Chapter 6: A Father-Daughter Dance with Feeling
Instantly, he recognized the song. One of his favorites; a song of passion and beauty, which inexplicably filled him with a sense of longing and emptiness on the one hand and of sweet gentleness on the other. The song inevitably produced vague, vaporous notions of things lost and never again found, opportunities missed and never regained. It was nothing he could put his finger on specifically, but he loved the song for its ability to produce in him that pang of melancholy. The strains of Eric Clapton's, "Wonderful Tonight" filled the air, as her hands gently, but firmly, drew him closer.
"Dance with me, daddy," she beckoned and she moved into his arms.
Wordlessly, he allowed himself to be drawn to her. Their bodies touched lightly, and the feeling jolted him like a surge of electricity. How often have I fanaticized this moment, he thought, as she directed his hands to encircle her waist? Sparks showered in his mind as she moved to him, and he felt the hard points of her nipples pressing into his chest. His hands, fingers spread at the small of her back, drew her tightly against him. Her arms lifted to encircle his neck, her breasts brushed his chest, and she rose on tiptoe to bring her lips against his ear.
"You remember this song, don't you, daddy?" Her voice was an erotic, pulsing growl in his ear.
He nodded his head against her cheek, feeling her lithe body melting against him.
"The Girls' Cotillion Ball last winter? The father and daughter dance?" she reminded him softly.
"I remember," he whispered, and indeed he did remember. The first and last time they had danced together it was. She was wearing a white evening gown with a scooped neckline that revealed a modest amount of her developing cleavage. They had danced well together, if he did say so; she followed his every lead perfectly, as if they had practiced for days. He held her close to him and felt her ripening curves even then. He was nearly overcome by the moment and attained an erection in spite of himself, but he thought at the time that she had not noticed because of the thick folds of her skirt.
She can scarcely fail to detect it this time, he thought, as her body brushed deliberately against him. They were a perfect fit, this father and daughter; exactly the right proportions to meld into a single, moving entity. She flowed into him, letting her curves mold themselves to his hard angles. Her breasts flattened against his chest. Her head lay languidly on his shoulder, her lips pressing lightly against his neck. On tiptoe, her mons came into full contact with his bulging groin and brushed against his hard maleness with each sway of her hips. She pressed and rode his hardness within her cleft. He thrust himself toward her, and she encouraged him by stroking the back of his neck with her fingertips.
They glided across the deck, barely contacting the surface, swaying in easy rhythm to the music. She adjusted, widening her stance, and accepted his knee between her legs. They moved closer and he felt the moist, wetness of her mons opening against his thigh. His burgeoning cock throbbed against her hip. She thrust her hips at him and her pussy opened wider, spreading its slippery wetness along his thigh. He felt her shiver as her clitoris scraped his skin. He lifted his knee to increase the pressure for her and she ground herself upon him like a cat rubbing herself.
He felt her lips moving against his neck, speaking to him, but the blood rushing in his ear drowned out her words. He drew her closer. She spoke again, her lips directly on his ear.
"I know what you and Mom fight about, Dad. I know how she treats you and I hate it."
His arms encircling her narrow waist stiffened, but she moved encouragingly against him. His hands lowered to cup the full globes of her buttocks and pulled her closer. He felt the wetness of her sliding restlessly on his thigh.
She whispered, "I can help you that way, daddy; I can make it better for you, if you'll let me."
"Oh, baby," he groaned hopelessly, and he felt his cock give a tremendous jerk against the girl.
She slowed, paused, and leaned back slightly to look into his eyes. Her mons, its thick, slick fluid flowing freely, remained tightly pressed against him. She grasped his hands with hers and lifted them to her neck, never taking her eyes from his.
"Untie it," she commanded, her voice dripping with hot emotion.
His trembling fingers obeyed, tugging at the limp bow till finally it released. He dropped the satin ties like they burned his fingers.