He Wanted To See More Of Me

"You really want to? We shouldn't."

"If you do. I want you to."

"Can't say I don't want to, but we shouldn't.

"We're not going to make babies, the only real reason why we shouldn't."

His fingers rubbed over my very aroused nipple. I had to moan softly. I took my hand off his and put it on his thigh, rubbing. He squeezed my nipple between his fingers in response. I moaned again. I knew that I was all wet. Then he surprised me!

His other hand found mine and drew it up his thigh, up over his full cock, and he murmured:

"You know I do; I can't help myself. If you want to?"

I squeezed his cock and murmured:

"Like nothing else."

His cock surged, twitched, my fingers clasping more around it. I suddenly had the silly thought: he must wear boxer shorts, or maybe none at all? Already for this to happen, or did he never wear any?

He wore boxer shorts. In his bedroom, I was already naked with aroused breasts, while he was still struggling to take off his clothes as fast as he could. His aroused cock did look like the nice American's, but like it was, it didn't look much different than that of the circumcised younger man.

We fell into bed with me on top of him. When I kissed him, we forgot about father and daughter. Had I ever been aroused so long in anticipation of having sex with someone? Had he? His cock slipped easily in my so long aroused muschi. I don't want to try to describe how good it was!

We were awakened by the sound of the TV. I turned it and the lights off and returned to him, and we embraced each other and fell asleep again. In the morning, when I started turn around under the covers, he murmured:

"You want to do that?"

I did, and did, and he did too, as good as I could have hoped. I crawled around again, and we kissed and murmured expression that weren't appropriate between father and daughter. Then we had to go to the bathroom, both smiling wryly in the light. He let me go first, and then I told him that I had seen other men go. He did, snickering as he remarked:

"Can't see any more of each other."

"No, but more often."

"I didn't mean to suggest anything else."

We both smiled, and he offered that I could shower first. When I suggested that we could together, he grinned and made an uncritical remark about my experience, and we did. We made and had breakfast in the nude, agreeing that we had both had wanted it to happen, but not admitted it to ourselves until we started talking about it. I think I had subconsciously been thinking about it since my conversation with the nice American and his companion, but didn't say so. We cleaned up, exchanging not only smiles but also caresses.

Somehow, we managed to get dressed and do something for the rest of the day. In the evening, we had dinner in the restaurant. On the way back his flat, I took his arm, and we chuckled and exchanged smiles, and smirks, when I held his elbow to my breast.

It does not really matter to tell what we did that night, but he was delighted when I said that I wanted to do it to him first, and more than delighted when I did, like I was, when he then did it to me.

We lay together in bed, again exchanging words appropriate for a couple that wasn't father and daughter. In the morning, I woke up with his cock between my thighs, and we did the obvious, with the fingers of both our hands making it even better for me, but for him too, he said afterwards.

When we had recovered, I chuckled and said:

"You wondered what the three of us in France could do together. Sort of like that: she and I did, and he did."

Oh, like that! Guess I don't have much imagination."

What did we do after breakfast on Sunday? Something, but we found our way back to his flat early enough before my train to enjoy a very long - I don't like the word - with me sitting on him, doing things that felt very good for us both, until he sat up and sucked my breasts, until we then couldn't help but do everything we could for each other.

I didn't miss my train. We are going to see a lot more of each other.