“Come on Angel, its this one.”
“Here’s the key daddy.”
I took the card key from my daughter and inserted it. As we entered the hotel room, I relaxed for the first time in eleven months. This was our vacation, the only one I got each year. My daughter, Angel and I have been on our own for eight years now. Her mother died of cancer when Angel was only ten. It was rough, but I managed to raise our daughter, and she had turned out beautifully. Not only physically, because she was definitely that. With crystal blue eyes, curly brown hair, a few freckles dotting her nose, long legs and a shapely body, there weren’t many people who wouldn’t call Angel beautiful, myself included. She’s also a beautiful person; innocent, kind and always there for her father.
“Hey Daddy?”
“Yes Angel?” Its her name, but also my nickname for her. She is my angel.
“There’s only one bed.”
My eyes flew to the bed, dominating the center of the room. I glanced back at my daughter. She had dropped her bags at the foot of the bed and now sat on the edge of it.
“Don’t worry hon, I’ll call down and see if we can’t get another room.” After arguing with the front desk for nearly five minutes, I hung up exasperated. “No luck angel, they’re all booked up.”
Angel smiled at me and then crawled across the bed to give me a hug. “Its okay,” she whispered against my neck, “We’ll just share.”
One more obstacle out of my way, I decided it was time to relax some more. I leaned back against the head board and flicked on the TV. Angel hopped off the bed, and sprinted for the bathroom. I hardly noticed when she came out.
“Daddy, I’m gonna go down to the beach.”
I looked up to see my daughter in two of the tiniest pieces of material I’d ever seen. Did they call that a bathing suit? Before I could voice any objections to her attire, she was out the door. And for the next two hours, I found myself glued to the window of our ocean view room, watching my daughter prance about in the waves. I told myself I was just making sure that none of those boys on the beach were harassing her, but I couldn’t help but wonder at the real reason. Especially when I noticed that my erection was tenting my shorts.
As I watched my innocent daughter bouncing around in the water, I began to stroke myself through my shorts, trying to ease the discomfort. Before I knew it, my shorts were down around my ankles and I was shooting my load onto the glass in front of me. I was suddenly overcome with shame. What had I done? I’d just jacked myself off while watching my Angel on the beach. What kind of pervert was I?