I Smithson

Tempting daddy

CHAPTER ONE

Leslie Groten, sweet, always smiling, considered pretty by everyone, was almost sixteen years old when she and her divorced father, James, but twenty-four years older than she, arrived to live permanently in New York City.

Their last month in Chicago had been a tragic one indeed. Leslie's mother had lost the expensive court case, but she'd also won more alimony than she expected. At the same time she lost custody of Leslie and even visiting rights could be opted by James Groten.

The marriage of James Groten and his wife, Suzanne, had been heading for the proverbial rocks for the past four years. It was typical of many modern-day marriages where the wife was too young, too inexperienced, continued because of the 'child', and then wearying of this kind of life, threw in the towel. Suzanne began dating other men, having one affair after another, and finally, as it always happens, James Groten discovered his wife's infidelity.

The long, struggling interval of their separating and finally divorcing commenced. During this interval, there was much upheaval in their Chicago home. There were hundreds of endless squabbles, each with its particular nuisance value. There were strong arguments, bitter quarrels and some fist fights between James and one of his wife's suitors. Finally this all ended and James literally fled the city of Chicago, Leslie's hand in his as they flew to New York to begin a new life.

Leslie had few misgivings about living with her father. She liked Jim, as she called him. Sometimes she called him Jimbo, and at other times, softly and cuddly, she called him Daddy, but only when they were alone. Out in the streets or in public places, she always called him Jimbo, and this made her feel very grown up.

Leslie really liked her father. He was young looking. He had a lot of spirit, not like many of the other girls' dads. She could have fun with him. She could run around in panties and bra in front of him. She could even come into the bathroom when he was sitting on the john.

Until only last year she was still taking showers with him. And the thing that got in the way of this was Leslie's mother. She had a thousand moral opinions about the behavior of everyone except herself.

"She's a grown-up young lady now, James. Can't you recognize that? She's no longer a little girl. Her body's filling out. It's not right for you both to be naked together in the shower."

So, that ended all the fun they would have. But it was more than just showering together that caused Leslie to love her father. He was always kind to her, understanding and sympathetic. He never forced her to do things. He told her the whys and the wherefores about things, and let her make up her own mind, make her own decisions.

In school Leslie was a bright student. She was always very ladylike and well behaved. She did her homework promptly every night. She kept ahead of her class. It always pleased her to hand her report card to her father, and win his rich smile as a reward for her efforts.

James Groten was also interested in her growth, Leslie always felt. He often helped her select her clothing, especially her blouses and now her hot pants and sometimes even her boots and her shoes. Suzanne had never had the time for Leslie and although this often hurt Leslie, she soon got quite used to it and began to love being independent of her mother – as few other girls were.

As she and Jimbo sat side by side in the jet, she suddenly leaned over and kissed his ear. This abrupt gesture shocked him, and he almost spilled the cocktail he was holding in his hand.

"Hey," he grinned, "give me some warning, huh?"

"I love you, old Jimbo!"

"And I love you, old Leszie."

She frowned at him. "Don't call me Leszie, call me Leslie, because you know what a lezzie is, doncha?"

"Of course," he smiled, "it's about the only thing your mother isn't, right?"

They laughed together.

It took about a week in a small residential hotel before they finally found a suitable apartment. Furnishing it the way they both liked was fun. Leslie had her own cute little room. There was also a large bedroom, two bathrooms, a roomy kitchen and a front living room. There were plenty of closets and one very large, walk-in one. Gramercy Park was a lovely, carefully kept neighborhood in New York City, and when they moved in, every sign pointed to a pleasant experience.

At the end of the second week James Groten was prepared to continue his analysis work in the New York office of his company; Leslie was prepared to enter a New York City high school, known as Washington Irving.

As it happened, to the delight of them both, Jimbo's office was but three blocks away from the new apartment and Leslie's high school was less.

"We can both come home for lunch, Daddy," she said to him. They were alone, rearranging furniture and doing the necessary things one does after moving into a new place.

"Why should we do that, darling?"

"To save money, you dope!"

"You're the dope!" he exclaimed, rearranging a vase in the living room. "We have all the money we need now, and that includes the green I've got to send to your mother's lawyers."

James Groten went on to explain to his young, attractive daughter, wearing only a loose, almost transparent housecoat over her shimmering, youthful nakedness, that in the future they'd have only the best. The new analytical job he was taking over required some travel. For this he would be paid extra. The job also allowed him freedom to perform "outside" analytical jobs, and since the firm for which he worked was one of the most prestigious in the city, the mere fact that he belonged to it could make his "outside" services more valuable and much more rewarding financially.

"Then why don't we send me to a private school?"

He knew she didn't really want that. "If I thought you could learn more, I would, but until you leave high school, there's no need, darling." He paused. "But if you feel strongly about it at mid-term, we can have a talk, and you know I'll go along with you, don't you?"

She flew into his arms. "Oh, Daddy, I adore you! I don't know any daughter in this whole world who has a beautiful father like you."

"As you," he corrected.

"As you are, Daddy," she agreed, hugging him, realizing how good his manly chest felt against her ripe, swollen breasts so free and so naked under her robe. Leslie was very proud of her breasts. In the last months they had grown tremendously from the little round apples they had been. Her nipples now got hard and not only from being chilly. Her aureoles surrounding her pink nipples were just a shade darker, petal pink and so pretty. She loved to examine them in her mirror, cupping and caressing their ripe fullness, viewing the delicious curves and admiring how firm they were, how they'd bounce lusciously on her chest and inside her blouse or dress when she wasn't wearing her dreadful brassieres.

"You know, Daddy," she said, pulling away from him, and crossing the room to plop down on the brand new couch, "that reminds me. I had a question to ask you, if you don't mind?"

"Ask your question."

"Do I have to wear a bra here in New York City? I mean, Daddy, before it gets too cold?"

He looked over at her. Her robe had fallen open and he could see her milky white thighs and just the suggestion of her curly brown pussy hair. Indeed, Leslie was a growing young girl! There was no doubt about that! No doubt at all! He looked away. He licked his lips.

His seeming hesitation annoyed her. "Oh, Daddy, please say I don't have to wear one. Please! All the other girls here don't wear them, and I don't want to be all that straight!"

"Leslie," he said. He turned and smiled at her. She was really wrought up. "Leslie, I didn't say you had to wear a brassiere, did I?"

She grinned and bit her lip. "No," she answered, lowering her eyes. "You mean, I don't…?"

"See, you must always let something end, let someone finish what he's saying, what he's thinking – before jumping in foolishly."

"I'm sorry."

"My answer is this. You don't have to wear a bra anytime you don't want to wear one. Even in the winter. Buy yourself some warm sweaters and you won't have to use a brassiere even then."

She leaped up from the couch and flew into his open arms. She kissed his face, his lips, his ears. She hugged his head and roughhoused with him, then she pushed him away. A bright blush swept across her face. She bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to giggle, but she held it back. She quickly changed the subject and went into the kitchen to make lunch.

A shiver shot through her young body as she stood in front of the cupboard. She shook herself like a dog shakes off water. She couldn't believe it! But she was sure! And it was funny, too.

When she had embraced Jimbo, she thought she felt it and when she roughhoused with him, she was almost positive!

Jimbo's prick was stiff!

Alone now in the living room, James Groten smiled to himself. His hand fell to his crotch. Christ, he had completely forgotten himself! He wondered if Leslie had felt his erect penis inside his trousers. He distinctly remembered brushing against her, his prick in direct contact with her thigh, and once, even with her belly.

He made himself a mental memorandum to be more careful in the future. "Lunch ready?" he called out and headed for the sparkling new kitchen.

CHAPTER TWO

After a pleasant, very talky lunch, Leslie took a long hot shower. She washed her hair and then, inside her room with the door half closed, she lay naked on her new bed. She rigged up the hair dryer and lay there thinking.

She briefly remembered a time back in Chicago, long before Jimbo found out about Suzanne. She had been awakened by a nightmare and, stumbling into the bathroom for some water, she'd passed her parents' room. They were fucking; all the lights were on. Leslie saw her father's powerful penis surging deep in and out of her mother's silky-haired pussy.

Like any kid, she'd been fascinated. She loved the noises Jimbo's thick hot prick was making as it glided so swiftly and so fluidly in and out of her mother's hole. Suzanne had her knees raised up high, her toes wiggling. Her hands gripped her father's buttocks and she was urging him to fuck her deeper and more vigorously.

Leslie could remember her words, and now, lying on her own bed, hundreds of miles away from her mother, she felt what her mother must have been feeling inside her own warm, moist vagina.

The remembered image of her father's enormous prick as it pounded and made her mother's body shake and quiver, swam before her eyes as the lay there. Before she knew it, she was playing with her pussy, her fingers squirming all around until her thumb and index finger found her clitoris.

She moaned at the first touch and straightened out her long, naked legs, then drew her knees up to her breasts and began to fingerfuck her hole with steady in-and-out motions of her fingers until she felt the blood rushing up to her head, making her feverish as her orgasm began to stir inside her weaving body.

Her mother had been moaning and humping back, thrusting her body and arching her back as Jimbo thrust in and out of her. When Jimbo threw her mother's legs up over his naked, broad shoulders, Leslie caught a long glimpse of her mother's pussy, the hair all wet, the meaty flesh of her pussy lips covered with a white sticky-looking cream. She even saw her mother's little asshole.

Then the whole scene became too much for young Leslie. She felt as if she were peeing, standing right there in the carpeted hallway. She had crept swiftly back into her room and tumbled into bed, forgetting all about the glass of water and the dreadful nightmare. She fell to sleep quickly.

Sitting up in bed now, she rearranged the hair dryer. She thought about having a cigarette, but then remembered that Jimbo let her smoke anywhere, but not in bed, so she chased this wish from her thoughts as quickly as she did the images of her father and her mother that one and only night she'd seen them having sex. It wasn't something she really liked to think about too much these days.

Her pussy would get so hot and she'd just have to hide somewhere and play with it until she had her bursting orgasm. She'd feel weak all over, her throat would go suddenly dry, and her pussy would leak.

She lay down again. She wondered what her father was doing now for sex. Oh, to be sure, she knew that men needed women's naked bodies just as much as women, and even girls, she imagined, needed boys' hard cocks to play with and to poke up inside their hairy holes. Well, she thought to herself, enjoying the warm air blowing from the dryer, she guessed Daddy could take care of himself where this was concerned.

But it was still strange about him getting an erection out there in the living room. Something must have excited him. Her fingers rubbed over her breasts and then her nipples. These erected immediately. She pinched them gently and then thumbed them. She loved the quick, alive sensations she'd feel. Now she squeezed her breasts and massaged them. Using her fingernails, she scratched all over the sloping curves of her succulent breasts before finally cupping them harshly and rolling them all around. This amused her and she suddenly sat up.

She swung her naked legs over the side of the bed and stood up. In front of the mirror she stretched her gorgeous body. She looked more naked than naked! She pressed against the mirror, her full, ripe breasts now flattened against the glass. She rubbed and slid from side to side, sometimes watching the motions of her fleshy ripe globes, at other times staring into the reflection of her soft blue-green eyes. She loved her face. The older she grew, the prettier it became. Her teeth were almost perfect. In one cheek there was a provocative dimple; in the other, none. Her lips were ideal for kissing. She kissed the reflection in the mirror and shuddered, when she stuck her tongue out and it came into contact with the cold.

Back on the bed she lay down. So, she thought, if Daddy did have a woman to touch, to feel up, to kiss all over and look at, and one he would put his prick up into, then he must be okay. It did worry her a little. It wasn't really fair to Daddy not to have a woman. Mother had so many men, and Leslie hated her secretly for this, having known all the while that she was cheating on husband at least three times in one week.

Leslie disengaged the blower from the dryer. She aimed the warm, steady heat all over her face, then over her neck, finally down over her breasts. The mouth of the hairdryer had a rubber edge. She lowered it so that it fit directly over her nipple and the aureole. The warmth felt great. She began to move the blower all around and was soon heating one nipple and then the other.

It was inevitable she should think of applying the warm caressing heat on her beautiful crotch. She did this and began squirming. Then she spread open her pussy lips, not at all surprised to discover they were already damp and moist. She nudged the mouth of the blower into her cunt. Oh, how good and sexy this felt!

For some while she played with the blower. She turned it up and the heat almost burned her tender pussy and her nipples. She put it under her arms. She put it down over her toes, then up her legs, to her thighs and finally back into her pussy. She loved how hot it felt when she'd raise one leg up in the air, exposing her asshole and feeling the hot air rushing all over her anus.

What a wonderful sex toy, she thought. Then, euphorically happy, she changed her mood and leaped out of bed. She put the dryer carefully back into its new box and then she brushed out her long brown hair until it shone.

But if Daddy didn't have a girl, then what? Maybe he didn't! Maybe that was why he got hard before. Maybe he was hard all the time. Now she was sure he had an erection. She wondered if it had grown any since the last time she'd seen it. Then it'd been fat and thick and so long she couldn't believe it. Oh, how it glistened and shone when he shoved it up into her mother's hungry pussy.

Sometime later today she would come right out and ask him if he had a girl. Nothing wrong with that!

Leslie, still naked, went out into the kitchen, her young breasts bouncing prettily, her long hair flowing down softly on her bare shoulders. She stood in front of the open refrigerator debating what she wanted to drink.

"Leslie," her father called from the master bedroom. In here James Groten had set up a miniature "office" in one corner. All the while Leslie had been in her room, she'd heard his typewriter clacking.

"Yes, Daddy?"

"See that wine in there? The red stuff?"

"Want me to give you some?"

"You're a very bright girl," he laughed facetiously.

"All right… all right!" Leslie answered, but then her question had been a foolish one. She opened the bottle. "Can I have a little, too?"

"As much as you need," was his response. This was another thing about Jimbo that she just adored. He never forbade her things like wine, cigarettes, late hours, even loud music… as long as she didn't insult anyone, invade their privacy or act stupid. What other girl in her group back in Chicago could say the same? Not one!

Balancing two wine glasses, she padded on bare feet down the narrow corridor leading to her father's room. She did not have one single thought about her body being so ravishingly naked. She was completely oblivious to the seductive motions of her breasts, to the enchantment of her snowy white thighs and the exciting sensuality of her curly pubic hair, an impossibly neat and beautifully defined triangle.

Being extra careful not to spill the wine, she inched up to his desk. His back was to her. She put the glasses down. Jimbo was concentrating and had hardly heard her enter. Then he stopped typing. He turned to thank her.

This was the first time he noticed her sexually bet he said nothing. She sat down on the end of his bed. She crossed her naked legs naturally, this gesture having the effect of obscuring her delightful crotch. Her long hair fell down over her naked breasts, but her nipples peeped through. They were erect, and Leslie was suddenly terribly conscious of this fact.

"Well, Jimbo, here's to us all moved in, huh?"

He faced her. He had to shift and disguise his hardening penis. No, he wasn't embarrassed. If anything, he was absolutely, totally surprised at his physical reaction.

"Yes, darling, here's to us, brand new, together. Here's to a new life. Here's to better grades in school! Here's to happiness… for you, for me, and for the rest of this foolish world!"

They drank together, their eyes smiling across the rims of their wine glasses.

"Daddy, I got a personal question…"

He interrupted her: "I have a personal question."

"Daddy, I'll take it over again. Sorry. I have a personal question. You don't have to answer."