the nerve. But Ben's arrival on the scene had caused her to reconsider.




Nude Melissa



Not that she meant to seduce her daughter's boyfriend, not that, but the way he'd looked at her -- not to mention the things they'd said that morning -- had given Julia a kick in the backside. She needed to do something, and soon.

She settled herself on the bed with a glass of wine on the nightstand and the vibrator next to her. Julia let her thoughts wander and she drifted away, thoughts of Ben and what might have been if Eammon hadn't blundered out of the caravan and interrupted. 

A picture of the young man sprang to mind and Julia compared him to her husband, the man whose libido seemed to have taken a steep downward curve in the last few months. The thought came to her that Eammon might be embroiled in an affair of his own, but was surprised to find that she didn't give a shit either way.

Naked, Julia spread her legs and stroked her thighs, savouring the sensations of her fingers on the silky flesh at the top of her legs. She squeezed her breasts together and called to mind another image of Ben as she'd seen him after his run.

"Squeeze my tits," Julia sighed, and suddenly, in her fantasy, Ben was handling her boobs, his fingers massaging them, fingers tweaking her nipples. "Suck them," she breathed, one hand snaking down along her body towards her sex. "Oh, Ben, lick me. Lick me there, baby. Lick my pussy."

The urgent desire surged through Julia with a speed that had her gasping and writhing, her fingers moving over her clit, the young, good-looking man fixed in her head. Her first orgasm hit her with such a force that Julia had to pause for a few moments, chest heaving while she sucked in air, her eyes blinking with shock and surprise at the vehemence of her climax.

Breathing heavily, almost sobbing with urgency, Julia hefted herself up onto one elbow and reached for the vibrator. Then, with the faux penis buzzing angrily, the pitch of the vibrations rising and falling depending on whether Julia had just the tip at her opening or the whole length of the thing stuffed inside her body, she fucked herself with the dildo, crying out and moaning at the delight her quiet time brought her.

It was a frenzied attack on her own pussy, with all the frustrations of previous weeks and months boiling inside her. Julia writhed and squirmed and grunted, desperate for another climax as she imagined Ben's cock in place of the vibrator.

"Fuck," Julia snarled, her eyes squeezed tight, teeth bared in a snarl of agonised lust. "Fuck that pussy. Fuck it. Get me there. Fuck me with that big cock."

The sensations rose within her, a rising tide whose wave swelled as Julia took herself closer and closer. Just as the wave began to crest, in the moments before her senses were flooded with the overwhelming power of her orgasm, with a blurt of sheer delight bubbling behind her teeth Julia opened her eyes and saw, with a cold water slap of shock, her husband standing in the doorway to the bedroom.

"Eammon!" Julia sat bolt upright, eyes and mouth wide with surprise at the unexpected presence.

The man stared at his wife for a few seconds, his eyes flicking between her legs to the vibrator, its latex-sheath moulded to resemble a ridged and veiny erection, hanging out of her opening. The dildo mocked him like an obscene tongue, with two-thirds of the thing still buried inside Julia, the remaining portion glistening with her arousal.

The impressions hit him at once: Julia's labia, the neat lips clinging to the sides of the vibrator; her soft, rounded tummy; heavy breasts rolling when she moved; the stunned expression on her face and, of course, the woman's facial resemblance to her daughter.

Eammon winced at the vivid recollection of Melissa's nudity, struggling to push the obscene desire his daughter's nakedness engendered. It was wrong to lust after her, so wrong. The girl was his daughter. For Christ's sake, Melissa was his own flesh and blood! The very thought was morally reprehensible, a sin of the most outrageous kind.

But as he looked at his wife, a mature, fleshier woman of voluptuous curves where Melissa was less rounded, her breasts not as full as her mother's, Eammon saw the strong likeness between the two. His cock thickened and grew; a sudden imperative that he couldn't ignore.

"Eammon?" Julia murmured when, after witnessing the brief internal struggle, the signs of which flickered across the man's face, she recognised a twist of lust in his features. "Oh my God ... Eammon?" 

Julia swallowed and shifted her rump on the bed. Could this be? Did he want her? Is that what she read in his expression?

Already aroused by her masturbatory fantasies, Julia leaned back against the headboard and opened her legs. The dildo slid out of her and lay there, nestled between her thighs as she opened her arms in invitation to her husband.

"Julia," Eammon gasped. He took a single awkward step towards the bed while, in his head, he fought against a barrage of images of Melissa.

"Are you coming to bed?" Julia whispered and, with her libido aflame, a furnace burning between her legs, lewd images of Ben still fresh in her head, the woman invited her husband into her. "Come on, Eammon. It's been so long. Come here and make love."

Eammon kicked off his flip-flops and shrugged out of his shorts. He was moving towards the supine woman as he yanked his shirt over his head.

Julia saw Eammon's erection and let out a yelp of glee. He was big and hard, his dick stiff, all thick and angry with desire. The vibrator was consigned to the floor beside the bed and Julia opened her legs wider.

But, when she felt her husband slip inside, it was a picture of Ben's cock that Julia kept in mind.

4

On the fourth night of the holiday they went to a pub for dinner. The place was just beyond the main entrance to the camp site, convenient since it meant that Eammon didn't have to concern himself with drink driving laws. They walked in and, as usual, Eammon took charge, guiding his wife and daughter towards a table while Ben came along behind.

"What's the matter with you two?" Melissa asked when the four of them had settled at the table and a girl had taken their drinks order.

Julia, whose attention had been focussed entirely on Ben's proximity, the lovely boy sitting next to her with his leg, a lovely lean thigh within touching distance, startled. She flicked a guilty look at her daughter, cheeks reddening. 

"Nothing," she replied, her eyes sliding away from Melissa's appraisal before casting a venomous look towards her husband. Following their coupling Eammon had returned to his previous state of apparent indifference towards his wife, and despite her head being filled with Ben while her husband filled her body, Julia was miffed.

Eammon's sneering response snatched his daughter's attention away from her mother. 

"Why should there be anything the matter?" he said, teeth clenched.

Eammon threw a pointed look at Ben and then stared at Melissa, his belligerence palpable.

Melissa rolled her eyes. "Sorry," she said, the single word managing to convey her exasperation while she wondered what the hell that look was about. 

Her parents would drive her to distraction. She could happily kill them both. Then the frustration at her father's controlling ways spilled over. Just what was wrong with him now? Why was he acting like such an arse around Ben? So far, a far as she could tell, Ben had behaved impeccably around her dad.

"Bloody hell, Dad, I was only asking. You've been a pain since day one. And you," Melissa turned to her mother, "you're just as bad." The girl shrugged. "Not as miserable as him," she tossed her head at her father, "but you've been so fucking long-faced for months. I'm sick of the pair of you."

The silent animosity that mushroomed around the group lingered like a fart, hanging around even when the waitress returned with a tray of drinks.

"Really," Melissa continued when the girl moved away with a promise to come back for the food order in a few minutes. "I'm right pissed off with it all." She rounded on her father, her face flushed with unspent fury. "You ... I'm sick of you trying to control me like I'm a little girl." Like an impatient thoroughbred Melissa tossed her head. "I'm eighteen, Dad. I've got a boyfriend." Melissa's hand moved over the table to clasp Ben's fingers. She flashed a smile at the young man, apologising with her eye and, emboldened by her boyfriend's presence, taking strength from his solidity, continued with, "This is the last time I'm coming away with you two. Next time I go on holiday, I'm going with Ben."

Three pairs of eyes turned towards Julia when, from the flank, attacking her husband while he was still reeling from his daughter's outburst, she snarled, "She's right, Eammon. You've turned into a complete arsehole." Julia slid an opportune glance at Ben. "Sorry, Ben," she added. "You must think we're all complete maniacs." She regarded her husband again, expression baleful. "But I've about had it with you, Eammon. You've ignored me for ... for months." Her mouth opened and closed, tears welling as Julia struggled with her emotions. "Melissa's right. You're a demanding, controlling pig. You've been near me once!" The woman held up a hand with one index finger raised. She waved the finger close to her husband's slack face. "Just once ... In months! And now you're just acting like a twat again. Same old Eammon."

"I think you're both overreacting..." Eammon managed, casting cast an anxious look around the pub.

That response, the gall of the man, enraged Julia and, with a snort of derision and a vehement shake of her head she rose to her feet.

"Fuck you, Eammon," the woman sobbed. She stared at her husband for several long seconds, her chin shivering. Julia's mouth opened and closed a few times before, overcome with feelings so complex and devastating she knocked her chair backwards and fled.

"Isn't anyone going to go after her?" Ben asked when Eammon and Melissa just sat there.

Eammon shrugged and avoided Ben's eye, fiddling with the cutlery laid out in front of him.

"Don't look at me," Melissa snapped. "It's his fault." The girl thrust her chin at her father.

Ben sighed and stood up. "I'll go then, shall I?" 

It wasn't his business but he couldn't let Julia just run away like that. She was obviously upset and probably needed someone to unload on. He looked at Eammon, disgust twisting his mouth as he decided he didn't want to be around the man any more. 

"You coming?" he offered to Melissa. 

The girl shook her head and said, "Nope. I can't be arsed."

Ben hesitated for a fraction of a second before he gave a deep sigh and walked out of the pub.

He found Julia on the dune behind the campsite, smoking as she stared out at the dark wallow of the water.

"Oh, Ben, I'm so sorry," Julia blurted when the young man plonked himself beside her. She cuffed at her eyes. "You must be appalled at all that."

"Don't worry about me Mrs Morgan. I just came to see if you're all right. Families, eh?"

They sat side-by-side for a few minutes, with Julia smoking her mind drifting with the romance of the setting, nicotine and the soft susurration of waves breathing out in the darkness soothing her frayed nerves.

There she was, with her fantasy lover, the tide sighing while a pale sickle of moon hung above. Ben was right next to her, the young man she'd yearned for over the last few days. 

Her body reacted to his presence: nipples and clitoris throbbing, breasts aching for his touch. She felt herself warming between her legs, knew she was moistening, her sex oiling in preparation for loving.

Julia sighed at the futility. Ben was Melissa's boyfriend and Julia herself was married to Eammon. The young man in her head was nothing but a fantasy for her, a pleasurable interlude, a distraction and a temporary escape from a marriage gone stale.

She flicked the half-smoked cigarette onto the sand. "Will you walk with me, Ben? Along the beach?"

Ben nodded and, without a word stood up. He looked down, surprised when Julia's hand grasped his as they walked along the strip of deserted sand.

"Am I attractive, Ben?" Julia asked, halting and turning to face the young man. "Honestly, be truthful. Am I?"

Ben felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His breathing quickened and he experienced a stirring of interest down below. This was dangerous territory. He sensed the woman's desire but also recognised her sadness. He was immediately reminded of the conversation they'd had on the first morning of the holiday. Ben knew he should just mutter some platitude and make an excuse to leave. Julia was obviously distraught, vulnerable after her husband's lack of attention and his callous attitude. Hadn't she accused him of only being near her once in months?

He was surprised to hear the deep rumble of his own voice, a thick, treacly glut of lust in his tone when he replied with, "I think you're very attractive, Mrs Morgan." Ben's cock swelled against the confines of his cargo pants when he chanced to look down into the deep, vertiginous crease of Julia's cleavage. "You're really sexy," he added.

"I think you're sexy, too," Julia breathed, hope and yearning rising in her voice. She moved square on to the good-looking young man, her face tilted as, suddenly reckless with the flare of her body's hunger, she offered herself to him. "I ... I've been thinking about you," the woman stuttered, blinking. "I've been thinking about you a lot. I've been dreaming about..." Julia's tone fell to a whisper, "...kissing you."

"Mrs Morgan," Ben muttered, the last of his restraint slipping away, lost in that seductive crevice between Julia's breasts. Then guilt stabbed at him. "But what about Mel? I ... I'd like to kiss you, too, Mrs Morgan ... But what about Melissa? What about your husband?"

The woman's face twisted at the mention of Eammon, and despite a twinge at the thought of Melissa, Julia's overwhelming emotion was anger. "Don't mention him, Ben." Julia winced and held up a hand, palm outwards. "And can't you just forget about Melissa for a few minutes? Can't we both just forget about both of them? I'm so fucking lonely, Ben. I know I shouldn't feel like this about you, but I do. I'm lonely and longing to be kissed." She pressed her body against Ben's torso. "I'm dying for than a kiss, too, Ben..."

It was too much for the young man. The certainty that Julia, ripe and voluptuous would open her legs for him guided his actions from that point on. As pretty and as lovely as Melissa was, he'd only known her for a couple of weeks. She'd been a great pen-pal, a real emotional crutch during the months away, but she wasn't the love of his life and he wasn't going to turn down the opportunity to ride the arse off a sexy bitch like Julia Morgan.

He took Julia to the secluded spot he'd found with Melissa, part of him already boasting to the boys back at the barracks. A mother and daughter? They'd never believe him, the boys would laugh and accuse him of being full of shit.

They were at each other as soon as Ben dragged Julia into the enclave. Julia found herself encircled by a pair of strong arms, Ben's tongue invading her mouth, his erection pressed against her body. She returned the kiss, panting into Ben's mouth in her eagerness.

They broke apart, both breathless as they eyed each other like combatants in some hand-to-hand duel. Ben moved close and slid the bootlace straps of Julia's dress over her shoulders. 

The woman blinked and gathered the bodice at her bosom.

"Let it go," Ben said, his voice rumbling low and dangerous.

Suddenly unsure, the insecurity nothing to do with any thoughts for her husband or daughter, more to do with concern for her body image, Julia held the loose front of her dress against her breasts. "Are you sure you want to see me, Ben?"

The young man's stare burned into Julia's face for a moment. He grinned and nodded, eyes sliding to the tops of Julia's breasts, visible and trembling, pale blancmanges in the moonlight. 

"I want to see you, Mrs Morgan," he murmured. "Look!" Ben unzipped his flies and reached in to haul forth his erection. "See how fucking hot you get me?" Ben waggled his cock at Julia. "I want to see your tits, Mrs Morgan. I want to see all of you."

"Good God," Julia sighed. She stared at the brutal length of Ben's cock and imagined it filling her.

"Come on," Ben coaxed, "let it go. Show me your boobs."

And when the young man cranked his fist up and down that gorgeous example of manhood, Julia, with her heart hammering in her chest like the bass drum in a martial band, closed her eyes and let the dress fall to the sand.

She stood there, immobile, holding her breath and with her eyes closed as she waited for a reaction from Ben.

The whisper came to her like the sigh of the ocean in the distance. 

"Beautiful, Mrs Morgan. You're fucking lovely."

Julia opened her eyes and experienced a surge of confidence when she saw Ben's slack-jawed longing. He was stroking his cock and looking at her, totally enraptured.

"Do you have to call me Mrs Morgan? My name's Julia, Ben."

Ben's fist paused mid-stroke. He tilted his head and pouted with a quizzical expression. "Do you want me to call you Julia?"

Emboldened by her newly rejuvenated self-assurance, Julia stepped forward. She reached for Ben's hard-on, the feel of it, so bloody stiff yet paradoxically pliant thrilling her. 

"You know, Ben," she breathed as she squeezed the living gristle, "having you call me Mrs Morgan is pretty sexy. It makes me feel ... naughty." 

Julia closed her eyes and moaned before she then looked down at the thing in her hand. She held Ben's dick like a tennis racquet, her fingers curled around him close to the root with the length of him laid along her forearm.

Her hand moved slowly, a caress that brought forth a low groan from Ben.

"When you call me Mrs Morgan it puts me in mind of me being a teacher, as though I'm doing something very wicked." Julia leaned in and ran her tongue over Ben's lips before she pushed it into his mouth.

They kissed, Ben moaning, his hands coming up to feel Julia's breasts while the woman continued to massage his cock.

"Can I fuck you, Mrs Morgan?" Ben grunted when the kiss broke.

Julia lunged and sucked another kiss from Ben's mouth. She sprang back, eyes glittering. "You can do anything you want, Ben. Anything at all."

When Ben peeled his tee-shirt over his head Julia uttered a tiny cry of delight. God, he was so bloody gorgeous, a clichéd Adonis bathed in the moon's benevolent smile. Melissa and Eammon were forgotten, all that existed for Julia at that second was the supreme example of the male animal in front of her. The life that had preceded that moment, as well as whatever the future had in store, meant nothing, for her. It was all in the now.

"Take off that bra," Ben instructed as he unbuttoned his cargo pants. He nodded at Julia, eyes between her legs. "And the knickers," he added. "Nude, we've both got to be naked. Skin on skin..."

"Oh fuck. Oh, Jesus," Julia groaned. Skin on skin? Didn't that sound divine?

"Mrs Morgan..." Ben grinned, his stare directed at the decorative triangle of Julia's pubic bush. It was on his tongue to compare the daughter to the mother, to make some glib comment about Melissa's complete depilation but, in a moment of wisdom, he thought better of it.

Seeing the line of Ben's hot-eyed appraisal, her face warming with embarrassment regardless of her ardour, Julia fought the urge to cover herself. 

"Do you like it?" she murmured, unsure.

"I fucking love it," Ben replied as he moved close to the woman and cupped his palm over her vulva. He gasped when he felt the contrast between the precisely coiffed thatch and the smooth and very slippery folds of Julia's labia. "You're very sexy, Mrs Morgan."




Nude Melissa



Julia gripped Ben's wrist, desperate for his touch. She held him tight against her body and muttered for him to slide a finger inside.

"Ben..." the woman gasped when his finger slid over her clitoris. "Fuck ... Oh fucking hell, Ben. Yes."

They kissed again, their passion surging as Ben tickled Julia's clit and then pushed a single digit into her opening. Julia's fingers worked at Ben's erection, a snail-trail of pre-cum smearing over her wrist.

Ben hefted one breast and ducked in to take a dark and elongated nipple between his lips, sucking at the woman's flesh before he swapped that teat for its twin.

Julia's free hand moved over Ben's body, the unfamiliar sensation of youthful muscle beneath her touch thrilling her so that a fresh wave of desire washed over her senses. She wanted him inside her -- now! She didn't care if he was in her mouth or her pussy; she simply craved the man and needed his beautiful cock inside her somewhere ... Anywhere.

Ben felt the same urgency, but for him it was a near overwhelming desperation for release. He saw himself pounding at Julia, his cock driving into her body as he sought his climax. He had no time for finesse or gentle love-making, Ben was blind to all that. For him it was pure, animal lust, an instinctive and visceral urge.

"Naked," Ben babbled. "You're nude and |I fucking love it." The words grated out of him, a harsh exhalation of desperation through gritted teeth. 

Ben's fingers curled inside Julia and the woman gasped. 

She let go of his cock, both her hands going to his shoulders for support.

"Do that again," Julia managed to mumble. "Rub me inside like that, again."

Ben, not feeling the woman's teeth as they sunk into the flesh between his shoulder and neck, braced his wrist and fucked into Julia for several stiff-fingered strokes. He then curled his digits again, the tips rubbing at a rough place inside her, the spongy wetness squelching and farting around him as he probed.

"If..." Julia gasped, her head lolling forward. "If you keep doing that ... Oh, fuck." Julia's nails dug into Ben's skin on his shoulders. The woman winced and chewed her lower lip, her eyes glazing. "If you keep doing that," she mumbled, "I'll come."

"Yeah?" Ben responded. "Are you going to come, Mrs Morgan? Are you really going to com on my fingers?"

A loose nod and a moan confirmed how close the woman was to orgasm.

"Then get there, Mrs Morgan," Ben urged, his expression wild-eyed, slightly crazed with desire. "Come on..." He licked the woman's cheek, one arm around her torso holding her upright while he massaged that place inside her. "Cum for me, Mrs Morgan. Let me see you do it." Ben began to babble again, almost incoherent with lust as nonsense poured out of him. "Big tis wobbling," he panted. "Naked ... You're fucking gorgeous. Fuck, look at you ... just look at you fucking my fingers."

The breath exploded from Julia when she came, and Ben, for all his strength, could hardly hold her upright as she grunted and writhed, her nails scoring deep rents in his chest. As softly as he could, while her climax continued to boil, Ben lowered the thrashing woman to the sand.

He was between her legs, the knob of his cock-head nudging her opening when Julia's eyes focussed on his face.

"Fuck me," she moaned and lifted her feet from the ground, knees folding. "Do it to me, Ben."

They did it twice, the first time hot and frenzied, with Ben pulling out at the moment of orgasm, his seed pouring onto Julia's belly in a thick and heavy rain before, after twenty minutes of tender endearments and long kisses, they made love.

Julia knew, as they walked back to the campsite together, her pussy seeping another man's semen into her underwear, that things between her and Eammon would never be the same. There was a rift now, a rent in their marriage that, as far as she could see, was irreparable. She was surprised at how calm she felt, the realisation dawning that her marriage had probably died some time ago, but she had just refused to accept it.

What was bad was the guilt at what she'd done to her daughter. The taint of betrayal was already curdling inside her, and for that she was sorry, so very sorry.

"I'm going to leave," Julia said as the couple paused at the crest of the dune. She threw a look at the caravan, wondering if Eammon and Melissa were waiting inside. "I'm going home, back to the house. I won't be able to hide what we've done, Ben. They'll know that we ... that we..."

It hit Ben like a shock of cold water being thrown over him: he'd fucked Melissa's mother and his first inclination was to run and hide, to get away and avoid any tears and tantrums.

In later years, married and with a family of his own, Ben would look back and feel the shame of his actions, but at the time he'd looked down at Julia Morgan and nodded, too concerned for himself to worry about the impact of his actions on Melissa or her father. "I think I'd better get out of here too," he said.

And then they set off down the track that led into the site, both of them hoping for an easy getaway.

5

When Julia stormed out of the pub, with Ben following, father and daughter had remained at the table, both of them tense, stiff and unspeaking, a wall of unspoken emotion between them.

The young waitress arrived and, sensing almost palpable disharmony, placed two pints of lager, a gin and tonic and a white wine down without bothering to ask which drink was Melissa's.

"What happened over there?" the waitress whispered to the woman behind the bar, flicking her head towards a stony-faced Eammon and the pouty Melissa.

The barmaid shrugged. 

"The woman ran off. Looked upset about something. Young bloke, the good-looking one with the fit bod went after her." She winked and smirked. "Mebbe there's a tangled web of illicit sex and deceit," she added.

The girl chuckled and rolled her eyes. 

"You read too many dirty books." She chanced a look over her shoulder. "Shall I leave off with asking if they want to order food? They don't look too happy."

The barmaid nodded. 

"Yep. I don't think either of them two has much of an appetite." She gave her indifferent shrug again. "They'll yell if they do want to eat. I'd leave 'em if I were you." Then, already putting the minor altercation out of her mind, she smiled at a couple who walked into the pub and strolled up to the bar. "Evening, folks. Are you dining or is it just a drink ... Janine here will show you a table and take your order..."

Unaware of their fleeting celebrity status among the staff, Eammon and Melissa stayed rooted to their seats.

Eammon picked up one of the pints and drained half in three quick swallows.

"Bloody great holiday," he muttered, wiping the back of his hand across wet lips.

Melissa lifted the gin and drained the glass. "It's your fault," she replied, her voice clipped. "You don't care about Mum, you can't let me just get on with my life."

Stung by his daughter's accusations, Eammon blinked. He looked at Melissa, the injustice of her comments a bubble of pain in his chest. His mouth opened as a sharp rebuke rose out of him -- How dare she speak to him like that?

And then, when he stared into the girl's face, her features spoiled by her own anger and frustrations, Eammon saw her as she'd been when he'd watched her with Ben.

A hot wave of shame wafted over him: he'd spied on his daughter, hidden in the shrubbery all sneaky and clandestine and watched as she'd shared an intimate, a very intimate, private moment.

What kind of man behaved that way? Regardless of his feelings he should accept the fact that Melissa was a woman now. She was an adult and had every right to have a boyfriend and to ... to want to sleep with him, no matter how difficult or unpalatable as that might be for a father to accept.

"Oh, Mel," Eammon sighed, his head lolling with defeat, chin on chest. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Seeing her father so contrite leached the ire from the girl. Her shoulders slumped as the tension drained out of her, the fight and animosity evaporating.

"You're such an idiot," Melissa said, the tenderness in her tone showing she didn't mean it as an insult, more an expression of exasperation.

Eammon nodded. 

"I can be," he said, lifting the glass. He swallowed the remaining half pint and continued with, "I know I can be overbearing and authoritative. But that's the job, Mel. I've got to be tough for work."

Melissa rolled her eyes and batted her father's reasoning aside. 

"You're not a police inspector at home, Dad. I know they say a policeman is never off duty, but you could just relax when you're not at work?" She leaned across the table and touched her father's hand.

The physical contact, no matter how innocent the gesture was meant, sent a thrill of arousal through Eammon. A vision of Melissa all nude and lovely, smiling that lop-sided grin as she'd flaunted herself at the soldier, knowing she was desirable, flitted across Eammon's inner screen. His cock stiffened.

"I love you, Mel," Eammon said, the words coming out thick and gargled.

Melissa blinked at the weird look that had suddenly crossed her father's face. She shrank back away from him, puzzled at his tone.

She picked up the wine glass and took a sip, eyes heavy with suspicion as she regarded her father.

"Uh ... I love you, too, Dad," the girl replied, uncertain.

Had she really heard that tone in her father's voice? It had sounded like he fancied her. Surely not? It was a mistake. Her dad was just choked up with reaction to all the upset, just like she was. He'd not meant it like it sounded. He loved her, yes, but not like that.

"I love you too, but you've got to stop trying to run my life." Melissa glugged more wine and felt the pleasant buzz of the gin she'd already downed. Her confidence surged. "I'm all grown up. I'm a woman. Dad, you've got to let me get on with it," she said, her tone soft.

Eammon sighed as though he carried an almost intolerable burden.

"I'll try, Mel," he said. "Really, I'll try."

"Do you think we should try and find them?" Melissa asked.

Her father pointed at the beer and wine. 

"In a few minutes. Let's not waste these, eh?"

Fifteen minutes later, after checking the caravan and finding it empty, Eammon and Melissa searched further afield. Neither of them considered the beach, reasoning that Ben and Julia would be in one of the other pubs dotted along the road. Julia had been angry and upset, Ben would have caught up with her in no time and probably have steered he to another pub.

Eammon and Melissa tried three more pubs, taking a drink in each before deciding, both feeling the effects of alcohol, to check the caravan again.

"That's funny," Eammon said, slipping on the S. "Ben's tent's gone."

It took three attempts to get the key into the lock, with Eammon squinting one-eyed, concentrating hard. Too much booze too quick on an empty stomach.

The note was propped up on the kitchen counter.

"How could she do it?" Melissa sobbed, stunned by her own mother's duplicity. "And him ...? How could he do it to me? With my mother!"

Eammon couldn't help himself. Melissa's body was pressed against his front, his arms were around her. His instinct was to hold her and comfort her, soothe her like a father should. But his head fizzed with ale and his responses were all messed up. The combination of beer, carnal yearning for his own daughter and the girl's distress somehow grew muddled. His thinking blurred, the line of morality distorted, and in a moment of weakness, unable to resist, Eammon allowed his hands to slide under the hem of Melissa's tee-shirt.

The skin of her back felt incredible, smooth under his palms as his hands slid higher, fingers reaching the strap of Melissa's bra. He pulled the girl closer, his nose in her hair, breathing in the scent of her, the embrace tightening as his cock swelled. 

Lust boiled inside Eammon, it was all too much. She was so pretty, so bloody gorgeous. Melissa smelt so good and she was so warm pressed to him.

Eammon groaned, a long, low moan of visceral longing as, without truly knowing what he was doing he unclasped his daughter's bra and, stepping back, hauled its cups and the front of the girl's tee-shirt upwards.

"Melissa," Eammon sighed, his eyes fastened on his daughter's breasts. "You're so lovely..."

Part Two

1

Melissa, her responses slowed by alcohol, eventually realised she was standing there with the front of her tee-shirt yanked up, her breasts somehow bared. Then, stunned by alcohol and surprise, the shock at what her mother and Ben had done still rocking her, it came to Melissa: her father had done this. He was the one who'd undone her bra and pulled her tee-shirt up.

A dim recollection of his expression and the husky timbre of is voice, so laden with sexual desire, came back to her, penetrating her fogged mind. The way he'd looked at her in the pub...?

At the time she'd shrugged it off, dismissed it, but now she couldn't deny it, he was there in front of her, eyes all glazed, his face almost idiotic. Her father was almost salivating with whatever deep, base desire he had curdling inside him.

The girl pulled back, wrenched herself free of the man's grip, her tee-shirt tearing.

"What the fuck...?" Melissa spat, sobering quickly in the adrenalin rush. "Dad ... Jesus, Dad, what are you doing? Have you gone in-fucking-sane?" The girl pawed at her bra, struggling to cover herself.

"I saw you," Eammon blurted. "Out there, with him." His arm flapped in the vague direction of the dune. "I saw you with him." The man sucked in a breath, blinking at Melissa as the girl took a step backwards. "You were so lovely, Mel," he whined. "So bloody gorgeous. I couldn't help it, darling. I watched you, with him and I wanted it to be me. You're such a pretty girl, Mel, so precious. I..." 

Eammon swallowed quickly several times, his throat working as he struggled to get the words out. He had to make Melissa understand. He loved her; he wanted her.

"...I love you, Mel," he finished with a gasp, rendered incapable of further speech by the whirl of desires inside him.

"Dad... No, don't, don't say that. Don't look at me that way." Melissa's mouth moved, her jaw opening and closing, her eyes wide with incredulity as, stunned, she struggled to make sense of all that had happened -- was still happening.

Her father took a pace towards her, his hand reaching out. He wore a maniacal grin, a rictus of stretched skin around clenched teeth that reminded Melissa on some distant yet oddly lucid level of a Hollywood zombie hungry for brains.

"Fuck off, Dad!" she yelped. "Leave me alone. Are you fucking mental?"

A few moments later, after being brought to his senses by Melissa's frightened, outraged cry and the slap she'd cracked against his cheek, his head still fuzzy with booze through the ringing in his ears, Eammon found himself outside the cubicle that was Melissa's bedroom in the caravan.

"Mel," he mumbled, his forehead resting against the door panel. "Please, baby, let me in. I'm sorry. I ... I need to talk to you ... Mel?"

It would be a simple thing, forcing the lock, but Eammon knew that he'd frightened his daughter enough without resorting to breaking the flimsy latch and barging in on her. He might be pissed but he had enough sense left to realise that.

Eammon felt the beginnings of a headache and stumbled along the short corridor to the kitchen. He poured a glass of water and drank.

What the hell had he been thinking? What a stupid, insane thing to say. How could he have just stood there and babbled all that crap?

Eammon groaned, his toes actually curling inside his shoes with mortification at the recollection of unclasping his daughter's bra and hauling up her tee-shirt.

What must she be going through now? What must she think of him?

Eammon went back to Melissa's door.

Her voice came from the far side of the door panel at her father's knock.

"Go away, Dad. Please, just fuck off."

Eammon heard her distress and acceded to Melissa's request with a heavy reluctance pulling in his guts.

What choice did he have?

The man went to the kitchenette and filled the kettle with water. There would be no sleep for him that night, nor Mellissa either he assumed. Eammon made the coffee and, after discovering a packet of his wife's cigarettes in the drawer when he scrabbled about for a teaspoon, staggered outside, the caravan door clattering against the side panel as he stumbled out into the night air.

Melissa found him there the next morning, slumped forward with his elbows on his knees, forehead in the palms of his hands, cold coffee in a cup on the grass at his feet amid the cigarette butts.

2

When her father's face swivelled towards her, Melissa saw his tortured expression -- the anguish etched into parenthesis at the corners of his mouth. She realised with a jolt just how troubled her father was; Melissa thought she understood her father's pain: after all, her mother had just walked out following her infidelity and he'd made a clumsy pass at his own daughter. It was obvious he hadn't slept. Her father looked dog rough, emotionally battered and bruised.

Despite her shock and subsequent anger over Eammon's behaviour, regardless of her own heartache at Ben's betrayal and abrupt, cowardly departure, Melissa experienced a sudden breathlessness and what felt like a huge balloon swelling in her chest.

She felt so sorry for her father and, for all his faults -- the way he tried to rule her life, his apparent lack of care for her mother -- Melissa was caught in the strong current of feelings for him. He'd been great as she grew up, a really good dad, and things might have gotten a little bent out of shape in the last year or so but there were enough good times in her memories that Melissa could find it in her heart to forgive him the aberration of the night before. The drunk with lust-crazed eyes wasn't her Dad, that bloke was boozed up and reeling from his wife's infidelity. It wouldn't happen again, Melissa was certain.

They could put this right, Melissa knew they could. Besides, with her mother having done a runner Melissa needed her father.

"Dad," the girl murmured. "Why don't you come inside? We've got things to talk about."

"Y-you're still talking to me?" Eammon croaked. His throat felt raw, unused to cigarettes and Eammon grimaced at the taste in his mouth. "After what I? ... Mel," he hesitated, unable to bring himself to speak of the way he'd ripped his daughter's tee-shirt and exposed her breasts.

Eammon asked himself the question, again, the one that had been running around in his head all night: What the hell had he been thinking? 

He sucked a deep breath in through is nostrils, vaguely registering the early start to what promised, weather-wise at least, to be a glorious day.

"I'm sorry about what I did, Mel. I was in a crazy place. You know, with your mum and everything."

The feelings of sympathy and love for her father swelled in Melissa's chest again, rocks of anger and a need to punish her mother and Ben lurking below the surface.

"I ... I think I understand, Dad," the girl stuttered. "What Mum did..." She shook her head and sighed. "Why don't you come inside and I'll make some tea and toast. We can try to talk about it. We can try to make some sense out of it all, Dad."

Tears prickled Eammon's eyes. He blinked up at the lovely young woman standing framed in the doorway to the caravan. 

"Do you forgive me, Mel?" he rasped, not quite believing the strength and maturity of his daughter.

The girl nodded. 

"I think so."

She turned quickly and called from inside the caravan. 

"Tea and toast, Dad! Then we can talk."

Following brisk activity at the kitchen counter, father and daughter sat at the round table set in one corner of the room, Eammon seated on the curved, moulded plastic bench, with Melissa on one of the spindle-legged chairs, the bulk of the caravan behind her.




Nude Melissa



"Why did you try to kiss me last night, Dad?" Melissa asked after several bites of toast and a slurp of near scalding tea.

The direct question came at him like a blow, and Eammon winced at the brutal honesty. He knew then what it felt like for the criminals -- alleged criminals that is -- he'd interviewed over the years. His mind spun as he tried to come up with any plausible answer other than the truth. He couldn't tell Melissa the bald actuality of the matter -- How could he? How could he tell the girl, his own flesh and blood, that he'd lusted after her body, had masturbated while thinking about her, and had even pictured Melissa's nudity while he'd fucked her mother?

"Come on, Dad," Melissa whispered, adding, "don't try to con me. Didn't you say last night that you'd seen me with Ben? What was it you said? Something about watching me with him and wishing it was you? You didn't really mean that, did you, Dad?"

Eammon sucked air in through his nose so hard that the flesh around his nostrils squeezed shut. He boggled at his daughter as she regarded him from beneath sculpted eyebrows, the pale blue irises steady and enquiring.

How could he have forgotten that detail, the blurted, drunken admission? He was the DI, a Detective Inspector of police -- how could a man of his experience be so wrong-footed by an eighteen-year-old girl?

Eventually, Eammon sighed and, slumped with defeat, head bowed he mumbled at the table-top: "I love you, Mel." The man shrugged, resigned to his fate. He didn't care anymore. "I can't explain why I felt what I did. I saw you and I wanted you ... Like a man wants a woman."

His head snapped up, eyes imploring, he needed the girl to understand. He wasn't a bad man, he was just confused.

Eammon swallowed, throat suddenly dry with fear at Melissa's reaction if he continued.

But he had to carry on. Eammon needed to unload. He had to get it all out in the open.

"I was jealous of Ben," Eammon said, faltering at first. Then, his voice rising, he continued. "I'm not ready to let you go, Mel," he blurted, the words bubbling out of him. "You're my daughter. It's my job to protect you. I love you and wanted to keep you close, to watch over you. I followed you along the track. It was so busy on the beach I knew you'd never notice me. Then I saw you walk off down that trail and I lagged behind a bit. I lost you for a little while but then heard something -- I think it was you, giggling.

"I knew what I was going to see before I got there. There was this weird feeling; I knew I was doing wrong but I couldn't stop myself. It was a strange sort of ... thrill, I suppose. There was something going on just out of my sight, something that drew me to it. It excited me ... you know, aroused me.

"But when I saw it ... saw you ... Oh God, Mel, you were so lovely. Seeing you naked...

"Even though you're my daughter and I knew I shouldn't have been looking, I stayed. I stayed and watched you with him.

"I wanted to be him. Me, your dad, I wanted to do those things with you."

Melissa stared at her father for a long time, unblinking, not speaking. Immobile.

She'd asked and he'd told her, let it all pour out. She'd chipped away at the dam of her father's reticence and been swept up in the flood after breaking through.

Her reaction surprised her. Okay, she was shocked, sure, gobsmacked by the admission. She considered being outraged for a few moments, but discarded the idea since the simple truth of it was that she didn't feel outraged.

Melissa finally blinked when her brain registered, after a frantic analysis, after considering just what it was her father had said, the overriding sentiment she felt. As potentially devastating such information could be, Melissa felt enormous respect for her father. It must have been so difficult to admit it to her? It must have been hard enough to admit it to himself, but he'd also found the guts to confront it and bring it out into the open. He'd done it; he'd been honest and told the truth.

And, inside it all, lying there at the centre was the pearl of her father's love.

He loved her and somehow that sentiment had altered, developed into sexual feelings. It might be shocking but Melissa could just about get her head around it.

She looked into her father's face and saw again the anguish. He was waiting, she realised, waiting for a response from her, and Melissa could see the concern behind his eyes. Her father was just sitting there, certain that she was about to unload all over him.

His face was almost comical when Melissa reached across the table for her father's hand. His jaw fell and he gawped at her when the girl murmured, "It's okay, Dad. I love you too. Don't let it eat at you. I get it; I understand that you got a little out of control. I don't hate you, Dad; I do get it, sort of. You don't have to feel bad."

3

They decided, after much conversation and a gallon of tea, to remain at the campsite.

"We both need to get our heads straight, Dad. We've had some big shocks in the last ... what is it? twelve hours or so...?"

Eammon, exhausted by the turmoil, nodded. The girl was right, they could do with some time to breathe, to adjust, and He could deal with Julia some other time.

It had been Melissa who broached the subject of her mother, asking her father if he would take her back.

Eammon had pondered and then announced that he had enough going on in his head without thinking about that subject, that to confront his wife over her actions would be too much to face. He also reasoned that Julia herself might benefit from some time apart.

"Besides," Eammon had said, a tentative grin shaping his lips, "I've paid for a week in this caravan ... The weather's great ... It'd be a crime to waste it."

Caught on the hop by her father's dead-pan delivery, caught with a mouthful of tea, Melissa guffawed and shot forward in her seat. "Tea-spew! she coughed, eyes watering as liquid spilled out of her nose.

Eammon laughed, a huge sound straight from the belly as, helpless with mirth he watched his daughter cough and splutter, her whole body caught in paroxysm, unable to control her own laughter.

The laughter grew, a boil lanced by the comedy of the moment as father and daughter snorted and cuffed at eyes filled with tears of mirth. It took several minutes for them to calm, the giggles returning whenever they caught each other's eye.

Finally, with giggles bubbling inside her, Melissa staggered across the room towards the kitchen counter. 

"You git," the girl grinned, suddenly euphoric at the way things had turned out. She dabbed her eyes with the heel of one hand before tearing a sheet from the kitchen roll. "I almost choked!"

Eammon chuckled, grateful for the laughter and Melissa's good grace. He tilted his head and looked at the girl, expression abruptly serious.

"Are you upset about Ben?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," Melissa answered, sobering when she noticed her father's straight face. "But I think I'll get over him." Throwing the damp, tea-stained sheet of kitchen roll into the pedal bin, Melissa held out her arms. "Come and give me a hug, Dad."

Eammon found himself, after a moment's hesitation, moving towards his daughter. He was staggered that she'd forgiven him, amazed at her trust and willingness to let him hold her, especially after what he'd done the previous night.

"I'm fine," the girl mumbled into her father's chest as they embraced. "In fact I'm better than fine. In spite of what's gone on I feel like we've got a fresh start, Dad." The girl leaned back, the strong arms holding her as she looked up into the familiar face. "You don't have to stand watch over me, Dad. If you let me go I'm more inclined to come back, eh? Give me some freedom."

Eammon got it, understood exactly what his daughter meant. He harrumphed, clearing his throat of the huge ball that had settled there. He nodded and said, his voice gruff as he felt the tears well, "A fresh start, baby. I love you. And thanks."

They stayed that way for several more seconds, Melissa snuggling her face back against her father's chest. 

Eventually she wriggled free and walked towards her bedroom.

"I'm going to shower and then I'm off to sunbathe," Melissa called back. "You're right about the weather." A wry grin twisted Eammon's lips and he shook his head when his daughter added, "It'd be a crime to waste it! And I'll let you do the washing up."

Melissa showered and slipped on her bikini briefs before tying the cord of the top at the nape of her neck. She smeared on sun block and considered asking her dad to rub the stuff into her back, but put it off as a bad job. Not yet, she wouldn't put him in that position for a while, it would be best to let all the drama blow over first.

Following some contortionist moves, her body covered by a tee-shirt and, earing the Daisy Dukes, hair in a pony-tail, sunglasses in place, she was ready.

With the morning's pots washed and stacked on the draining board Eammon watched his daughter walk over the dune from his bedroom window. 

He saw the feminine hip-sway, her backside packed inside the denim and the length of her legs from the ragged hem down to her flip-flops. "Oh shit," he mumbled, appalled at the thoughts the girl's slim figure elicited.

He'd thought it was over, had imagined the carnal desires for his daughter had subsided.

It appeared he'd been wrong.

He showered in an effort to cleanse his mind as he washed his body. His hand strayed to his cock, which stiffened immediately, already twitching to half-mast when the images of a nude Melissa, her face contorted with agonised pleasure as she knelt and took the soldier's long cock from behind, came to Eammon's mind.

He stroked his length while imagining his daughter's breasts -- He could have just leaned in and sucked one of her nipples the night before...

"No," he grunted, releasing his hard-on, struggling for self-control. "Stop it, you perv. Stop it, now."

Eammon towelled dry, his erection refusing to abate, the thick jib of it waggling and waving in constant reminder.

Exhausted from a night of no sleep, having slid in and out of a hazy level of consciousness as he'd sat in the chair outside the caravan during the dark hours, Eammon lay on his bed. But sleep refused to come, and the only subject his tortured mind could focus on was Melissa. He thrashed around on the bed, the day growing warmer while thoughts of the girl sunbathing in the clearing tormented him.

Earlier that morning he had experienced first-hand how it felt for the interviewee during a session of questioning, and now Eammon had some clue what an addict went through when the cravings started.

He rose from the ruined bed, the sheets a mess, evidence of the man's frustrated attempt at sleep. Eammon stood at the window for ten full minutes, his face blank, body still as the war waged inside him. Eventually, inevitably, with the after-image of Melissa in his head as he'd seen her walking over the dune, knowing exactly where she intended to sunbathe, recalling her nudity and what she'd done with Ben, he left the caravan and locked the door.

4

Melissa ignored the beach, preferring instead the solitude of the lovers' clearing. A pang of loss griped in her stomach when she arrived, the place held a special meaning for her. Not any more, though, Melissa resolved. Now it was just a spot she knew where she could sunbathe in relative privacy, a place where she could let the sun caress her skin while she dozed away the time.

The girl unfurled the rolled-up beach towel with a deft flick and, after checking the sun's track and the direction of her shadow, undressed down to her bikini. She lay there for a few minutes, eyelids suddenly heavy and she began to doze. It had been a fitful night of little sleep, and what time she had spent asleep had been filled with bizarre, disturbing dreams, dreams that startled her awake and left her blinking in the dark. Then there had been the scene with her father, a draining time that, although had cleared the air between father and daughter, had sucked what little energy she had remaining.

Melissa slept until the alarm she'd set on her phone sounded and snapped her back to consciousness. After a brief adjustment to the position of the towel, aligning it with her shadow, she settled down again, this time on her front.

She dozed again until the alarm trilled. Time to turn. Melissa lined up with the sun once more but, just as she was about to settle onto the towel a thought came to her. She examined her surroundings, a thrill of daring making her shiver.

"Fuck it," the girl muttered to herself. "Why not?"

Reaching for the knot at the nape of her neck, Melissa tugged the string and exposed her breasts to the sun's warming gaze. She lifted her rump and slipped the bikini bottoms over her hips and along her legs.

Out of the bag came the sunscreen, which she then drizzled onto her boobs, nipples rising with expectation when she massaged the gloop into her skin. She rubbed a palm smeared with the stuff over the vulnerable place her pubic bush would cover if she hadn't waxed it smooth, a sudden burst of sexual arousal coursing through her when she touched herself.

Melissa, sitting upright with her thighs apart, allowed her finger to slide lower. She gasped when the tip slid over her clitoris and the heat burst between her legs.

"Fuck," she mumbled, eyelids drooping, mouth falling open. "That's bloody gorgeous."

The girl splayed her labia with the fingers of one hand, her index finger on the prepuce that hid her shy clit. Rubbing herself gently Melissa watched her finger move against her own flesh. "Yes," she breathed as tiny pulses radiated outwards from her core. "So fucking good..."

Thoughts of Ben came to mind; she imagined him there with her, his tongue splitting her labia, lapping at her and sucking her clitty. Melissa collapsed backwards, lying on her back while her fingers worked quickly between her thighs. In her mind's eye she pictured a lover, now just some anonymous, faceless form since Ben had been consigned to the past. Melissa had no use for him -- emotionally, physically or in her fantasy. The phantom in her mind was enough, his tongue moving from her sex to trace a path upwards, flicking over her tummy and between her breasts. He paused to tease one teat, the nipple elongated and tender, with his lips and tongue before the other breast received the same attention.

The man licked Melissa's throat and then kissed her mouth.

She tasted herself on his tongue and fingered her sex, her opening flooded, labia slippery with the desire that sluiced out of her.

Melissa, groaning and gasping, rolled onto her front. Her fingers scissored between her thighs, hips jerking as she rolled from side-to-side, buttocks thrust upwards. She grunted and finger-fucked herself with two stiff fingers before sliding the digits, slick with lust, from her opening and rubbed her clitoris.

The girl moaned with a long, low gurgle that bubbled out of her -- she was close, so fucking close to coming...

She had both hands at work by then, with one arm flung back so her forearm was draped over the cheek of her backside as she fucked herself with three fingers. The other arm was trapped beneath her body, fingers urgently sawing her tormented clitoris.

Her climax was close, so close. Melissa could feel the orgasm simmering, visualised the pleasure like a pan full of milk on a hot stove. If she continued at that frantic pace she would just boil over, the pleasure rising rapidly to overwhelm her, exactly the same way milk, when it reached that critical temperature, heaved inside the pan and surged over the lip.

"No," she grunted. "Not yet..."

The girl gasped and, not a second too soon, snatched her hand away from her sex. Her fingers sucked out of her pussy and Melissa gasped, rolling onto her back, a forearm flung over her forehead.

"Shit," she gasped while her chest heaved with effort. "Fuck ... That was so good..."

Again she heaved herself upright, examining herself between her legs. She saw the folds of her labia dangling all loose and floppy and tacky with desire. Melissa felt hot and swollen down there, could feel her insides clenching, her pussy hungry and unfulfilled. The girl could almost hear it snarling. She flicked at the loose flesh of those lips between her legs, wincing at the exquisite agony when her finger flicked over the bean of her clit.

Lust bubbled inside her again, and Melissa took a tentative rub at the delicate and tender nub of her clit.

She winced and gasped, preparing to turn up the heat again. This time however she'd just let it go, allow herself to climax, there was no way she could hold it back.

It was just as she began again that the eerie sensation came upon her. She felt the hairs on her neck rise as a prickle, like an insect crawling over her skin, rippled along the track of her spine.

Melissa sucked in a breath, eyes widening as she froze, the hand between her thighs stilling in an instant.

She knew with intuitive certainty that someone was there, watching. Melissa could almost feel the stare burning into her skin. Her first thought was Ben, he'd come back to beg for forgiveness and was skulking around on the periphery of the clandestine spot spying on her.

Maybe he didn't have the balls to approach her? Perhaps he lacked the courage to confront her face-to-face?

But what if it wasn't Ben? What if it was some stranger out there? It could be anyone. It could be a nice bloke, someone who had just bumbled into the scene. After all, Melissa reasoned quickly --part of her brain working at speed even though her body remained frozen -- a man stumbling across a pretty girl, a naked woman masturbating in the sun, would surely stop and watch.

But what if whoever was out there wasn't nice? What if some disgusting creature came crashing out of the undergrowth intent on defiling her tender, youthful body?

Melissa rose to a half crouch, poised like a sprinter in the blocks, ready to grab her clothes and run.

Fight or flight...

Another thought snuck into her head. An oily whisper, dark and clandestine -- What if it was her father out there?

The girl slumped onto her knees, heart thumping.

She couldn't explain it, not even to herself, later on when she analysed the actions that followed.

For some reason -- maybe her pussy clamouring for attention; perhaps her overheated libido or even the possibility she was just a randy bitch -- Melissa closed her eyes and massaged a breast with one hand.

The thought of it, her own father spying on her got her hot. She recognised it as madness but just didn't care. Melissa knew he'd seen her with Ben and that it had turned her dad on, and now she felt the same illicit thrill.

With one hand mauling her tits, Melissa began to rub at her sex again. She melted onto the towel, her legs folding as she fingered herself towards a climax.

It all came to her in a swirl of impressions: the sun warming her; her nudity; the tingle starting in her toes and which she could feel in the roof of her mouth of all places. 

Her father was out there, watching. Was he tugging his cock?

"Oh, fuck..." the girl moaned when that image came to mind. "Wank it, Daddy," she whispered to herself. "Pull that cock for your darling daughter. Look at me. See me fingering my cunt while you watch?"

Melissa came as she pictured her father's semen spurting out of him. She writhed and gasped and cried out in ecstasy, her body squelching and farting around fingers buried up to the knuckle while those lewd, obscene images rolled across the screen of her mind.

5

Eammon arrived just in time to see his daughter peel the bikini briefs over her shins. Completely transfixed by the girl's sublime loveliness, there was no way he could turn away from the sight of her, not any more. The moment for turning back and pushing carnal thoughts for Melissa had left the building.