Kitten & Father in Florence Ch. 03

"Fuck!" She hadn't just thought it. She said it again and again, between gasps and moans, until she could only gasp and whimper, hardly conscious of her father's groans from his exertion. Her pussy was already squirting, when he grunted with an even harder thrust, and then again and again with the following ones, until he collapsed on her.

She held him in her arms as tight as she could, feeling her pussy still contracting, as though it wanted to draw in his cock and make it keep moving. He moaned, and it surged a couple of times, but then her arms relaxed, sliding off him, and her feet slid down over his ass and down his extended legs, resting inside the back of his knees.

She had been fucked! Her only thought, as their stomachs rose and fell against each other.

When she had recovered enough to think again, she put her arms back around him and made her pussy squeeze. His cock slipped out. She felt liquid slid down to her asshole. He snorted softly and raised his head and shoulders, looking down at her. After a moment, he murmured:

"I hope you really wanted it that way; I just had to."

"Ummm! I did, just didn't know that I did, that it could be that good."

"Don't think I did either. No, I know I didn't."

"Two of us."

"Wrong two," he murmured.

"Not here," she murmured, hugging him. He nodded with slight smile, then replied:

"Kiss, and then I've got to go."

"Uhn! Why do I always then have to?"

"Shower, kiss," he replied.

They kissed and hurried to the bathroom, to the shower stall and began to pee on each other. This time he directed his stream up on her. She snickered and said:

"Doesn't taste like much, yesterday, and with Marlie. Guess there's more to taste between our pussy lips."

"Um-hmm, there was yesterday, but it really doesn't taste like much, certainly not compared with what you get to taste, when you suck my cock."

"And you know I like that, well, maybe not really, but it's so special; I just want it."

"Lucky me, Marlie's brother, and whomever."

She wiped her fingers up her stomach and licked them, shrugging with wry smile, then replying:

"I hope so, but till then just lucky you."

"Very lucky me," he murmured and turned on the water.

They washed each other, affectionately, but not erotically, and returned to the room. They both glanced at the bed and then at each other with smiles, then almost reluctantly started to put their clothes back on. When she reached for her bra, he smiled and said:

"If you're not going to wear it tomorrow... Maybe in the dark and without museums and now," he glanced at the bed again: "they won't."

"If you don't look," she enjoined with a nod and got her polo shirt.

He nodded with smile, but replied:

"No promises."

She grinned and pulled her shirt over her head and then slid her hands down over her breasts. With a smirk, she slid her hands back up under them. They were too firm to jiggle, but she moved them.

"Very nice," her father remarked with a smile.

"They're still sensitive, from what you were doing, but I wanted you to."

"Sorry; they felt like they wanted me to."

She looked down and circled them with her fingers, murmuring: "Say thank you."

When they popped out, he replied: "You're welcome," and smiled at her.

They left the hotel. It was too early for dinner and still light. He suggested they look at churches, which were open. In the first one, her murmured:

"Darker in here, safer."

"Safer? And no young men, you mean?"

He nodded. He really was worried about her nipples popping out, she thought. They did, but as he had said, it was darker, and no one was looking at them, also not her father. Did she want someone to? They wandered around, looking at the altar, also the ones in the side chapels. As they were leaving the church, she looked at him with a smile and said:

"I know, we don't have to walk together, you can just follow me to the next church, or lead me there, and don't have to be worried about them."

"Hmm? If you want. Better follow you, in case you get too much attention."

"Where's the next church?"

"Just find one," he replied, and they set off, he following several yards behind her.

She smiled to herself, pleased that he had accepted her suggestion, consciously holding her shoulders back, as she walked, also pleased with herself. She had known that she had an adequate figure, but never had considered it "very nice" - her father's words - and his "in all respects," comparing her kitten with those of all the nude statues, was something she had never thought about. But he had, and liked hers! And how he liked it! Could anyone seeing her imagine how he did, and that they just had - again?!

Her nipples had popped out again. She swung her arms a little more, wanting to feel her shirt move on them, shifting her eyes around to see if anyone could see them, no young men, but an older tourist with his wife approaching her. He even returned her smile. The way his wife suddenly spoke to him, she thought she had also seen her nipples and wanted to distract him. Why not enjoy letting an older man see them; grandpops - hers too - still liked to look at young girls. When the couple passed her, the wife nearer to her, he had his head turned to his wife, but she saw his eyes glance at her again, long enough to see her smile again. They were speaking German. She hoped she hadn't distracted him from what his wife was saying - not too much.

"Kitten, church," she recognized her father's voice, and realized that she had just passed one, just a small one whose facade didn't stand out from the neighboring buildings. She turned and joined him again. They entered the church, even darker inside than the previous one, with only a main altar in the small apse. In the light on it, however, they recognized an early Madonna and Child painting, her breast exposed through a slit in her gown, a very nice round breast with his little hand on it.

They both hummed softly. She knew what he was thinking and anticipated his murmured comment: "Very nice - very, very nice. Lucky kid."

"Daddy!" she softly admonished him, responding spontaneously to his having said more than she had anticipated, especially, his "lucky kid."

"Just realistic, more than others like that," he murmured apologetically.

"Like Mom's, when I was that small?"

"Just 'very nice', then they weren't later."

She hummed with a nod, suddenly recalling her mother's figure and for the first time wondered why hers was better. She looked at him questioningly. He glanced down at her breasts and shrugged, then murmured:

"Maybe yours are from my side of the family: my mom's, my sister's."

She almost chuckled, just nodding, appreciating that he had read her thoughts. She smirked slightly and asked:

"Your sister's?"

He nodded with a wry smile and nodded that they leaved the church. In the back, away from the few old ladies sitting in the church, he shrugged and whispered:

"Just a couple of times, peeking, when I was twelve or thirteen."

"What older siblings are good for, like Marlie's brother."

"Certainly not like that. Hmm? Maybe she did know, didn't mind my peeking."

"I bet she did, like me with my bikini, wanting you to see how I had grown."

"Very nicely. I did, was ... pleased, delighted."

"Nothing more?"

"Not back then, ... I don't think."

She gave him a broad grin, and he nodded and let her leave the church before he did, but then quickly following her, then letting her walk further ahead of him. She turned towards the major square, admitting to herself that she was still hoping some younger man would look at her, an Italian or a young tourist. This was being fun, and that her father was going along with it. And he had almost admitted, ... well, he had admitted that he might have had erotic thoughts about her when she had shown him her bikini. She hadn't, but she had been pleased at how he had looked at her, feeling a little embarrassed at letting him see her in the equivalent of just a bra and panties. She hummed with a grin: he certainly had seen her now - and without them! Her nipples popped out again.

In the square, she chose to walk towards the largest group of young tourists. They looked like a high school class, too young, but she wasn't going to do anything with them, just wanted them to look - the girls too. Why not, if she liked to see girls' breasts, had spent the whole day looking with her father for ones that looked like hers, "very nice" in comparison with most of the ones in paintings and on statues.

She drew back her shoulders and approached the group, looking to find a better excuse for going in that direction, nothing but the streets at the corner beyond them. She heard that they were speaking French, a school class from there. The couple of boys, who weren't in conversation with the girls, noticed her. One looked older than the others, taller. She continued to approach them, swerving to go around the group, when he smiled at her. Had she smiled at him, she wondered. He stepped away from the others and said in English:

Where are you from?"

Damned nipples had already popped out again, she realized, then had to smile, recognizing the contrast between her spontaneous thought and why she was parading her bra-less boobs through Florence. And he had noticed them! Her arm started to move to wipe over them. She stopped it with a shrug, and replied in French:

"America, United States."

"Oh, you speak good French," he said in his mother tongue, then adding:

"I thought you were an American. Just here for a holiday?"

She noticed that the others in the group were now following their conversation. Had they all seen her nipples? She glanced at the girls, hoping to see that they also weren't wearing bras, that that shouldn't surprise them. The couple she could see, didn't look like they really needed one. She looked back at him, hoping her nipples had relaxed, and replied:

"No, in school for a year in Switzerland."

"Oh, nice, in the French speaking part of Switzerland?"

She nodded, suddenly wondering where her father was and what he was thinking. The boy - looked more like a young man - and now it seemed that they all were watching them, asked:

"And here, like we are, to learn about Renaissance art and history?"

She nodded with a smile. He nodded with a smile and said:

"Oh, then you're with a group."

She shook her head, wondering where her father was. He smiled again - nice smile; her nipples popped out again, but she didn't mind, liked that his eyes had dropped down for an instant, just an instant, returning to her face. Then he said:

"If you're alone, since you speak such good French, you could join us. We've already seen the cathedral and biggest museums, but you probably have too."

She nodded that she had - with her father. Where was he? Damned nipples - again! She looked at him with an apologetic smile and murmured:

"I'm here with my father."

"Oh?" he replied with a disappointed expression, but then nodded with a smile and said:

"Pity. I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay in Florence."

"She nodded again, smiling, and replied:

"We are, we will, and hope all of you do too," glancing around at the others.

They all nodded. She thought a couple of the boys had smirked slightly at his unsuccessful attempt to include her in the group. When he returned back to them with a shrug, they all turned to go somewhere. Behind her, she heard her father's voice again:

"Hi, Kitten, that was nice; didn't know you could speak such good French."

She turned back and smiled at him, then smirking and replying:

"When the only English word I've be using for a year was 'kitten'?"

They both chuckled and then laughed, so that others turned to look at them. They noticed and grinned at them; no one could understand their joke.

"Dinner," he suggested, and took her hand, much to her surprise. She clasped his, smiling over at him, He squeezed hers, shrugging with a smile, and murmured:

"Don't all daddies want to hold their daughter's hand?"

"Until they go to school."

"After they do, especially when they're 'very nice, in all respects'."

"Thanks, but maybe even if they aren't. Hm-hmm! Have to ask Marlie."

"She is, 'in all respects'?"

"I think so, well, just 'quite nice' there - but I like them. 'In all respects', 'very nice'."

"Hmmm? And you like that too."

"Um-hmm, but maybe just a brother to hold hands with is enough."

"Glad you didn't have one, ... if that's what sisters want."

"Me too, but every girl has a father," she said softly, squeezing his hand.

"And they, a daughter," he agreed, clasping hers.

They smiled at each other with more earnest expressions, still holding hands as they looked for a restaurant. Her father wanted a better one, that didn't advertise with a tourist menu. She reminded him that they didn't know anything about why the food in an expensive restaurant would be better. He nodded. She chuckled and murmured:

"Aren't you glad that I thought you should save the price for two hotel rooms."

He groaned softly, squeezing her hand with a nod. She clasped his hand, nodding, then said in her normal voice:

"Let's just find a better tourist restaurant. You know what the Italians are supposed to eat for dinner?

He shook his head. She explained:

What I learned: an antipasta, the pasta, then a primo, secondo, both warm dishes; but with a contorno, probably a vegetable side dish, since the secondo is only the choice of meat; and then maybe a salad; and a dessert - a 'dolce', a sweet - of course,"

"And they aren't all overweight? Where do the babies come from, when they eat all that for dinner?"

She snickered and replied:

"I don't really have to tell you, do I?"

"No! Not like that, but still?"

"Maybe there would be a lot more of them, the babies."

"I doubt it. Okay, a better restaurant whose menu we can read, and anything you want."

"If it doesn't make me fall asleep," she added with a grin."

He smirked and remarked:

"Just want you to want the last course, whatever it's called in Italian."

"Hm-hm-hmm!" she chuckled, then snickered with a grin, catching her breath, and whispered:

"Sort of like 'The Last Supper'?"

Her father started, hurting her hand with his strong clasp, and murmured:

"I know we're wicked, and I like it, but that is sacrilege!"

"Sorry, 'mea culpa'. It was your idea about the last course, and I want it."

He rubbed the back of her hand on her thigh, and nodded. Then he murmured:

"But it won't be a 'dolce'."

She clasped his hand, nodding and giving him a smirk. They both hummed, and then found a restaurant that wasn't full of tourists.

After they had ordered, their half-liter flagon of wine was brought. It was half empty by the time their first course came. He asked what the French boy had said, and she told him about their conversation, also mentioning - sotto voce - her nipples. He nodded with soft chuckle, and then their flagon was empty and their glasses almost empty. They didn't have to say much; they were in complete agreement about how they had spent the day, just agreeing that they had enjoyed the museums. Her father whispered:

"Especially Venus."

"Very nice," she murmured and felt her nipples pop out, pleased that he was looking at them and nodding with a smile.

"Yours too," he murmured, looking at her face again. She smirked slightly and whispered:

"And yours - not too little."

"Even Hercules?"

She shook her head and finished another bite, before she replied:

"And if they were, he's in Greece or wherever."

"My good luck," he whispered over the table.

She pursed her lips, then licked them, and almost silently mouthed: "Mine too."

He hummed with warm eyes and raised his glass, and she, hers, and they drank deeply, emptying their glasses.

They had a second flagon of wine with the rest of their meal. Before they had finished eating, and finished the wine, she looked at her father, chuckling, then asking - with the most innocent expression she could muster:

"What do we want to do ... tomorrow?"

He grinned with a nod at her play on what had become a pat question. She smirked and leaned over the table and whispered:

"Don't have to ask about 'now'."

He shook his head with an soft moan. Then he suddenly grinned and said:

"Maybe I want dessert here."

"Hmmm? Thought it was sweet enough," she replied, taking a couple of packets of sugar from the bowl on the table.

"It was, just wanted to tease," he said.

"Uhn! Can't say it here," she murmured and excused herself from the table.

Her father then also had to go. They returned together, having to try not to show their mutual arousal when they faced each other outside the restrooms. When they both ordered an espresso, she wondered if they were stalling returning to their hotel, or if they both thought they needed something to counter all the wine they had drunk. That alternative was eliminated, when the waiter came with the bill and two small glasses and insisted that they have a grappa on the house.

Her father paid with a generous tip, and they walked back to their hotel, holding hands, exchanging clasps and glances, chuckling with smiles. He released her hand, when they approached their hotel and saw other guests entering it. They had to share the elevator with an American couple, all making polite comments about visiting Florence. She was glad that the couple didn't get off on their floor, maybe seeing them going together to their room. When they got off the elevator, her father smirked and asked: "What do we want to do now?"