Summer Fayre

It was well over an hour later that Graham left the house again. By this time the bouncy castle was up and running, albeit with a large mat in front to ensure its young visitors had dry feet after discarding shoes before clambering on with shouts and screams of glee. The village green was rapidly drying. There was a games area - hook-a-duck, skittles, pitch and toss, beat the goalie and (at that moment) Father David in the stocks, excited children hurling wet sponges at him. There was a rota of unfortunate victims to replace him but somehow Father David easily grabbed the most attention while he stood defenceless there.

Graham wandered around the many stalls. He sampled a most delicious burger, spent three pounds in fruitless attempts to win a tombola prize. He even sampled a toffee apple, trying to remember the last time he'd eaten one. Near the end of the last of the rough circle of stalls, tucked in between the craft and home-made jams and preserves stalls was a, what?

Graham looked at the hand painted banner stretched across the stall above the woman's head. It was attached to the metal frame by thick garden twine and said, 'K. O'Brien - Herbalist and Healer'. Graham briefly glanced at the woman before looking at all manner of pills, powders and liquids colourfully adorning the stall.

"Can I help you, sir," she enquired in a distinctly Irish accent.

Graham looked up, taking in the woman's weather-worn face. "I'm, er, just looking," he replied, "I haven't seen you before at our Summer Fayre."

"I have a small shop and consulting room in town," she answered. "Business has been slow and I hoped that I might promote it here." She passed him a business card, if it could be called that. It simply gave her name and the location of the shop. Before Graham was able to move his hand away, Ms O'Brien placed her other hand over his. A short, mild tingle transferred from it.

Graham moved back slightly, unnerved by the touch. He put it down to static then immediately doubted himself. He looked at the address on the card, unable to place just where the shop was and placed the flimsy card in his pocket. "I'm, er, not sure I need anything today. I'll call by when I'm in town. I, er, need to check around the other stalls at the moment."

"I sense you have some problems in your life that I may be able to help you with," replied the lady. "But I understand. It's something of a delicate, personal nature."

"How can you know?" asked Graham, somewhat bewildered at the accuracy of her instant diagnosis.

"Oh, I have many years of experience in helping people. Just call it intuition."

Graham felt unnerved, but in an odd way he felt he might confide in this complete stranger. In her youth, Graham mused, she must have been a stunner, but her long jet black hair now seemed unkempt. Her weathered face made her seem older but perhaps wiser. "There is," he said slowly after a long pause. "But I really don't see how a few herbs can help. And it's not something I'd want to discuss here."

"Yes, I understand," replied Ms O'Brien. "This is not a place to discuss relationships. Do think it over and call in when you're next in town."

***

The afternoon passed quickly and Graham kept recalling the lady's words - Kathleen she told him - trying to figure things out. Personal problems? How could she know that for several months now at times he had found it difficult to keep hard for more than a few minutes, sometimes struggling to even do that. He even tried those blue pills but with only moderate success. Beverly had tried to understand but even those times when she had needed loving, needed kisses and caresses, even those times when she'd tried to prime her husband in the limited ways she knew, Graham was unable to deliver what she needed most. Stress from his workload seemed the obvious reason.

But yet just the briefest kiss or a cuddle, or even just seeing his daughter in her nightie or her favourite, well worn and thinning tee-shirt that Emily wore around the house, with no real need of a bra. That often caused a most pleasant, but not readily desired swelling inside his pants. There were times when Graham worried about this attraction to his daughter, but not for long because he figured it was just a passing, natural reaction.

There were one or two times when Emily had held him close to her, her small, firm unbridled breasts gently pressing against his chest. Her perfume, her short, non-sexual kiss on his lips, her thanks for him being an extra special daddy or lending her another £20. He had placed his hands on her waist, moving the fabric of her sweater slightly causing an involuntary shiver. That had caused an erection which his daughter couldn't help but sense. She said nothing but she had moved away. And of course, there had been the kiss at the flat, his hands moving her skirt upwards.

And the car journey.

Beverly had been quite sympathetic to her husband's temporary impotence. The telecoms company - Graham's employer - had been upgrading their computer systems. The ageing equipment had been replaced by faster, more powerful hardware. For months before the new machinery even had been built there was the research, benchmark testing and months of programming that had been needed. Graham was head of the senior developers. Finally all was now complete and the switchover had been made. He had been tired and stressed but thankfully the new system was up and running. The Summer Fayre had been a welcome distraction, taking his mind off hundreds of hours working day, evening and sometimes into the early hours; coding, testing and debugging.

Later in the day he was by the games area when he heard the shout from the herbalist's stall. A youth he didn't recognise had snuck behind the stall, lifting Ms O'Brien - Kathleen's - money box while she was serving a customer. Her cry was shrill, urgent, and Graham immediately set off chasing the thief. He was joined by others trying to cut the boy off, but the sneak thief began to slow, his overweight body not as fit as his pursuers. It was Graham who rugby tackled him and the cash box was knocked out of his hand by the sudden fall. One of the others held the boy, another phoning the local police.

Graham, a little breathless, returned the cash to Kathleen who was overjoyed that her day's takings weren't lost. She had done well, many people buying her assortment of cosmetics and cures, each prepared with Kathleen's special touch. In this village life people valued handmade and home-made products and though they didn't know Kathleen, each item had a printed label with Kathleen's shop address should they wish to buy more.

"You will stop by and see me, won't you Graham?" enquired Kathleen with her distinctly Irish lilt." She paused for a moment then smiled. "I owe you a favour for helping me so." She bent and took a lipstick shaped salve from a box under the stall. "And give this to your daughter as a small gift." She bent again, this time offering Graham a small cardboard box. "And take this too. It's a mix of special herbs which will quickly rejuvenate you after all today's work. One teaspoonful infused in a cup of boiled water when you get home and another an hour before you retire to bed. Treat it like you would a camomile or fruit tea, but no sugar."

Graham thanked her and confirmed he would indeed pay her a visit when he was next in town.

***

Back at home again the infusion certainly worked. He felt relaxed, happily shaking off even the tasks of later helping clear up the green. Reflecting back later in the evening, rather oddly he thought, he had been admiring the figures of all the ladies helping make sure the village green was returned to its usual tidy state. Hell, why hadn't he noticed before their luscious lips, their beautiful faces, their breasts of every shape and size, their asses, making him suddenly hard again.

***

Graham had gone to bed that night still unable to figure out what Kathleen had said, and he couldn't recall telling Ms O'Brien he had a daughter. The following morning he still had no answer.

"Your coffee will be cold." Beverly had brought him out of his reverie. "And you haven't even opened the Sunday newspaper yet."

"I'm sorry," he answered, picking up the mug. "I guess I'm just tired from yesterday." The Fayre had been busy all day long. Despite the storm the day had been hot and sunny, the stalls busy, the clearing up lasting late into the evening.

"You did great," said Beverly. "I'm proud of you.

"Me too," echoed Emily, and hugged him tight. "You're the best daddy ever." She paused, as if debating whether to continue. "You remember that stall with all the herbs and creams? " she asked finally.

"Yes, I do. The Irish lady. She looked as if she was a traveller, a gypsy."

"Yes, I thought so too," answered Emily, "I was talking to her about herbal skin remedies. And she seemed to know I was your daughter."

"She could have seen us together, with mom."

"I don't know. She says she was chatting to you but you didn't buy anything."

"And you did?"

Emily opened her bag to show him. "That looks like face cream," Graham observed.

"She said the cream is a mix of ground up plant roots, leaves and bulbs mixed with special herbs. No chemicals and that has to be good." Graham knew where Emily was coming from, very much against anything artificial. "It smells good too," she added, offering him the opened jar to check over. Graham had to agree that it had a pleasant odour and, alarmingly, had the same effect as dipping his fingers in between Beverly's pussy lips. Not that it smelled of pussy but the effect was very much the same. Emily noticed.

He recovered his composure. "Oh, I almost forgot. You remember I told you about the youth running off with the money tin?" Emily nodded. "Well Kathleen gave me some herbal infusion as a thankyou, and a lip balm for you. In fact I'd quite forgotten about both. The box of loose, tea-like mixture, was in a cupboard along with the lip balm. He passed the tube to her.

"Thanks," said Emily, smiling, "I'll try it later."

***

It wasn't until the evening that Emily tried it. Hot summer weather often made her lips dry and the balm was soothing. It had a menthol scent so no surprise that her lips tingled slightly. But it didn't stop there. No, an odd sensation took over as if... as if... as if she'd just kissed some past boyfriend. Emily closed her eyes as a vivid memory of a sexual kiss retrieved itself from the depths of her memory. She suddenly became aware that her natural juices had begun to flow. She felt unbelievably horny and just sat, relishing the feeling as the pleasure rippled through her. Eyes closed she pictured the man she was kissing.

Her daddy.

Uhh?

---

Ms O'Brien

Kathleen O'Brien smiled as she counted the cash. It had been a good idea to hire the stall at the Summer Fayre. And hadn't she helped some people? It was good to use her gifts - some called it magic - to help others, although in her past she had been accused of interfering and once or twice of bewitching.

Kathleen's gift had skipped a generation but the gene link had just lain dormant. Her grandmother, her gypsy grandmother, had been a healer but sadly she had died when Kathleen was just eleven years old. Despite the fact that their large family had endlessly moved from place to place, Kathleen had walked mile upon mile with her grandmother, over every heath, through every woodland, every wild-flowered Irish meadow near to where the travellers had set up camp. Even before the age when she could barely read, even at the age when Kathleen could only just totter along, her grandmother held her hand as she carefully picked any useful plant, uprooted various mushrooms, picked berries, dug up wild garlic and other bulbs and placed all in the wicker basket she always carried. There were the wild flowers too, dainty petals transferring their natural perfumes to the mixtures and creams she made. Grandma Brigid was wise, softly spoken, ever listening. She commanded respect from even the male elders. She often told Kathleen the gypsy and Latin names of the wild herbs, bulbs, flowers and fungi she picked. Kathleen learned, as children do, from endless repetition.

By the time grandma Brigid passed away Kathleen had mastered some of the simpler remedies that cured some common ills. A few weeks after the gypsy funeral and wake, a large handwritten book was presented to Kathleen by the chief elder. Any uneducated person would not have understood the language it was written in - a curious mix of Shelta and Latin, but years of patient tuition had given Kathleen much of what she needed to carry on her grandmother's work. Between the neat paragraphs were simple pencil sketches illustrating the plants and roots, herbs and bulbs, flowers and berries.

It was perhaps around two years later, when Kathleen was thirteen, she began to develop a sense of what troubled people - often without asking or offering to understand. Call it telepathy, call it a psychic power, call it just a natural skill, it was a gift that by the time she was 18 Kathleen had honed to perfection.

But there was one drawback, one part of the learning that grandmother Brigid hadn't had time to impart. There were several occasions when Kathleen's abilities to help had caused her problems. Help was one thing, interference was another - especially in sexual matters. By the time she was 20 Kathleen's beauty was beyond compare, attracting both travellers - better known by many as gypsies - and local men wherever their wandering life took them. As the years rolled on the menfolk visited her often for her herbal and, some thought, supernatural gifts.

The older, wiser members of her extended family had warned her but by the time she was 32 Kathleen had not only helped but purposely and deviously twisted many relationships, and had even conjured sexual attraction between members of the same family. She had crossed the line once too often. She was banished from the travelling band.

Moving around on her own had been very difficult. She met men who she thought she could trust but they simply used her badly. Eventually by selling creams and potions (and, to be honest, often her own body) wherever and whenever she could, combined with expertise of playing cards gleaned from fellow travellers, she paid her way for a ferry to Liverpool, rented a small cottage and further honed her herbal, healing and magic skills.

Within three or four years her travels brought her to the town nearest the village where the annual Summer Fayre was held.

The garden of a cheap, run down house on the edge of that town provided a plot to grow more herbs and bulbs to supplement those growing wild. Countless hours of growing and combining her harvests enabled her to rent the small shop in town. She charged what she thought she could charge to her customers - some regulars - but still she struggled to make ends meet. Hence her visit to the Spring Fayre.

---

The Lip Salve

The feeling became overwhelming. Emily gently tugged at her thin tee-shirt, tracing her fingers slowly upwards underneath the cotton fabric, up and up until she reached a hard, erect nipple. Her breasts were not quite the smallest of her peers but she'd simply got used to what nature had bestowed. Her breasts may have been small but like any young lady the pleasure nerves hiding just beneath the skin were very active. She moved her fingers around the edge of first her left then her right breast, eyes closed.

Silently she slipped her tee-shirt up and over her head, reached around and unzipped her skirt, allowing it to slip down to the carpet covering her bedroom floor. Aware she was now incredibly horny she lay on her bed, lazily building up to a peak.

Then suddenly she changed her mind. She knew mom was gone for a good hour - leaving plenty of time to tell daddy about this wonderful lip balm. She quickly dressed and applied the balm again, liberally.

"Daddy, if you see Kathleen again can you tell her that lip balm is really good. It tastes nice too, see."

Before Graham could speak she planted her lips on his. The effect was immediate, his lips began to tingle too and he never thought to object to allowing Emily's tongue to poke through and bid his own lips open. Her kiss intensified, giving him no option but to surrender. Lips played on lips, all the while opening and allowing blissful sensations to flow. Finally he pulled away. "No, Emily, this is wrong."

"For a daughter to kiss her daddy? Why? It's just a kiss." Not giving him a chance to reply she thrust her open lips against his, confusing him at first, but being very persuasive.

'Why not?' he thought to himself, suddenly responding with eagerness, his own mouth locking fully on hers. Lips widened again, jaws relaxed, tongue sought tongue as the magic balm took full effect. Graham's hands rested on his daughter's butt pulling her close to his hidden but bulging cock.

"Mmmm," was Emily's response. Hell, she couldn't care if this was awkward, or unusual or wrong. It felt good and her daddy sure could kiss better than any boy she'd been with. She ground herself against his hardness, knowing full well the effect she was having on him.

By now the kiss was frantic, teeth upon teeth, tongue tangled with tongue. Emily pulled one hand away from her butt, drawing away enough to persuade her daddy's hand to move where her own had recently been. She felt his palm touching first the flat of her belly then her daddy's fingers lazily tracing upwards. Still entranced by Emily's kiss, Graham seemed not to care. Emily's skin was soft and warm as he easily cupped his hand over a breast. He noticed her nipple hard and, his fingers hardly touching, she murmured her delight.

Graham was past caring whether this was right or wrong. Emily was old enough and, he hoped, wise enough to understand full well what she was doing. This kiss was good, no, exceptionally good. He thought briefly of a time when he'd needed such a kiss before, when that kiss hadn't happened and he'd gone unfulfilled. Just now his hardness alone convinced him that this kiss was his right. His 'manhood' (he inwardly grinned - that was one word that could not be politically corrected), his love machine was absolutely rock solid.

Emily was now grinding against him. She didn't want to fuck her daddy as her needs could be satisfied in other ways. With one hand she smartly undid the single button then unzipped her skirt, letting it drop. She guided daddy's other hand, unwilling to forego her nipple being teased, to her pantie crotch.

Graham should have refused but the magical mixture within the lip salve gave him no choice. To begin with he simply rubbed the cotton fabric against his daughter's swollen button. He flinched as Emily inadvertently bit his lip, immediately apologising before reverting to the most pleasurable kiss. She sensed his reluctance, again moving his fingers to first part the slim cotton fabric then part her carefully shaved pussy lips. "Mnmnmn" she murmured, unwilling to break the kiss. Her daddy needed no further instruction.

Graham moved to give himself a better angle, surprised at the moisture coating his fingers as he gently then "mnmnmn" more urgently "mmmmmmm" coaxed his daughter's clit into submission. She inadvertently bit his lip again before screaming loudly as her orgasm let loose.

***

Kathleen smiled to herself. The lip balm was, she thought, a simple 'thank you' gift that she just knew would give both Graham and his daughter pleasure. He wouldn't have realised at the time, but surely would by now. Perhaps that would persuade him to come visit her shop.

***

By the time Beverly had returned from the church service, Emily had returned the favour, bringing her daddy exquisite bliss, simply knelt before him, relieving the built up tensions inside of him. OK, her jaw ached a little but she had the contented feeling of sucking every last drop of cum from within him. They were sitting, temporarily exhausted, watching some drama on TV.