Kitten And Father In Florence Ch 07

Their last two nights in Florence are delightful and intense

They sat up and found the cucumber that had slipped out of her pussy, snickering. In the bathroom again, she washed it, then snickered again and let her father see her put it in her mouth, twisting and moving it in and out a little. He grinned and jostled his cock and balls, raising his cock. She nodded and took the cucumber out of her mouth and said:

"I know: you know, I like it much better; just had to see that it was clean."

"Hmm! Also the best cucumber-sucking daughter."

"Oh, Daddy!"

"Sorry!"

"Won't do it again,... with you."

He smiled, nodding, and replied:

"Hope Marlie likes it as much."

"She will," she replied with a grin, liking that he had mentioned her, and put the cucumber in the minibar.

They agreed that it was late enough to think about supper, snickering about where they found their clothes. Before they put them on, she insisted on rinsing her panties. When she got the other ones, he asked:

"All of them?"

"Hmmm! Hm-hmm! If you don't make me forget that I don't have any on?"

"Hmm? Not sure I couldn't, knowing you didn't."

"Me neither," she agreed with a smirk and leaned down to step into the pair she had in her hands.

He hummed, looking at her ass with her pussy showing between her thighs, and said:

"Damned well better wear them. Good thing I don't go all wet in my shorts."

She stood up, turning to him and rubbing her hand over her crotch, grinning, and replied:

"That's good. Hm-hmm! Then I can try to make you."

"Hmm! Better wear a jacket to keep it from showing."

"Hm-hm-hmm! This is going to be fun!"

"You think so!" he replied with a wry smile.

They got dressed, she without a bra, he with a jacket, and went to find a restaurant. She suggested they go back to the one, where she had teased the waiter, but her father whispered:

"And wet your pants?"

"I didn't, just my nipples."

"Hmm! And let him really see them? Probably for the next waiter too."

"If he glances down, like that on did."

"Should have told you to button up."

"But you didn't; you liked that bra too."

"Not the bra," he admitted, giving her a grin. She smiled and murmured:

"I'll tell you if I wet them."

"Not yet, I hope."

"Not quite," she replied with a smirk.

They found a restaurant on a side street that was still empty. They were the first guests and were offered a table on the window to the street. Before the waiter returned with menus, he murmured:

"They want us to attract other guests."

She hooked a finger in the front of her top and pulled it down, not revealing anything, but the waiter returning with the menus smiled behind her father's back, maybe because her finger and hand were pressing her top between her breasts. When the waiter left, her father murmured:

"You don't have to do that; he was going to look, anyway."

"Just didn't want him to think that you get to see them, but that I wanted someone to."

"At least, they didn't pop out."

"Oh! No, guess they're getting tired."

"Hmm! Or too accustomed to being just smiled at."

"I like that; they do like more than just a smile."

"Stop it and read the menu."

They ordered and had their meal without any more innuendos - until she returned from the ladies room and whispered: "Still haven't wet them."

He gave her a tired smile and paid. Since it was still so early in the evening, they walked back to the Piazza della Signoria, the square with statues next to the Palazzo Vecchio with Michelangelo's statue of David, which they now knew was a copy of the original, which they had seen in a museum. When they now saw it again, she remember her father's whispered comment in the museum, that David must have be circumcised, that Michelangelo had forgotten that.

She had said something about since he was "too small" there, anyway, so may as well show him as a baby, but then they remembered that in all the paintings of Mary and Jesus, he also wasn't circumcised, although that was mentioned in the Bible.

Outside the museum, she had returned to the subject and said something about liking that Marlie's brother's cock also wasn't. He had scowled and whispered, asking if she didn't like his cock as much. Of course, she had assured him that she did, licking her lips and getting a smirk and hum in response.

Now, seeing the statue again, she chuckled softly and said:

"He still isn't,... you know."

"Hmm? Is that all you look at on statues?"

"When I can see it. You look for 'very nice' ones."

"You do too, just to see if yours are as nice. They are."

"Um-hmm, thank you. Oh? Maybe all Italian women want to think that David's is like what they like, even if it's 'too small'?"

"Hmm! And have been for hundreds of years? Can you ask those two Italian girls in the school?"

"Hm-hm-hmm! I don't think so! Let's go look at Perseus again, for you."

They chuckled and turned to find the bronze statue, but they were looking again at the female figures at the base of the statue. She smiled, when she saw her father smiling at them. Then he glanced at her and murmured:

"I still like yours better."

"Mmmm! I do too, and that you do, but don't make me wet my panties."

She hadn't, but twitched her thighs together for effect. He smirked and whispered:

"Oooh! I don't want that,... or do I?"

"I do," she replied with a hum.

He nodded and took her hand, and they walked back towards their hotel. She squeezed his hand and murmured:

"They aren't really wet."

"What's that mean?"

"We could have drink in the hotel. Back home, you wanted me to practice."

"Seems like you have, we have."

"And didn't even have a hangover after New Year's eve in Paris."

"I remember: Pierre's, his 'little peter,' your first thing in the new year."

"I wasn't thinking about his."

"Worse, and you want to have drink in the bar?"

"Don't you want to be seen with your daughter and her 'very nice'...?"

"Yeah, but not if that couple is there, who really saw how 'very nice' they are."

"He would."

"You're talking yourself out of a drink."

"Okay, if they're there, I'll turn away. His wife will probably drag him off."

"Poor guy!" her father replied, squeezing her hand.

They chuckled, again dropping hands as they approached the hotel. Before they entered the hotel, he chuckled and murmured:

"And if, like New Year's eve, if we have enough, we can just wait till morning."

"Where were you New Year's eve?"

"Stupid hotel party, and if you want to know, didn't end up anywhere except back at home alone."

"Wouldn't have minded if you didn't. Kind of wished you had."

He stopped outside the entrance and said:

"Why we love each other, and like we do, having to accept that..., well, you understand."

She nodded with soft moan, finding his hand again. They clasped hands, and then went in the hotel. He got their room-key and nodded towards the bar with a mild smile.

She didn't think she was going to have to worry about her nipples popping out after his endearing remark. They did love each other, like a daughter and father should. What they did with each other was a very - she didn't want to use the expression - a "very nice", the nicest, most intimate expression of their love, but it was also pure sex, and so good! She didn't have to think about that in the bar; it would be again, and if not before they went to sleep, better when they woke up. How was it going to be after a week with her father?! Oh, good with Marlie - and their cucumbers - but not like with his cock!

They were in the bar, her father asking:

"Beer, wine, whisky, cognac?"

She glanced at what the others at the bar were drinking, seeing a couple with what looked like orange-tinged glass of white wine with ice, and replied:

"What they're having."

"A spritz?" the bartender said.

"For me too," her father agreed.

They watched him put ice in their glasses, then pour prosecco and add a good dash of orange liquid from a bottle with the label Aperol. He added a shot of soda water and a slice of orange. He put them on the bar with a smile. Had he glanced at her breasts, she wondered, now not like wishing that he had; she just wanted them to be for her father.

They smiled at each other, raising their glasses in a silent toast, and sipped, and smiled again. When the bartender wasn't busy, her father asked:

"Spritz? Sounds German?"

"Probably, more a favorite drink in Veneto, in the northeast, in Venice. You like it?"

They both nodded, smiling at him and then at each other. She wondered what the bartender had thought about them, but then liked that he could think that her father had a much younger girlfriend. He did! And her father's nice smile didn't suggest anything else, just that! Her thighs twitched . She smiled back, but hummed softly and murmured:

"But now they are."

"For me and not for the bartender, I hope."

She shook her head, smiling at him, then nodding. He murmured:

"Not sure which way?"

"The right way,... for you," she murmured, taking another sip.

Her father hummed with a slight nod, and also took a sip. They smiled at each other. Then he said in a harmless tone:

"Your mother brought you to Europe; I want to take you home, not on the first flight."

"'Not on the first flight?' she asked with a delighted smile.

They both had a better sip.

"If not the first flight?" she asked, taking a sip, and adding:

"Did you mention Venice?"

"If they like 'spritz' there," he replied, raising his glass.

When they drank together, she hummed and smile. She had been wondering about her returning to the States, but now her father was suggesting that it could be just as good.

Suddenly a voice behind her said: "Looks like you two enjoy each other's company."

She was shocked and embarrassed, glancing around to see a greasy looking man, who didn't look like he belonged in the hotel.

"Why shouldn't we?" she heard her father reply calmly, but in a more authoritative tone than she knew from him. The man didn't reply. She looked at her father. He was still looking at the man behind her with a self-confident expression. He repeated:

"Why shouldn't we? I'm her father. Skat! Get lost!"

She looked at her father with more relaxed expression. His eyes shifted, just his eyes, then he murmured: "He did."

She smiled with a sigh, wanting to hug him. He turned his head to her and smiled, raising his glass and remarking:

"Okay. If you see that man with his wife, you can smile at him."

"I don't want to, and not just to save him from his wife's reaction."

She found her glass, and they drank together. Then she asked:

"We could got to Venice?"

"If you want."

"Oooh, that would be nice!"

"I think so too," he replied, and they drank again.

He signed the chit for their drinks, and they went to their room. As they were undressing, she murmured:

"We don't have to do anything tonight. I just want to sleep with you. We still have one more night."

"The way I feel too. That would be nice."

They finished undressing, and she rinsed the panties she had been wearing. When she hung them up, she felt the others and chuckled, remarking with a grin:

"If they're all still damp in the morning,..."

"You'll have to wear damp ones," he interjected quickly.

"That wasn't what I was going to say," she replied with smirk.

"I know. Why I didn't let you say it."

They finished in the bathroom and opened up the other bed. She wanted lie facing him with his thigh between hers. They got comfortable like that, with their arms around each other, their noses almost touching, and said good night.

During the night, he eventually turned over, and then she did, lying back to back. When he turned over again, curling up behind her, she hardly wakened, just humming a sóft "um-hmm," as she felt his arm go around her. His hand didn't find her breast, and she dozed off again.

She was still asleep, dreaming something indefinite, then trying to incorporated in her dream the sensation of feeling something in the space between the top of her thighs, then having to account for its moving there. Her dream started to make sense: she was climbing that rope again, when she was eleven or twelve. But a hand was now holding her chest; that couldn't be, and a hand couldn't hold anything on her flat chest, but this one was. The visual image in her dream faded, and she slowly awoke, recognizing that she had been dreaming, but the sensations were still there, hadn't faded away like in other dreams, when she felt that she was holding something, but then her hand was empty. Then she was awake enough to understand that she wasn't that little girl, that the hand was holding her breast, and that it was a cock between her thighs.

Her father's! And it was his hand holding her breast! Then she was fully awake, remembering where they were and that it was all right for her father to be lying there with her, holding her breast and rubbing his cock where it was. She put her hand on his, and nodded.

"Did I wake you up?" he murmured.

"Slowly. I was trying to make sense of it in a dream, wanting to be climbing that rope again."

"'Wanting to be'?"

"Just to make sense of it, but then you were holding my breast, and in my dream there wasn't anything there to hold."

"There is now," he replied, squeezing it.

"Why I had to wake up. Good morning. Nicest way to wake up."

"Um-hmm, very. Good morning. It was just there, where you once said you wanted it to be, and it wanted to be, so I let it do what it wanted."

"Hm-hmm, nice of it to want to. And it doesn't want to be 'just there'."

"No. Hmmm! As long as you don't think it's a cucumber."

"Only the other way around: thinking a cucumber is it. Hm-hmm! Nice thing about cucumbers is that they don't have to go to the bathroom in the morning."

"It doesn't either, not this morning," he replied, continuing to rock his hips and rub between her thighs.

"Oooh! Nice, then it wants to do something else."

She reached down and aroused herself for a few moments, and his fingers aroused her nipples. She hummed with a nod and then reached between her thighs and rubbed the back of the head of his cock. They both hummed cheerfully, when it twitched. She drew up her thigh and rolled back against him. He made space for her to lie on her back and moved down the bed and curled up behind her hip. She guided his cock to her moist opening. They both moaned, as its head slipped into her. She held it there with her fingers, while he moved to draw his thighs up over and under her other thigh, pushing his cock further in. She gave a satisfied moan, then chuckled and asked:

"What do we want to do now?"

"Hmm! You have to ask? If you have to ask, fuck you!"

She almost laughed out loud, and he chuckled, squeezing her breast, and did.

"Don't forget to suck it, the other one," she remarked, and began to rub her pussy.

He leaned over her and did that too. He fucked and nibbled and played with her other nipple, and she rubbed and moaned, thinking that it had been good that they both hadn't wanted do anything the night before; this was just so good, worth waiting for, and now being aroused every way she could be. Then she wasn't thinking, just aware of how aroused she was and wanting her orgasm.

She got it, whimpering and gasping. He gave it to her and got his own. When he grunted and came in her clutching pussy, she suddenly remembered what she had said about selfishly forgetting him in the arousal of her own orgasm, but he had had his too.

His head and shoulders dropped back, and they lay there recovering. After a minute or two, he squeezed her thigh between his and murmured:

"I like feeling something between my thighs, too."

"Hm-hmm! And I especially like feeling something else between mine."

She squeezed his soft cock with her pussy. He chuckled and replied:

"I can't imagine what. Oh, I can, when you're back in school."

"But I'll be thinking it's something else."

She squeezed his cock again. It would have slipped out, if his hips weren't so close up behind her. He nodded and let it slip out, murmuring:

"The housekeeping staff must know what we do. I just don't want to meet them."

"Going to let me leak?" she asked, reaching down, then adding: "I am."

She wiped up what her fingers found and stuck them in her mouth, smirking at him. He shrugged with smile, then chuckled and said:

"Want to be really raunchy, your idea of what we both could do?"

It took her a moment to remember her idea that she could bend over and pee in his mouth, while she directed his stream in hers. Then her eyes opened wide, and she asked:

"If you want to. Hmm? Don't know if I can, bending over that way."

"Then I'll just lick. Got to go now."

"Me too, if I can that way."

Snickering, they went in the bathroom. He knelt in the shower and held her hips, as she leaned down and reached between her legs and held his slippery cock. He licked her wet pussy. When his stream started, she directed it to her mouth, discovering that she couldn't swallow with her head down, but tasting it and having it splash on her face, and his licking, released her own stream. She suddenly wondered if it looked like a water fountain, the kind that shot a stream across the basin.

When she stood up, she dribbled some more. He slapped her ass and stood up. He only had to wipe his chin. Her face was dripping, when she turned to him with a wry smile and said:

"Can't swallow that way."

"I sure could, but don't have to do that again, that way, at least."

"My little water fountain?"

"Hm-hmm! Yeah, sort of. Oh, hope I don't think of that, the next time I use one."

"Hope you do! Now I've got to wash my hair."

"Serves you right, for wanting to do that."

"It was your suggestion."

"Oh, all right. I'll help you."

They had a long, pleasant shower. When he started washing her hair, she suddenly said:

"Oh, this feels like when Mom used to wash my hair as a kid."

"When you were climbing that rope?"

"No, not then any more."

"Hmm! Someone ought to wash your head real good."

"Maybe! But if you do it, I like that better."

"Hmm, just don't write home that I did."

"Won't even tell Marlie."

"And not why I am?"

"I don't think so; we couldn't do that."

"But everything else you could do?"

"Have already, I think. Just the cucumbers. Oh, we can't forget them in the minibar."

"But then tell her that I did that to that one?"

"Don't have to tell her that either, also that you helped me use it."

"Thanks. I don't mind - I think - her knowing what else we do."

"Nothing she doesn't do with her brother."

"Just keep it in the family."

"If she wanted me to know what they do, she'll like that we have."

"Now rinse your head. I give up on trying wash it like it needs to be."

"Hm-hmm! Should have thought of that a week ago."

"Didn't know it needed it back then."

"My good luck!" she remarked with a grin.

"Mine too!"

She rinsed her hair and they finished their shower. While he shaved, she used the hair dryer. Her panties were dry, except for the last pair, which he suggested she put on hanger in the closet. They got dressed. When they were about to leave the room, he looked out and saw the cart of the room staff at the other end of the corridor, and they hurried to the elevator without seeing anyone.

After breakfast, they found the museum of "pietra dura," with its exhibition of inlaid colored stone and how the work is done. Her father insisted on buying her a small broach, a pin but also with a ring that could be hung on a chain. She handed him her gold chain and he put it on it, letting her rehook the chain. She stroked it with a sweet smile, thanking him, and agreed that was an unmistakable souvenir from Florence - and of their week there together. When her nipples popped out, he smiled and nodded, then whispering: "Don't wet them."