Time Will Make All Girls Into Women

Michael breathed in deeply, the smoke from the campfires tickling his nose even though he was nowhere near them. This wasn't his first event- he knew that campfire smell would be something that followed him for weeks when he got home- but he thought some fresh air might do him some good. With only one other person in camp at this hour, when the parties would be at full swing, he figured he wouldn't get a better time to get away from the camp and relax a little. Perhaps the hornfuls of mead he'd swallowed really didn't help- they flushed his skin, and while he wasn't feeling particularly loose or hindered, he did feel good, as well as warm.

He grabbed his towel and told Baern he was heading to the river. Baern wouldn't mind- he was stuck at camp anyway with an old ankle injury that had been bothering him since a rush they'd made that morning- so Michael didn't have to feel guilty as he left the colorful, homey ring of tents that represented the safety of his friends and made for the river they were lucky enough to be camped just beside.

The grass was longish and slippery with dew as he crossed in his sandals, whipping at his legs just enough to stick here and there. He heard the distant sound of drums in a familiar opening run as he gently stepped into the river shallows. He'd personally mapped this river himself by hand and foot for quite some distance up and downstream when he'd started coming there years ago when his family was still young, overprotective to the point of paranoia. Luckily, he had the excuse that he wanted to make sure no one could sneak into the camp at night- which he proved quite impossible after a few mere minutes of swimming.

Even where the cool, refreshing water was deep enough for his long legs not to drag along the bottom, the only exception to sides too steep to allow for climbing lay at the wallow where the river gently lapped the back of the camp. Trees on either side of the banks made this particular location feel almost isolated- not enough to kill the sound of the ever-present nighttime drums or the cannon-fire during the day, but enough that their campsite had quickly become the envy of the grounds. Not that Michael would ever let anyone else have it. Over his dead body, he'd said many times, and would say to anyone willing to listen.

His hands gently beat the rhythm of the drums out against his thighs as he walked to a shelf they'd placed along the river to hold their towels while they swam, up off the grass and out of the way of the water. The light of the camp did not reach far past the circle of tents, themselves quick a few feet away, but it was to this end that they'd placed a stretch of tiki torches along this part of the river. The light was just enough to guide someone to the water, even to illuminate the shoreline and keep tender toes from injury, but they hadn't been able to find recesses strong or trustworthy enough along the steep banks to place other lights, so once in the water a swimmer was on their own.

He knew he shouldn't swim alone, but he didn't particularly care. He knew this water like the back of his hand. With this in mind, he placed the towel across the top of the table, leaving his sandals under it. His hands occupied, he was forced to hum along with the drums as he took off his loose-fitting shirt and carefully stripped his kilt, winding the cloth around his arm and folding as he went, as much to keep it from the water as off the ground. He knew it would be some time before his campmates returned, and his daughter was at party at a camp he knew quite well to be safe, and he didn't expect anyone to return for quite a few hours. Dark had only come a short time- half an hour?- before and that meant all the time in the world to worry about indecency.

With that, he strode into the water, cold against his skin after the alcohol. What flavor had it been? Blackberry? He mentally shrugged it off as he began to swim.

He was floating on his back in a lazy circle when he heard a familiar voice. It seemed a bit distant and he didn't concern himself with it- it could be any number of the group returning to camp for any number of reasons, and nothing ever seemed pressing in this place. He dove under the water for a moment, into the dark, always keeping a careful eye on the orientation of the lights as he felt his way around the rocky wall to the left of the entrance to the little lagoon. He breached the water near the place where the river slipped over it's little bounds to continue it's flow away from it's pond and realized he'd gone too far from the shore, and turned to go back just in time to see a blur enter the water in a streak- whoever had come back to the camp had decided to go for a swim.

He thought for a brief moment about his nudity, but it wasn't unusual at an event for people to go streaking for one reason or another, and he considered the campmates like family. He'd been in hot tubs with many of them before- even the women. It just wasn't something to be concerned about. The only person he might have to worry about-

A glimpse of wine red hair breaching the surface told him he was in trouble. His daughter had come back from Hedgewood early?

"What are you doing back from the party so early?" He asked as his daughter laughed, having spotted him. She tread water like a pro, her grin wide. She wiped strands of hair from her eyes and bobbed a little in the water, the light of the tiki torches not quite enough to illuminate her at this distance, her pale skin almost glowing with its own light in the dark.

"It was getting kind of rowdy and I wasn't feeling it," she said, briefly casting her eyes to the side. She brushed a hand against her pale pink lips- no doubt the cool getting to her, she never did like it- and bobbed in the water with a kick that somehow gave the impression of a shrug. "Morgaine was getting a little too drunk for me and you know Bella was right there with her." She sneered a little, a cute little wrinkle of the nose.

"Didn't feel like drinking tonight," Michael asked in a voice with no question in it. His daughter may have been a month from nineteen, but he knew as well as any parent how easy it was for the underage to gain alcohol at an event like this, and had discussed with her where and when she was safe to imbibe. With her friends, at their parent's campfire, regardless of the rowdiness of the party he knew she'd be safe. Especially since Morgaine's father was built like a bull with the temperament to match.

"Well I tried the cordials, you know, the one's Rave's Mom made," she said with a teasing grin, expecting Michael to be jealous. He growled slightly, pretending to be, and she laughed, pleased. "She has strawberry-lemon and blackberry-raspberry this year." The growl changed to a mock glare and she showed her teeth, then gave him a sympathetic look. "She'll be bringing them by tomorrow for you, Daddy."

"Thanks," he said grudgingly. She bobbed again, her collarbones briefly breaching the water to scatter the blue light around her further before she sank into the water again.

"But yeah, after that I just wanted to come home. It just seemed to loud and you know I love the drums but I couldn't hear anything so I figured I'd just come home. It's not like we can't hear the drums from here." As if on cue, a louder, heavier dancing rhythm began.

"Who brought you home?" Michael asked with a warning tone and Jenny rolled her eyes dramatically.

"I had Bullwinkle walk me here. Nothing would've happened to me this early, Daddy," she added in an aggrieved tone. "Like I'd really walk home by myself just so you could lecture me."

"You don't know what kind of things can happen to you out there. I don't know what I'd do if you disappeared on me at such a huge event like this. Not everyone," he added at her irritated look, "is as nice as the Hedgewoods people or the Lake Finn's. You have to be careful." She sighed, but smiled at him affectionately.

"I promise I won't do anything dangerous."

"You're damn right, you won't," he added, the growl this time much softer. He watched the firelight reflected on the water closer to shore and then at the way the starlight could barely be seen reflected on the rock wall slightly down the river from the beach. Only a few feet away and that light didn't do even the least bit of good- of course he was worried about his little girl. He didn't know what he'd do without her. He moved one of his arms in a steadying motion as he tread water and it brought back to his mind just how deliciously cool the water was on his skin-

"Whatcha thinking about, Daddy," Jenny asked, looking over at the wall where his eyes had been when he'd stopped focusing. He shook his head and tried his hardest, but...

"I don't remember," he answered, apologetically.

"Is it about how dangerous it is? You know, I've been good. I'm going to stay in for the rest of the night, so if you want to get out there and go see some people I can help Uncle Baern keep the camp. I heard there weren't many guys at the Drink the Beer party over on Rhode Island, if you wanted to go see if that improves your chances at all."

"Jenny!" Michael answered, scandalized. He didn't even hear the echo of his voice across the water, and it suddenly struck him how secluded this river was. Aside from the distant throb of drums and the lapping of water against the shore and the rocky shores, no other sound could be heard. It stood out to him in the wake of his attempt at protesting loudly.

"What? You aren't still stuck on Mom, are you?" She asked, bobbing backwards as she realized how close she'd suddenly come.

"Jenny-" Michael started, a warning in his voice, but she cut him off.

"I know what you're going to say," she said, angry suddenly. "But it's been years and years, and it's just been you and me against the world, and everyone's worried about you." The response Michael had been giving her for years died in his throat. His surprise at her wording showed on his face plainly to his daughter. "I overheard Becka's Mom and Baern talking about it. They said Lady de la Leon was hitting on you, and you didn't even notice, and then Becka's Mom said something about how it's not healthy." Her wine-colored eyebrows knit together over her bright blue eyes, gunmetal in the lack of light.

"Look, Jenny, I know what they're talking about, but since your mother left I just haven't been able to think about it." Michael felt the nameless, placeless pleasant feeling the alcohol had given him backing off as he spoke. This kind of shifting conversation was never very good for thoughtless joy. "When she left you were still so young, and you've been my whole life since then. I haven't really had time for anything else."

"But I'm grown now," Jenny said in a plaintive tone. "You don't have to worry about me quite like you used to. I can dress myself, and get myself to school and home. Even if I have to have Bullwinkle walk me!" The statement was a joke, and Michael smiled. "You told me when you took me to the doctor to get the pill in February that I'm old enough to start making my own decisions, as long as I make them smart. So doesn't that kind of let you off the hook? A little?" She would've peered up into his face if they were on dry land, as it stood she just let herself sink a little into the water so she could give him that same adorable face she'd been trying to win him with since childhood. Only now, instead of a grubby kid in lop-sided pigtails, she looked up at him through long eyelashes with the same sort of eyes that made Michael demand she find the strongest and kindest-hearted man at Hedgewood to walk her home, at once the same and entirely different from the look Carol, his ex-wife, would give him when she wanted something.

"You're right," Michael said with a bit of a sigh, and Jenny beamed. "You're right. I'll... entertain the idea of seeing these women when they ask. But I'll tell you what, I won't be starting with Becka's Mom. She might have you believing she's worried about my health but I guarantee the only thing she's worried about is that cold side of her bed." Jenny laughed and bobbed again, almost submerging herself completely only to surface, wiping water from her sparkling eyes. Seeing her laugh made the warmth of the mead creep back into his skin just a little- he could feel it especially across his shoulders and stomach, that warm looseness the water and the alcohol inspired in him. Along with the pleasant warm glow of a hard day's play in the field burning his muscles just slightly, he was in an excellent mood again. And Jenny- and Becka's Mom- were right. It had been a long time since he'd had anything to do with a woman of any sort. Not that he hadn't had the urge- here and there, usually helped along by the trailing fingertips of event-types trying to get his attention, or late at night. But heartbreak generally killed his libido completely. It wasn't that he was ignoring his needs, it's that he just didn't feel them quite the same way. It took a specific instance, or a specific woman, to ignite that same fire that had once burned in him on an almost constant basis. He wasn't who he used to be. He often wondered how much Carol had to do with that.

"I have to admit," Jenny interrupted his thoughts with her voice. "I'm touhed to know that you were just worried about me all this time. I thought... maybe after the way Mom left us that you just... didn't want anything to do with women anymore." She breathed out after her sentence, as if she'd been holding her breath. Michael knew she only did that when she had said something difficult.

"No, no, Jenny," he said, soothing. "I've always just been worried about you, that's all. You're the most important thing in my life." He reached out, his arm long enough to breach the distance between them, and with a finger brushed the underside of her chin. She smiled at him.

"You're the most important thing to me, too." She caught his hand in both of hers, holding it up. "So do you think it will be long before I'm going to see another woman around?" A strange note in her voice let Michael know she was worried about something, and he didn't immediately know what it was, so he just reassured her, as he always had.

"No one will ever take your place, you know that," he said in his most soothing voice. She smiled a little, and he knew that he'd figured it out. He captured one of her hands in his, rubbing it between his thumb and fingers. "I mean it, Jenny."

"Well... I mean..." She took a deep breath. "We've gotten along without anybody else all this time. I just wonder... if we can't... keep on?" She looked up at him between those damp lashes, and he tried to figure out what she meant by that. He knew her well enough to know that she was nervous, but not what she was nervous about. The confusion showed on his face, so she started again. "we haven't needed anyone else for so long. And the way Mom left both of us, we've made do. And you've taken such good care of me, you now..." She breathed out in a gush again, and before Michael could consider what she'd said, she swam forward past his hand and wrapped her legs around his waist like she used to when they were playing and she was a child. It was such a familiar gesture that Michael was able to quickly correct his posture so they didn't sink, but at the same time, Michael became aware of one very important thing- Jenny wasn't wearing a bathing suit either.

His face went slack in shock. He couldn't see Jenny's face, as it was almost over his shoulder in this postion, but she was latched to his waist above his kicking legs, her bare breasts pressed against his chest. He could feel her nipples, perky and alert, pressing into his skin, and a purely biological response began. He fought it, however, and kept himself from reacting, not the least reason of all because of how uncomfortable it would be while kicking. His right hand had slid up her back to press her to him instinctively to keep her safe locked against him- now he found it impossible to let her go, shocked.

"I know you've been lonely, and I've only just gotten the nerve, but I want to help you," Jenny said, her voice quiet, coming from just above his ear as he tried not to focus on any one part of her naked form squeezing against him.

"Let me take care of you, Daddy," she said, and her voice was breathy but trembling.

"Jenny, you can't-" He knew he had to be careful here. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, and he didn't want to make her feel unattractive or in any way injure her growing maturity. She was precious to him and he couldn't just tell her she was insane. He was quiet for a long moment as he tried to figure out what to say to this naked girl pressed against him, trying to be kind to him. She was too young, and too innocent.

"I know what I'm saying, and I know what I want. No one's here. There won't be anyone in camp for hours, and I gave Uncle Baern some of Maeve's sleeping cordial in a bottle of the new stuff. He's going to sleep til morning." She couldn't clench him tightly while he swam, and because of this she was forced to move up and down with him in the water, her body dragging along hers, her breasts and labia gently caressing him with the motion of his legs. "Mom's not here anymore. Let me take care of you. Take care of us."

Michael refused to even consider it. He knew it had been a long time since he'd been with a woman but his own daughter? He couldn't blame his traitorous body- it was only natural that if he thought there might be sex he should start getting hard, as he was- but he knew better. He pushed not-quite onto his back and began side-swimming for shore, carrying his daughter with him. As soon as his feet touched bottom he carefully placed his legs down and began to push up to carry them to shore.

It was at this point that his daughter wrapped her legs around him and carefully brought her body closer to his, and, reaching down, brought his erection between them. She had either taken his silence as consent or decided to take things into her own hands. Her head was barely breaching the water- in fact, the water was up to her lips- when she pulled herself to him. Now the length of his cock lay lengthwise between her labia and he had stopped moving- his skin was on fire for a completely different reason and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

"Jenny," he started again, a warning in his voice, and she must have held her breath because she used her arms and legs to drag her pussy along his cock before resurfacing, and the electric feeling of it had made him gasp.

"Come on, Daddy," she said, coming out of the water just enough to speak. "No one's ever going to know and you told me I could make my own decisions." She said the last almost as a challenge. His head a whirl, without considering her feelings, he started protesting.

"I can't sleep with my own daughter," he started with first.

"I'm not talking about sleeping," she answered, glib.

"What if we get caught?"

"We won't. I told you. I took care of it."

"We don't have a condom," his traitorous mouth said, giving him away.

"We don't need one," she said with a smile. "You got me on the pill, remember?" His brain was clamoring for his attention but his body was clamoring harder. He was twice her age but his libido had come roaring back to life with all the years of inattention he had been giving it, and she was willing. Not only willing, arguing! At this point she'd recognized that her father was finding arguments, which meant that he was not only considering the idea, he was fighting it. She decided she had the upper hand. "Come on," she said as if irritated. "Won't you just put it in already?"

That tone had always struck him as a challenge, and she had pitched it just right. Still, his mind whirled, it would be impractical to try and have sex right there, in the water, where neither of them had leverage. Before he could think better of it, he was swimming with her to a likely shelf of rock. He hoped it wouldn't be too sharp as he turned to press her against it, and he saw that her eyes were wide, but not in pain. He had chosen a spot against the wall where he knew handholds were available, but he knew he might not even need them. He carefully wedged his feet down into the mud, planting them carefully to make sure they wouldn't slip. He didn't want to do this in the water but every time he started to have second thoughts Jenny would rub against his cock, or arch her back to bring her breasts above the water where he could see the perky, perfect, pink aureola in the gloom, her porcelain skin shining wetly. When he was certain he wouldn't lose his footing, he looked down at her, pressed against the rock, looking up at her.