Voyage of DiscoverybyTihana©
Hi there. My name is Tihana, although I am not always that name. My first name was Charlize, the only daughter of Mariska and Tom. I became Tihana shortly after my mother died. My mother was Croatian, and a fashion model and sometime actress. She was a party girl and socialite, never far from the gossip pages of the more salacious press. Everywhere we went in Baska Voda her face and body adorned posters and advertorial campaigns for perfume, clothes and underwear. People stopped us in the street to seek autographs and have their picture taken with her-- she was the life and soul of the house. Glamorous, sexual, alluring, thrilling. She was also distant and cold at times. As if she wasn't there, vacant.
She was killed in a car crash when I was just 18. My father did not know the driver - the accident happened at 2am in the morning and the man was seriously over the limit. The autopsy on my mother revealed she had taken a cocktail of drugs, had recently had sex and had lain upside down in the car, slowly dying, trapped by her seat belt, for several hours. Found by passersby as the dawn rose, they pulled her from the wreckage but she had died before the ambulance had arrived.
She had said only these words: "Tell Charli to look after Tom". It was her dying wish.
My father was the head of a construction company building glamorous resorts, boutique hotels and luxury houses across the Med. An Irish charmer sophisticated and with a physique hardened from years grafting as he built his business literally brick by brick. They met at the opening of a night club and his Irish charm clearly worked its magic on the most desirable woman in Croatia.
The marriage and motherhood did nothing to dent her sexual appeal......or her party girl image.
I have always been considered beautiful and, as my family was well off, I had the best clothes, hairdressers, nails, teachers, even at an early point in my life. I was involved with family parties rather than being shuffled off. I learned to enjoy the attentions of older men -- and as a young, insecure girl became to rely on constant attention and adoration rather than building self confidence and being comfortable in my skin.
You may be wondering what I look like. Well I will try and describe myself as best I can. I have blue eyes and fair hair, worn long and straight. My face is symmetrical and with an Eastern European appeal - wide eyes, defined cheekbones, passionate full lips curled up at the edges in a permanent smile, small nose, perfectly proportioned and an elegant neck. My body is lithe and athletic, like a ballerina. Some find me on the skinny side and some of the bones are clearly visible. My shoulders are particularly defined, with my skin, a pale golden tone, pulled tightly across my frame.
My breasts (yes I know this is the bit some of you are interested in) are on the small side - a C cup (sorry to disappoint), but are firm, pert and with small pink nipples, highly sensitive to the touch, even the fabric of clothes.
I have a thin waist, with well pronounced muscle tone and my hips a little wide so I have very feminine curves, a nice firm bum and long toned legs. I move gracefully, almost floating, and I am light on my feet, have a straight posture and with my head tilted slightly up I appear taller than my 5 foot 8 inches.
My love life, did you ask? Well at that point in my life, not much to tell. I knew boys gawped at me in wonder and that was nice, but few had the courage to talk with me. Those that did were cocky and arrogant. Confidence is a turn on, but these boys were a turn off.
I kissed a girl once (or twice, giggles), a few years ago, and we had a nervous fumble. She kissed my breasts and I had a dreamy moment and just as she was taking off my knickers with me fully aroused and in a state of nervous anticipation her parents returned home and panic set in. After that, whenever we met, there was an unspoken silence between us as we danced around each other, flirting, flushing with embarrassment, occasionally bumping each other, until.........but that's another story.
No boys though I had danced with plenty of older men at our house parties.....some more bold than others even though (or perhaps because) their wives were close by. Perhaps they had a thrill taking me in their arms, dancing slowly, talking innocuously about trivia, smiling innocently around the room whilst their cocks hardened against me. Sometimes I responded and rubbed myself firmly against their erection, moving my body seductively, encouraging a firmer hold, smiling at them whilst moistening my lips tempting a kiss (never received in public). Once, a close friend of my mother's after such a particularly sexual and tantalizing dance pursued me to another room and kissed me with such passion that I tingled all over and in a moment of madness I found myself naked with his lips all over me, searching out my swollen and moist womanhood until my knees went weak when he kissed me there until I fell to the floor with what I could only imagine was an orgasm and I felt his urgent, throbbing cock take my virginity. Afterwards, I felt alive, the colours in the room, the smell of everything so much more acute.
I had hoped that he might want to see me. We did meet again, but only at parties, and always the dance, the urgent coupling and the wonderful afterglow.
But, for many eighteen year olds, you can consider my experiences to be fairly limited. All that was about to change. I was to shortly begin my journey of sexual awakening.
My father was in pieces when my mother died. Not only had he lost a wife he had lost trust in the life memory he wanted to hold dear - a trust that evaporated day by day as stories emerged in the press about my mother's numerous affairs, drug taking, wildness and fiery temper.
For 6 months he was in a bad place. So I decided to take him on holiday to our villa in Majorca. I was nearly 19. I made a mistake. My mother had beautiful clothes, beautiful underwear, beautiful Basques......and so many shoes, some incredibly sexy...we were virtually the same size, though maybe she was a little taller. I took some of her clothes with me - summer dresses, underwear, cocktail dresses and some high heeled sandals on holiday, not thinking.
I was like a magpie -- her clothes were classy, sexy, and I wanted to look like my mum did when she went out -- sophisticated, fun loving, sexy and desirable. I wanted people to look at me.
On the second night I came dressed for dinner in one of her dresses - backless, cream, very sexy, and short to show off my legs, clingy to show off the swell of my breasts and matching high heeled sandals. I thought I looked a million dollars and hoped to make an entrance and draw admiring glances.
My father saw not a lovely daughter to be proud of, but a ghost. Dinner was stilted, he was moody.
The next day he was even quieter, introverted, mopey, and lifeless. Just sitting by the pool in a black mood I had caused, not even reading or listening to music. I felt responsible. I wanted to make it up to him but didn't know how. I cooked him dinner and we drank but there was no joy. He went to bed early.
I sat up in the night air, having a drink. Then I heard him sobbing. I went and stood outside his door for ages then went in and whispered if he was OK. He said nothing. I went to get into bed with him to cradle him tightly from behind but saw he was naked. I felt he would like my body warmth so I took my clothes off too. When I put my arms around him, feeling his hard body, my body tingled. My stomach crawled with anticipation. I could feel my heart beating in my head. I could feel my nipples harden against his back and become tender and achy and my juices starting as she began to open. I felt natural and he became quiet and still as I comforted him. He said nothing for such a long while I wondered if I should just go to my room and leave him but, perhaps sensing I was pulling away, murmured "that feels lovely".
I took that as encouragement. I ran my fingers down his arms and over his chest, twirling his chest hairs playfully, trying to lighten the mood. He lay on his back and put his arm around me, so I could snuggle into him. I caressed his chest and he smoothed my shoulders. I kissed his cheek. I could feel his face was wet. I kissed his face again, loving away the tears. I moved my leg over his to get closer, to be more comforting. It was then that I felt his cock brush against my leg. It was big. Very big. He shifted a little, away from me, realising what had happened.
At that point, the moment could have been, still, just a tender, innocent father / daughter intimacy, borne from his need. However, the feeling of that cock sent me into a heady moment of lust and desire. (I apologise if this is too much for you, but for me it was my defining moment in life).
I knew then that I needed more from him. I wanted to feel the electric excitement of his cock against my skin again and thought that if I gave myself to him I would make my father happy again, my mother's wish. After all, I must be doing something right if he was so big, right? Warped logic, I now know. But at that moment the feeling was lovely, intense, unreal and there was an overwhelming mix of natural love for him compounded by the realisation that, despite the other man I had been with, the sexual urges I was feeling then were so much more than anything. I realised that I actually really fancied him....desired him in and felt natural with him.
We lay for a while, saying nothing. He was tracing his fingers lightly up and down my arm. That felt lovely. Every now and again I brushed my leg against his cock, still big, sometime letting it rest against him innocently, enjoying the sexuality of the moment -- part innocent, part seductive -- an amazing combination.
He asked if I was OK. I told him that I was just perfect. Because I was. That was the truth. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else or with anyone else. I asked if he was OK. He said he thought so but his mouth was dry and he could do with a drink! I laughed, slipped out of bed, naked, leant over and kissed him gently on his mouth....." yes dry lips" I laughed. He then laughed too --the first for ages. How good did that make me feel? And what a boost to my confidence.
I remember that moment with crystal clarity still today.
I grabbed a towel wrapped it around me and went to the kitchen to get a couple of glasses of champagne.
Before I returned I took a deep breath, freshened up my lipstick, quick spray of perfume and fluff up the hair.....all by instinct. Back in the room I went round to my dad's side of the bed put the glasses down, said "budge over". He lifted the sheet up.
I peeled away the towel, holding it in one hand as nonchantly and naturally as I could. I held his gaze; letting him look at me, appreciate me, taking in my girly figure, the curve of my hips, my toned and muscular stomach my breasts firm and heaving as I breathed deeply, my pink nipples erect, and my hips. His eyes lingered on "her" and I could feel her beginning to burn with expectation. I wanted him to desire me...this took only a few seconds but it felt like an age before I dropped the towel, smiling at him as I did, and snuggled in. As I passed him the glass I kissed him first on the lips again. His breath was fresh. It seems like he too had made an effort. We toasted each other, I kissed him again, still closed mouths, but just reassuring him and making sure that I was taking the boundaries down through frequent moments of intimacy. As he lay on his back I lay my head on his chest and ran my hands down to his groin circling my fingers around his cock - which although semi hard immediately began to grow firm.
He went silent and didn't move. After a while I could sense he was awkward (but for some reason I was not) so I just held my hand steady on him, gripping him lightly as he grew very hard. I daren't move, or caress him because of his unease until, after a while I casually took my hand off his cock and sat up to take a drink. My mouth was so dry with nerves. Come on, I said, lay your head in my lap and let me massage your head whilst I drink the champers. So we spent a comfortable 15 / 20 minutes as I ran my fingers through his hair, letting him relax, letting me finish my drink. When he murmured "that was nice" I snuggled down to him, pressing my body full length against his and wrapping an arm around his neck and looking into his eyes. I kissed him again, but slowly this time, with my mouth slowly open. Success. He responded. My tongue slipped into his mouth and he kissed me back....then stopped!
"Charlotte" he said, "this isn't right". The moment.
I moved my body against him. Kissed him again. I could feel him against me. "I'm Tihana for you, not Charlotte". I pushed against him and felt his big, firm cock. "And this is so right for us both". I took him again in my hand and began to stroke him. I could see the pleasure in his eyes so I kept massaging him, running my nails up and down his shaft, squeezing his balls gently, then with more firmness, which he liked. As he began to moan I kissed him again and he kissed me back, with passion, desire, with gentleness and with purpose. He was caressing me now, cupping my breasts, pinching my nipple ( delightful, and he could tell, I loved it as I moaned with pleasure), caressing my bottom and running his finger along my bum hole, teasing it, calling me his beautiful Tihana and seeing the light in my eyes as he did so, all the time kissing my mouth, eyes, ears, neck, nibbling me sometimes, gently biting my lip, soft kisses, hard kisses, but by bit taking control of me and the situation. He was alive to my needs, guiding me, teaching me.
As he kissed my breasts and bit my nipples I know he could sense the waves of pleasure coursing through my body. As he ran his hands along my waist and thighs he could feel me shiver with delight. I could sense his wonderment, his pleasure, his desire. When he went down my body slowly, teasingly, with my fingers wrapped in his hair, and my heart beating with anticipation, I squirmed under him, partly out of pleasure, partly out of nerves, until he pinned my body down, holding me still as he buried his head between my legs, "her" wet, swollen, aching, as he teased me, circling his tongue round and round, driving me wild with anticipation and needs, with me unable to move under him. I remember it clearly - his strength, my inability to move, the nervousness, the pleasure.
He was in total command now. I could feel the orgasm building...he could too. So he stopped, bringing me back from the edge. He took me in his arms; I kissed him hungrily, tasting me on him. It was so naughty. So erotic.
We started to caress each other in the most intimate way, pleasuring each other. I was so turned on by his cock in my hand and how hard he was, squeezing hard, then softly caressing. He asked me why I looked so serious. I couldn't explain. It was a mix of things but I think I wanted him to know that this was serious and genuine and very emotional for me. The way he had built me close to orgasm but then pulled back had also confused me and I wondered whether I had done something wrong? Then there was the sheer sexual delight and the emotions.
He encouraged me to relax, to open my legs for him. When he finally pushed his fingers into me I finally came shortly after. And still he kept on paying attention to my clit and rubbing her. He was aware of my body and responses, voluntarily and involuntarily in a way that no one before had been. As the intensity of orgasms built I cried with pleasure and grabbed his wrist, digging my nails into it as a massive shudder went through my body as he pushed his fingers deeper into me, filling me up. He was talking to me now, smiling, enjoying me, and encouraging me. I responded to him, releasing the tension, telling him I wanted to be fucked. I had never spoken in such crude, yet intensely personal way before. Telling him to rub my clit, put his finger in my bum, kiss me, squeeze my tits....be directional. I could tell he loved it as he moved his cock in my hands, me holding it tightly, feeling it. This overt sexuality was completely new to me.....tenderness had given way to raw sexual power and as I screamed with joy he came in my hands, hot, sticky, beautiful cum.
We lay exhausted, we cuddled, and he was smiling and happy. I felt alive, my body tingling. He lay alongside me, looking down at me, telling me that I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The most sexy. He continually called me Tihana. Or Tia. He could see that made me very content. He kissed me tenderly. Slow. Languid. Tongues working together. Biting my lip. Sucking my tongue into his mouth and sucking on it. He kissed my neck, my breasts, he sucked my nipples until I squirmed, he kissed my tummy then started on her, burying himself in me until I came again, helped by the fact that he was caressing my bum hole too, and then, when he was ready he lay on top of me and put his big cock into me again - I gasped. He was so much thicker than my love before and I was still tight and tiny. He just pushed slowly until he was in and then stayed there without moving. I could see in his face the satisfaction of that moment - the moment of taking me, sexual ownership, and possession. He had me and I gave myself willingly. After a few long strokes he rolled over onto his back, still in me, so I was above him.
I rode him, his hands on my breasts, my waist, caressing my bum. It was just so lovely looking down at his face, into his eyes. He guided my body with his hands, tilting my body to make sure he penetrated me in the right way so I could grind my clit against him, adjusting my rhythm slow, slow, hard, slow, fast, soft, building wave upon wave, taking me to the edge and then pulling back again, lots of nearly orgasms, controlling my pleasure and his.
The whole experience was so profound for me. The sexual experience so intense and more than anything ever before. Add to that the illicit nature of what was happening and the natural bond of love developed over many years, the fact that I was clearly being adored and loved and that I was making my Dad happy made me cry with pleasure. Tears rolling down my face, dropping onto his chest. Part laughing, part panting, part grunting as the orgasms came, me riding him, him letting me dictate the rhythm, gently taking control for a second or two to direct me this way and then that. He let my orgasm come and then threw me over onto my back, pushing hard into me again until he too came.
I don't know whether any woman has told you how lovely it is to have warm cum inside them...but it is. Wonderful.
The next few days were very happy. My dad and Tihana became lovers. He encouraged Tihana to wear the clothes that had belonged to Charlottes mum. They went shopping. He bought her more clothes -- sexual, sensual clothes that showed off her figure, her looks. Bikinis that were provocative, sexy heels for going out, for the pool and for the bedroom.
They had lunch and came back to the villa and made love in the pool. They went for dinner, and walked hand in hand drawing glances. A pretty girl and her sugar daddy. He pulled her close to him as they walked. He stopped frequently and kissed her. They went walking in the sea. They went dancing -- she was making him young and carefree and enjoying her music. They danced close, her favourite, and she marveled every time that they danced that he grew hard for her so she could grind against him. He was making her a sophisticated woman. He taught her how to make love. How to listen to her body. How to touch his penis in the way he liked, rubbing wet fingers around the rim of his cock. How to suck him off and take him deep into her mouth. How to dress for sex.