Milla's Master Plan for Mr Hancock

The first time I saw Milla she was bending over in front of our fridge, looking for something cold to drink. And the first part of Milla I saw was her ass. Quite a lot of her ass, to be honest, as she was only wearing a white g-string bikini that did little to conceal said ass.

In retrospect, the sight of Milla and her ass was less astounding considering the events that would unfold. You see, I was quite convinced that the ass swaying indecisively in front of the fridge belonged to my daughter, Nikki. The bikini was hers, after all, and the ass resembled hers to a T.

As ever, I tried to be a nifty, hip kind of father as I strutted over to the ass and gave it a gentle slap, saying, 'You're eating Daddy out of house and home, baby...'. I was convinced that I sounded 'cool' as I said it. I had, after all, practiced in front of the mirror.

To my utter shock and amazement, it wasn't Nikki that stood up and turned around to chastise me for being so cheeky. It was quite another girl. One I had never met before. I went instantly red in the face and fumbled for words. Not only because of the mistaken identity but because the girl was topless – I hadn't noticed that when she was bending over - and the whole situation was frightfully embarrassing.

This was Milla. Her first words to me?

'You must be Mr Hancock. I'm Milla. The new best friend. Nikki didn't tell me you were a dirty old man. But you're cute, too.'

All said with a playful tone and radiant, teasing eyes.

It took me what seemed like a long while for my brain to send the required data to my mouth so that I could reply. Firstly, I was quite sure that I wasn't father to twin girls. Staring at this Milla, however, sent serious doubts through my head. She looked remarkably like my daughter, Nikki. My brain couldn't quite comprehend it. Milla's eyes were brown, while Nikki's were blue, Milla's hair was dark brown, while Nikki's was blonde but other than that, the facial features were strikingly similar, her hair was tied loosely into a sassy ponytail and... well... her body was nothing short of a genetic clone of my daughter.

As I battled to find a reply, I looked this Milla up and down, in order to make sure she was, in fact, another person. This process led my eyes past her firm, round breasts, flat, trim tummy and down past the little triangle of fabric that, despite it's size, was marketed and sold as a 'bikini'.

The slow realisation that Milla was actually Milla – a stranger – made me even more uncomfortable when it dawned on me that I was staring at a stranger's body. Oh dear. Topless girls in the summer are the rule in Europe but still... they don't often appear in my kitchen.

Say something, you moron, I thought to myself. But I couldn't form the words. Milla merely stood there with a cheeky smile and bright, playful eyes, watching me and, it seemed, enjoying my embarrassment. Teenaged girls excel at that look.

'You the strong, silent type or does the cat got your tongue?'

'I thought... well... you were there... and I thought you were...'

Well done, you stupid man, I said to myself.

Milla giggled and took a can of beer out of the fridge.

'Mind if I have a beer?'

She didn't wait for a reply. She took out another beer and tossed it to me. I just barely managed to catch it. She kicked the door shut with her foot and headed out of the kitchen, but not before she slapped my ass lightly and said;

'Nice to meet you, Mr Hancock. Heard a lot about you...'

The ass slap was the final humiliation. Not only had I failed miserably at appearing cool and fatherly and 'hip', I had failed to form an intelligent sentence.

I turned to watch her go, still amazed at how much she looked like...

Nikki... she had appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, just as Milla was heading out.

'What are you doing Dad?', said Nikki as she eyed me suspiciously, convinced that I was up to no good - or rather up to something nerdy and embarrassingly uncool. She spied the beer in my hand and her eyes narrowed. This was definitely suspect. Milla turned in the doorway and put her arm around Nikki's waist in that girlishly girlfriend kind of way. She smiled sweetly at me. Nikki rolled her eyes.

"Just thought I'd have a beer. It's hot out there today."

I did what I could to appear non-chalant. Nikki didn't quite buy it.

"Give the poor girl a beer, Mr Hancock...", said Milla cheekily.

I shrugged and took one out of the fridge and tossed it to Nikki. Seeing the two of them standing next to each other, I could see the differences between them, but they were insignificant. It was as though I was seeing double. Nikki had another bikini on - a black one - but she, too, was topless and especially their bodies, side by side, were a mirror image.

Milla giggled girlishly and headed back out to the yard where the girls were sunning themselves.

I was about to ask Nikki about her new best friend but I was all too aware that Nikki was deep into an aloof, 'talk to the hand' phase. She often didn't feel like giving me any more information than necessary. Our relationship was strained, to say the least. I understood that parent-teenager relationships are often strained. I've read countless books about it and, I should say, I've have done everything I could to make things work. But Nikki was now nineteen and she had decided to distance herself from her father.

In one shouting match she called me dull, nerdy, corny and embarrassing. That about sums up her current opinion of me. I know that I was much less 'cool' than other dads but I was making an effort. I had stopped wearing white socks in sandals. I had tried to refresh my wardrobe and follow the latest music and films. But it hadn't seemed to help.

'What happened to your friend, Sonja?'

'I cut her off. Too boring.'

She snorted haughtily and left the kitchen.

I sighed to myself and considered making a nice cup of Darjeeling before realising I was still holding a can of beer. I opened it. A radical change of routine, but while I was actually thrilled to be called 'cute', I was quite sure that tea drinking would erode this minor improvement in my status.

I went out into the living room and looked out into the backyard. Nikki was on her tummy on her sun lounger and Milla was rubbing sun lotion into her back with slow, gentle movements. I moved behind the curtain so as not to be seen and sipped my beer. It felt a bit naughty drinking a beer like that in the middle of the day but I relished it.

Milla stood up and started rubbing sun lotion onto herself. Her thighs, tummy and her firm, round breasts. Taking her time with it. She glanced up at the house a couple of times, which made me panic a bit. But I was pretty sure I was hidden behind the curtains.

I was acutely aware of the erotic quality of these two beautiful 19 year-olds, wearing only g-string bikini bottoms, rubbing sun lotion onto their bodies. So acutely aware that it hurt my head.

It came to me slowly. Creeping gradually into my mind. I didn't realise it at first until it was too late. The slight buzz from the beer only seemed to accentuate the sensation. And it was a sensation.

Arousal.

When the realisation hit home I felt dizzy. I heard Milla's words ring through my head... 'Nikki didn't tell me you were a dirty old man...'

Dirty old man. Sure enough, I was feeling something below the belt that I hadn't experienced in quite a long while. Arousal. I looked down at my shorts and saw my penis bulging the fabric. To make matters worse, A small circle of moisture was clearly visible on the beige fabric, growing larger before my eyes.

Don't get me wrong. I have had erections before. But a spontaneous erection like this one, in the middle of the kitchen on a regular Saturday afternoon here in the suburbs, was something that shocked and amazed me.

I tried to find the usual order inside my head. What caused this? How could it be? I swallowed hard as I realised the answer.

Milla.

I downed the rest of the beer – another thing I hadn't done in years and pondered my plan of action. Or rather, plan of avoidance.

Fortunately, I was the only human being who knew my new-found desires. I thought instantly about my wife and feared her finding out. It wouldn't be hard to keep it from her. Our relationship had lost any spark years ago. She had taken a job that sent her to far-flung destinations for up to three weeks at a time. She was rarely home for more than a few days in between and we said little more to each other during those visits than practical discussions about loans and jobs and what have you.

I breathed a silent sigh of relief that the secret could and would remain with me. But all the weighty, sober thoughts in the world couldn't change the fact that I had an erection in my shorts. At the very least I could hope that Nikki would become bored with Milla and 'cut her off', thereafter finding a new best friend who was plain and unattractive.

Okay, not likely. Especially since I could see that Milla was 'cool' and was certainly someone Nikki would look up to. So lively, so cheeky, so flirtatious. Nikki was hardly shy but having someone like Milla around would certainly be good for her.

Milla finally lay down on the other sun lounger and started talking animatedly about who knows what. Giggling away. Right then I decided that a cold shower was an excellent idea.

The icy water pounding down onto my back was invigorating. Unfortunately it seemed to invigorate my erect penis. Whereas I usually masturbated on my bed, following a routine I had developed, I found myself doing something quite unusual. I gripped my penis and started to jack it. Hunched over, one hand on the tiles, the other blurring up and down my penis... or rather, my cock... just calling it that in my head was a turn on. I felt dirty doing it. Not the act of masturbation in itself, but jacking off with images of this Milla in my head. Her eyes, her smile, sure, but also her breasts, her flat stomach, her glorious ass and her cunt lips pressing against the tight white fabric of her bikini bottoms.

Writing it like that makes it sound like one long erotic masturbation session. To be honest, it was over in under a minute, leaving me gasping and suddenly freezing from the cold shower. But it had helped. The pressure was off and I was able to think sane and straight. This odd, sudden obsession would pass. Of that I was sure. I stared at myself in the mirror as though willing myself to believe that.

Fool.

Stupid, stupid, old fool.

I don't know if things would have been easier if Milla had first showed up in, for example, mid-winter. Dressed in heavy coats, long underwear and a knitted hat instead of skimpy bikini bottoms. Actually, nevermind. I doubt it.

Because after that first fateful day Milla became a frequent visitor to our home. Nikki was clearly besotted with her as a friend and they hit it off. Technically speaking, Milla was a great influence. Both on Nikki and on the household. She lifted our spirits with her cheekiness and her joie de vivre. I could sense that I was more relaxed with her in the house. Less inclined to battle to be cool and becoming more and more myself. I wondered if her influence would assist in improving my relationship with my daughter.

Nevertheless, I did what I could to try and avoid the obvious - staring at the youthful bodies that paraded constantly around the house. This proved to be a lost cause, not unlike sitting in a boat on the ocean and trying not to notice the water.

It was summer after all. It was hot. It was bikinis, short skirts, tiny and tight tops and not much else. Milla and Nikki padded through the house in bikini bottoms, skin glistening with lotion and, as their tans improved, oil. In the evenings they got ready to go out. Which meant knickers, followed by tiny denim skirts, tight summer dresses, high-heels and plunging necklines that accentuated 19 year-old breasts and their ever-present nipples. Add make-up and perfume and you'll understand how my senses were being bombarded.

Even breakfast was a challenge. Short t-shirts barely covering firm asses. I did my utmost to avoid being caught glancing at Milla's body and, unavoidably, Nikki's. There were times, however, where I was sure that Milla had caught me. She never said a word. Just staring at me briefly with her narrowed eyes, a half-smile and a knowing look that betrayed her years. She was far, far too grown up for my own good.

Within the course of a month Milla had virtually moved in and the two girls were inseparable. I was forced to invest in a new batch of underwear. My baggy boxer shorts were hardly helpful in containing my frequent erections. I opted for tight elastic boxers that would hopefully keep future erections strapped firmly against my body.

My salvation was a part of the house that was a 'no fly zone' for Nikki. Not because I had dictated this rule, but because she avoided it like the plague. I had converted the garage into a safe haven from the outside world. A place I could engross myself in my passion for stamps.

At the moment I was particularly fascinated with the Tongan stamps dating from before 1968 when, as you may know, the country changed to self-adhesive freeform postage stamps. I'll spare you the details. I knew that my hobby/passion had had a negative effect on my 'coolness account' in Nikki's books. It wasn't very hip at all.

One afternoon I was enjoying immersing myself in some newly acquired covers from the Tongan island of Niuafo'ou, famous for it's Tin Can Mail. It was quiet in the garage and the darkness was broken only by my light and the sunshine creeping under the garage door. My computer was on and a stamp collecting page was on screen.

I was completely startled when I sensed that someone was in the room with me. I hadn't heard the door open but when I looked up I saw Milla standing behind me, smiling. Wearing only a pair of white bikini bottoms, her breasts hidden behind her crossed arms.

"So, this is where you hide out."

"I didn't hear you, Milla. You startled me."

"Sorry, Mr Hancock. I just wanted to see what mischief you were getting up to in your little hideout."

She was sassy and teasing as ever.

"The Art of Philately is hardly mischievous."

I glanced furtively over at the waste paper basket where a bunch of sticky Kleenex filled with my recent sperm were clearly visible.

"Nikki told me about your stamp hobby. It doesn't impress her very much."

"I know."

"Me... I prefer the stamps of Pitcairn Island to those from Tonga. They're much prettier and more rare..."

I looked up in wonder. Sure she was taking the piss out of me but her expression revealed nothing apart from seriousness.

"How do you know about that, Milla?"

"I knew a man who collected stamps. He taught me some stuff."

"Your dad?"

She laughed loudly.

"No, silly. A lover. Well, actually, more like a one-week stand, you know?"

She laughed again upon seeing my reaction.

"Weren't you aware that 19 year-olds have sex, Mr Hancock?"

"Well... yes, of course... I mean... it's just that..."

"It's just that what? We're not restricted to dry humps in the backs of cars these days, Mr Hancock. This is Europe 2005. Things have moved on."

She was mocking me. I knew that. But it was a gentle mocking. Teasing is more like it. Milla had that unique ability to make you feel like a fool but then save it with her sparkling eyes.

"Girls like us have needs, too."

"Like us?"

"Nikki and me, Mr Hancock. Girls like Nikki and me. You're too clever to assume that your daughter isn't having sex, aren't you now?

"I suppose so..."

"She's got some catching up to do, but she's doing just fine. I'll take good care of her, don't you worry."

"That's what I'm afraid of..."

I attempted a smile.

"Nikki may have trouble seeing your humour, but I know better. You're funny, Mr Hancock."

I smiled a little. When you're me, any compliment is welcome.

"I suppose she's going through a phase. I just wish things could be like they used to be. We used to be much closer."

"She's growing up, that's all. She's still a bit insecure."

"Then I guess it doesn't help much if I am insecure, too, does it?"

"You shouldn't be, Mr Hancock. You're a handsome man. Funny. Clever. Sure, there are some things you could work on, but you've got a head start."

I was humbled by Milla's insight, compliments and tenderness. She had come over to me and placed a hand on my arm as she spoke.

"I just don't know where to start or what to do."

"Let me think about it, Mr Hancock. We'll get you closer to Nikki. Let me figure out how."

She was close to me right then and despite her kind words, I was very uncomfortable. I shifted a little in my chair and scooted further under the table. Fearing that my erection would be visible to Milla. Thanks to her I now had images of Milla fucking an older man with an interest in stamps. Graphic images. Far too graphic. Not to mention vague, undefined images of Nikki having sex with boys and men. Oh dear.

I glanced over at her next to me. Yes, I was quite sure those bikini bottoms were two sizes too small. The cleft of her pussy lips was clearly visible. Farther up her nipples were rock hard, crowning those perfect tits of hers.

This time, she caught me looking. I was busted. She just smiled and winked and looked down at her nipples, thrusting her tits out proudly.

"Chilly in here, isn't it?"

I was quite sure her eyes flicked over to my lap, half-hidden under the desk. Whatever the case, she winked again and headed for the door.

As soon as she was gone and the sound of her footsteps faded I whipped out my cock. It couldn't go fast enough. Beads of sweat formed instantaneously on my forehead. I furiously jacked my cock and, to my utter delight and amazement I came for the second time within fifteen minutes. Milla had quite an effect on me.

Not much was said of our conversation over the next couple of days. Milla and Nikki pranced about in the heady summer heat. Heading out at night to party, coming home late and sleeping in. I remained a mere spectator, wondering how and when Milla would share her good ideas with me.

One day she came into the kitchen, where I was sipping a cup of Darjeeling and reading the newspaper. She placed a pile of catalogue clippings in front of me and nodded sagely.

I didn't quite get it as I leafed through the selection of men's clothing she had presented me with.

"What's all this?"

"A step in the right direction. Ditch your wardrobe - buy a new one."

"All this?"

"Not necessarily. But a lot of it."

"I don't have that kind of money... I don't think..."

"Sure you do."

I looked at her questioningly.

"You have a complete set of first issue stamps from The Marshall Islands from 1989. That should about cover it."

"Sell my stamps?!"

Milla shrugged, smiled and turned on her heels.

I knew she was right. Actually, I had attempted some minor changes in my wardrobe before - the aforementioned eradication of white socks in sandals, for example - but I didn't know what else to do or what else to buy. Milla had handed me a shopping list. Perfect.

A little catalyst that proved to be greater than I would have guessed. Not only did I end up selling my Marshall Island first issue collection, I sold off quite a few other stamps and covers. In no time my closet was filled with new clothes and my pockets were lined with cash. Not a bad feeling. I was amazed I hadn't thought of it before.

Unfortunately, my new look went unnoticed where Nikki was concerned. If she was aware of my fashion switch she didn't comment on it. It was a bit of a blow. Milla, however, was reassuring.

"Like I said, a step in the right direction, Mr Hancock... I think you look handsome."