A Week of June: Saturdaybycolumfa©
Author's note: I apologize once again for the lateness of this posting. I appreciate all of the interest in the June stories. It has been quite a personal journey for me to write them. Please, read them in order, as they form one long story, with many small stories along the way. I seriously doubt that there will be any more June stories to come, as I think I have exhausted that particular font of inspiration.
My ex-wife Alice looked up at me, smiling, affectionate, as she had not been to me in so many years. My length glided into her, lubricated by love. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of the penetration. When I was fully joined with her, I was comforted, home, ensconced.
"Don't you see?" she asked.
"Of course," I replied, and it did all make sense. All of the doubts I had felt for the past week, all of the fears and insecurities were banished by the inscrutable surety shining from Alice's eyes. I raised myself on my arms, withdrawing oh so slowly from the clinging depths of her sex, only to allow myself to fall back down into her, sucked inward.
"It's not up to you to figure out her life. You've got to let go at some point, and let her make her own decisions."
Alice had never sounded so wise in all the years I had known her.
"All parents have to release the child and forge new relationships with the adult. She has chosen an unusual course, but then, she always was an unusual child."
The delicious friction forged by our union brought warmth and joy to me. I wanted it to go on forever. In that moment, I forgave Alice all of her infidelities, and saw a path forward to new awareness.
"Mmmm... Oh, yeah... That's really nice, Dad..."
My eyes flashed open. Jarred back to reality, I found myself in Esme's room, on her huge waterbed. I was still spooning June from behind, but my steely erection had found its way between her thighs, and was trapped up against her seeping pussy lips. My hips were pushing back and forth, my cock slipping between my daughter's thighs with ease, lubricated by her exudations.
"Don't you want to put it in? Don't you want to feel that connection again?"
I snapped fully awake. Pulling back, I extricated myself from that all-too-welcoming haven, and pushed away from June.
"Awww, I was enjoying watching that," Esme said. She was sitting up on the other side of June, wearing a long white t-shirt. Although it protected her modesty completely, her nipples were pointing through the cotton. June looked over her shoulder at me, her gorgeous ass still pooched out at me. In between her thighs, I could see the indentation of her labia.
"Well, Dad? You don't want to disappoint Esme, do you?"
Esme smiled at me, and reached between her legs to touch herself.
"Oh, yeah... you two are so hot together. Why would you want to destroy that?"
My mind was at war with my cock, which still strained towards my daughter's cunt. I compromised.
"All right, but still, I'm not going to go inside of you, June."
I lay back down behind her, let my pussy-juice slick cock fit between her ass cheeks. The fleshy globes gripped me, and I let my prick slide up and down that inviting cleft.
"Ooohhhh..." moaned Esme, "I gotta see this!" She came closer, leaning down, her hand still between her legs. June lifted up her top leg, and Esme reached between to grasp my cock. Pulling it downward, she dragged the tip across June's anus, then through the middle of her labia, until it came to rest against her clit. June left her leg bent at the knee, and let out a satisfied sigh when she felt my hard length lying against her sopping cunt. Esme's eyes were wide, her breath coming in fast pants as she watched the incestuous near-union of our organs.
The head of my cock was angry purple now, swollen beyond belief by the angle of my prick and the erotic nature of the scene. Esme's hot breath flowed over our cock and cunt, adding to the stimulation. I pulled back, and the head of my cock plowed through June's vulva once more. I couldn't believe the glorious feeling of that smooth skin against my hardness. The lack of hair on her youthful pussy made the motion that much more slick.
Again I pushed forward, and June ground her clit against my erection, moaning. Esme's fingering became more frantic, as she sawed fingers in and out of her own cunt, but her eyes stayed wide open, locked on the prurient scene before her, not wanting to miss a moment. Back and forth, now, faster, the delightful feelings multiplying electrifyingly.
"Mmmm... Dad... Oh, yeah... Don't you want to put it in? Don't you want to fuck me again?"
"Ohhh, God..." I groaned. That little brain that resides in the end of a guy's cock was screaming at me to aim higher, so that I could ram home into June's pussy.
"C'mon, Mr. Carlson... I wanna see you fuck your daughter... please..."
I almost gave in, the lewd idea of making love to June in front of her friend overwhelming my higher thinking capacity. On my next backward movement, I felt the crown of my cock catch on the lip of June's entrance, before slipping back forward once more. I was saved from my own instinct by Esme.
"I can't stand it," Esme shouted, "I've got to..." and she leaned forward further, applying her mouth to my glans as it thrust forward over June's cunt. Her tongue swirled wetly over the crown, then slipped over June's clit.
"Ohhhh!!" moaned June, her orgasm crashing through her. I could feel the spasms of her pussy against the top of my shaft. In a second, my orgasm joined hers, and I forcefully ejected ropes of sperm towards Esme. The first went directly into her mouth, while the second jerked up and splashed across her face. The rest she caught directly in her mouth. In a flash, she pushed herself up so that she could kiss my daughter. June kissed back, their tongues pressing against each other, my ejaculate traded back and forth in their mouths.
"MMMFFF... mmmm... ohhhh..." Esme came violently against her fingers, her mouth still locked on June's.
We all lay, panting, recovering from the strength of our cums.
"Now, that's the way to get up in the morning," June said wryly, a little of my cum decorating her chin.
"High in protein," giggled Esme.
At 11:30, June called Julianne, our waitress from the night before and told her to come over, giving her directions to Esme's apartment. I was enjoying my second cup of coffee, not to mention the company of the two young ladies. Esme had changed into a pair of hip hugger white pants, very low-slung, so that her hipbones jutted out over the top. The sides of the pants, from hem to belt, consisted entirely of leather laces, exposing a two or three inch wide strip of skin the length of her legs. Similarly, instead of buttons or a zipper, the front of the pants had leather laces forming a "v" pointing towards her pussy. It was blatantly obvious that she had no panties on, especially from the rear where her well-formed ass was tightly encased by in cotton. For a shirt, she had a cropped white skintight t-shirt that had the word "slut" in pink script right between her small tits.
June had put together an outfit that showed that she still had the power to shock. Her top was sheer, light blue, embroidered with little flowers. It hugged her breasts tightly, with an elastic bottom edge that cupped underneath each one. Her areolas and nipples were easily visible. But her pants were what put the outfit over the edge. They were denim chaps, soft and form-fitting, with an inch wide belt at the top connecting the two legs into one piece of clothing. The cut-out portion of the chaps left uncovered precisely that area usually covered by a standard pair of panties; that is to say, her whole ass, upper thighs, groin, and lower belly were in the open. To protect what modesty she pretended to claim, June had a g-string pair of panties on. In the back, it was merely a string between her butt cheeks, attached to two strings that went over her hips and around to the front. There, they swooped down towards her sex, at the last second coming together into a tiny patch that molded to her vulva. Her peony tattoo proudly sat above the g-string.
When Julianne arrived, she had clearly attempted to reach June and Esme's level of exhibitionism. The cute redhead had a leather miniskirt, around fifteen inches in length. On top, she wore a cream top through which you could see her lacy black bra. However, when she came in and saw what her new friends were wearing, her cheeks flushed.
"Oh, damn. I thought I was being daring."
"Don't worry, Julianne darling," June said, caressing the redhead's cheek. "We'll take care of you. We're going shopping."
The heat outside was as astounding as ever. Rather than letting up, it appeared to have increased. The sounds of the city were deadened by the intense heat, and the sun pounded against the asphalt mercilessly.
We piled into a cab to take us uptown. The cabbie kept on staring at us in his mirror, four people sitting together in the backseat. I had Julianne on my lap, Esme to my right, and my daughter to my left. I couldn't help but reach down and tickle June between her legs, where her mound pooched out. Julianne stared at my hand as I tucked the g-string inside of June's lips so that they stuck out around the cotton.
"Naughty, naughty, Daddy," said June, "what will people think?"
Julianne looked at the two of us, a shocked expression on her face.
"You're her - her father?!"
"Yup," I replied, casually, stroking June's exposed labia gently.
"And you like him touching you like that?"
"Sure thing, sweety," purred June. "I've wanted him since I was ten years old. Daddy, you wouldn't have done anything to me back then, would you?"
"Good God, no, princess. I like my girls to have curves, a little something on top."
"Jesus, I would have spread my thin legs for you back then without a blink of an eye." Her eyes had a dreamy, far-away look in them. Esme giggled at June's statement, while Julianne just gasped. "Don't think you would have fit, though," June went on, her eyes closed. "How about when I started to fill out, Daddy dearest? Would you have fucked me when I was thirteen?"
I was fascinated by this conversation. Horrified, yet fascinated. June had a way of dragging the reality of our relationship out to where I had to examine it more closely. I had not been sexually attracted to her back then. I had really been too involved with my own issues to relate with her in any way, let alone to notice how she was becoming a woman.
"Mmmm... yeah, I remember first getting tits. I was so proud that I had something to show on my chest. Even though they were just bumps back then, not like what I've got now, that's for sure. Do you remember, Daddy, finding me by the pool in my string bikini? I tried to flash you when I could..."
I remembered the awkward teenager she had been back then. I had the image of my blonde daughter, wearing a striped bikini that tied in the back, just barely filled with tiny handfuls. And now I recalled the time she spoke of, when she had been sunning in the backyard, on her stomach, her top untied. I came out, and she propped herself up on her elbows so that her little breasts were exposed. The most vivid part of the memory is how the deck chair had left red lines across her body. Nudity had not been a big deal in our family, although I had not known the extent to which Alice, June's mother, had abused that privilege.
Trying not to stare at the cute mounds, I had sat and talked with June about her day at school, and my day at work. She had teased me, I now knew, by "unconsciously" exposing herself from time to time. Yet I had not been aroused by her immature display, only amazed at her innocence.
"You little minx," I said now, my finger straying deeper under the flimsy cotton g-string. "You were displaying yourself in a most unladylike fashion."
"But would you have? C'mon, Daddy, didn't you want to see more of me?"
"No, kiddo. Sorry, but no. I wasn't attracted to you then, either."
"Well then, how about the last time I saw you?"
I remembered that time, two years ago. I was barely getting started in my new business when my fifteen-year-old girl came to visit me in the big city. The photograph I keep on my bedside table of her is from that time. She had filled out beautifully, I remember, now showing the real curves of womanhood, sitting somewhat awkwardly even then on her young body.
"Even then," June went on, "I tried to let you know without saying anything."
I recalled the time I had walked into the bathroom and found her drying off from a shower. She had shrieked with surprise, yet I had caught a glimpse of her skin, the sweep of her ass, the clean line of her shoulderblade. With a shock, I now realized that I had been unconsciously assessing her as a woman rather than as my child.
"Yes..." I murmured, my cock now rising underneath Julianne's ass, filling up, extending down my leg. "Yes, I probably would have taken you then, if you had made it clear."
Julianne, her eyes wide, stared at me over her shoulder. Then she turned and looked at my daughter, her legs spread, her butt forward on the seat, my finger seeking inside of her.
"God," she whispered, "I thought only weirdos would wanna screw their dads..."
"Yeah, right," Esme shot back. "Nothing weird about getting off in the back of a cab."
"Don't mind me," said the cabbie. "I'm just trying to keep my eyes on the road."
But the revelation had hit me like a ton of bricks. Sure I knew I was fucked up for making it with my daughter. Even now, with my finger seated in her pussy, I knew I was taking advantage of a situation without truly assessing the consequences. But how deep did my perversion go? I had at least prided myself by thinking that I had only been involved in consensual relations with June. But could a fifteen-year-old girl truly know what she was getting into? Still, I couldn't withdraw my finger from the delicious haven it had found within June's depths.
Julianne, though still shocked, was mesmerized by my intimate contact with June. She couldn't tear her eyes off of the motion my hand made between June's legs.
"Maybe... maybe it's just because I had an ugly father or something. Maybe I would have jumped my old man if he had looked like you..."
"Or maybe not," June breathed. "Maybe it's not something to aspire to."
"But look how close you are with your Dad. I can't even carry on a conversation with my father."
"Julianne, you don't know us. We are fucked up. In the worst way. But we've found a way to patch up the shit we've gone through in the past. I don't recommend this."
"But I love it," Esme whispered, in a husky voice. "I definitely do not want to make it with my father. But to see a dad and daughter together like this is fucking exciting. Especially in public..." She was breathing heavily now, her nipples straining through her t-shirt, forming an odd but appropriate frame to the pink letters in between.
"I hate to say it, folks, but we're here," the cabbie said, regretfully.
That afternoon I was privy to a performance I will never forget. The title was 'The Education of Miss Julianne,' and it starred my three companions, with our new friend in the starring turn. June was in her ringmaster role, and directed the movement of characters and costumes with a flair that would have captivated the most jaded of theatergoers. Esme was the stage manager, always showing up with the required props at the perfect moment, always staying in the background. And poor, confused, stunned, delighted Julianne, our naif. As the ingenue of the piece, she was simply asked to blush prettily, stutter, and yet somehow manage to look radiant despite the strange turns of events any good comedy possesses.
And as for myself? I was the audience, one among many astonished passers-by, given the present of that wonderful feeling that only superb stagecraft can bring forth: amazement. And I, only I, knew that the whole performance was particularly designed for me. Only I knew the message that June was sending me: take me, and all of this will be yours for the asking.
The first store was a little boutique with full height glass windows facing the street. The saleslady hurried to greet us: a stick-figure of a woman, with sharply tailored clothes. But June had already started to take the measure of the store's merchandise, and sent Esme off after several outfits. She waved off the saleslady with a practiced flourish, and turned to Julianne.
"The art of exhibitionism is not one to be taken lightly, my dear. There is a philosophy to it, an understanding that the act is one that is necessarily shared between the self and the other. Every decision must be tailored to that belief. Greed has no place in exhibitionism; you must never expose merely to please yourself. Conversely, selflessness or submission is not strictly speaking part of the art either. Instead, you must be willing to share your pleasure in yourself, your confidence that your body is one that others will want to see. It is that confidence that makes people admire rather than censure. To that end, you must be supremely self-aware. You must know your strengths and your weaknesses in order to display the one and hide the other. Whereas greed is exiled, pride is worshipped. Above all, be proud of yourself, and exhibitionism will be as natural as nudity!
"Now tell me, Julianne. What about your body makes you proud?"
"Um - well, I guess my eyes are pretty," Julianne ventured.
"Forget about your face, honey. You're very cute, we'll take that for granted. I'm talking about your body."
I had settled into a chair conveniently supplied for gentlemen visiting the store, and I watched Julianne hem and haw. June sighed.
"All right. Let me tell you then. From what I've seen so far, you have every reason to be proud of several aspects of your body. First off, your breasts are small, but well-formed. They look to be able to support themselves on their own, which is extremely valuable should you decide to forgo wearing a bra. Like Esme here, you will not be betrayed by sag."
June cupped one of Esme's breasts through the T-shirt, lifted it, and let it fall. It jiggled becomingly, but did not sway. Esme smiled winningly, her hard nipples showing how much she liked the attention.
"Second, your legs are long and shapely. This is also key: chunky thighs or cellulite ruin a good outfit. Take good care of your legs, and they should remain your friends for years to come. There is no reason why any woman should have to give up exhibitionism this side of sixty.
"These are the assets I can reasonably evaluate given that I have not seen you without attire. So, let us fix that. Esme, bring those outfits. Julianne, come with us."
And with that, she led the way to the dressing rooms. I waited in a fine state of anticipation. June's views on exhibitionism meshed remarkably well with my own, and I was astonished at her capacity for such well-reasoned thought on such a mature subject. But then, girls in the USA are required to have more than a passing knowledge of the subject of sexiness vs. sluttiness. When I was a child, the difference was too obvious. Now the lines have blurred. In fact, Esme's shirt with its once-derogatory slur seemed now more like a title of honor.
Julianne emerged from the dressing room, clad in a blush and a sheer minidress. The material was patterned in black lace, obscuring the details of her skin underneath. She was not wearing a bra, but the lines of a g-string showed through the dress. I could not make out her nipples, but the gentle curve of her breasts cast a shadow against her torso that was visible.
"As I said before," June lectured, "your legs are an asset you do not want to hide. A dress like this one allows the viewer to see the entire line of your leg from ankle to hip. With the correct underwear, you can emphasize that upper border, and make your legs appear longer. Your boobs, too, need to stand out. In this outfit, you can see the general outline but no details. In some situations this would be enough. But not for our purposes.