Nude Melissa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you upset about Ben?" he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

Eventually she wriggled free and walked towards her bedroom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It appeared he'd been wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fight or flight...

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

The girl slumped onto her knees, heart thumping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5

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