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.