A Week of June: Tuesday

I had not dressed my daughter since she had been four years old. The distance between then and now seemed like light-years. She bent one leg to place her foot through the g-string I was holding out for her, and I found myself inches away from her steaming cunt. I could not tear my eyes away. She stepped into the other side, and I pulled the miniscule piece of clothing up those long legs, allowing my fingers to trace along their smooth length. When I reached the top, I pulled the strings up over her hips, and then reached between her legs to adjust the cloth that would nominally cover her sex.

The heat emanating from her center was incredible, pushing out in waves I could feel even in the midst of the summer heat wave. I gently spread the cloth over her labia. It was immediately drenched in moisture. As I pushed between her legs, my finger slipped under the cloth and swam the length of her introitus. A gasp burst from the lips of my beautiful daughter. I looked up at her, and saw that she was pulling at her nipples, her eyes closed, her mouth open, a look of intense concentration covering her exquisite features. I continued the motion of my finger back, pretending to adjust the string that was going to sit nestled between her ass cheeks, but in reality just looking for any excuse to continue the contact. My questing finger brushed over her perineum, and then settled against her anus, the little ring of muscle quivering under my touch.

To remove my finger was as hard as if I had been glued to that spot, but we had a job to finish, and it wasn't the consummation of our mutual lust. Regretfully, I pulled away, retrieved my camera, and peered through it at June. She was almost out of control. She didn't bother covering her nipples, and in fact, one hand snaked down to touch herself. I had to take pictures of this, and snapped off several shots. And then, when she made contact with her clit, she exploded in orgasm, her second in less than twelve hours due to being exposed. My own cock felt close to bursting, and my shorts were wet from the combination of sweat and the pre-cum flowing in little spurts from the tip of my member.

When she came down from her climax, I reminded her to cover her breasts for the shoot. These were almost the best pictures of the lot. Her cheeks and breasts flushed, her hair matted to her forehead by sweat, the glow that consumed her face, all announced that here was a girl who had just experienced the heights of sexual pleasure. I had a feeling that FlirtyGirls, if it dared to publish these photos on the web, was going to have a huge boost in sales. I made a mental note to invest.

****

Once again, following her intense orgasm, June announced that she needed to lie down. Now, I am not averse to self-stimulation for release, but this time, masturbation would only seem like a let-down. So I cleaned up the rooftop, removing all the equipment, and gathering together the swimsuits from the shed. My excitement slowly waned through this activity, and I was finally able to button my shorts again. By this time, it was 7:30 AM, so I made some breakfast, eggs and bacon. June partook, lying in bed, before she conked out again.

I spent two hours in the bathroom, starting to develop the film. I had some 350 pictures of June in the various suits, and I quickly became absorbed in the developing process. I barely heard June announce that she was going shopping again. By 10:00, I had to step out of the darkroom to give myself a break. Yet during that time I had confirmed that these pictures were the height of my career to date. Erotic, showy, confident. They mirrored June's modeling, using the light and shadows created by the early morning to create an astonishing view of the human body at its peak of physical life.

I got myself a drink of OJ, still sweating in my cut-off jeans, when the doorbell rang. Walking to the door was like swimming through soup, so thick was the humidity. I guessed I had lost several pounds while working in the sweatshop that was my darkroom. I opened the door, and there was the air-conditioner repairman.

I am not generally given to admiration of my own sex. I have experimented in the past (particularly during my college years), but my primary fancy is directed towards women. Therefore, I can only attribute the events of that morning as arising from the heightened sense of sexuality I was experiencing from the ongoing tease between June and myself.

The sight of this young man hit me like a freight train. In the movies, he would have been outlined by a heavenly glow, and revelatory music would herald that here was a true hunk. Standing over six feet tall, the first thing you noticed was the density of his build; like a classic quarterback, he was graceful and yet solid, the muscles of his arms outlined as if they had been sculpted from granite. He was wearing a white, smudged sleeveless T-shirt, tight against his pecs and abdomen. Below, he had on a pair of black stretch shorts. His legs were muscular like his arms, and proportioned like a Greek god's. He wore only a pair of white sneakers otherwise. My eyes were drawn like a magnet to his package: it was proudly outlined, thrust forward due to his stance, his weight on one hip.

"Uh... Hi? I'm the guy who's come to fix you up?" He spoke with an accent redolent of eastern Europe, and while his English might not be perfect, his statement struck awfully close to home. I tore my eyes away from the front of his shorts, and looked up at his face.

He had deep brown eyes, with thick brows above them, lending his face an expression of gruffness, yet intimating the capacity for deep compassion. His nose, sharp and long, had a bare deviation to the left, and his full lips were quirked in the same direction. His hair was short on the sides, and full on the top, dark brown. He was unshaven, the stubble darkening his cheeks, somewhere between a devil and an angel.

"Oh. Right. C'mon in." All of a sudden, I was aware how I must appear. Soaked in sweat from head to toe, my hair drenched from it, my chest hair matted. My cut-offs, as brief as they were, completely saturated with sweat. And now, I became aware of the funk arising from me, a combination of my sweat and all of that pre-cum that had leaked into my shorts from the photo shoot earlier.

"Listen, why don't you get started. I'm going to take a quick shower. I'll be out soon." I pointed to the air conditioner, and escaped into the bathroom again. Under the spray, I found myself wondering what I was going to do. Like a gift from heaven, this gorgeous creature had appeared on my doorstep right when I was desperately in need of sexual relief. And I could not be sure what June's intentions were, even now. I dried off, and donned a deep blue silk kimono.

Coming out of the bathroom, I found him on his knees by the air conditioner, cursing in some slavic tongue at the appliance. I came up and stood next to him, looking down at the ancient device. I knew what he was about to tell me.

"Mister, you are screwed. An old unit like this does not have much power left in it." He looked up at me, from where he was kneeling. His eyes widened, and a comical look of surprise covered his face as he took in the sights from his position. The kimono barely came below my crotch, and from his angle, my cock and balls were obvious. Now, as I've said before, I'm very proud of my equipment. I could tell from his expression that he was impressed as well.

"You might be surprised," I replied, "Even an old unit like this has got a fair amount of going power!"

He spread his legs a little, and squatted up on his toes. The motion brought him a little closer to me, and also emphasized the fair package he was sporting between his thighs.

"Really? I think I might need demonstration." He spoke directly to my crotch.

I leaned back on the edge of the sofa, the kimono parting to frame my member. My cock started to rise up, blood rushing into the shaft, lengthening it. I pretended to pay no attention to it.

"All it takes is pushing the right buttons, I've found, and it will work hard all night long."

He laughed in delight, as he watched my member extend first out, and then up. The veins, distended along the shaft, pulsed in time with its movement. The head, pink at first, took on a shade of deeper purple as more and more blood was forced into it. In short order (not really), my cock had grown to its full seven and a half inches. I rested casually against the furniture, as if unaware of the rude display I was making.

For his part, I could see motion underneath his black shorts. I was dying from curiosity, wanting to see what snake was hidden between his legs. Would it be tall and dark? Or equally possible, thick and powerful? Either possibility would complement his build well. He beckoned to me.

"Stand next to me, mister, and we will test your idea."

I moved across the few feet that separated us, and stood next to him. He carelessly put one of his hands through my legs to reach the useless air conditioner. His action forced me even closer to him, and now my erect cock was only inches from his face. I straddled his shoulder, and could feel his incredible muscles working as he demonstrated the flaws in my air conditioner. I paid little attention to his explanations, because every so often, his face would bob forwards, and his lips would brush against my hard-on. The feel of his cool lips on my organ, feathery, dry, gentle, was a distraction made in heaven. I noticed he had fallen silent, and was looking up at me, the head of my cock resting against his chin. I knelt down, slowly, dragging my swollen prick along his neck, and then down his chest, until I was squatting. My balls sat in the crook of his elbow, my cock distended along his biceps. I noticed I had left a trail of glistening pre-cum down his shirt. I steadied myself with one hand on his shoulders. With the other, I reached towards the A/C unit.

"You mean, if I touch here," and I pointed to the on switch, but then let my hand fall into his lap, where I made thrilling contact with something steely under the smooth mesh of his shorts, "I won't get much of a response?"

"Well, you can try and see," was the soft reply.

With my finger extended and my throat dry, I traced the length of his rod. It seemed to be endless as I sought downwards with my finger. Finally, I plumbed the depths and reached the base of his cock.

"Hmmm... I seem to be getting something here."

He flexed his elbow, and I felt his forearm push against my ass. I ground down slightly, bringing my anus into contact with his skin. My nerves felt twitchy, and I could feel my asshole spasm from the contact. He brought his other arm over and gathered my front leg onto it so that I was facing him. In one smooth motion he stood up, hefting my weight with ease. He sat me down on the sofa arm and faced me. He lifted his shirt over his head. His pecs and abdominal muscles were like oiled machinery. His shorts tented out obscenely towards me, and he pushed his pelvis forward as a demand. I reached out and gently pulled the waistband outwards and down.

How to describe the sight that met my eyes when he was finally uncovered? Proportions are everything to a photographer: the art lies in finding the angle at which lines converge, and beauty is formed. But this organ was aesthetically pleasing at whichever angle. Aristotle himself could not have designed a more perfect prick (and I'm sure he tried more than a few times, the old devil). I estimated its length to be slightly longer than my own, around eight inches, with a circumference around five inches. He was uncircumcised, and the foreskin was stretched taut over the head in its current state of engorgement. The color was olive, deeper than my pale skin. He was unshaved, and the nest of pubic hair surrounding the base of the organ was thick and black. Under, his testicles hung, each the size of a small plum.

"I think I found something that works," I murmured as I grasped this paragon of male sexuality in my hands. I leaned forwards, inhaling deeply the musk that arose from him. I placed my lips on the tip of his organ, and tightening my lips, pushed forward over the head, carrying his foreskin with me. With a gentle pop, his head pushed through both the foreskin and my lips to rest on my tongue. I tasted the salty sweat of a working man, combined with a deeper saltiness of emanation from the slit at the end. I swirled my tongue around his glans, savouring the taste, as well as the satiny texture of the skin and the sponginess of the organ. I loved the feel of his iron hard shaft in my hands, the skin slipping up and down the length of it as I gently jacked him.

I pulled off to look at his uncovered glans, shining with my saliva. I practically drooled at the sight, and a new drop of pre-cum formed out of the winking hole. I spread my spit from the top down his shaft to lubricate my working hands. A moan escaped from my synchronicitous visitor. Moving back forwards, I accepted his cock back into my mouth. It had been a very long time since I had experimented with guys, and the feeling of being invaded was at the same time alarming and arousing. I guided him forward, letting his shaft glide over my tongue. My mouth was stretched, but not uncomfortably so. I let one hand slip down, between his legs, cupping his balls, caressing them, squeezing them. I could take half of his organ into my mouth, and I moved back and forth, using my tongue and suction to stimulate him.

His breathing was coming faster now, and with each exhalation he moaned. I pulled back slightly, disengaging his cock from my mouth, and now licked down its whole length. I sucked gently on first one testicle, then the other. My hand now sought between his legs, massaging his perineum, approaching his anus. I quickly sucked my finger to get it wet, and then pushed it back between his ass cheeks.

"Ohhh..." he groaned as my finger encountered his asshole. I circled the sensitive area with my finger, and then pushed against the muscles, feeling them yield with practiced relaxation. My finger slipped within, deep into the hot, velvety rectum. His muscles clenched me and released. I resumed my ministrations on his cock, sucking it deep into my mouth. The pulsating organ was insistent in its motions towards my throat, and I felt his hands grasp the back of my skull, forcing me forward. In time with the motion of my finger, I gradually accepted more and more of his eight inches into my throat. By now he was grunting animalistically with each thrust.

And then I made it: all eight inches, his pubic hair pushed up against my lips and nose, my chin resting against his scrotum. I had never deep throated anything before, and the fullness was terrifying and exhilarating. I felt used, yet wanted nothing more than to bring about his climax. My tongue and throat muscles milked his cock as he fucked back and forth in my mouth, my finger in his ass massaging his prostate in circular motions.

He yelled some word in his native language, pushing forward with all of his might. His balls tensed, and his hands kept a tight grip on my head. A sudden river flooded the back of my throat, spilling both deep, down my esophagus, and up, filling my mouth with the bitter salty taste of semen. He jammed into me once, twice, three times, then pulled back, the last few dribbles landing on my tongue. I felt some of the deluge escape my mouth and drip down my chin, but I swallowed as much as I could, knowing full well how much better that makes a blowjob.

He stood, swaying, his eyes closed, keeping my face flush against his still erect cock, my finger deep in his vitals. Then, he breathed a deep sigh, and looked down at me.

"Now you must do me favor, yes?" And he reached into his toolchest and pulled out a condom and some K-Y jelly.

"Always prepared, I see," I managed to say. He knelt down and grasped my painfully erect cock, and unrolled the condom over the tip, settling it into place with the ease of experience. He squirted some of the lubrication onto his hands and began to massage it over my length. The sensations brought me back to reality, and I began to feel a hunger to possess him as he had possessed me. He turned around and got onto his hands and knees, his ass offered up towards me.

I reached out and grabbed one muscular cheek in each hand, spreading them outwards. His little brown hole sat deep in the cleft, inviting me inward. I took hold of my cock, and placed the head right at his opening. Fuck finesse, I thought, and shoved forwards.

With surprisingly little resistance, I felt my prick sink into his ass a few inches. The sudden invasion elicited a forceful cry from him. The tightness of his rear entry was intense, gripping my organ so that I felt every millimeter of skin being stretched and aroused. He pushed his ass back against me, forcing more of my cock deep into his rectum. I held his hips, and started fucking back and forth. In a few strokes I had bottomed out, my prick buried fully within him. I could feel his own member twitching as I passed over his prostate. I pulled back and started savagely cramming him with my cock, driving it home again and again. His cries of pleasure were music to my ears, and I starting groaning along with him.

Pleasure danced like lightning along my erection. Continual input from every nerve ending built up like a summer storm, increasing in intensity with every motion. My being was centered in my cock, the crescendo of thunder in my ears building up to a fortissimo. I crested suddenly, my balls spasming their load out the length of my cock into the condom as I yelled my passion blindly to the ceiling. I felt him jerking beneath me, and realized he must have come a second time. I came down slowly from my orgasm, not willing to relinquish the tight embrace his ass had on my deflating organ.

"Well, we fixed something," he said in a bemused voice.

****

I didn't see June for the rest of the afternoon. I made some phone calls and found out that all the stores were out of air conditioners due to high demand in the heat wave. On-line purchasing couldn't get anything to me before Thursday, so we were out of luck until then. I continued to work in the darkroom on the photos, until I heard the phone ring. I had lost track of time: it was nearly five o'clock.

"Hey Daddy!" said June's voice across the receiver.

"Hi, princess. Had a good day?"

"Absolutely. I shopped almost until I dropped, then I ran into a friend who lives here in NYC. I'm over at her place."

"Well, listen, honey, I'm taking you to Lespinasse tonight."

A squeal of delight emerged from the receiver, and I heard her excitedly telling someone the news.

"What time's the reservation, Daddy?"

"7:30 PM."

"OK, I'll meet you there. I've got the clothes I need with me, and I can shower and change here."

At 7:30, I was waiting at the St. Regis Hotel, sitting in one of the armchairs in the lobby. I had dressed up for the occasion, or at least as much as I ever did. I was wearing a crisp collarless white shirt, a tan suede vest, and black brushed silk chinos. Of course, I was not wearing underwear, and the smooth silk whispered against my shaved balls like a lover's sweet nothing. I wondered what June would be wearing tonight. Each day she had surprised me with a new revealing outfit, and had teased me with glimpses. Yet up until now, she had evinced a certain level of reluctance, or perhaps of anxiety, for where her path was leading her. There was some other agenda going on here, and I was anxious myself to understand her game.

"Hi, Dad," came the soft greeting from behind me. I turned, and saw June. I hadn't had the chance to see June in her prom dress; that moment of classic fatherly revelation of the child turned woman had been denied me by my ex-wife. Yet that void was more than filled by the sight in front of me now. June was dressed in a long black gown that seemed to be missing one side. It started on her left shoulder and flowed down the middle of her chest, over her abdomen where it flared out to the right to cover her navel. From there, it continued to the right a little more, where it was secured around her right hip by a one-inch wide strap, after which it fell straight down the midline of her right leg. Her right breast was contained by a simple triangular cup that was supported by a string over her right shoulder and one string around the back. The effect was of a dress somehow suspended over her left body, leaving her right side almost completely bare.