0 comments/ 90683 views/ 3 favorites A Week of June: Saturday By: columfa Author's note: I apologize once again for the lateness of this posting. I appreciate all of the interest in the June stories. It has been quite a personal journey for me to write them. Please, read them in order, as they form one long story, with many small stories along the way. I seriously doubt that there will be any more June stories to come, as I think I have exhausted that particular font of inspiration. My ex-wife Alice looked up at me, smiling, affectionate, as she had not been to me in so many years. My length glided into her, lubricated by love. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of the penetration. When I was fully joined with her, I was comforted, home, ensconced. "Don't you see?" she asked. "Of course," I replied, and it did all make sense. All of the doubts I had felt for the past week, all of the fears and insecurities were banished by the inscrutable surety shining from Alice's eyes. I raised myself on my arms, withdrawing oh so slowly from the clinging depths of her sex, only to allow myself to fall back down into her, sucked inward. "It's not up to you to figure out her life. You've got to let go at some point, and let her make her own decisions." Alice had never sounded so wise in all the years I had known her. "All parents have to release the child and forge new relationships with the adult. She has chosen an unusual course, but then, she always was an unusual child." The delicious friction forged by our union brought warmth and joy to me. I wanted it to go on forever. In that moment, I forgave Alice all of her infidelities, and saw a path forward to new awareness. "Mmmm... Oh, yeah... That's really nice, Dad..." My eyes flashed open. Jarred back to reality, I found myself in Esme's room, on her huge waterbed. I was still spooning June from behind, but my steely erection had found its way between her thighs, and was trapped up against her seeping pussy lips. My hips were pushing back and forth, my cock slipping between my daughter's thighs with ease, lubricated by her exudations. "Don't you want to put it in? Don't you want to feel that connection again?" I snapped fully awake. Pulling back, I extricated myself from that all-too-welcoming haven, and pushed away from June. "Awww, I was enjoying watching that," Esme said. She was sitting up on the other side of June, wearing a long white t-shirt. Although it protected her modesty completely, her nipples were pointing through the cotton. June looked over her shoulder at me, her gorgeous ass still pooched out at me. In between her thighs, I could see the indentation of her labia. "Well, Dad? You don't want to disappoint Esme, do you?" Esme smiled at me, and reached between her legs to touch herself. "Oh, yeah... you two are so hot together. Why would you want to destroy that?" My mind was at war with my cock, which still strained towards my daughter's cunt. I compromised. "All right, but still, I'm not going to go inside of you, June." "Whatever, Dad." I lay back down behind her, let my pussy-juice slick cock fit between her ass cheeks. The fleshy globes gripped me, and I let my prick slide up and down that inviting cleft. "Ooohhhh..." moaned Esme, "I gotta see this!" She came closer, leaning down, her hand still between her legs. June lifted up her top leg, and Esme reached between to grasp my cock. Pulling it downward, she dragged the tip across June's anus, then through the middle of her labia, until it came to rest against her clit. June left her leg bent at the knee, and let out a satisfied sigh when she felt my hard length lying against her sopping cunt. Esme's eyes were wide, her breath coming in fast pants as she watched the incestuous near-union of our organs. The head of my cock was angry purple now, swollen beyond belief by the angle of my prick and the erotic nature of the scene. Esme's hot breath flowed over our cock and cunt, adding to the stimulation. I pulled back, and the head of my cock plowed through June's vulva once more. I couldn't believe the glorious feeling of that smooth skin against my hardness. The lack of hair on her youthful pussy made the motion that much more slick. Again I pushed forward, and June ground her clit against my erection, moaning. Esme's fingering became more frantic, as she sawed fingers in and out of her own cunt, but her eyes stayed wide open, locked on the prurient scene before her, not wanting to miss a moment. Back and forth, now, faster, the delightful feelings multiplying electrifyingly. "Mmmm... Dad... Oh, yeah... Don't you want to put it in? Don't you want to fuck me again?" "Ohhh, God..." I groaned. That little brain that resides in the end of a guy's cock was screaming at me to aim higher, so that I could ram home into June's pussy. "C'mon, Mr. Carlson... I wanna see you fuck your daughter... please..." I almost gave in, the lewd idea of making love to June in front of her friend overwhelming my higher thinking capacity. On my next backward movement, I felt the crown of my cock catch on the lip of June's entrance, before slipping back forward once more. I was saved from my own instinct by Esme. "I can't stand it," Esme shouted, "I've got to..." and she leaned forward further, applying her mouth to my glans as it thrust forward over June's cunt. Her tongue swirled wetly over the crown, then slipped over June's clit. "Ohhhh!!" moaned June, her orgasm crashing through her. I could feel the spasms of her pussy against the top of my shaft. In a second, my orgasm joined hers, and I forcefully ejected ropes of sperm towards Esme. The first went directly into her mouth, while the second jerked up and splashed across her face. The rest she caught directly in her mouth. In a flash, she pushed herself up so that she could kiss my daughter. June kissed back, their tongues pressing against each other, my ejaculate traded back and forth in their mouths. "MMMFFF... mmmm... ohhhh..." Esme came violently against her fingers, her mouth still locked on June's. We all lay, panting, recovering from the strength of our cums. "Now, that's the way to get up in the morning," June said wryly, a little of my cum decorating her chin. "High in protein," giggled Esme. **** At 11:30, June called Julianne, our waitress from the night before and told her to come over, giving her directions to Esme's apartment. I was enjoying my second cup of coffee, not to mention the company of the two young ladies. Esme had changed into a pair of hip hugger white pants, very low-slung, so that her hipbones jutted out over the top. The sides of the pants, from hem to belt, consisted entirely of leather laces, exposing a two or three inch wide strip of skin the length of her legs. Similarly, instead of buttons or a zipper, the front of the pants had leather laces forming a "v" pointing towards her pussy. It was blatantly obvious that she had no panties on, especially from the rear where her well-formed ass was tightly encased by in cotton. For a shirt, she had a cropped white skintight t-shirt that had the word "slut" in pink script right between her small tits. June had put together an outfit that showed that she still had the power to shock. Her top was sheer, light blue, embroidered with little flowers. It hugged her breasts tightly, with an elastic bottom edge that cupped underneath each one. Her areolas and nipples were easily visible. But her pants were what put the outfit over the edge. They were denim chaps, soft and form-fitting, with an inch wide belt at the top connecting the two legs into one piece of clothing. The cut-out portion of the chaps left uncovered precisely that area usually covered by a standard pair of panties; that is to say, her whole ass, upper thighs, groin, and lower belly were in the open. To protect what modesty she pretended to claim, June had a g-string pair of panties on. In the back, it was merely a string between her butt cheeks, attached to two strings that went over her hips and around to the front. There, they swooped down towards her sex, at the last second coming together into a tiny patch that molded to her vulva. Her peony tattoo proudly sat above the g-string. When Julianne arrived, she had clearly attempted to reach June and Esme's level of exhibitionism. The cute redhead had a leather miniskirt, around fifteen inches in length. On top, she wore a cream top through which you could see her lacy black bra. However, when she came in and saw what her new friends were wearing, her cheeks flushed. "Oh, damn. I thought I was being daring." "Don't worry, Julianne darling," June said, caressing the redhead's cheek. "We'll take care of you. We're going shopping." The heat outside was as astounding as ever. Rather than letting up, it appeared to have increased. The sounds of the city were deadened by the intense heat, and the sun pounded against the asphalt mercilessly. We piled into a cab to take us uptown. The cabbie kept on staring at us in his mirror, four people sitting together in the backseat. I had Julianne on my lap, Esme to my right, and my daughter to my left. I couldn't help but reach down and tickle June between her legs, where her mound pooched out. Julianne stared at my hand as I tucked the g-string inside of June's lips so that they stuck out around the cotton. "Naughty, naughty, Daddy," said June, "what will people think?" Julianne looked at the two of us, a shocked expression on her face. "You're her - her father?!" "Yup," I replied, casually, stroking June's exposed labia gently. "And you like him touching you like that?" "Sure thing, sweety," purred June. "I've wanted him since I was ten years old. Daddy, you wouldn't have done anything to me back then, would you?" "Good God, no, princess. I like my girls to have curves, a little something on top." "Jesus, I would have spread my thin legs for you back then without a blink of an eye." Her eyes had a dreamy, far-away look in them. Esme giggled at June's statement, while Julianne just gasped. "Don't think you would have fit, though," June went on, her eyes closed. "How about when I started to fill out, Daddy dearest? Would you have fucked me when I was thirteen?" I was fascinated by this conversation. Horrified, yet fascinated. June had a way of dragging the reality of our relationship out to where I had to examine it more closely. I had not been sexually attracted to her back then. I had really been too involved with my own issues to relate with her in any way, let alone to notice how she was becoming a woman. "Mmmm... yeah, I remember first getting tits. I was so proud that I had something to show on my chest. Even though they were just bumps back then, not like what I've got now, that's for sure. Do you remember, Daddy, finding me by the pool in my string bikini? I tried to flash you when I could..." I remembered the awkward teenager she had been back then. I had the image of my blonde daughter, wearing a striped bikini that tied in the back, just barely filled with tiny handfuls. And now I recalled the time she spoke of, when she had been sunning in the backyard, on her stomach, her top untied. I came out, and she propped herself up on her elbows so that her little breasts were exposed. The most vivid part of the memory is how the deck chair had left red lines across her body. Nudity had not been a big deal in our family, although I had not known the extent to which Alice, June's mother, had abused that privilege. Trying not to stare at the cute mounds, I had sat and talked with June about her day at school, and my day at work. She had teased me, I now knew, by "unconsciously" exposing herself from time to time. Yet I had not been aroused by her immature display, only amazed at her innocence. "You little minx," I said now, my finger straying deeper under the flimsy cotton g-string. "You were displaying yourself in a most unladylike fashion." "But would you have? C'mon, Daddy, didn't you want to see more of me?" "No, kiddo. Sorry, but no. I wasn't attracted to you then, either." "Well then, how about the last time I saw you?" I remembered that time, two years ago. I was barely getting started in my new business when my fifteen-year-old girl came to visit me in the big city. The photograph I keep on my bedside table of her is from that time. She had filled out beautifully, I remember, now showing the real curves of womanhood, sitting somewhat awkwardly even then on her young body. "Even then," June went on, "I tried to let you know without saying anything." I recalled the time I had walked into the bathroom and found her drying off from a shower. She had shrieked with surprise, yet I had caught a glimpse of her skin, the sweep of her ass, the clean line of her shoulderblade. With a shock, I now realized that I had been unconsciously assessing her as a woman rather than as my child. "Yes..." I murmured, my cock now rising underneath Julianne's ass, filling up, extending down my leg. "Yes, I probably would have taken you then, if you had made it clear." Julianne, her eyes wide, stared at me over her shoulder. Then she turned and looked at my daughter, her legs spread, her butt forward on the seat, my finger seeking inside of her. "God," she whispered, "I thought only weirdos would wanna screw their dads..." "Yeah, right," Esme shot back. "Nothing weird about getting off in the back of a cab." "Don't mind me," said the cabbie. "I'm just trying to keep my eyes on the road." But the revelation had hit me like a ton of bricks. Sure I knew I was fucked up for making it with my daughter. Even now, with my finger seated in her pussy, I knew I was taking advantage of a situation without truly assessing the consequences. But how deep did my perversion go? I had at least prided myself by thinking that I had only been involved in consensual relations with June. But could a fifteen-year-old girl truly know what she was getting into? Still, I couldn't withdraw my finger from the delicious haven it had found within June's depths. Julianne, though still shocked, was mesmerized by my intimate contact with June. She couldn't tear her eyes off of the motion my hand made between June's legs. "Maybe... maybe it's just because I had an ugly father or something. Maybe I would have jumped my old man if he had looked like you..." "Or maybe not," June breathed. "Maybe it's not something to aspire to." "But look how close you are with your Dad. I can't even carry on a conversation with my father." "Julianne, you don't know us. We are fucked up. In the worst way. But we've found a way to patch up the shit we've gone through in the past. I don't recommend this." "But I love it," Esme whispered, in a husky voice. "I definitely do not want to make it with my father. But to see a dad and daughter together like this is fucking exciting. Especially in public..." She was breathing heavily now, her nipples straining through her t-shirt, forming an odd but appropriate frame to the pink letters in between. "I hate to say it, folks, but we're here," the cabbie said, regretfully. **** That afternoon I was privy to a performance I will never forget. The title was 'The Education of Miss Julianne,' and it starred my three companions, with our new friend in the starring turn. June was in her ringmaster role, and directed the movement of characters and costumes with a flair that would have captivated the most jaded of theatergoers. Esme was the stage manager, always showing up with the required props at the perfect moment, always staying in the background. And poor, confused, stunned, delighted Julianne, our naif. As the ingenue of the piece, she was simply asked to blush prettily, stutter, and yet somehow manage to look radiant despite the strange turns of events any good comedy possesses. And as for myself? I was the audience, one among many astonished passers-by, given the present of that wonderful feeling that only superb stagecraft can bring forth: amazement. And I, only I, knew that the whole performance was particularly designed for me. Only I knew the message that June was sending me: take me, and all of this will be yours for the asking. The first store was a little boutique with full height glass windows facing the street. The saleslady hurried to greet us: a stick-figure of a woman, with sharply tailored clothes. But June had already started to take the measure of the store's merchandise, and sent Esme off after several outfits. She waved off the saleslady with a practiced flourish, and turned to Julianne. "The art of exhibitionism is not one to be taken lightly, my dear. There is a philosophy to it, an understanding that the act is one that is necessarily shared between the self and the other. Every decision must be tailored to that belief. Greed has no place in exhibitionism; you must never expose merely to please yourself. Conversely, selflessness or submission is not strictly speaking part of the art either. Instead, you must be willing to share your pleasure in yourself, your confidence that your body is one that others will want to see. It is that confidence that makes people admire rather than censure. To that end, you must be supremely self-aware. You must know your strengths and your weaknesses in order to display the one and hide the other. Whereas greed is exiled, pride is worshipped. Above all, be proud of yourself, and exhibitionism will be as natural as nudity! "Now tell me, Julianne. What about your body makes you proud?" "Um - well, I guess my eyes are pretty," Julianne ventured. "Forget about your face, honey. You're very cute, we'll take that for granted. I'm talking about your body." I had settled into a chair conveniently supplied for gentlemen visiting the store, and I watched Julianne hem and haw. June sighed. "All right. Let me tell you then. From what I've seen so far, you have every reason to be proud of several aspects of your body. First off, your breasts are small, but well-formed. They look to be able to support themselves on their own, which is extremely valuable should you decide to forgo wearing a bra. Like Esme here, you will not be betrayed by sag." June cupped one of Esme's breasts through the T-shirt, lifted it, and let it fall. It jiggled becomingly, but did not sway. Esme smiled winningly, her hard nipples showing how much she liked the attention. "Second, your legs are long and shapely. This is also key: chunky thighs or cellulite ruin a good outfit. Take good care of your legs, and they should remain your friends for years to come. There is no reason why any woman should have to give up exhibitionism this side of sixty. "These are the assets I can reasonably evaluate given that I have not seen you without attire. So, let us fix that. Esme, bring those outfits. Julianne, come with us." And with that, she led the way to the dressing rooms. I waited in a fine state of anticipation. June's views on exhibitionism meshed remarkably well with my own, and I was astonished at her capacity for such well-reasoned thought on such a mature subject. But then, girls in the USA are required to have more than a passing knowledge of the subject of sexiness vs. sluttiness. When I was a child, the difference was too obvious. Now the lines have blurred. In fact, Esme's shirt with its once-derogatory slur seemed now more like a title of honor. Julianne emerged from the dressing room, clad in a blush and a sheer minidress. The material was patterned in black lace, obscuring the details of her skin underneath. She was not wearing a bra, but the lines of a g-string showed through the dress. I could not make out her nipples, but the gentle curve of her breasts cast a shadow against her torso that was visible. "As I said before," June lectured, "your legs are an asset you do not want to hide. A dress like this one allows the viewer to see the entire line of your leg from ankle to hip. With the correct underwear, you can emphasize that upper border, and make your legs appear longer. Your boobs, too, need to stand out. In this outfit, you can see the general outline but no details. In some situations this would be enough. But not for our purposes. A Week of June: Saturday "In addition, I now have more information to work with. To hide your nipples from people would be a true crime. Like mine, the areolas are perfectly round, the nipples themselves deep red and extending nicely off of the surface of the tit around them." June pulled lightly at her right nipple through her shirt, making it stand out proudly. The light blue sheer material made the turgid nipple appear luridly purple, accenting its arousal. Julianne was blushing an even deeper shade of red than she had when she first came through the curtain. The frank appraisal was simultaneously humiliating and exalting her. Two other shoppers, one a well-to-do lady around my age, the other a pretty little thing, probably a college girl, had stopped to listen. The first nodded in agreement with June's statements, while the second gazed in rapt admiration. "Your stomach has a slightly rounded aspect to it," June continued, dispassionately, ticking points off on her finger. "This sort of look is highly valued today. It emphasizes youth and denotes a kind of laissez-faire attitude that can be extremely sexy in the right hands. Accessorizing is of course a key part of displaying yourself. Adding a navel ring or stud would highlight the sexual aspect of the abdomen. "Your butt is also an important consideration. Note how Esme and I have chosen clothes that make the essential shape of our asses clear. Esme's hipster pants cling to her high-riding butt so that the prominence of the lower curves is emphasized, while allowing an inch or two of her butt crack to show at the top. My pants, of course, outline the roundness of my ass while the thong of my g-string makes the symmetry of the cheeks obvious. In contrast, your ass sits a little low on your body, and therefore the emphasis of your outfits needs to be on your thin waist and the fine curve down to your hips rather than on the lower half of your butt. "Finally, you must make a decision about your pubic hair. There are two points to be made here. First, as you have dyed your hair, there is a disconnect visually between the bright red above and the duller brown beneath. In such a situation, it is best not to draw too much attention to the difference. Second, you must always be aware of the dangers of the escaped pubic hair. America, on the whole, prefers its women to have less hair rather than more. In some situations, the shock value of the hairy mound is worth the downside. But, on the whole, it is preferable to keep it under control as much as possible. To that end, you must either give up certain opportunities, or remove the hair that is beyond the capacity of skimpy underwear to capture. As you know, Esme and I have removed all of our pubic hair. This is also not ideal, although it was required for our performance last night. "Having seen all of this, I think we are ready to try another outfit. Please take off the dress." "B-but, I'm not wearing..." Julianne stuttered. "Nonsense, girl. No false modesty here. Off with it. We haven't got all day." Julianne gaped at her, then seemed to come to a decision. She turned away from the front of the store and grasping the dress by its hem, smoothly pulled it over her head. She crossed her arms over her breasts, and looked over her shoulder at June. I longed for a camera to capture the wild innocence of that face, the hunted look of a fawn, at once fearful of and drawn to its doom. Her skin, flawlessly white, was set off by her copper red hair and the stark black of the g-string. But the author of her dilemma was merciless, looking through the various items Esme had selected as if it were entirely normal for a young woman to change in the middle of the store. The saleslady was wringing her hands, looking worriedly at the door. Finally June handed another piece of clothing to Julianne. This item of clothing was a peach-colored sheer dress that was slit up the sides clear to the ribcage. The front flap hung nearly straight down off of Julianne's breasts, while the rear flap clung gracefully to the sweep of her ass. Through the side slits, the lines of her waist and hips were elegantly displayed, just as June had predicted. Her perky tits likewise shone through, the finer pink of her nipples set off by the peach color of the outfit. "This color would not work on someone with a tan; but it compliments your paleness. However, that g-string will not do. Please take it off." As if under a spell, Julianne hooked her fingers under the thin strings of the black panties and peeled it down her legs. Her bush now jumped out to the watchers, its dark brown growth clearly at odds with the rest of her appearance. Although she had a bikini wax, the luxuriance of hair was too much. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. As I suspected. You will need to get rid of some of that. How can you hope to show off your pussy lips when they're hidden by all of that hair? Look at my pussy. Even though it's covered by my panties, you can easily discern the two labia, and the cleft in between. Had I hair on my vulva like you do, you would not be able to make out such detail, as it would mask the delicate contours." A young couple entered the store, and stopped dead in their tracks. The woman's mouth dropped open, while the man seemed suddenly unsure of where to look. June called them over. "Hi, we need an impartial opinion. Do you think my friend here needs to shave her bush or not?" The couple looked at each other, and then the woman giggled. The man seemed relieved that his girlfriend was not mad at him, and he turned his attention to Julianne. She, poor thing, looked like she was about to faint, but her rock-hard nipples and a certain dewiness on the hair between her legs, betrayed her rising excitement. "Well," the guy started, "as it is right now, it certainly has a kind of shock value. You're not likely to mistake the fact that she's got nothing on beneath her dress." "Yeah," his girlfriend retorted, "but it lacks subtlety. There's no suspense. Everything's out there, screaming for your attention. She definitely needs to cut it back, and then wear neutral colored panties over it. That way, you could walk by her, and then have to take a second look in order to confirm her exhibition." June nodded, pleased. She turned to our redheaded friend, whose knees were distinctly trembling from the excitement of the situation. "Allright, Julianne. This dress won't do for the time being. We'll have to find something more creative." She started to go through the pile of clothes in Esme's arms. "Here. Let's get you into these." She held out a blouse and skirt. Julianne took them, and started towards the dressing rooms. "No, no, silly girl. We don't have the time to troupe back and forth. I thought I made that abundantly clear before." Julianne still hesitated, her breath coming rapidly as she faced the possibility of being completely nude in front of a group of strangers. "Look. You've already shown them just about everything you've got as it is," June pointed out. "What difference does it make if you've got this scrap of clothing over you or not?" After a long pause, Julianne nodded imperceptibly, the attractive flush in her cheeks a delightful reminder of her arousal. She reached behind her to untie the dress, the action thrusting her tits proudly forward. All eyes were on her; the older woman, the college girl, the couple; even the saleswoman, nervously glancing at the door, couldn't stop herself from participating in the display. With a sibillant slither, the tiny dress slipped off her shoulders and down her slim body to the floor. With a defiant glance at June, the girl stood before us as God created her, the natural beauty inherent in her humanity evident. She was not so perfect as to seem unattainable, no idol to be placed on a pedestal. Rather, her few imperfections, instead of appearing as flaws, added together to create an undeniably attractive whole. I had never before been turned on by cone-shaped breasts, those tits that seem to sit high on the chest with angles that converge on the nipples, which seem the apotheoses of the entire structure. In her case, however, I found myself undeniably excited by the lighter-than-air feeling of Julianne's chest, the way they seemed to float off of her chest. Her nipples were begging to be suckled, the deeper pink being all that separated them from the mounds beneath. I was aroused, and I let it show through my pants, my length outlined beneath the tight zipper of my jeans. "Brava!" murmured the older woman. Almost reluctantly, Julianne accepted the clothing offered to her by June, and gracefully donned the skirt and blouse. The white blouse was not sheer, but the synthetic material clung to her curves precisely and lovingly. The neckline plunged downward to below her rib cage, where there was one precarious button. The inner slopes of her breasts were revealed, and the rest might as well have been for all the modesty provided by the provacative blouse. The bottom portion was cropped, her midriff bared. The skirt, grey cotton, hung low on her hips, following June's advice, and indeed the sweet curve of her waist was emphasized, from the lower hem of the blouse to the waistband of the skirt below her hips. The top part of her ass with a hint of crack cheekily peeked out from the back. The skirt, like the blouse, clung shyly to the skin of her butt, and condescended to hang merely an inch or two below the junction of her legs. In another woman, this outfit would have labeled her as a tart. But Julianne's evident innocence mitigated the harshness of such an epithet. In her case, she came off as a child trying on her mother's outrageous clothes. She had a sexiness born of unintentional display rather than of conscious lewdness. "We'll take these, if you please," June told the saleslady. "Now, girl, we've got to go take care of that bush you've got down there." ***** The salon that June and Esme took us to was unlike any I had ever heard of. The entryway was discreet, much like the lingerie boutique and the tattoo parlor June and I had visited earlier in the week. Upstairs, the salon was housed in one enormous loft, with eight spacious workspaces, separated by movable walls. The room was airy and well-lit, with two walls made up of floor to ceiling windows, those immense windows that you can only find in SoHo lofts. The temperature was, I noticed, slightly warmer than one is accustomed to in New York establishments in the summertime. The sounds of conversation, scissors, and blow-dryers lent a cheerful atmosphere to the space. A tiny woman in her twenties with spiky hair greeted us at the door. She led us to the waiting area, and informed us that it would be only a short wait until "an associate" could help us. Julianne self-consciously crossed her legs as she sat down. Her skirt rode up on her thighs, coming perilously close to uncovering her mound. With a blush, she pushed the cloth of the skirt between her legs. June and Esme busied themselves glancing through magazines. I looked around some more. The workspaces were arrayed around the sides of the room, and could be blocked off with curtains, I saw. The hair care professionals were all handsome young men, with clean-cut looks. Each was dressed identically, in a black sleeveless t-shirt and loose black pants. None wore shoes. The clientele were all very high-class women, dressed impeccably in Park Avenue clothing. The clean, heated smell of the salon was soothing, and I could see that some of the customers were, in fact, dozing during their extended appointments. In a few minutes, a young man, indistinguishable from the other stylists, walked over to us. "Hello, my name is Carlo and I'll be helping you folks this morning. Who is the customer?" June looked up languorously and calmly took inventory of the boy's physique. He, apparently used to such treatment stood at ease before her inspection. He was well put-together, with defined muscles and slim hips. "Well, Carlo, our customer today is Julianne, here. But first, if I might have a word in private with you?" She stood up and led Carlo by the arm some feet away. A conversation in murmurs ensued, during which Julianne's blush only intensified. I could hardly wait to find out what my devilish daughter had in store. In a few seconds, they returned. "Madam, if you will follow me?" The nearest workspace was available, and it was here that Carlo led Julianne. We could hear everything they were saying. "I understand that you wish to have your intimate areas clean of hair. Is that correct?" "Yes," murmured Julianne, humiliated to the very roots of her hair. "Very good, madam. I will give you a few moments to disrobe and make yourself comfortable in the chair, here. I will pull the curtains to give you privacy." Carlo pulled the curtains across the open side of the area, and stood outside for a minute or two before reentering. "Now, madam," we could hear from inside the curtained workspace, "we will just adjust the chair so you are lying flat, just so. I have found that women often enjoy a warm towel over their face during such appointments. It is both soothing and relaxing. Would you like such a treatment? Excellent. I will be back in just a second." Carlo stepped out once more, and pulled the curtain closed behind him. He stepped across the room, disappearing for a minute or two. I could hardly imagine Julianne's state of mind as she lay half-naked in a public salon, the sounds and smells continually reminding her how exposed she was despite the semi-privacy of the curtains. When Carlo returned however, he made the situation even more remarkable, unknown to Julianne. For when he stepped through the curtain and turned to pull it behind him, he pulled it all the way to the other side, leaving the space once more open to our eyes. There lay Julianne, with a towel over her face, nude from her belly to her shoes. Even more astonishing, Carlo then proceeded to silently let his trousers slip to the floor. He stepped out of them, his cock now dangling in the open air. Like me, his cock and balls were carefully shaved and circumcised, giving his groin a clean and uniform appearance. "Now, madam, I will adjust the chair, so." He turned the chair so that Julianne was sideways to us, and then with a flick of a lever, the part supporting her legs split apart so that Carlo could move between them. "First, I will trim the hair," he went on, and stepped up between her legs. He grasped a tuft of her pubic hair and started to trim it back to stubble with a pair of nail scissors. June, Esme, and I watched intently as he worked with extreme care. It was clear that his gentle touch had its effect on Julianne, who began to relax under his ministrations. During this time, he made every effort to avoid skin contact. His face was close to Julianne's crotch, and his breath warmly caressed her vulva. "Now, I will apply cream to soften the stubble." He opened a cabinet door and got a bottle of cream which had been warmed for the purpose of intimate contact. He squirted a healthy dollop onto his fingers and began to massage it into the hair surrounding Julianne's sex. Now we could hear gentle moans coming from the overheated girl as Carlo's knowing fingers moved in gentle circles. We could see his hand dip between her legs, causing her to arch her pelvis up at him. His fingers continued downward, evidently passing over her labia and between her ass cheeks. At this point, I noticed that his cock was beginning to lengthen, blood rushing in to extend it. He stepped back from the table, and busied himself with cleaning some scissors and combs he had been using that morning. Julianne, still in a state of blissful ignorance of her predicament, lay on the table, her legs spread, relaxed, yet aroused. At this point, some of the other stylists noticed the Julianne's unintentional exhibition. Without missing a beat, they spun their chairs to show their clients the show. If these wealthy women were shocked by what they saw, they hid it well. One woman's eyes widened; another smiled privately, as if recalling a similar experience. After a few minutes of letting the cream work, Carlo stepped back over to the chair. At this point, his cock had hardened to its full stiffness. I estimated that it stood about eight inches upward, the staff tapering upward to the crown which flared outward in a delightful shade of deep pink. His balls swayed lightly as he walked, and the rod bounced in time. However, he still avoided contact with our friend. "Now I will begin to shave the stubble." With graceful long strokes, he drew a straight-edge razor across Julianne's mons, the stubble melting under the onslaught of the blade like butter under a heated knife. With practiced ease, he shaped the remaining hair into a thin line in the midline. He wiped the excess cream off of her lower belly and stood back to survey his handiwork. "I must now move on to the labia, madam. Please try to keep perfectly still for this part." With that he reached down and pulled her lips to one side, taut. Julianne was in an obvious struggle between his instructions and her mounting arousal. Her breasts were moving up and down rapidly in time with her breathing. But Carlo was a professional, and his movements were precise. In very little time he had shaved one side and had moved to the other. He was clearly well aware of her state, and was proceeding as quickly as safety would allow. As he shifted to the other side of her labia, I saw him glide a finger into her depths. This produced a stiffening on Julianne's part, and she pushed her pelvis out at his finger, blindly attempting to impale herself further. But Carlo was still playing the role of the unknowing stimulator, and he withdrew his finger, apologizing for the "accidental contact." Everybody's rapt gaze was locked on the pair of half-nude bodies. Julianne's hard nipples were practically ripping through the soft white cloth of her blouse, while Carlo's erection was visibly throbbing, one or two drops of pre-cum leaking from the top. In a second, he had finished shaving her labia. "Now, madam, if you would just pull your legs up to your chest, I can shave around your anus." His voice was shaking, and he must have been exercising all of his will power not to simply thrust forward with his cock and bury himself to the deepest depths of Julianne's pussy. Julianne, however, did not hesitate one second. With smooth power, she grasped her legs behind the knees and pulled them upward, each knee to the side of her breasts. The action lifted her ass off of the table, and her spread legs bared her entire pussy and asshole to the view of all in the room. It was a gorgeous sight to behold, the wanton display, even though the actor had no idea of how lewd she was being. Carlo had to take a second to drink in the perfect view he had been granted. His cock twitched, a little stream of pre-cum escaping and trickling down the shaft of his angrily distended shaft. The labia were wide open, split out like petals. The inner lips likewise were engorged and spread. The deeper pink of the inner pussy winked in time with Julianne's breaths. Beneath the wet slit, her light brown anus pulsed in synchrony as well. Beside me, Esme was leaning forward, completely lost in the action, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open. June affected dispassion, but her nipples were hard as ever, their length obvious under the sheer top. Similarly, the other watchers were entirely engaged, their eyes locked on our friend's exposed privates. Carlo took a deep breath, and stepping forward, massaged the cream on Julianne's perineum. With widening strokes, he spread the soothing lotion across her buttocks. Then, with tightening circles, he approached her anus until he was rubbing one finger of his left hand around and around her sensitive ring. The muscles seemed to relax all of a sudden, and his finger slipped one knuckle deep into the tiny hole. A Week of June: Saturday "Ohhhh!" Julianne suddenly gasped, and then: "Mmmmm..." Carlo left the finger in this time, even daring to insert another knuckle's length into her rectum. He spread the other fingers across her ass cheek, and started to shave the opposite cheek with his right hand. With his finger, he manipulated her to move her ass as he needed it moved. When he approached the depth of her cleft, he stretched the skin taut using the finger inside of her. All of this manipulation was clearly highly stimulating to poor Julianne, who was moaning with each breath at this point. Her pussy was positively drooling lubrication, asking, begging, demanding for the release that it needed. Now Carlo was shaving the other side, once again holding her cheeks apart with one finger inside of her asshole. But now, I noticed, he had managed to slip a second finger deep into her pussy, and the two fingers were moving in and out in symphony. It took a highly trained expert to complete the shave under the circumstances, for Julianne was grinding her pelvis up at those two fingers. But Carlo seemed able to anticipate her every motion and compensate for it so that she was never in any danger of nicks. "Oh, God..." Esme muttered next to me. I looked at her, and saw that she had one hand shoved down her pants, her ass pushed forward on her seat, the fingers inside working desperately on her own overheated sex. Carlo had finished his shave, and he was no longer pretending to do anything but bring Julianne to completion of her orgasm. I wondered at how he managed to restrain himself from trying to get there himself, but he seemed content to let his prick spastically throb as he pushed his customer to higher and higher plateaus. Even June now seemed enthralled by Julianne's performance. "OH FUUUUUCKKKKK!!!" screamed Julianne at the top of her lungs, overwhelming the noises from the rest of the salon, as she crested over the edge, her pussy completely engulfing Carlo's finger. He gently let her down from the heights of her orgasm before withdrawing from her depths. "Now, madam, I have a special cream that is highly useful for preventing rash. It will take only a moment to prepare." Nonchalantly, he stepped back, and grasping his cock, began to stroke it with abandon, his hand a blur on the distended shaft. With his other hand he held Julianne in the position she had attained with legs pulled back. In only a few seconds, he reached his own orgasm, and started to spurt thick jets of cum directly onto the areas he had shaved. The first rope splattered viscously over her inner thighs and splashed up onto her belly. The second he had better control over, and painted her gaping pussy in wet strands of white fluid. The third shot directly at her anus, only recently vacated by his finger. The bullseye drew a gasp from Julianne. The fourth and fifth spurted more weakly the force expended by the time they dripped over her pussy. Our generous stylist stepped forward and milked the last drops of cum out of his prick, letting them dribble over the already sopping area. With the bulbous head of his cock, he rubbed the "cream" around her steaming cunt, massaging it into the skin, soothing away the memory of the lost thatch. "Now, that's what I call service," murmured Esme, the hand in her pants now stilled. ***** It was on wobbly legs indeed that the pretty redhead walked down the streets of NYC. The grey skirt that clung so tightly to her curves now boasted a couple of wet spots where Carlo had not quite cleaned off his spunk. Her breasts still boasted the healthy flush that is so indicative of the post-orgasmic fair-skinned woman, and which was nicely shown off by the plunge of her blouse's neckline. Her hair was slightly mussed, completing the picture of a woman freshly fucked. Except, of course, she hadn't been. Or at least, not yet. June walked beside me, her arm linked in mine. We were a couple of steps behind Julianne, who was walking with Esme. I loved the fact that I was accompanied by three such lovely young ladies, all of whom were in active heat, proclaiming their sexuality to the world. "You do realize, Daddy dearest," June said, "that all of this is purely for your benefit." I looked at her questioningly. "Don't you see?" With a shock, I heard the echo of her mother's words from my dream the night before. I forced myself to focus on June again. "I want you to know what you will have if you accept me in your bed again. I can get you any experience you want. I can make people do what you will. Do you want to fuck a pretty friend of mine in Yankee Stadium during the seventh inning stretch? I can make it happen. Have you ever fantasized about being sandwiched by a man and a woman at the same time? Or how about two men at the same time? Nothing is too weird for me." I saw avenues of sexual experimentation leading away from me, a grid of possibilities as wide and packed full as Manhattan itself. And all I had to do would be to give into that which I desperately wanted to do anyway. "C'mon Daddy." June's voice had dropped to a whisper, pitched so that only I could hear in the midst of the traffic and city noise. "I'm wearing these pants just for you. Don't you want to feel my ass? It's only covered by the thinnest of panties. If you want to, you could put your hand on my skin, right here on Canal Street." Her voice was mesmerizing. Spellbound, I listened, entrapped by her enticing words. "Or maybe you'd rather cup my tit? It's available to you right here, right now. All you have to do is slip your fingers under my blouse. Anybody looking would know you were doing it, and that I wanted you to. Doesn't that excite you?" All I could hear was the sound of her talking, my sexy witch of a daughter. The heat pounded at me from every side, but the sweat that broke out on my brow was her doing alone. "I know you want to put a finger inside me, Daddy, my lover. My pussy is asking you very sweetly to come inside. Won't you listen to her? She's an excellent host; she gives as good as she gets. All she wants is for your cock to be her guest every now and then." My vision blurred down to a tunnel with the effort not to give into her entrancing speech. I didn't know any longer why I had to resist her, only that I must have had good reason at some point. And at the same time, my body was betraying me at every turn. My cock strained inside my pants, the constant erection I was enduring that morning actually painful despite the looseness of my pants. My hands twitched to get at my daughter's lush body, to fulfill her invitation even in the crowded heat of a New York City street. And then I felt her breath hot against my ear, her tit pressed up against my arm, the nipple burning hot through the thin blouse. "You can't stop yourself. Give in. You cannot doubt that it will be worth it, every damn bit of it." And I knew she was right. I had no chance in hell against her. She knew me too well. And all of my best intentions would be thrown to the evil wind that had brought the never-ending heat wave to the stone canyons of Manhattan. But before I could give in to that impulse, Esme suddenly distracted us by exclaiming over some outfit in a boutique window, and the spell was broken. ***** The next two hours of shopping were exhausting to me, but not in the usual way that men complain of when they are dragged along with their wives to the mall. Instead, I had to endure endless displays of girlish flesh in becoming and skimpy clothes. I can't go into detail about the huge assortment of blouses, skirts, shorts, dresses, and panties that I saw that afternoon, but suffice it to say that the imagination of man is only limited by the delight of women in their self-adornment. And when we were done, Julianne had been outfitted with a complete new wardrobe of inappropriate clothing. To go to work that evening, she was wearing one of her brand new outfits. On top was a black t-shirt with the neck ripped out so wide that it slung down over one shoulder. If she pulled it to the middle, the neckline hung low enough that her breasts could be seen all the way to the point where they started to curve out to the sides. With it on the side, one breast was exposed all the way to her areola, and if she leaned forward, the entire tit was visible. It was cropped, of course, and hung loosely over her abdomen, so that anyone looking up at her would see the underside of both of her tits. On the bottom she was wearing a red lycra skirt that couldn't have been more than eight inches long from top to bottom. And I do mean bottom, as that was exactly what was hanging out the back. The lower halves of each cheek were just sitting there, out in the open. For the sake of public decency (and nobody wants to get arrested merely for showing off a bit), she was wearing a red g-string, the straps of which sat over her hip bones above the top of the skirt. When she spread her legs a bit, her labia, pouched by the red panties, were easily visible. "Thank you, June," she said, just before leaving us. "Your teaching has opened up new vistas for me." "I'm so glad, my dear. If you ever need anything, you can call us." And with that, my gorgeous daughter stepped forward and hugged the redhead tight against her. Her hands went down and cupped the naked asscheeks brazenly while her lips sought the intimate embrace of the other's. Boldly, her tongue entered Julianne's mouth, and wrestled together with its counterpart. After a second, Julianne relaxed into the kiss, and even slipped a hand into June's panties, warmly fondling her ass in turn. After a few seconds, they parted, and Julianne, flashing a delighted grin at Esme and me, skipped off to her apartment. "Ah, sweet youth," Esme intoned, looking piously skyward. "Another slut is born." ***** Esme's boyfriend Caleb was coming into town that evening from Philadelphia where he was a medical student. Our friend had informed us that she was making dinner for the four of us. We had returned to her apartment, and the two girls had changed outfits yet again. Both appeared more conservative on the outside. Esme was wearing a pink flowery spaghetti string top over a white lacy bra, while on her legs, she had a pair of white capri pants that beautifully complimented her dark skin. June, on the other hand was wearing a black sheer blouse over a black bra and a black flouncy skirt. Her dark blonde hair cascaded in a natural waterfall over her shoulders. Although she wasn't as provocative as she had been in our travels around the city, she nonetheless exuded that confident sexuality that proclaimed her as a mistress of her own desires. Knowing these two girls, I had to ask: "Does Caleb know about your, how shall I put it, proclivities?" "Oh, dear me, no. I didn't want to shock the poor boy out of any possible relationship with me," replied Esme. "Up until now, I've played the role of the nice girl." "Until now?" Uh-oh, I thought. I had a premonition that June was involved in this somehow. "Yup, that's right. Tonight's the night I introduce him to the world of sexual possibilities." I looked over at June. She gazed back at me from under hooded eyes, her face a mask, a sly smile playing around her lips. At around 5:30, Caleb arrived. He was a handsome boy, in his early twenties. His physique suggested basketball player rather than weight lifter, and his glasses reminded me that he was a student. His intelligent eyes were deep blue, his close cut hair light brown. He had an easy manner to him, a way of interacting with you that made you feel that you were very important to him. It was a trait that would be very valuable to him as a doctor. He was wearing a light cotton sweater and a pair of chinos. We sat around eating crudites, talking about this and that. Esme's huge loft was a wonderful place to relax in. The space was so wide open and so light that it felt like you could just stretch yourself out however you needed to. I enjoyed talking to Caleb about his future plans as a doctor. He seemed a little square, but that could easily have been a judgement colored by my experiences over the previous week. June, also, seemed to take a particular interest in Caleb's conversation. While Esme was busy preparing dishes for the upcoming repast, she sat next to the young man on the sofa, her legs curled up under her, leaning a little towards him. Her grey-green eyes fixated on him with that intensity that I knew could easily overwhelm a man. But Caleb seemed to take her attention in stride. I, on the other hand, was not so easy-going. I suddenly recognized that I was feeling jealous. Jealous! Of my daughter's attentions to another man. I had not felt this way the night before in the club. But something unholy was growing between June and I, and I felt powerless to stop it. I became obsessed with the way she was turned towards Caleb. I saw with cruel precision the exposed lines of her cleavage, the way her perfect breasts were pushed together to form an inviting cleft that Caleb alone could look into. Now I recognized the slight part to the lips, the slight glaze to the eyes that indicated her sexual interest. Before it had been turned on me, and I had resisted it. Had she returned to me then the power of her lust, I would have swept her to the bedroom and buried myself balls-deep in her. June shifted her legs under her, and her skirt slipped slightly around the firm musculature of her thigh. With a pang, I saw Caleb's eyes shift towards those gorgeous tanned legs and widen slightly. What was he seeing? Nothing I could make out from my chair. Was she "accidentally" showing her panties to her friend's boyfriend? More to the point, was she deliberately excluding me for the first time this week? Distraught, I found myself perched on the edge of my chair, anxious to be brought back into her circle once more. "June? Could you come and help me a sec?" Came Esme's voice from the kitchen area. June smiled at Caleb and stood up, her hips swaying delightfully as she walked away from us. I recalled a similar sight from the first day she had spent with me, in my apartment. The delicious tension of not knowing her intentions had been the impetus that had started me down this road, for better or for worse. I looked at her for as long as I could, before turning back to Caleb. I caught him still watching her walk away, and when he looked back at me, he had the grace to blush and look down. "You have a very lovely daughter, Mr. Carlson," he said. I had to stop myself from leaping across the space between us and throttling him. It wasn't his fault that he found June attractive. Everybody, both men and women, did. If she was using him as a pawn in the game between herself and me, I couldn't blame him. Even so, that didn't stop me from jabbing at him: "Indeed. Nearly as pretty as Esme is, I suppose." He reddened further, and then, all of a sudden, I relented. "Please, Caleb. Call me Ray. Just be careful with June. She has, how shall I put it, a way of bringing out the worst in people sometimes." "Oh, no. I can't believe that." "Trust me on this one," I replied. June came back in with a tray of canapes. She walked over to the coffee table and bent down from the hips to place the tray on the glass surface. She was not so blatant as to do so right in front of Caleb, yet he could not have missed the way her skirt rode up in the back, exposing the bottom half of those so perfectly rounded globes. He looked over at me, and I shrugged. His eyes locked back on my daughter's butt as she stood up, the skirt falling neatly back into place. I felt that surge of jealousy once more. June had a different attitude tonight, one that broadcast indifference towards me, even as she was pushing all of Caleb's buttons. I found myself left out of the conversation, as June skillfully monopolized his attentions. He seemed unable to turn away from the mesmerizing pull of her gaze. Suddenly, I felt just the way I had when Alice and I were still together. Once again, that feeling of being contemptuous in her eyes, a nothing, rose like bile in my throat. Was this the choice I was making? In rejecting June from my bed was I actually recreating her in Alice's form? When Esme called us to dinner, Caleb had to hide his erection when he stood up, a maneuver that was not lost on June. We sat at the small round table that Esme used for eating on; June on my right, Caleb opposite her, and Esme opposite me. As we ate, June continued her game, Caleb just so much clay in her hands. Esme didn't seem to mind it the way I did. Perhaps that should have been a clue for me, but I was so lost in my indignation, that I hardly noticed. Caleb was talking about some particularly interesting patient he had when he suddenly stumbled over his words, a blush rising in his cheeks. I glanced at him, and then over at June who had a maddeningly innocent look on her face. The tablecloth hid all that was underneath, but I had an idea that her foot was in Caleb's lap, not two feet away from his girlfriend. I stared over at Esme, but she just looked back at me, with a warm smile. The dinner passed in a fog for me. All that I had done, all that I had accomplished in the years since leaving Alice was ashes now in my mouth. I couldn't believe how quickly it had all been reduced to rubble. "I need to go out to the store to get some Amaretto," Esme said as she stood up. "Ray, will you accompany me?" I knew I needed to get out of the place quickly, so I agreed. We stepped out of the apartment together. I fumed all the way down the stairs. "Did you see what was going on in there?" I finally burst out. "Hmmm?" She raised an eyebrow. "That slut daughter of mine is all over your boyfriend, and you have nothing to say about it?" "Nonsense, Ray. You have no idea what you're talking about." "Oh, really. Did you know that she had her foot in his lap during supper?" "It doesn't really surprise me. We've shared a lot of things in our time together." "And you just accept your submissive role?" "Don't be silly. I get plenty from her as well. We've shared you, you know." Like a slap across the face. I jolted to a stop and looked at her. She stopped a few feet ahead and turned to look back at me. She studied my face. "Look, Ray. You're not going to change who June is. Do you understand that? You've got to let go at some point." For the second time that day, the words of my dream-Alice from the night before confronted me. "Once you accept her," Esme went on, "you'll be able to understand her. And then all of the astounding energy that comes off of her can lift you up as it has lifted me up. Before I knew her, I was mousy, lacking in confidence. Nobody cared who I was. Now I'm successful and happy beyond my wildest dreams." She reached up under her shirt and unsnapped her bra. With deft maneuvering, she pulled the undergarment out from under the shirt. Her little breasts stood proudly under the thin shirt, the nipples indenting the cotton. She handed the bra to me. "Would you hold this for me?" I nodded, once again stunned by the girl's brazen attitude. Now she reached one finger down the side of her pants and pulled the side of her panties above the waistline. She casually unhooked the side, then repeated the action on the other side. Then, right there on Franklin St., with more than a few passersby, she pulled her panties up from the front. With a whisper, they glided out from her pants. "Mmmmm... Could you hold these too?" Now she leaned over, the seat of the capri pants molding to her remarkable ass. I heard the sound of a zipper, and was amazed to see her unzipping up the leg of her pants, across the crotch, and then down the other side. In a second, the pants were transformed into an unusual skirt, with long flaps on either side, and slit up the front and the back. There was a flap secreted inside the front and back which velcroed over the highest parts of the slits. Without them, she would have been walking around with her pussy and ass completely in the open. With them, they were hidden, but by leaning over or climbing stairs, Esme could reveal as much as she dared.