Riding The Storm Ch 01

I have had some kind messages asking for more following the submission Voyage of Discovery. Rather than return to my journey, just now, I thought it might be valuable to pause a little and look at the beginning once again, but from a different perspective. This then, in my mind's eye, is how my father would tell the story. It is an imagining of sorts and of course kind to me. Mostly. Love, Tihana.

*

I toasted my daughter and raised a glass across the table.

"Happy 18th birthday, darling. Come. Dance with your daddy."

Charli had matured into the most elegant and beautiful young woman. Tall, slim, with great poise and balance, long slim legs and the most sensual face you could imagine. Tumbling blonde hair framed her face, her eyes, a piercing blue looked deep into your soul, her nose, cute and sitting above full, angelic lips, curled up at the sides in a half smile, dazzling white teeth. Her skin was golden, luminous. She shone. Yes she was a beauty.

Think my wife, her mother, actress, underwear model, much desired, pursued still by eligible men and the rich and famous and multiply by a hundred. No, a thousand. Ah, that's just the pride in me talking. Anyway, you get the picture: a most beautiful young woman, still pure and angelic. Yet to be tainted by the passage of time and with a life of experience ahead of her.

Whoever has her will be a lucky man. And, no, I wasn't jealous. Well, maybe a bit. All these thoughts tumbled through my mind as I rose from the table. I was interrupted by a noise from the bar area where my wife was holding court, surrounded by a throng of attentive men and jealous, fawning wives and girlfriends. She loved the attention and once too I was captivated by her spell but we both knew that I could no longer worship her in the way she expected.

"Well, Daddy?"

Charli stood before me, head cocked to one side, her arms, long, lithe, toned and bare, open and welcoming. Her smile dazzling, lips (I noticed) moist with a shimmering pale pink lipstick. She was wearing a short black cocktail dress, plain but stylish. It was a halter neck tied at the neck with a big satin bow, and hugged her figure. The material was soft and clung to her curves. She had well proportioned breasts that were adequate but her killer feature was her waist and hips....which swept in a curve from just below her breasts to her toned tummy and then began to curve out again to her hips.

Ever since she was young she had danced and had a dancer's poise and core muscle tone.

I placed my hand gently on this perfect waist and guided her to a space on the dance floor. The silky material moved under my fingers and I could feel her muscles moving naturally as she wiggled her body in time to the music and then she wrapped her arms around my neck, kissed me sweetly (on the lips), laughed girlishly and, leaning back a little, carried on with her wiggle.

So, can I tell you a few things? About what was running through my mind?

It was probably just me, but......was that wiggle innocent and naive or was she moving that way on purpose. And, if on purpose, was this a natural part of a woman's innate need to seduce from a biological sense that was just awakening in her, or was it for me? And then the kiss...did she linger just a little too long or was I imagining it? Or wishing it? Her lips shone. They were soft, full. Made for kissing.

Whatever the thoughts, they began to have a physical manifestation. I just couldn't control the gradual hardening of my cock. And there is no way that she could not notice through the thin fabric of her dress.

Wait a minute! Was her hold on me around my neck slightly tighter than before. Was she leaning back a little more to push her pelvis against me? Was her wiggle a little slower now, a little firmer, even deliberately sensual?

She was looking at me now with those piercing blue eyes searching me, looking deeply into me, with that curious half smile.

So, now the whole world slows down and the seconds take ages to pass. I feel a heightened sense of awareness as everything else fades into the background, out of focus. The music now just consists of a seductive, primitive beat, the vocals, jangling disco effervescence taken out of the mix.

I watch her form words as I focus on her lips. Her tongue just moistening her lip before she begins to create shapes. I notice the glisten of her saliva, the lines on her lower lip and then the soft overbite as she rests her teeth on her bottom lip, which plumps up under the slight pressure. Why does she do that? God, it's such a turn on.

And then the hair on her golden arms, fine and soft on the lower part and then her upper arm, baby soft smooth, with her muscle hardening as she moves it. I let my eyes flow over her shoulder, with the skin pulled tight over her collarbone, showing the bone like an artist's sculpture, her long neck.

Gosh I think I'm going to kiss it, my head moving down, slowly, my nostrils filling with her perfume, intoxicating my senses. This is madness but I am caught in a spell.

As my lips begin their long journey, my fingers tighten their grip on her waist, the dress rising up as I begin a little caress, my hands moving up from the skinniest part of her waist up an inch and then down. And then, once again on her waist moving from a polite central position to curve behind her back pulling her body, carefully slowly, closer, the soft swish of her dress on her stockings, the small but just noticeable reposition of her legs as she opens them a fraction to facilitate a better fit as I pull her closer.

My lips complete their journey and they brush her neck, and I take her taste onto my lips, a mix of perfume and her soft skin, my lips opening a fraction as they press, my tongue just touching, for a second, her neck, leaving a small trace of me on her, and then moving back and away, to look again at her face, her half smile, her two top teeth biting a little harder on those gorgeously, kissable lips.

My hands now at the back of her waist, moving down, slowly, slowly, to the curve of her bottom, firm to my touch, the dress moving seductively under my fingers, the sensation ripping through me to the pleasure receptors in my brain, giving a heightened sense of awareness. I could see her pupils dilating slightly, a sharp intake of breath through the half smile. Was that perhaps an appreciation of the delicate, subtle attempt to caress her perfectly pert bottom? Was that her way of encouragement?

And now my cock was beginning its own journey, jerking into life, until it rested at an uncomfortable 45 degree angle in my trousers. Her eyes sparkled now, her grip on my neck even tighter still, my hand now on her buttock, resting lightly, feeling the warmth and her gluteus working, pulling her as close as I dare.

My mouth is dry, my head feels like cotton wool. All the focus is now in my cock, as if my body was shutting down all other facilities so my entire mind and body could focus on the sensations from there.

Charli brushed her body against my hard cock, from side to side, from the left where the head was angled and then back up the shaft again ready for the return journey. And this time there was slightly more pressure.

The smile had been replaced now with a more serious look. A look of concentration and focus. Still biting that lip, her gaze steady and direct into me, searching me for reaction. And then again her movement of her hips across my cock. Firmer. A slight adjustment of her legs, yet again, a closer position, her body warmth hotter to my touch, her breathing slightly heavier, and again she pressed across my cock, hard this time so her dress material was caught for a second on my cock, caught at that embarrassing angle, and nearly a full size. And I was quiet big, there was no way she couldn't notice.

The seconds ticked slowly on. Charli dancing slower now, more determined, the swish flow left to right less obvious, now a slow but firm kick of the hips so she was moving just from the tip of my cock down the shaft and back. I could feel her pelvic bone pushing against me.

Her face now serious, eyes closed, the lip bite harder, the breath coming in little bursts. My cock, stimulated, was hurting, my balls bursting. My fingers dug a little harder into her bum, grabbing onto the dress material. Her movements now quickened in response, concentrating on rubbing herself against my cock. I wondered whether she was enjoying this, whether her pussy was being stimulated just as much....or even deeper still -- why was she doing this, and why with me?

She leant back a little to push again into the cock, firmly, in little circular movements, with her eyes closed as if in a trance. I could see her tiny nipples through her dress, firm, dying to be touched. And then, a little sigh, the pressure on my cock slightly less as she moved away a little, the room coming back into perspective, the disco beat returning, time back on track.

And Charli, swishing from side to side, barely touching me, holding me gently, but slightly away, eyes dancing, that seductive half smile. And the music stopped.

She took my hand and skipped from the dance floor with me in tow. Did that just happen? Was it a dream? Was my daughter teasing my cock? Did she just orgasm, even a small one? Or was it my imagination.

"Thanks, Daddy." The voice was Charli's. She squeezed my hand.

"That was a lovely dance. You dance well for an old man, much better than a lot of the boys," she giggled.

"Anytime," I mumbled.

Then she kissed me on my cheek, and slipped off into the night.

This dance, so to speak, continued thereafter. We hosted and were invited to many parties. Always Charli would accept her dance. Always she came dressed to impress and wore clothes that were sensual to the touch. As if she dressed solely to tease me.

Always there was that innocence and playfulness....and then, the journey to our own private world, my cock growing, her slow, seductive gyrations, my ever increasing boldness as I danced with my daughter....my fingers tracing delicate circles on her body, holding her tight, caressing her waist just under the swell of her breast, occasionally an innocent - or accidental - brush of her breast to feel her erect nipples. Always the need to kiss her...her eyes, cheek, neck.

Always the closeness, the pounding heart and senses on fire. I learnt how to quickly reposition my cock when hard without interrupting the moment......so it was straight. We learned how to move our bodies subtly against each other. We learned how to use each other for our own pleasure.

The delicious flirting reached its nadir in late August, at a friend's beach party. I was spending a rare moment of intimacy with my wife, Mariska, on the dance floor when Charli cut in. Laughing gaily and kissing mummy on the cheek.

I almost felt Mariska was pleased to get away from me, to have been released.

Charli was wet. She had just been for a swim and her hair was tied back in a pony tail. Over the summer her skin tone had turned a golden brown and her hair had golden blonde streaks. Summer suited her. She was wearing a white bikini, a contrast with her skin tone, and had thrown a virtually see through sarong over her tied loosely at the neck - I suspected as much for the sensual feeling of the material than just to look drop dead gorgeous (which of course she did).

He skin was cold to the touch and I brushed some dried sand affectionately off her shoulders and arms.

And so she began. That beguiling and hypnotic dance. But immediately she stopped. Holding me loosely and still but pressing herself against me. I was still hard from dancing with Mariska (yes my wife still gave me the hots despite her indifference).

She gave me a quizzical look, slightly perturbed as if something had been denied her. She was resting my hands on my shoulders, and cocked her head on one side and made a face before sticking out her tongue.

"What was that for?" I asked.

"You know," she said, "for being selfish".

"Well I will have to make amends for than then."

"Yes you will, Daddy", said with an emphasis on the Daddy.

I slipped my arm around her waist. Under her sarong. She had on a little silver waist chain (a present from an admirer) and I wrapped my fingers around it pulling a little tight.

"Ooh," she said, "don't break it. It's fragile, like me."

She was moving against me now, normal service resumed, except this time she was chatting, albeit without a care in the world. This was a marked difference - our ritual was usually conducted in silence.

"So," she said, wiggling against me, "you were dancing with someone before me. That's very naughty of you."

"That someone was your mother, you know".

"Well, she's not interested in you obviously. Look at her now."

I turned to do so. She was standing at the bar, glass in hand, a guys arm draped around her waist. Charli saw my face and giggled.

"Just as well I am here then. " And that beguiling tilt of the head and smile.

At that I pulled her closer, commandingly, my hands becoming bolder and tracing little runs up and down her damp back.

"Mmmm," she murmured. Again a departure. Normally we were silent, keeping our pleasure contained, for ourself. We did this for our own ends, our own private needs. Not to please each other. Were we becoming bolder? I guess I was.

My hand had travelled down her back now, and she arched into me, pressing her upper body close to me so I could feel the softness of her breasts against my chest.

Emboldened I slipped my hand under her wet bikini and caressed her naked bum, pulling her body tightly against my rock hard cock.

"Mmmm. Lovely," she murmured. Then, without warning, she broke. "I'm going in the pool" and skipped off..."You coming?"

I got to the pool. The place was rammed. The boy- men were jumping and the girl-women were preening, decoratively. I looked for Charli, heart pounding. She was not there.

I headed to the beach, a knot growing in my stomach. The beach was deserted, the night just closing in with the sun setting on the horizon, a red glow reflecting off the still, black water.

I turned to go. Then heard a splash. She was swimming along the shore line then diving under the water and surfacing. As I got closer I could see she was naked.

I could feel the stirring in my loins. She saw me and stood, waist deep, her breasts clearly visible. Her breasts were two-tone - bronzed like her body except where her bikini had been it was a milky golden colour. Her nipples were small, pink, like a delicate flower.

She dived again and I moved to join her, kicking off my sandals.

"Fuck me, who is that babe.....she is so hot". A young college boy was now standing next to me, beer in hand, holding it by the neck.

"That, young man, is my daughter," I said protectively and taking off my vest I waded into the water to hand it to Charli who was now coming out of the water, oblivious to her nakedness.

"Spoilsport, old man," said the young man as we left the beach, my arm around Charli, falling quickly into my fatherly role.

"You better get changed young lady," I muttered, trying to manage my frustration and, possibly more acutely, a growing anxiety. Charli talking to me whilst, you know, was happening had spooked me.

"Where's the showers dad?" I escorted her to them. Then I turned away.

"Dad?"

My heart leapt and a sickness gnawed at me. I turned. Charli was looking at me as she pulled my T shirt over her head, and stood proudly in front of me, hips cocked to accentuate her curves and head tilted beguilingly.

"Thanks for lending me your T shirt". At that, she threw it at me and then pushed the door closed but I had already a permanent image of her standing there frozen in my mind, like a angel, naked but pure, with a glacial, ethereal beauty.

The next few days I walked as if in a daze. Wondering what I should do. What she might do. Struggling with my desire and the temptation.

I could manage our dancing ritual. That was of course patently wrong. But, it was natural, controllable. It enhanced my life and was, in my view, pretty tame really. We were just being affectionate with each other, teasing, enjoying stolen moments of personal time.

But now things had changed gear. My head was swimming. I was full of conflict and doubt and determination to behave appropriately.

But, always, there was the image of my angel, my temptress. My beautiful, sexy angel. So close, yet so far from reach.