Kitten And Father In Florence Ch 03

"It was never like this," he murmured, as he also sat up.

They got up and went in the bathroom and washed. She was wondering if his last soft remark referred to what he and her mother had done or something before or after. They washed and got dressed and went out for dinner. When they returned to their room and were naked again, he repeated:

"If you think I can," and lay down on the other bed.

She did and proved it, arousing his cock with her mouth and then clambering up over him and putting it in her pussy, then telling him how good it felt, as she sat still on him, rubbing herself. He held her breasts, trying to describe how good it felt for his cock in her tight pussy. She nodded and replied: "In my, our kitten too."

They both chuckled when it squeezed his cock, then more moaning softly, each time her fingers made that happen again. He rocked his hips up once and asked her to ride on his cock, but she teased him with a shake of her head, despite her urge to beginning rocking her hips on him. He pinched and pulled her nipples in response. She flinched:

"Ouch! Just suck them! Can you sit up and suck them?"

"Try; haven't done that," he murmured with a nod.

"Me neither," she agreed and grasped his upper arms and leaned back to help him.

He could, holding her sides. They both hummed in response to the movement in her pussy and embraced. She couldn't rub her pussy that way, and he wasn't sucking her nipples, but she was very aware that they were touching his chest, moving her body to rub them on it. She moaned softly, looking up at him with a tilt of her head. They kissed, their tongues moving instead of his cock, but making it twitch and her pussy squeeze. They both hummed with chuckles. Then she retrieved her tongue and and said:

"But now suck them," and loosened her embrace, leaning back.

Her father nodded, letting her lean back and lowering his head. He sucked and gently chewed on her nipple. She moaned, unconsciously scratching his back with her fingernails. When she shifted her shoulders to have him arouse her other nipple, he did. She moaned again and consciously squeezed his cock. He nodded with a hum that vibrated on her stiff nipple. She moaned and then murmured:

"I can't rub, but you can."

She reached back and grasped his wrist and drew his hand up to her face, finding his middle finger with her tongue and sucking it in her mouth. Good Daddy, she thought, when he moved it in her mouth, then recalling that she didn't want to use that word for him now - not when his cock was in her kitten, and he was sucking her breast, and when she was wanting his finger to arouse her, had told him so directly! She slobbered on his finger and opened her mouth to avoid wiping it off.

Good Daddy! He nodded and his hand immediately dropped down behind her, his other fingers touching her ass, the sides of her crevice. She groaned with a nod, waiting for his wet finger to find her asshole. It did! Such a good Daddy! Too hell with her having to think of him with her life-long name for him! To hell with them both! His wet finger wasn't hesitating to probe, and her asshole wanted it to, despite its contracting, but it relaxed, and his wet finger easily probed deeper.

She moaned with a nod, only recognizing that he stopped sucking and nibbling, when he also nodded with her stiff nipple in his mouth. She had to kiss him - her "fucking father," not "Daddy" - not that "fucking father" was any better, but he really was - total honesty! - and she was his fucking daughter and loving it! But she couldn't tell him that, just try to show it. "Kiss!" she insisted softly.

He nodded and raised his head, and they kissed. For a moment, his finger in her was still, but when her tongue fucked in his mouth, it moved again, making her pussy clutch, and then his cock surge. What could be more arousing that feeling his - any man's, not just her Daddy's - cock in her pussy and his tongue and finger moving in the only other places they could be in her?!

But they were her fucking father's - her Daddy's! - and his tongue and finger were plunging together; he was wanting them to, consciously fucking her with them, making her pussy clutch his throbbing cock! Maybe it was good that they were all his. It was - so fucking good!! She sucked his thrusting tongue, wanting to make it feel how her pussy was contracting on his cock, feel that she wanted them both - and his finger too! - as deep in her as they could be! Wanting that was as sinfully wicked as it could be; couldn't be more sinfully wicked because they were her father's. It was better that they were his instead of someone else's, someone who just wanted to fuck her - even Pierre - the only other man who had - but not as good as her father was, but his cock wasn't really, just throbbing in the aroused clutches of her pussy, when her asshole tightened around his finger, as though it wanted to hold it still, but she didn't want it to. It didn't, making her moan, as she sucked, when his tongue plunged when his finger did. His cock had to, too! Her pussy had to feel it plunging, like his tongue and finger were!

Her hips rose up and sank down. She moaned, and he moaned, and his hand encouraged her to do that again. She groaned, delighted, and did, fucking his cock in her pussy as hard as she could, his hand following her ass up, his finger plunging as deep as it could, when her hips descended. Their mouths lost contact, but his cock was fucking her - and his finger! Besides, they were both gasping and groaning, couldn't also fuck with their tongues, not the way she was riding up and down on his cock as hard as she could. His hips thrust up, and she forced him to lie back, dropping down over him and letting them slap up against hers.

She groaned; it was so good! So fucking good! And he was groaning. They had to come as soon as they could, no more playing around. She managed to plunge her tongue in his mouth once, but then it was all about what their hips were doing, as they gasped and groaned. She only wanted the satisfaction of her own orgasm, forgetting his, but then he grunted. She felt his and her own a moment later - so wet! Her pussy was flooding!

Their hips stilled, and she collapsed on him, oblivious to everything except the aftershock contractions of her pussy, hearing him moan. She couldn't say anything, didn't want to, just appreciating that his stomach was heaving as much as hers was.

When they resided, she moaned, and he did, and she moved off him. He rolled away from her, but reached back and drew her hips to his. She curled up behind him, reaching over and holding his chest. He nodded with soft hum, holding her hand. She hummed, moving her fingers, and they were silent, falling asleep.

She woke up, when he moved, rocking back against her, then his hand sliding back over her ass. Then she heard him chuckle and say:

"We shouldn't do it that good with the light on."

She opened her eyes, seeing that the ceiling light was still on. She hummed, remembering, agreeing that it had been so good, but then remembering that he had chuckled. She did and asked:

"Why not? Afraid someone could have seen us?"

"I hope not, but if they could have, I hope they were envious."

"They would have to be, even if they couldn't imagine how really good it was."

He rubbed her ass and nodded, then murmured:

"But now I really have to go."

She shuddered suddenly, and replied:

"But not before me, now that you said that."

They chuckled and hurried to the bathroom. Back in the room, she felt the cool wet spot on the bed and grinned with a shrug, nodding towards the other bed. He nodded and remarked:

"Don't have to worry about not using both beds this way," and gestured for her to lie down first.

"Have to remember that," she replied with a smile and lay down.

He turned off the light and curled up behind her, finding her breast with his hand, and they said good night.

In the morning, she woke up when she felt him getting out of bed. She rolled back and gave him a sleepy smile, then seeing that his cock was below half mast. He noticed her glance and chuckled, remarking:

"I know, you were hoping that would happen again, and it might have, if I hadn't woken up, maybe even if I had just lain there wanting it to."

"You didn't," she replied with a scowl.

"We don't want too be late for the line at the museum - serious sightseeing today."

"Oh, yeah. Then we'd better save time by taking a shower together."

She grinned and rolled out of bed, following him to the bathroom. They really did save time, both "going" and only washing each other - with only minimal attention to erotic zones. While her father shaved, she arranged the covers on the beds to suggest two persons had just gotten up. She was still wearing only panties and Bermuda shorts when he joined her. She smirked slightly, drawing her shoulders back, appreciating that he was looking at her breasts. She reached for her polo shirt, when he had pulled on his boxer shorts. He looked at her and asked:

"No bra?"

"Saw that lots of girls aren't, and it's more comfortable - well, feels good."

"Hmm! I can imagine how. And I thought they were just smiling at me because I'm so good looking."

"Oh, you are. Hm-hmm! But maybe it was that Italian boy behind you, smiling at her."

"Hmm?! And you want to find out?"

"I'll just smile at you, if there is one."

"But you want him to see your nipples?"

"If they pop out," she replied, glancing down at them.

They had. He nodded, not suppressing a smile, but replying:

"They pop out too easily; I don't want to be walking around with you, counting the times they do."

"Oh, that would be fun! Hm-hm-hmm! And you could look too, helping the score."

"Put on a bra. I don't need to do that, and besides, I don't just have to imagine how they look."

"No!" She agreed with a grin, thrusting her breasts out again, then finding her bra.

Her father nodded, and they finished dressing and were early at breakfast. When he took a large helping of scrambled eggs, she smirked, recalling that a German girl in the school had said something about eating too many eggs made men more potent - "too interested in sex," the girl had said.

She almost chuckled, both hoping that she had been right and then wondering if the girl had been disturbed by the thought. Probably not, since they had been talking about boys, the girl probably just pretending that she didn't like the idea of men being too interested in sex. Yeah, she had admitted that she was still a virgin, and the couple of other girls - including Marlie - had only snickered, none admitting that they weren't. That had been before Christmas, before she knew that Marlie slept with her brother.

They finished their breakfast and set off to the Uffizi Gallery. When her father stopped to look at a shop window with miniature copies of famous sculptures, she saw him eying them, recognizing Michelangelo's David, but not all the nude females.

If he wanted to see other nude girls, she generously thought, only fair, since he couldn't see her nipples, and she also liked to see nude girls, all the ones she had, especially Marlie, even though her boobs were small, but so firm with nipples that she loved to suck. She felt hers pop out, wondering that her father was still perusing the display.

"I like that one," he murmured: "the one holding stuff down there, you know."

She nodded, recognizing the sculptured copy of a painting from her art appreciation course, also recognizing that is was the one with the bigger breasts, wondering if that was why he liked it, because its boobs were more like hers. Probably, assuredly, he had glanced over at hers. He had been right that she should wear a bra, if he was going to do that, but she liked that he had, wishing that her bra could let her aroused nipples show. She hummed and murmured:

"Good art course; we'll see her, a painting by Botticello: Birth of Venus."

"Just a painting?"

She glanced around to see if other American tourists were near. They were. She nodded, murmuring that she would tell him later. He nodded with a slight grin. When they were away from others, she explained softly:

"That was her blond hair 'down there', but I think hers - in the painting - aren't that big."

"So much hair, and just born?"

"Had to hide that; artists didn't show that till later, well, some Eves with just a leaf or two."

"Hmm? They taught you that in the course?"

"Not really, but of course, we looked.

They smiled, and she murmured:

"You were right about the bra. Three times already:"

Her father hummed with a smile and pat her ass. She started, but then smiled, whispering:

"Four times, but don't do that again."

He nodded with an earnest expression, and they joined the still short line for tickets to the Uffizi Gallery. When they had climbed up to the level of the gallery, she told him what she had learned in her course, and he expressed his pleasure about that, but then showed much more interest in the paintings, when they got to the nudes of the Renaissance. When they found Botticelli's Birth of Venus, he sighed with a smile and murmured:

"You were right, have to keep looking."

She nodded with a grin, but her father wasn't looking at her, even though her nipples popped out again. Damned bra, she thought, wanting a mixed group of American students to see them, the girls as much as the boys. As she heard their guide talking, she wondered if they could do anything with each other during their European tour, but then hummed to herself; it couldn't be anything as good as what she and her father did! She hurried to catch up with him in the next room.

He was still looking for bare breasted nudes, just giving her a glance. She enjoyed looking, pleased that her own weren't what the early painters seemed to have thought was most attractive. But then they were looking into a large, octagonal room and saw a statue. The Medici Venus, she immediately recognized from her course, the girl holding her hands in front of her, as though she were shielding view of her breasts and pussy, but they weren't, her hands not clasped to them, letting them see her nice breasts and the swelling curve between her thighs.

Her father sighed with a smile. She knew why, delighted that the sculptor had wanted Venus to have breasts more like hers, but her marble nipples weren't sticking out the way she felt hers were trying to in her bra - because she knew he liked hers, or because she had suddenly imagined sucking Marlie's?

"Too far apart," he whispered.

She immediately understood: the nipples on the statue were further apart than hers, that were pointing straight forward, trying to in her bra, but her father had remembered that and thought her breasts were like those of Venus. What more could a girl want? She nodded in response to his whispered comment, and they exchanged slight smiles. Yes, that was what he had been thinking.

But that wasn't all he had been thinking, she discovered, after they had viewed the statue through the other two doors to the octagonal, domed room. Back in the wide corridor passed the exhibition rooms, he moved to the windows that looked down on the courtyard and smiled broadly. Away from anyone who could overhear him, he grinned and whispered:

"Not just them, her 'kitten' too."

She remembered the statue's pubic mound, and then remembered the expression "mons veneris," truly appropriate for a statue of Venus. Her father thought hers was like that - and liked that it was? She smiled slightly with a shrug; she had never thought about how her own looked, pretty much like Marlie's, then recalling that some girls' didn't look like that, hardly a curve under their pubic hair. He winked at her, and she smiled, raising her cheeks.

"Going to look for more like that," he whispered and glanced up and down the corridor, seeing the nearest female statue, further along than that of a nude male. As they passed it, she glanced at its cock and balls, then wrinkled her nose and whispered:

"Too small, all the others' too."

"Hmm? Is that all you looked at in that course?"

"A bunch of girls? Not all we looked at."

They chuckled and then approached the statue of the nude woman, glancing at her smaller breasts and then at her mons veneris. She didn't want to stand and stare, appreciating that the sculptor had also wanted hers to be like that of the Medici Venus's. She moved on, her father looking at the statue for another moment, then following her. When his hand brushed hers, she looked over at him, returning his slight smirk.

"This is more fun than I thought it would be," he murmured.

"Um-hmm, she agreed with a nod and smile.

They did look at famous pictures without nudes, but didn't miss any with nudes, nor any nude statues. She lost count of the number of times her nipples popped out, when her father hummed at the view of pussy he liked, all the ones on statues, or when they saw a pair of better breasts, and he glanced over at her, his eyes dropping down to her breasts, then murmuring: "Very nice."

Once, when she couldn't be overheard, she grinned slightly and replied:

"You know what happens when you do that."

"Mmmm! Good thing that I insisted this morning."

She nodded, wondering if the little muscles that made her nipples pop out got stronger through exercise. They were getting plenty, even if her bra didn't let it show. Even if her father insisted and complained, she wasn't going to wear one the next day. If he liked her breasts so much, why not let him see them and that she enjoyed his looking - and anyone else's looking? She would.

From what she had heard in her art course, she felt that they weren't really doing justice to all the important pictures in the museum, but then had to snort softly at the recognition that they weren't missing any of the nude statues and pictures and both enjoying it. He gave her a quizzical glance. She smirked slightly and murmured:

"'Very nice,' 'too small,' all of them."

He chuckled with a nod, and they continued their search. After they passed one male nude statue, she murmured:

"Maybe not too small."

"I thought so too," he agreed, and they chuckled.

They finished their tour through the gallery. As they were going down the long flight of stairs back to the courtyard, they smirked and grinned at each other. On a landing, when no one was around, she stopped and asked softly:

"Mine is really like that?"

"Mmmm!" he responded with a grin, glancing to be sure on one could overhear them, and replied:

"Yours are, top and bottom, apparently the classical ideal. Hm-hmm! Top better than some, and ..." he broke off his sentence, hearing someone approach.

They continued down, slowly, letting two couples pass them. At the next landing, she stopped again and asked:

"'And'?"

"Mmmm! With a smaller waist and a nice ass."

"Really?!"

"I think so. Lunch?"

She nodded with a sweet smile - and stiff nipples. She rubbed her arm over them. He nodded with a hum and smile, and they hurried on down the stairs and returned to the courtyard and walked back towards the Palazzo Vecchio, where Michelangelo's statue of David was. They had seen it before, but this time she smirked and murmured "Too small."

He nodded with slight smirk, and they turned and looked again at Cellini's bronze of Perseus holding up the head of Medusa, but they weren't looking at her head. He scowled and murmured:

"Much too small."

"Reminds me of a three year-old I once babysat for."

He nodded, then looked at the small bronze nudes at the base of the statue, a male on the front, moving to see the two females on the sides, then glancing at her. She nodded and murmured: