That's a Bikini?

It was a hot summer's day and my daughter had half a dozen people over for a bit of a pool party. It was a case of boys and girls together and as long as they didn't get too rowdy I'd keep out of the way. I'd already laid down the law where alcoholic refreshment was concerned. The fact that I was keeping out of the way didn't mean I wouldn't keep a general eye on things. After all, that was my daughter out there. She might have been of a legal age where certain activities were concerned (they all were) but as a father I thought she should remain a virgin until she was married and even after marriage immaculate conception was a good idea.

They were getting along quite noisily when a late-comer knocked on the door and I admitted Shelley. I pointed her toward the room that was being used as the girl's change-room and waited until she was ready to show her out. Just being a polite host - not waiting to see what she looked like in a bikini.

She came waltzing out of the change-room, saw me, and blushed, looking a little self-conscious. As a matter of fact when I saw her I damn near blushed as well. There are bikinis and there are bikinis. The tiny bits of material that Shelley was wearing, connected with strings fine enough to be dental floss, did not, in my opinion, rate as a bikini.

Her face was getting redder by the moment as I looked her over, her self-consciousness climbing to the skies.

I was polite, friendly even. I simply said, "No."

"Wh-what?"

"I said 'no'," I repeated. "This is a word that expresses a negative. In this case it's stating that you are not wearing that invitation to rape out there in front of boys who, while sober, have probably had just enough to drink to lower their social inhibitions. You will go and take your pretty little tush back into that room and change out of that insult, because that's what that thing is. An insult to you, your intellect, and your morals. If you don't have something more fitting to wear you can borrow something from Becky."

"Y-you can't tell me what to wear," she protested, albeit somewhat feebly. "Becky's your daughter, not me. I'm eighteen. I can decide what I will or won't wear."

"I know, but that's not stopping me. Do you want to find out if I can snap those strings with my bare hands? I'm willing to bet the answer is yes. Push me and you'll be on your way to change without a suit on but with a big red hand print on your bottom, which you might find hard to explain."

"You're a brute," she snapped, while hastily backing up. "Alright, seeing you're so insistent, I'll change."

She vanished back into the change-room, looking oddly relieved at being forced to change. She was out minutes later, still in a bikini, but a much more respectable one. I nodded my approval but she stalked haughtily past, not deigning to notice the brute who took it upon himself to dictate her fashion choices.

Shelley was greeted by various salutes as she trotted down towards the pool. I heard one very interesting exchange.

"Hey, Shell, why aren't you wearing the new bikini I bought you?"

"Really, Bryce," she snapped. "You didn't really expect me to wear that thing, did you? The very idea was an insult."

That left Bryce looking somewhat stunned, Shelley projecting an air of self-righteousness, and me mightily amused.

Half an hour later the girls all came traipsing inside, leaving the boys behind. They congregated in the change-room and I could hear laughter spilling out.

"He couldn't have seriously expected you to wear that, could he?" someone said loudly, and Bryce was being denigrated rather thoroughly as a chauvinist of the first order. He wouldn't be getting any breaks for a while. I wondered if any of them were actually trying on that micro-bikini. Knowing girls the answer was probably yes.

The girls all traipsed outside again and general hilarity was the order of the day. Probably at Bryce's expense and I felt for him. Still, it served him right.

After a couple of hours various people departed, having other things they needed to do. This was the start of a general exodus, one of those departing being my daughter. Shortly after that the last few stragglers came in and vanished into the change-room, Shelley being one of them.

Two of the girls came out and I heard a car drive off. I wondered what was keeping Shelley. I heard a polite little cough and turned around, expecting to see Shelley there waiting to say goodbye. Shelley was there all right, but it wasn't to say goodbye.

"This, um, isn't really that bad, is it?" she asked waving her hand in the general direction of her body. I say her body because she'd changed back into that excuse for a bikini and she couldn't possibly have been referring to that.

"If you're talking about your figure then I'd have to admit that it's not too bad. Quite good, actually. Seeing I can see so much of it I'll go so far as to say it's excellent. If you're talking about that scrap of cloth you're almost wearing do you remember what I said about it earlier?"

"That it's an insult?" she said blushing.

"Before that," I prompted, and she shook her head.

If you've ever seen the green mankini that Borat is famous for you have a rough idea of the sort of bikini that Shelley was wearing, except with a lot less material. The colour was the same green as Borat's, but the stings, as I mentioned earlier, were the merest threads, widening slightly (very slightly) as they passed over her breasts before culminating in a crotch pocket that was more a thought than an actual pocket. It seemed as though those three tiny strips of material were holding a contest to see who could hide the most with the least. All three were losing.

"I said," I told her softly, "that it was an invitation to rape."

Even as I was speaking I was reaching out and pushing the shoulder straps off her shoulders. With no tension on the straps the whole thing just collapsed, falling down around her feet and leaving her standing there naked.

She gasped and slapped an arm across her breasts and her other hand over her crotch, thus hiding a lot more that the bikini had.

"You. . . You had no right to do that," she spluttered, and I smiled.

"I know, but I was just accepting that kind invitation."

I took her wrists and moved her hands well away from her body, enjoying the view while she twisted about, trying to hide herself from my greedy eyes.

"Let me go," she snapped, blushing fiercely. "What invitation are you talking about?"

"The invitation to rape that you paraded in front of me after being warned," I said, speaking calmly and smiling happily.

"You wouldn't dare."

It didn't sound to me as though she was too sure of that. I just let go of one of her wrists and lightly cupped one of her breasts, letting my thumb roll her nipple around.

"You stop that," she gasped. "I'll scream."

Instead of stopping I released her other wrist and bent my head to capture her free breast in my mouth, sucking lightly, letting my teeth and tongue play with her nipple. Instead of trying to protect herself her hands settled on my cheest and she made feeble pushing motions, as though trying to stop me.

I lifted my head and let my hand drop down to her crotch, rubbing her mons quite firmly before sliding between her and rubbing her even more intimately.

"You can't do this," she insisted. "I won't let you."

"I can do this and you will let me," I replied, "because this is exactly why you came out here wearing that thing. Now be a good girl and undo my trousers."

"You're mad," she protested. "I did no such thing."

I just looked at her and she blushed. "My trousers," I prompted.

"Fine," she said in a typical female accent.

She reached down and undid my belt and pushed my trousers down. She also remembered that she needed to take my jocks down to get at the actual goodies, so she lowered those as well.

"Seeing you're kneeling there why don't you try some oral play to make sure I'm large enough for you?" I suggested.

She looked at where my erection was hovering just in front of and then looked up at me, a nervous look on her face.

"Do you seriously expect me to. . .?" She sounded indignant and her voice broke off before she finished what she wanted to say.

"Not seriously," I admitted, smiling. "I was just wondering if you had the nerve to."

I do like how teenagers will rise to a challenge, even when they know they probably shouldn't. Shelley gave me a look and then leaned forward, her hot mouth engulfing me.

It was immediately evident to me that this wasn't the first time she'd done this sort of thing. She acted as though I was a giant lollipop and she wanted to make sure she got the most out of it. Her head bobbed up and down as her lips moved over my shaft while her tongue and teeth engaged the head, teasing it (and me). It only took a few seconds and I was gritting my teeth, swearing silently at her tantalising touch.

I could, I suppose, have just let her have her way with me, but that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted her naked on the floor, watching, as I drove into her, showing her who was master and who was slave. (The opposite of the current situation, in other words.)

I stood it as long as I could and then pulled away from her. She looked up at me, her eyes alight with excitement. I went down onto one knee and pushed her backwards, forcing her to lie down. I rather roughly pushed her legs apart, moving to kneel between her thighs. Her eyes were fixed on my erection, not blinking as I moved into position.

I thrust powerfully into her, while Shelley gave a shriek of excitement and arched her back as she pushed to meet me. My hands were all over her breasts as I started pumping powerfully, demonstrating my superiority. She was crying out in her excitement, arms and legs going around me as she clung to me, fully yielding her body to my dominance.

She was all, "yes, yes, do it, harder," her arousal at full cry, wanting wat I was giving her and wanting it now. Was I being overly rough with her? Probably, but neither of us gave a damn. She wanted precisely what I was giving her. I suspected that she'd wanted it from the first moment that she stood in front of me in that bikini. Truth to tell, the others being outside just then was probably the only thing that stopped me taking her then and there.

Finally I could tell she was ready to climax and that was fine by me as I was past ready. I gave her that little extra, all I needed to get myself over the hump and from her reaction all that she needed. She gave another wail, shuddering as she climaxed, and I just relaxed and let my own go.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," she said, all self-righteous. "An old man taking unfair of a young girl like me."

"Funny. I was just thinking the same thing. Unconscionable behaviour for a young girl such as you taking advantage of an old man like me. You were near as damn to giving me a heart attack, and that was just from modelling your new outfit. As for the rest . . . I'm lucky I didn't have a stroke."

She just smirked and wandered off to get cleaned up and dressed. I was left wondering. Would she wear that bikini for other men? I suspected that the answer would be yes, if she could be sure she'd be properly treated for doing so. Of course, proper treatment always depends on your point of view.