Reader
Open on Literotica

My Father's Second Wife Ch. 04

This story follows immediately after the events in My Father's Second Wife, Ch 03. If you haven't read the previous chapters, I would strongly encourage you to begin there. This is not a short read; those seeking instant gratification might be better served elsewhere.

Special thanks go to kjplotts for her invaluable editing contributions.

Enjoy.


----------

The rest of the morning was pretty uneventful. I spent a lot of it trying not to flash everyone in the office. As much as I loved this dress, it had a distinct tendency to ride up when I walked, or bent over, or leaned back, or sat down, or stood up. I swear it was trying creep up just standing and talking to Tina. It was a great dress for a party, but as office attire it was exhausting.

They brought lunch in, and everyone worked through the afternoon. I didn't see Diane again. Mid-afternoon, everyone gathered in the common area. Dad and Margo appeared. Dad acknowledged people for jobs well done, projects finished, and so on, most of which I had no idea what they were talking about.

The Margo then made the big announcement. The company was having a party to close the deal with the Kyrgyzstan group. It would be held on a yacht and all senior staff members were invited, but it wasn't mandatory.

"Please dress for the beach," Margo explained. "Swimwear and flip-flops are encouraged. This should be a really fun evening, and there's going to be some special entertainment. You all have Charlotte to thank for this; it was kind of her idea."

I was stunned as a soft round of applause filled the office. Dozens of eyes suddenly turned my way. Most were thankful and appreciative. A few were clearly trying to figure out which one was "Charlotte." Some were wondering what the fuck I was doing wearing a cocktail dress to the office. I smiled, blushed, and tugged on the hem.

I was thankful when the attention turned back to Margo. She continued, "There will be a launch at pier 17 ferrying people to the yacht starting around 6:30, the fun will start around 8:00. Don't be too late."

Margo gestured that the announcements were over and everyone should back to work. Almost in unison, everyone turned and began filing out, chattering about the party and speculating what the "special entertainment" was. People I've never met started grilling me on the details. I had to tell them I didn't know that details, which got a few looks of disbelief.

When I got back to my cubical, there was message from Margo.

To: C. Grant.

From: M. Milholland

Charlotte,

Your father and I will be busy with details of the "Russian" contract all

evening. You can take you father's car home; he'll make other arrangements.

I've made an appointment for you in the executive spa tomorrow at 11:00.

See you then,

Margo

----------

I eased dad's Mercedes into the garage. As I got out of the car, I could see my dress had ridden up again on the drive home. "This dress is possessed!" I yelled to no one there.

I peeled off the dress and threw it on the ground. "You and I are done!" I told it, and stomped it with my shoe so it knew I meant business.

I walked into the house in just my heels. Kwan was in the kitchen, preparing something for dinner. Kwan, naturally, said nothing about my lack of clothing. I opened the refrigerator, bent over and got a Coke, making a great display of my ass. "Fuck it," I thought to myself.

I've spent the whole day trying to keep a half-inch of fabric over my privates. Tonight I'm not going to cover anything.

I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening naked. I had dinner—some kind of spicy tomato sauce with poached eggs and Feta cheese that Kwan whipped up. I watched some TV. I lounged a little by the pool. I even video chatted with Kate, my roomy from college.

"Your ta-tas are out!" Kate squealed with excitement.

"I'm all out today!" I said, emphasis on the "all." I lifted the tablet and panned the camera down my body, showing that I wasn't just topless, but bottomless and everything in betweenless too.

Kate gave me a wolf whistle. "When did you go all nudist, and why didn't you invite me?" she scolded. "You know, my nips like to get out too!" Kate started to unzip the charcoal grey sweatshirt she was wearing.

"Kate, I know. I've seen you're tits lots of time. I've probably seen your tits more than I've seen my own," I said. This did not stop Kate from unzipping her sweatshirt and throwing it open. Of course, Kate wore nothing underneath. Her dark, creamy, A-cup breasts clung firmly to her slender frame, topped with two disproportionately long nipples, even darker than her chocolate skin.

"Kate!" I yelled into the tablet, "You're in the library!" I reminded her, since she'd clearly forgotten.

"But they're so happy to see you," Kate pleaded as she shook her boobs at me. Kate didn't have enough boobs to shake, but she did manage to get them to quiver a bit.

And with that, Kate ignored my protest and started asking questions about my life, what was I doing, what parties had I gone to, had I been traveling, and when was I coming back to college? I evaded most of her questions, which was easy because Kate barely gave me a chance to answer one before jumping to the next. I hinted that I had a job. I left out the parts about me having sex with my dad and women. Although, in retrospect, I think that would have shut her up for a few seconds.

Kate glanced over her shoulder; she and I both spotted the pair of unhappy librarians advancing her way.

With a conspiratorial grin, she said, "They're either going to kick me out or invite me to a threesome! Either way, gotta go!"

I blurted out, "You have to come visit," without even thinking.

Kate's switched to an open-mouth expression of astonishment and said, "No, duh!" She crooked her little finger and held it up to the computer's web cam. "Pinky swear!" she said.

I did the same and promised, "Pinky swear."

The irate librarians had arrived. They were disconnecting the topless girl on the computer and trying to cover up the topless girl sitting in front of it. Ignoring them, Kate yelled, "Kisses!" and blew me a kiss.

Her image winked out.

----------

I was awake. My alarm hadn't gone off, yet I was already awake. That was my first surprise of the day.

After visiting the toilet and brushing my hair, I addressed the choice of today's outfit. From the outfits Margo had delivered, I picked the forest-green skater dress.

A skater dress is a tightly-fitted top with a high-waist and a circle skirt, typically knee to mid-thigh in length. You know, the kind of dress a skater wears.

When I was a little girl, I had a "twirl test." If the dress didn't twirl, I wouldn't wear it. A skater dress is engineered to twirl. If dress twirling were an Olympic sport, the skater dress would be the one to beat. Wait, ice skating is an Olympic sport. I digress.

As expected, Margo had picked out a very special cut and worked her "magic" on it. The skirt was clearly above mid-thigh, but not baby-doll short. There was at least four inches of fabric below my tender bits, and that's four more inches than I had yesterday.

What really made this dress stand out was that the sides were open to the waist. So instead of a fitted top, it was more of a tunic with a full skirt. If I wanted to show some epic side-boob, this was the dress to make it happen.

Margo said she really liked my breasts when we went shopping, but I was just now realizing how serious she was. While I tended to go for high hemlines that emphasize my legs and ass—and occasionally what's between my legs—every one of Margo's dress choices showcased my bust, either with extra cleavage, shear fabric, dramatic décolletage, or in this case, open sides.

I twirled around in front of the mirror. It was a damn cute dress—and sexy, in an innocent sort of way. A skater would be wearing this with spankies and tights. "Along with my panties, those days are gone," I sighed to myself. But unless I did a fast pirouette, it was hard to get the skirt to lift higher than my bare butt, and thanks to my extra-perky rack, the top remained reasonably modest. At least, as long as I didn't bend over too much...

This put me in a good mood. I needed an easy day, without the complications of another wardrobe malfunction.

----------

I was now relishing my role as mole, spy, secret agent, or whatever the hell I was. People were treating me just like any other intern, asking me to get the copy machine fixed or download the quarterly results for some company. Most had no idea I was the direct descendent of the man they all revered and aspired to.

Most importantly, I was getting plugged into the office gossip vine. That, I decided, might be truly valuable to my dad.

"Covert operative?" I asked myself. No, that wasn't right either. "Undercover?" I mused. Yes, that was accurate, and I enjoyed the double entendre.

Margo wasn't anywhere to be found this morning, so I just picked up where I left off yesterday, keeping my eye on the time so I didn't miss my 11:00 appointment.

----------

I was standing in front of the executive spa entrance waiting for the time on my phone to change from 10:59 to 11:00. I waved my phone next to the door, paused for the familiar green light, and went inside.

The sole occupants were Margo and girl in a black beautician's smock with white piping. Margo was reclining on one of the many wooden lounge chairs that circle the room. She wore only a white silk robe. The robe was closed just enough at the top to hide her nipples, the rest flung wide to reveal everything else.

The girl had jet black hair. That's about all I couldn't tell, as she was on her knees with her face buried between Margo's legs, obviously doing what girls do to other girl's pussies in these situations.

I walked around the wooden deck to where Margo was lying. She had her eyes closed and was clearly enjoying the affections of the black-haired girl.

"I'm here, as ordered," I offered cheerily.

Margo kept her eyes shut, but held up the palm of her hand in a gesture that clearly said, "Stop talking. Stop talking now."

I stood in silence as the faceless girl continued to ply Margo with her tongue. I was beginning to wonder how long I was expected to stand here. Finally, Margo's breathing becoming more ragged. Soon her hips were tensing and she was gripping the sides of the lounge. In another minute it was all over.

Margo inhaled deeply, slowly exhaled, and opened her eyes.

"Thank you, Yin Li," Margo said to the girl. I now recognized her as the girl we met the other day.

Yin Li turned to me and said, "Good morning, Miss Charlotte." I wanted to say, "Hey, you've got a little girl cum on your chin there," but I resisted.

Yin Li then stood up, bowed deeply to Margo, made a slight bow to me, and then retreated to wipe her face with a towel.

Margo had closed her eyes again—but not her legs.

"So why are we here?" I asked, not that I hadn't jumped at the chance to visit the executive spa again.

"I'm here to get some overdue grooming," she said, comically pointed a finger towards her crotch to indicate what needed grooming.

"I really wanted to get a full massage, because I desperately needed to relax. But I just don't have the time today, so I had Yin Li attend to that too," she said, alluding to the lip service Yin Li just performed.

"Not that Yin Li's skills are any way second best," Margo said loudly, to make sure Yin Li heard. Yin Li smiled, bowed again, and returned to her work.

"I brought you here for much the same," Margo continued. Finally, she'd managed to get around the topic I cared about—me.

I hadn't even noticed Yin Li sneak up behind me. Without warning, she unzipped my dress. Small hands slipped it off my shoulders, and before I could say "naked as a Jay bird," I was just that. Yin Li squatted on the floor behind me, waiting for me to step out of the dress, which I did. She placed it deftly on a wooden cart and produced a silk robe just like Margo's, efficiently slipping my arms into it and pulling it over my shoulders.

I turned around to see that Yin Li had prepared the lounge chair next to Margo's with folded up spa towels, positioned for me to sit on. I dropped into the chair, and before I was even settled, Yin Li has relieved me of my shoes, which joined the dress.

I was now reclining, much like Margo, wearing nothing but the robe. "Wearing" was an exaggeration. The robe was wide open and wasn't even covering my nipples. The only thing the robe was really covering were my arms and the lounge.

Yin Li had turned her attention to her beauty supplies.

Speaking to Margo I asked, hesitantly, "Is she going to, you know, do the same thing to me?"

"Is she going to give you the best waxing your hoo-ha has ever had?" Margo said, rather pointedly and a little louder than necessary.

I nodded my head.

"Yes, she will," Margo answered herself. "Is she going dine at your Y afterwards?" Margo asked, arching an eyebrow as if I should know the answer.

My eyebrows knitted in anticipation.

"No, she won't," Margo said assuredly. "Unless, of course, you ask her nicely. It's quite the treat."

A look of bliss enveloped Margo's face, as if the mention of Yin Li's talents had reminded her of what she was doing only five minutes ago. Meanwhile, Yin Li was positioning a neatly-folded towel vertically over my pussy, making me vaguely look like a sumo wrestler.

"Today you have a different kind of treat," Margo proclaimed. "After your waxing, I booked you a full massage."

A massage sounded heavenly. That I was getting one in this secret cove of earthly pleasures was decadent. But a massage, in the middle of a workday while the rest of the company tolled over spreadsheets and meeting agendas, was downright sinful.

Yin Li stationed herself on a low stool next to my lounge chair. She removed the towel, pressed my legs apart until I was lewdly spread, and started spraying me with something from a mister and then covered that with some kind of white power. After removing all of that, she produced a wooden stick and began smearing a strip of thick wax down my imaginary panty line—because all of my panties were imaginary these days. The wax was honey-colored and smelled of flowers.

I left Yin Li to her work and spoke to Margo, saying, "About this party tonight."

Margo cut me off with her hand. "No spoilers," she warned.

Margo rose from her chair. "You need to arrive about eight and dress to impress the Russians. You should know them well enough by now to know what that means," she said, with a nod of her head that said I should know what she means. I wasn't sure I did.

Margo shrugged off the decorative robe and stepped into an off-white tulip skirt. She then pulled on a burgundy blazer, flipped out her hair, and stepped into a pair of black pumps. This was all she was wearing today.

Yin Li was gingerly prodding the wax to check its consistency.

"I'd love to stay, but there's still so much to do before tonight," Margo sighed. "The damned Russians still haven't signed. We'd planned to have everything finalized before the party," she finished with a great sigh of exasperation.

That was the moment that Yin Li pressed a strip of paper over the wax and ripped it from my tender lions. I braced myself to let loose the kind of scream you hear in slasher flick—but it didn't happen. I've had my legs and armpits waxed many times, and I know how much it hurts. And I've been told by girls who get their V waxed, that this hurts even more. But this didn't. It stung, for sure, but then it was just sort of tingly, hot and cool at the same time.

I looked down to see that the moment she ripped off the wax, Yin Li had pressed a cool towel with some sort of gel over my abused skin.

"That didn't hurt much," I observed, somewhat incredulous. That made Yin Li smile.

"That's the Yin Li magic," Margo offered. "Herb or gels or something. Don't know, don't care, I just know it works."

As Yin Li began painting the next strip, Margo headed for the door.

"See you tonight, pussy cat," she said as she opened the door to leave. She paused and added, "Remember, you're getting the full massage," stressing the word "full."

She was gone before I could ask what that meant.

Yin Li was not a talker. The only sounds left were the babble of the fake brook and the occasional "rip, slap" of Yin Li's magic wax technique. I took a cue from Margo, closed my eyes, and just laid there.

----------

Yin Li had finished and was packing up. She'd waxed my tummy, the inside of my thighs, my pussy lips, and the crack of my ass.

I looked down at her work. My pussy lips, and the skin all around it, was puffy and a little irritated, but not terribly.

And it was magnificently smooth—pre-pubescent smooth. No, not even that did it justice. This was baby-ass smooth. I reached my hand between my legs and let my fingers dance over the curves. "I'm so pretty," I squealed to myself.

I was so lost in self-admiration that I almost didn't notice the approaching couple. A girl and boy, about the same age as Yin Li, were walking towards me from the opposite side of the circle.

I can only describe them as "perfect." Both were blond, and I mean really blonde, the kind of blond you see in Scandinavia. His hair was in a kind of loose mop, hers pulled back in a single, thick, braid.

Their bodies were magnificent. Every inch was toned and defined. You could see each muscle group—but not in the grossly exaggerated bodybuilder way. They were merely in peak physical condition.

In the movies, there's always that evil group of Nazis that have created the perfect Aryan humans through unspeakable experiments and genetics. These two could have played that part—the Adam and Eve of the new master race.

I could easily tell this because of their outfits. They both wore white deck shoes. He wore a short, tight fitting, pair of tennis shorts, she a matching white pleated tennis skirt the exact same length. That was all. He was shirtless, she was topless. This was fine by me. It would have been a criminal offense to cover up his muscular shoulders, gorgeous pecks, and washboard abs, or hide her majestic white breasts, sinewy calves, and washboard abs. God, that girl had abs.

They walked up and stood to either side of the lounge chair. The girl leaned forward, calling even more attention to her breasts, and asked, "Are you ready for your massage?"

I almost neglected to answer, being temporarily preoccupied trying to estimate the size of the boy's cock from the bulge in his tight shorts. Enquiring minds need to know these things. "More than adequate" was my professional conclusion.

I managed to answer, "Yes!"

The boy then asked, "And you wanted the full massage?" His baritone voice was velvet on my ears.

"Full me up," I replied confidently, although I had no idea what the "full" massage was. It didn't matter. If this boy was going to give it to me, I wanted it.

They each offered me a hand, which I took. They pulled me up from the lounge chair and gestured me towards the therapy rooms in the back. I gestured for them to lead the way, and followed a few paces behind.

They were completely unselfconscious. For my part, I tried to close the robe, only to find there was no belt or ties. I wondered why I was even trying, and let it billow behind me. For all practical purposes, I was completely naked; I was the one who should be self-conscious.

The girl's breasts and skirt bounced softly as she walked. The boy's mop of hair flopped lazily to one side and then the other. But there was nothing else on either of them that didn't move with purpose. I idly wondered what kind of children they'd produce. I wondered if they were brother and sister. I wondered if they were twins. I wondered if they had sex. Don't judge me, you were thinking it too.
As we were about to disappear through the double doors, I remembered my manners. I turned and yelled, "Thank you, Yin Li."

Yin Li turned and bowed again, pleased to be of service.

----------

They led me through a sliding rice-paper door into a spacious room with a wooden floor and a photographic wall mural depicting a rocky ocean vista. It gave the impression that we were standing on a platform surrounded by ocean on three sides. The only furniture was a long massage table in the center.

I walked toward the table. Just before I arrived, the girl caught me by my shoulders and peeled the robe off, leaving me completely naked now. There was no sheet or towels on the massage table. Apparently, the "full" package did not include modesty.

I was about to climb onto the table when the boy wrapped his muscular arm around my waist and scooped up my knees. He carried me like a child, my hip and side now pressed into his strong abdomen, depositing me gently on the table, face up. Soft light came through what looked like skylights, but that was crazy; we were on the fifth floor of a six-story building.

The twins wasted no time. Ceramic bowls of warm scented oil were produced. Each dipped their hands into a bowl and began. The boy (who I nicknamed Adonis) started with my toes and the girl (who I nicknamed Xena) began with my neck.

I've spent a lot of time in spas. I've had sport massages, lymphatic massages, seaweed wraps, hot stone therapy, and mud baths; you name it. But I've never had two people massage me at the same time. It was like a turbo massage, as contradictory as that might sound.

Xena had progressed from my neck to my shoulders and pectorals. She then worked down my upper arms. As she leaned over me, her breasts hung closer and closer to my face. Meanwhile, Adonis was working on my calves. They were sore, and this was slightly painful. His hands were so strong. I willed myself to ignore the pain.

I think I was now learning the difference between the "full" massage and a regular massage. Without any kind of pretense or warning, Xena's hands slid down my sides and then came up, firmly cupping a breast in each of her powerful hands. She then pulled up, dragging her warm, slick, palms across my nipples, lifting my breasts to their limit, until they fell back to their resting position and her hands were again at my shoulders.

I must have flinched at the unexpected boundary violation. Both of them slowed their movements, sensing my discomfort. She repeated the movement, slower this time. As I became comfortable her hands pushing around my girls, their pace resumed.

She repeated this again and again, each time reached a little lower—and each time dangling her tits closer to my face—until her pinky finger was grazing my hip bone. Back up she came, across my stomach, ribs, and breasts.

Adonis had moved to my left leg. He press his hip against my upper leg and used his elbow and forearm to make long, deep, strokes in my inner thigh. My leg was in a meat vice. As Xena was working lower, Adonis worked his way higher. Each stroke of his elbow ended closer and closer to my pussy. I didn't know what to expect. A regular masseur would stop when things got too personal, but not the twins. The next stroke plowed right into my groin—and the next, and the next.

Xena was now on my right. She lifted my arm and cradled it between her bare breasts, which were now slick with oil. Pinning my arm to her bosom, she began to massage each finger, working up to the hand, and finally my forearm.

Having repeated his elbow work on my right leg, Adonis was now using his palms to massage my upper thighs. I had no personal space. He finished each stroke, from knee to hip, by pressing that arch between his thumb and index finger straight into my crotch, his thumb then dragging upward through my slit until his palm was on my abdomen.

Xena had finished with my left arm. Rather than put it down, she drew it over my head as she walked around the table. Lifting my right arm to join it, she drew both arms straight out, over my head, her right hand holding my left and vice versa.

Adonis inserted one arm underneath my knees and the second behind my neck. He pressed them together until one was nestled right at the base of my ass and the other was below my shoulders.

He lifted me into the air as effortlessly as before. In one coordinated movement, he stepped back and rolled me over while Xena kept pace with my arms. I was now ass up. Xena lifted my shoulders so my breasts could find a comfortable position, and returned my arms to my side.

Adonis went back to my calves—lots of tension there—while Xena started again with my scalp and neck. This time, I only had the floor to stare at.

Adonis was now kneading one butt cheek. He did this by sliding one hand into my ass crack and using that to brace my cheek as the other hand massaged it in circles. Xena was now doing a wonderful job on my back and shoulder blades.

Once Adonis was done with my ass, Xena got her crack at my crack. Now she was working down the entire length of my spine, on either side. When she got to the bottom, she didn't stop. One hand would continue on, over my tailbone, then her middle finger would dive right between my cheeks, like a bobsled, over my asshole, and straight into my vagina. Not deeply—just the tip of her finger, but it was clearly inside me. As soon as it arrived, it would retreat and retrace its journey back to my neck.

The overall effect was intoxicating. Four hands, constantly pressing, kneading, squeezing, and probing every intimate nook and cranny for almost an hour is intense. I was both wound up and relaxed at the same time.

The witch hazel broke my trance. They were now splashing it on my body and using soft loofa-like sponges to clean off all of the oil. Thick soft towels completed the process.

Xena got on one side of me and body rolled me into Adonis' waiting arms. He lifted me like a rag doll, because that was what I'd become, and sat me up on the side of the table. They then began cleaning my ventral side, Xena cleaning me from the waist up and Adonis from the waist down.

Adonis put on my shoes before they pulled me onto my feet for the finishing touches. My body felt like it was made of rubber. How I stood up on my own remains a mystery.

After I was completely toweled dry, Adonis grabbed my arms and lifted both straight over my head. As if from nowhere, my dress floated down over my arms. Xena tugged my dress into position and zipped up the back.

They stepped in front of me, their torsos glistening with oil, smiled and left the room. That was it. There were no good-byes, no prolonged thank-you-for-the-most-intense-massage-ever moment, just "ba bye."

I was stunned. I have no idea how long I stood there.

----------

I drifted through the rest of the day in a haze. I can't tell you what I did or who I talked to.

People skipped out early to get ready for the party. Margo told me to arrive at eight, so I had a little more time.

Margo's words repeated in my head as I surveyed my dresser drawers. "You know what the Russians like," I repeated to myself. "No, not really," I answered myself.

Think beach. Bikinis. Start there. I pulled out a couple of bikinis, but they looked very ordinary and safe. "Skimpy bikini?" I thought. Digging deeper I found a cherry red triangle bikini I don't remember owning, so called because it consisted of three small triangles, two for the top and an inverted one for the bottom.

I put it on, sliding the top triangles around until they (barely) covered the center of each boob. The bottom was so small it barely covered my slit. I knew why I'd never worn it. Before this week, the bottom would have been a small triangular surrounded by a fuzzy forest. There was no back to it at all, just a string running between my bare cheeks.

I turned this way and that in the mirror. It certainly shows a lot of skin, about as much as you could get away with and still get a PG rating. This was the problem in a nutshell. How was I going to be "Russian" sexy while not getting arrested on the way to the party?

No matter what I did, I just looked like an American girl on spring break. Maybe that was it. Maybe they had a boner for fresh-faced American girls? No, that wasn't it. I'd seen Russian porn.

I took the top off. Fuck. Now I just looked like a French girl on spring break.

I put the top back on and tried taking off the bottom. Pointless. I couldn't parade bare ass down the dock. I did take a moment to admire my new look down there.

I poked around in my closet and found a pair of turquoise harem pants. I tried those on. The pants were light and split on the side from my ankles to mid-thigh. "Better," I thought, "sexy, but not hot, and who the fuck wears harem pants to the beach?" I shoved the pants down and put on the bikini bottom again.

This got me thinking, "I do need something to wear on the trip over."

I dug out several beach cover ups. I tried them on one at a time, and then I found it. It was a slightly sheer, black, cover up that went to mid-thigh. It was poncho style, with a wide neckline that was always falling off one shoulder. You could leave the sides open or tie them together at the hip.

But here was the brilliant part. It was just sheer enough that you could easily see the outline of my red bikini, but not so much the flesh in between. I reached in and put my inspiration into action, pulling off the bikini bottom and tossing it aside.

It was perfect. I read in Cosmo that the sexiest outfits were not what you saw, but what you think you could see. Or in this case, what you think you couldn't see. You see, the cover up was transparent enough to let everyone know I was wearing a bikini top. By extension, it was obvious I wasn't wearing the bikini's bottom. But it wasn't transparent enough to see anything but vague girly shapes, even though you know what must be there.

"When it comes to teasing boys," I said to myself in the mirror, "you are an evil genius."

----------

My outfit was working a little too well. The valet began stuttering when I stepped out of my Miata. He ground the starter when he tried to start the car again, even though it was already running.

The kid operating the electric tram almost ran off the pier, because he kept trying to look at me and not where he was driving.

I felt every eye was on me as I negotiated the stairs onto the launch. I'm sure my cover up failed to live up to its name during my decent. The captain of the launch was a weathered sea dog. It was clear he liked what I was showing, but kept his tongue inside his head.

The two launch stewards wore crisp white nautical uniforms. The boy was falling over himself to help me, while the young girl just stared daggers at him and then me, him for liking girls and me for setting the women's movement back a half century.

The trip to the yacht was brief, only about eight minutes. Most of the guests had already been shuttled over, so I was the only passenger. The sun had gone down, but the air was still warmish. The rain from a few days ago had given way to much sunnier, dryer weather.

The yacht appeared small at first, but as we got closer, I was overwhelmed by the scale. It was huge. Not ocean liner huge, but it had at least three decks above the main deck, maybe more. It was very modern, sleek, with lots of curved steel and dark glass.

The launch docked at the stern of the ship. The ocean breezed blew my cover up around like a kite, baring my ass to all. Fortunately, "all" consisted of just the launch crew. They all had a decent view of my backside as I climbed the stairs to the main deck, so I'd made two out of three people happy.

The wind and my outfit's wild dance both subsided as soon as I stepped on board. There were various people milling about with cocktails, chatting, leaning over the rails, and generally enjoying themselves. I didn't recognize any of them.

Mid-ship there was a large lounge. It was wrapped in tinted glass on three sides. I poked my head in. There were couches, a sunken sitting area, a small bar, and even a grand piano. The fore wall was a massive aquarium filled with coral and tropical fish. "Why would anyone put an aquarium on a boat?" I asked myself. "Are you just trying to confuse the fish?"

I spotted Tina chatting to a man in board shorts and a surfing T, but that was the only person I recognized.

I went back outside and walked towards the bow. About midship, the deck was roped off. I could just barely make out some activity near the bow, but it was too dark to tell what was going on.

I doubled back, and found a stairway to the second upper deck. Emerging, I was immediately spotted by Margo. She dropped her conversation mid-sentence and came straight over to me. As she neared, she slowed, eyeing me up and down.

Margo was wearing the same outfit I was, had my outfit been complete. She wore an orange bikini with a gauzy white cover up. Her top covered her breasts. She was actually wearing the matching bottoms, and it discreetly covered her bottom. Her cover up went all the way to her ankles.

She reached out, took a hold of my cover up, and lifted it enough to confirm I wasn't wearing a bikini bottom.

"Hey!" I said, slapping her hand away. She just grinned and took a sip of her martini.

"I approve," was her only comment. I wasn't sure if she was commenting on Yin Li's handwork or the fact that I came all the way out here wearing only half a bikini.

I locked eyes with Diane and Victoria. Both waved cheerily. Diane was wearing a strapless yellow sundress, while Victoria sported a very athletic two-piece swimsuit.

"The boys are inside," Margo said to me. "Let's hope your outfit will bait the trap."

I know my dad and Margo have hatched this elaborate plan to ensnare the Russians, which possibly involved selling me into slavery. I was willing to play my part, I just had no idea what it was, and both of them were playing it very close to the vest.

"Well, I hope it works," I confided to Margo as she led me aft again. "This outfit almost crashed the tram and the launch," I giggled.

As we rounded the corner, Margo whispered in my ear, "You could have worn the bottom and taken it off when you got here."

"Shit!" was my only thought.

----------

As Margo ushered me into the upper lounge, I took a deep breath to calm myself. It didn't work. Butterflies exploded in my gut. No, these weren't butterflies. I had the fucking Blue Man Group inside me.

The upper lounge was a much smaller, more intimate, affair than the one on the main deck. It had a contemporary old-world feel, if that makes any sense. The materials were what you'd expect from a European palace—marble, dark woods, velvet upholstery, gilt trim, crystal vases—but all done in sleek, modern, lines. The room was dominated by a dark wood table. My father sat at the far end. Viktor was in the middle, to my father's right. Einstein, Combover, and Anton took distant stations at the opposite end.

The room was silent; you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. Viktor was staring at the elaborate mural on the ceiling, puffing on his stogy. Father patiently watched him. Einstein and Combover where exchanging notes. Anton patiently waited for something to translate, and was probably happy he wasn't getting paid by the word.

The only other occupants of the room was two lawyerly looking dudes in suits—who don't look like they ever relaxed—and four stewards, two boys and two girls. The boys were in the same white nautical uniforms as the launch crew. The girls sported similar sailor outfits with short white pleated skirts that made me think of Sailor Moon.

Margo and I stood in the doorway for a moment. No one looked our way. I checked out the nymphs and satires cavorting on the ceiling's mural; they were having a ton more fun than this lot. The room had the solemn air of a sacrifice, and I felt like the sacrifice.

I decided the room needed a little excitement.

Taking another breath, I put on my biggest smile and literally leapt through the door, bouncing like a giddy schoolgirl. I skipped over to my father, bent over—making sure Viktor got an eyeful of my ass—threw my hands around his neck, kissed him on the cheek, spun around, and plopped myself down in his lap.

"Did I missing anything?" I asked, innocently.

The shock was palpable. The Russians were staring, slack jawed, at me—the naked nymphs on the ceiling a distant memory. The lawyers were staring, slack jawed, at me—until they realized they were ogling the boss' daughter and thought better of it. Margo eyed at me with one of her trademark smirks. The stewards were just staring, the kind where you have no idea what's going on.

My entrance had just the effect my dad was hoping for. He kissed me on the cheek and said, with a wink, "You didn't miss anything except a bunch of grumpy old men haggling over a contract."

I learned something a week ago. When I stood in front of my own father, begging him to fuck me, it was the hardest, craziest, scariest, stupidest thing I'd ever done in my entire life. But I did it. I closed my eyes and jumped in with both feet.

And look what happened? My entire life changed. I vowed that I was not going to stop jumping in just because things are scary—although it might get me killed someday.

My entrance also had the effect I was hoping for. I could feel my father's love, literally. I could feel my dad's boner growing as I wiggled my bare bottom in his lap. "I hope he doesn't have to stand up soon," I thought wickedly.

I smiled my biggest I-know-that's-not-a-pickle-in-your-pocket grin and gave his neck another hug. Dad slyly slipped his hand underneath my cover up and gave my ass gentle squeeze.

"Why don't you and Margo wait over there until we're finished," he said, indicating the unoccupied velvet love seat in the corner.

For a split second, I considered staying right there to see if I could get him to cum in his pants, but I ultimately took pity on him, made a little pout, and jumped off his lap. Everyone's eyes were on me as I sauntered over the love seat. "Eye on the prize," I thought to myself, and I was the prize.

I crawled into the love seat, tucked my legs up on the cushion, and tried to look bored, which required some good acting because I've never been so anxious. Margo joined me. One of the stewards asked me if I wanted anything to drink.

Father and Viktor returned to the slow give-and-take of their negotiations. Father would make a veiled comment about how Viktor would enjoy the benefits of the five-year contract, and then casually look at me, as if to say, "such as my lovely daughter, who's sits there half naked, waiting to be given away like a door prize," but never actually saying anything.

The suspense was killing me and it was taking forever. Suspense films made by independent hipster directors didn't take this long to get to the reveal. The anticipation of being sold like so much meat was beginning to give way to boredom.

I turned to Margo and whispered, "So do we own this boat? I've never seen it before."

Margo chucked softly, not wanting to be overheard. "Oh good gracious, no. We just chartered this 'boat'"—she made air quotes with her fingers—"for the weekend, which cost more than it does to keep the company jet in the air for a year. Oh, and don't say 'boat' around the captain. It's a super-yacht."

She sighed and added, "I really hope it was worth it," and returned to sipping on her martini.

My throat was dry and the pink cocktail I was given was not helping. The stakes were really high, probably higher than my dad was letting on; it could even be make-or-break the company high. I shifted nervously in the love seat.

The tension in the room had reached a breaking point. Viktor puffed his cigar, drawing this out as long as possible. Father sat perfectly still, waiting. Everyone else either fidgeted, perspired, or both.
Viktor slammed his fist into the table and proclaimed, "We accept five year contract."

Apparently everyone had been holding their breath, because the entire room exhaled at once. My dad remained perfectly cool. He reached over, poured two shots of whisky, and he and Viktor toasted. The rest of the room was laughing and talking; Combover and Einstein were shaking hands with the lawyers and getting shots themselves.

The color returned to Margo's face; I hadn't noticed how pale she'd gotten until just now. She leaned over and whispered in my ear, "This is a good thing, a very good thing."

I was so caught up in the festive atmosphere, I almost missed hearing my father calling my name.

"Charlotte," my dad said. The knot in my stomach returned and then constricted so tightly that all of my blood stopped. I couldn't breathe. This was it.

"Charlotte," father repeated. Now that he had my attention, "Would you reach behind you and get Viktor's parting gift. It's on the floor."

I just blinked at my dad. My brain was trying to make sense of what he said. The question, "I'm not the prize?" was preoccupying every brain cell.

I blinked again. Thankfully, a few brain cells shook it off and started screaming, "Listen to your father! Turn around and get Viktor's fucking gift!"

In a daze, I turned slowly in the seat until I was on my knees bending over the back of the love seat. "What the hell is that?" I asked myself, as if the other part of my brain knew and just wasn't saying.

I reached over the back to pick it up. It looked like a fishing pole, but it clearly wasn't. It was more like a stage prop or something a clown would pretend fish with. It was a long wooden pool with a handle on one end. Thick white rope, pretending to be fishing line, was rolled up on a spool and threaded through ridiculously large metals eyes. There were several feet past the end of the pole, ending in a ludicrous plastic "hook" that wouldn't hook anything.

I was also remembering that I wasn't wearing my bikini bottom. Reaching over the back of the love seat, my legs, ass, pussy, and even my asshole were on full display to the room—lawyers and staff included.

I thought of the conference room incident at the beginning of the week. But this wasn't like that at all. I doubted anyone in this room was shocked—except maybe the lawyers, hard to tell. No, Viktor was probably mentally measuring my bung hole to see if his fat prick would fit inside it.

"But maybe you aren't going to get to slip me your white Russian after all," I thought, slyly. "Maybe dad is going to shove this pole up your Euro-trash ass."

I had retrieved the "fishing pole" and presented it to Viktor. Once I'd turned back around, and my girl goods were removed from everyone's gaze, Viktor was forced to focus on the pole I was holding. He looked every bit as confused as I was.

"Thank god I'm not the only one who's clueless," I thought.

Dad waited two beats, just long enough to let Viktor twist in the wind a little, but not long enough for Viktor to feel like he was being ridiculed. He had, after all, just agreed to a multi-hundred million dollar contract.

Dad took the pole from my hands and gave it to Viktor. "You'll find the fishing off the starboard side particularly good this time of night," he said. I don't know how much English Viktor understands, but he waited for Anton to translate. I don't think the translation helped any.

Then Viktor looked out the window. I turned to follow his gaze. Eerie blue lights were dancing off the starboard side of the boat, as if the water were on fire.

"When did that happen?" was the unspoken question.

I turned back to see father gesturing for Viktor to exit through the aft door. With some trepidation, Viktor followed my father's directions.

The mystery gripped the entire room. Without a word, everyone stood and quietly followed Viktor out, at a cautious and respectful distance. I took my eyes off the eerie blue lights to steal a glance at Margo. She was grinning like a cat, clearly in on whatever plot was unfolding.

By the time I was outside, Viktor had descended the stairs to the main deck and was approaching the starboard side. The guests had been herded to the port side, leaving Viktor to approach the dancing lights alone.

As if something might jump up and bite him, Viktor warily approached the gunwale. Still holding the comical fishing pole, he craned his neck to see the water below.

He just stared for what seemed an eternity. "What do you see, dumb ass?" I screamed at him using my Jedi mind powers.

And just when I thought the vision might have turned him to stone, Viktor let loose a roaring laugh. He turned back to his three compadres and bellowed, "Pro-SAL-ka, pro-SAL-ka!" something Russian or Ukrainian, or whatever they spoke.

With an expression that I hoped conceived utter incomprehension, I turned to Anton for a translation. With a shrug of his shoulders, he said "Mermaids?" questioning either the translation or Viktor's sanity.

Stewards appeared with more of the stupid fishing poles, handing them to Combover, Einstein, and Anton. Viktor, in the mean time, had "cast" his rod into the mysteriously glowing ocean.

I went down the stairs and walked over to the gunwale. The sight was amazing. Intense lights—blue, green, yellow, purple, orange—had been submerged in the water. Swimming around in this pool of light were ... mermaids.

"Fuck me with a stick," I said, in astonishment. OK, I assume they were mermaids. They were mermaid-shaped. With the lights underneath them, all I could see were black silhouettes, a least a half dozen, swimming and splashing about.

Viktor was now reeling one in. And by "reeling," I mean that he threw his dumb plastic hook into the water and one of the mermaids swam up it, grabbed a hold, and was being lifted out of the water—but not by Viktor. At the same time, a padded loop connected to a cable had been conveniently thrown in at the same time, and the mermaid was being hoisted by the cargo crane attached to the poop deck—the one used to transfer luggage and supplies.

Once the mermaid was hoisted above deck level, I could finally get a good look. It was definitely female, a girl in fact, about my age. She was covered in elaborate body paint. Her face, arms, breasts, and torso was a shimmering design of blues and greens. From her hips to her ankles, her skin was painted to look like fish scales in silver and grey. Her hair was lavishly decorated in sea shells, colored ribbons, and bits of fishing nets. She wore a mono-fin—basically a single, wide, flipper with two foot holds—that held her feet and legs together, completing the mermaid illusion.

As the hoist lifted her over the rail and began lowering her onto the deck, it was clear that, except of the mono-fin and the body paint, the girl was very naked. She wriggled like a fish on a line, convincingly enough.

The crane deposited her right in front of Viktor. The girl didn't try to stand in her mono-fin, sinking onto her hip, her legs/tail to one side, in a puddle of seawater.

Without saying anything, she reached out and began fumbling with Viktor's trousers. Viktor was all too eager to help, practically ripping off his belt (almost hitting the poor girl in the head) and unzipping his pants. Before you know it, Viktor's pudgy little cock had disappeared between the mermaid's icy blue lips.

Witnessing this, Einstein and Combover dashed to the gunwale, desperate to "hook" their own mermaid.

Engrossed in the spectacle, I didn't notice my father come up behind me. The touch of his hand startled me, and I jerked involuntarily.

"I didn't mean to scare you, honey buns," he said, soothing my nervousness.

"It's been a bit cray cray lately," I said. I spun to face him.

"It would have been really nice knowing what the hell was going on. For a while, I thought I was going to be a statistic in the white slave trade."

That made father laugh.

Father wrapped his arms around me and said, "You were never a bargaining chip, honey crisp. Besides, I have far too much invested in your sweet behind to trade it in on a single contract." As he said this, he lifted my cover up slightly with one hand and playfully slapped my bare ass with the other.

He diverted his eyes, as if slightly embarrassed, and said hesitantly, "Viktor might have gotten the mistaken idea that you were one of the benefits of agreeing to a long-term contract. And I might have neglected to dissuade him of that delusion."

It was my turn to reach around and slap his ass. He was still wearing a business suit, so it didn't have the same effect, but I think I got my message across.

"All in all, things have worked out pretty well. We got a contract and Viktor's getting some 'tail,'" my father said, laughing at his own pun. I noticed his hands lingering on my tail.

We watched as Combover and Einstein reeled in mermaids. All three looked like this was the most amazing thing they'd ever seen. The new arrivals went right to work on their "poles."

"I think you should get a little reward too," my father said as he signaled the hoist operator with his hand. Before I knew it, a wriggling, naked, mermaid girl was being lowered in front of me.

"Have a great evening, honey bear," my father said. He kissed me on my forehead, turned, and left to attend to other business.

The girl reached out towards me.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," I told her. I tried to take a step back, but the gunwale preventing any further escape.

"Oh, but I must," she said, in an exaggerated accent out of some costume drama. "You have caught a mermaid. I am yours until morning. It is the law of the sea."

With that declaration, she reached between my legs, parted them slightly, slipped her head underneath my cover up, and planted her face on my smooth pussy. Her tongue immediately found its way between my tender folds and began swimming up and down my canal, her sparkling blue hand caressing my ass cheeks and thighs. It felt really nice.

I leaned back against the railing, and said, "Well, we wouldn't want to argue with the 'law of the sea'..." I closed my eyes and let my mermaid have her way with me.

----------

I drifted. With my back against the gunwale, I could feel the ship as it imperceptibly rocked in the calm ocean water. The evening air was salty and cool. The beautiful mermaid between my legs gently nuzzled, stroked, licked, teased, and probed my excited pussy with the practiced skill of an artist.

I looked up at the stars. They were bright and clear, hardly a cloud in the sky. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the next wave of pleasure crashing between my legs.

I searched through my memory for the point in time that I'd turned into a lesbian. A few weeks ago, I would have wretched at the thought of getting it on with another girl. So much has happened these past two weeks. Now look at me. A complete stranger, painted up to look like a mermaid no less, has her tongue in my vagina, lapping up my sex like it's the last drink of water on earth, and I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be.

Was it that first night having sex with my dad and the two dancers? Did it happen when I dipped a strawberry into Beth's twat? Was it when I fingered Tina's button while my dad fucked her in the ass? Was it when I got dildoed—assuming that's a word—by Diane on her couch? Was it when I'd woken up naked in bed with Diane and her lesbian wife? At what point had I become totally comfortable having sex with women? At what point had I really started to enjoy it?

The answered questions drifted around me like soap bubbles on a summer afternoon.

"We need you, kitten," a whispering voice said. I couldn't tell where it came from.

The lips that had been so diligently applied to my pussy's pleasure, suddenly pulled away. This caused me to open my eyes. Those lips belonged to me, goddamn it.

"You should be with the guests," the whispery voice continued.

I took my eyes off the stars to look down towards the deck. A second mermaid had joined us. She had squatting down behind my mermaid and was hugging her, whispering in her ear.

"But I am with a guest," my mermaid protested. "She's a guest," she said, looking up at me, pleading to stay.

"The V.I.P. guests come first, you know that," the second mermaid said, like a mother patiently correcting a child.

My mermaid pouted her lips and protested, "But she's the one, the golden girl."

Ignoring her argument, the second mermaid pulled my mermaid back, scooped her up in her arms, and began carrying her away. The second mermaid had dispensed with her flipper in favor of legs. I could see the muscles of her thighs and ass ripple under the weight of her burden.

"Whoa, she is way fucking stronger than she looks," I thought to myself.

My mermaid's fin flopped with each step. The new mermaid kissed my mermaid lightly, as if to apologize for what she was doing. Walking away, she turned her head back to say, "We'll be back, I promise. Don't go anywhere."

And with that, my latest slice of happiness was whisked away. I looked down to see faint streaks of blue body paint smeared across my thighs.

Exasperated, I replied, sarcastically, "It's a boat. Where am I going to go?" but it was too late. They were already gone.

----------

The party had moved to the stern of the ship. Well aft of the big cocktail lounge was a massive poop deck. It was huge—like, helipad huge. In fact, if you cleared away all of the furniture that might be exactly what it was.

The deck was covered with carefully arranged serpentine benches, cocktail tables, and lounge chairs. It was obviously a multipurpose gathering spot, although I doubt the ship designers had what it was now being used for in mind when they built it.

Reduced to being a spectator, I watched the unfolding orgy. The two mermaids had rejoined their sea-sisters. Viktor now had three aqua-skinned beauties fanned about him, each taking turns sucking his cock. Combover was getting head from only one mermaid, but a second stood to his side, allowing him to repeatedly shove his pudgy fingers up her cunt. Maybe he thought he'd find a pearl up there?

Einstein was getting most of the action now. He was laying prone on one of the many built-in benches. His shirt was open and who knows where his pants were. One mermaid was leaning over him, engaged in a passionate, and seemingly endless, kiss. A second mermaid was riding him cowgirl style, but not your typical up-and-down piston affair. She was waving her arms over her head while undulating in a sensual—almost inhuman—fashion, all the time gyrating her hips in a kind of figure-eight motion on his dick. The coordination alone was impressive.

"I'll bet that's not something the wife back home does," I thought to myself, with a smirk.

Meanwhile, Viktor had chosen his favorite cock sucker. He reached his hands underneath her arms and lifted her up. She was still wearing her mono-fin, so spreading her legs was out the question. This was no obstacle to Viktor. He turned around and lowered her onto a bench, so her ass hung over the edge of the cushion. The other mermaids wiggled over and, taking Viktor's cock, pointed it towards the slit peeking out between her butt cheeks.

Viktor grabbed her feet/fin with one hand, a hand full of tit with the other, and drove home. Within no time, he was pumping in and out of the poor girl like a jackhammer, his enormous stomach lurching with each thrust. The other two mermaids stroked Viktor and his victim, I assume to speed Viktor's progress and to comfort the recipient of his attentions.

There weren't many witnesses to this. The rest of the guests had been shuffled off somewhere. It was just me, the mermaids, the Russians, and few stewards standing around, presumably in case there was an emergency drink order that needed filling.

I was shocked at just how hairy Viktor and Einstein were. As I watched Viktor's fuzzy ass buckle each time he thrust inside this slender sea creature, I couldn't help but think, "That could have been me." It was not a particularly pleasant thought.

Taking a mental roll call, I wondered where Anton had gotten to. I got up and slowly circled the festivities. I spied him, still standing on the upper deck. One of the stewards was kneeling in front of him. The steward had removed his jacket and shirt, sporting just the kind of smooth, well-muscled torso I so love to see on a boy. He was also sucking Anton's dick. And from the look on Anton's face, doing a damn find job of it too.

Note to self: Anton plays for the other team.

"I should be shocked," I thought. The old me would have been shocked. If the old me had come back to my dorm to find one boy sucking off another, I'd have screamed so loud glass would have shattered.

The new me just let these things roll over me. Also, the new me could hardly judge, having had so many women between my legs the past week that I was literally losing count. Was it six now?

I turned back just in time to see one mermaid dismount Einstein, his glistening dick bouncing in the night air, but only long enough for the next one to climb on. She swung her leg over, positioning his pole between her legs, lowered herself onto it, and resumed the dance. Most of the mermaids had lost their fins by now.

Viktor, in the mean time, had gotten creative. He'd stacked a second mermaid on top of the first, and was now up on tip-toes ramming his meat as deep into her as he could. Even in the cool night air, sweat was dripping from his body. For a moment, I wondered what that smelled like; I shuttered at the thought.

While the Russians weren't in good physical condition, they were mesmerized by the shear spectacle of feminine charms laid before them. They weren't going to stop until they'd exhausted themselves, and maybe not even then. I found an unoccupied bench to wait it out.

----------

The debauchery was distracting enough that I didn't notice the mermaid walking towards me until she was only a few feet away. Without acknowledging me, she sat down on the bench next to me, just within arm's reach, clearly taking a break from the revelry. She stretched out, like a cat, leaning back with her arms over the back, her long toned body glinting in the moonlight.

We said nothing.

Trying to be circumspect, I surveyed her out the corner of my eye. Yep, she was the mermaid that stole "my" mermaid.

I broke the silence, nonchalantly commenting, "I hope you're here to apologize."

"Yea, sorry about that," she said, seeming genuinely sorry.

"Nix forgets, sometimes, that we're being paid to fuck the customers, not make out with whomever she fancies," she said.

Smiling, she continued, "Nix lives in the moment. One of the things I dearly love about her," eager to explain her friend to me.

When I still didn't say anything, she added, "You've stolen her heart, you know."

I turned to look at her. The expression on my face conveyed my utter bewilderment at what she was talking about. This mermaid girl spent ten minutes between my legs. How had I stolen her heart? Did I have some kind of supernatural power over women?

Seeing my reaction, the girl made an elaborate show of rolling her head and her eyes, crying, "Oh, sweet Jesus! Please don't tell me you don't recognize us. Nix will be crushed."

My confusion was replaced by consternation. "Recognize them?" I thought to myself. Where would I know them from? I began scrambling through my memory. Office? No. Party? No. College? No. Shopping? No.

"Oh, Fuck!" I thought. I know that face—and that body. I glanced down at her knees for confirmation. I was so embarrassed.

Sheepishly, I slowly said, "You're the two who were with my dad and I when we were..." and I let the sentence tail off, suddenly unable to say it out loud.
After a pause, she said, "When your dad fucked the living shit out of you on the patio?" finishing the sentence for me.

I could only nod my head in agreement.

"That was one crazy-ass night," she said, cocking her head to one side. "That might have been the craziest thing we've ever done, and believe me when I say we've done some crazy shit."

My mind was reeling. These were the two girls that literally held me while my father and I had sex. They had then bathed me and lay with me afterwards. Now they were painted up as mermaids here to do the Russians silly. I did not have a witty comeback for that.

While I was trying to digest all of this, the girl thrust out her hand and said, "Rebecca."

I reached out, shook her hand, and said, "Charlotte."

"Please to meet you, Charlotte," she said gracefully. She then added, "again." With a little wink she said, "It's nice to put a name to the ass since, you know, we've already slept together. My friend is Nikki, Nix for short. You've met her again too," she said with a sly smile. This confirmed that the mermaid she stole away from me was Nikki.

Again, the conversation lulled. We sat listening to the sounds of the night. There was the gentle slap of water on the hull, the not so gentle slap of Viktor doggy-fucking another mermaid, and the whimpering moans of Einstein trying to get his cock between some mermaid's ass cheeks. I can only assume it was too soft, too short, or both.

"She's smitten with you," Rebecca said, returning to the previous topic. I turned to look at her.

"Ever since that night with your father, you're all she talks about. She calls you 'the golden girl.' I'm starting to get a little jealous," Rebecca said, although the twinkle in her eye told me she was lying about the jealousy part.

The other mermaid, Nikki, was in love with me? This was weird. For the umpteenth time this week, I was finding it hard to get my bearings.

Here I was, on a boat, wearing only half a bikini, talking to a naked mermaid, about how her girlfriend is falling in love with me after eating my pussy during an incestuous copulation with my father. How am I supposed to react to that? Hell, I'm not even sure what my sexual orientation is anymore.

I tried to change the subject. "Sorry about your knees." I'd also remembered that Rebecca's knees had gotten pretty banged up on the bricks while my dad was—how did she put it?—"fucking the living shit" out of me.

She lifted her leg into the air so we could both admire it. "It looked a lot worse than it was," she said. It was hard to tell underneath the body paint, but her knee did look OK. "I've gotten worse than that on stage."

Once again, I felt adrift. "On stage?" I asked, dumbly. What does this girl do?

"Nix and I are dancers, modern ballet, soloist in the Clifford-Wells Dance Ensemble," she said proudly. "It's a first rate company. You should come see us some time."

My head was hurting from trying to wrap itself around each new revelation. Trying to make sense of this, I asked, "So why are you doing this?" gesturing to the sweaty tangle of bodies on deck.

Two of the mermaids were now in a 69 across one of the cocktail tables. Einstein was fucking the bottom one while Combover was giving it to the top one. I couldn't tell if the girls were eating each other or tea bagging the men's balls. Each man had two more mermaids pressing themselves against the men's backs, cooing, and stroking their hairy bodies. It was a male fantasy run amok. Everyone was smeared with body paint, the colors running together into a uniform grey. I couldn't see Viktor anymore. I hope he didn't have a heart attack before signing the contracts.

"Why do we come and prostitute ourselves at expensive, over-the-top, themed sex parties for wealthy men?" she asked, anticipating my question. I nodded in agreement that this was, indeed, my question.

"Oldest story in the book," she said. "Young girls spend their entire youth studying dance, with dreams of becoming ballerinas, only to move to the big city and discover that a dancer's salary won't buy you a double-espresso, let alone a place to live."

"So after nine months, they sell the only assets they have," she said, gesturing to her naked body.

"I hooked up with an escort agency and started turning tricks," she said, continuing her story. "I tried keeping Nix out of it, but she'd have none of that. If I was doing it, she was doing it."

"If your dad hadn't saved us, I don't know what we'd have done," she said, as if that explained everything. It didn't explain a goddamn thing. It opened a Pandora's box of new questions.

Trying to chip away at the mystery, I asked, "So this isn't through an escort service?"

Rebecca laughed, hard. "God, no!" she exclaimed. "This is paradise compared to that hell. Escort girls are supposed to be the high-end of prostitution, but that's bullshit. You're a whore and they treat you like a whore. How do you explain a black eye at rehearsal because you got punched in the face for not undressing fast enough?"

I couldn't answer that question. And I'm sure Rebecca must have seen the horror on my face.

"It's your father that rescued us," she continued. "Things were pretty dark. We were still barely making ends meet and every day we were scared of getting beat up, diseased, or worse."

"And then this wonderful man came to one of our dance performances," she said, her face practically beaming. "Then he came to a second. When he showed up at a gala fundraiser, all of the dancers were falling over themselves to meet him. He was so charming and so generous. With his help, we raised a shit pile of money that night."

"Somehow, we managed to catch his eye," she said. "After the gala, he took us to dinner, and the three of us spent the night making love. It had been so long since I'd enjoyed sex, I'd almost forgotten how nice it can be."

Rebecca was dreamily staring at the stars. She realized the story had stopped, and picked it up again. She said, "I don't know how he knew we were turning tricks, but he brought us coffee in bed the next morning and asked if we wanted to stop working for the escort agency. He said, 'You are both exquisite dancers. I'm impressed that you would sell your bodies just to keep dancing. That shows a lot of conviction. I have a much better opportunity for you.'"

"We didn't even really believe him—guys make a lot of wild promises the next morning." Rebecca continued. "You see, once you have a pimp they don't let you quit. Disfigurement or a body bag are your only retirement options. But true to his word, that afternoon we got a text from the agency. They no longer needed our services and we were not to contact them again."

Rebecca took a big breath, as if reliving the relief. She said, "In a month we were doing these," she gestured to the grunting pile of bodies. "They're always very elaborate. We get to wear costumes, although often not much," she winked at me to make sure I knew what she meant. I looked down at my outfit and empathized.

"There's champagne, food, and music. Sometimes even the sex is good. Nix and I have gotten to do some real dancing on a few occasions. I recently choreographed a cheerleader number," she said with pride. "OK, the cheerleaders weren't wearing anything underneath their skirts and the 'jocks,'" she said, making air quotes with her fingers, "were all in their fifties, but it was still fun."

Rebecca pointed her finger at me so I would be clear on the next point, and said, "It's safe and the money's good, really good. Nix and I have a savings account now and your dad's accountant set us up with a 401K plan." She laughed as it the whole thing were too funny to believe, saying, "Two years ago, I was wondering if I was going to end up on drugs or murdered in some alley, and now I'm a bitch with a retirement account."

I found Rebecca, and her story, fascinating. There was so much going on that I'd never seen and, like the Wizard of Oz, my father seemed to be secretly orchestrating it all.

Wanting more back story, I asked "So, you and Nikki go back a ways?"

"We're joined at the hip," Rebecca said. "Also at the leg, crotch, shoulder, lips, heart, and head," she added with a laugh.

"Nix and I have known each other since we were toddlers. We started taking dance class together when we were six and never stopped. Until we moved to the city, my entire world was school, dance classes, and Nix—and school not so much."

Rebecca lazily stretched her arms as she continued, "We spent every waking hour together. I suppose it was inevitable that we'd start spending every sleeping hour together. I don't even know when it happened. One day I woke up and realized that at some point 'her bed' had become 'our bed.'"

"So you're a couple?" I probed.

"I don't know what we are. From time to time we've each had boyfriends, and occasionally girlfriends," she explained. "I believe Nix thinks of me as her companion and lover. I tend to think of her as my little sister, which can be awkward at times."

"You feel weird about having sex with your sister?" I postulated.

"No, whether I need to be supportive or protective," she said.

Rebecca shifted on the bench so she was facing me directly. "Let's say Nix's boyfriend is screwing her. Do I stroke his balls?" she asked, pointedly. I was hoping this was a hypothetical question.

"Or do I kick him in the balls, toss his ass into the hall, and tell him if he wants a girlfriend as special as Nix he should get a goddamn job and pay for a few things—that kind of awkward."

Rebecca sank back down into the bench. "It doesn't matter what you call it, we will always be best friends," she said, putting an end to the subject.

As if on cue, Nikki came running over.

She practically leapt onto Rebecca, wrapping her arms around her and planting a big friendly kiss on her cheek. For a moment, they became a single creature, some bizarre four-footed cuttle fish.

Almost as quickly as she pounced on Rebecca, Nikki sprung away and attacked me with the same veracity. Before I could protest, or even evade, I was wrapped in a fierce hug. One of those desperate "I'm never going to let you go" hugs.

There's a polite duration for hugs. It's about a second or two. After three it becomes awkward. We were ten, maybe fifteen, seconds past awkward now. This girl was just not going to let go of me.

Rebecca came to my rescue. She gave Nikki a firm slap on her butt cheek and scolded, "Let her breathe, kitten cat."

Nikki released me from her clutches and sat back. "You're still here," she exclaimed, infinitely pleased that I hadn't jumped overboard to escape her. I hadn't the heart to tell her I really had no place to go.

She just sat and grinned at me like I was the best gift she'd ever received. Then, in a flash of recollection, she turned around to Rebecca. "They're starting a lineup," she said, with a heavy sigh.

Her head snapped back around like a parrot's. "Later?" she asked.

"Later," I confirmed. Nikki's face lit up like a Christmas tree. You'd think I just told her she was going to be on the cover of Vogue.

Rebecca, who clearly understood the cryptic message, had risen, took Nikki by the hand, and was dragging her back to the Russians. With her free hand, Nikki blew me a kiss.

----------

With nothing else to do, I walked over to see what the lineup was all about.

The "lineup" was the next level of sexual humiliation. All of the mermaids—I counted eight now—were assembling on one of the longer benches, leaving smears of silvered colored paint on the white upholstery. They were all facing away, with their backs towards the group.

Once they were assembled, they all leaned forward, presenting an unbroken line of asses and pussies. Viktor approached the first ass in line, his thick dick bobbing in front of him, as if to herald his approach.

I finally witnessed a steward in action. With a deft hand, she slipped a fresh condom on Viktor's prick, only moments before he buried it in the backside of the first mermaid.

"So the stewards were on condom duty," I mused to myself. Sort of the orgy equivalent of the ball boy at a tennis match.

Viktor rammed into the girl from behind for several minutes, clutching her hips like she was a bucking bronco. Slowing, he easing himself out and plowing right into the next one. The girls not being assaulted just kneeled there, asses up, patiently waiting their turn to be harpooned.

"Like poking fish in a barrel," I thought, amusing myself a little.

The shocker came when Viktor had worked his way into mermaid #3. Combover stepped up to the plate and prepared to mount mermaid #1. This was going to be a train too.

"Talk about sloppy seconds," I thought to myself, making a low whistle. In a way, it was symbolic. Combover and Einstein were clearly second and third to Viktor's first. Their entire lives were made from the scraps that Viktor threw them. A fucked-out cunt would just be another scrap.

I didn't have the stomach to watch this to its inevitable conclusion. I wandered off to see if I could find my dad.

----------

It didn't take me long to find father, and most everyone else. Many of the party had drifted back into the large lounge on the main deck. It had turned into a sedate celebration, filled with equal parts relief and exhaustion. Champagne was being liberally distributed. I'd barely stepped inside before a tray of flutes appeared before me. I took one and thanked the steward.

Margo, Diane, and Victoria were laughing in one corner. They were too engrossed in their conversation to see me. It didn't take long to spot Dad. He was at the bar, nursing a Scotch, and going over some paperwork with one of the lawyers. My father: always the last one working.

I went over to the bar. Father looked up from his work, wrapped a muscular arm around my waist, and pulled me into a tight hug—almost spilling my champagne in the process.

"What are you working on?" I asked.

"Just a few last minute details," Father said. "Viktor still hasn't signed the final copies, and you know what they say."

I stared at him making it clear I did not know what they say.

"It ain't over until the fat bastard signs," he proclaimed.

I squinted my eyes, wrinkled my nose, and said, "I'm pretty sure that's not what they say, Dad."

Father laughed. It was an easy laugh, a relaxed laugh. My father was feeling good. He let go of my waist and I was left to stand on my own again.

"Did you have a good time?" he inquired.

"For a while," I replied with a sigh, making it clear I was more than a little disappointed. "I got all lathered up and then got cut loose. Apparently there were bigger fish in the sea."

Father said, "Uh huh," but was still looking over his papers.

"Coitus interruptus," I volunteered. "That's latin," I added.

Nothing.

"This isn't working," I said to myself. "Time for the direct approach."

I pressed my hips against his leg as he sat on the bar stool. I leaned into his side, my breath warm on his neck, and in my best sex-kitten voice, I softly said, "You could do something about that. I was thinking later, you and me," I lightly traced the muscles underneath his dress shirt with my finger tip, "could do the dance with no pants?" I batted my eyes. Fuck, if that didn't seal the deal, nothing would.

Father underlined something in the contract and said, rather off handedly, "It seems you're already ahead of me in that department."

In less than a heartbeat, I was full on furious. I balled up my hand and bopped him in the chest. That got his attention! He froze, his pen in mid-sentence, focusing on me.

Finally.

"You need some schooling," I said sassily. "Here's how it works."

I grabbed the back of his free hand, pulled it around, slipped it underneath my cover up, and planted it on my ass check. When I let go of his hand, it stayed there. "OK, at least he's not an idiot," I reassured myself.

"This is a nice ass," I said pointedly. "When a hot girl," I pointed to myself, "tells a hot guy," I pointed to him to make it clear he was the hot guy in this situation, "he can have that ass, there's only one acceptable response."

I had father's undivided attention now. He cocked his head slightly, listening intently for the answer.

"Time and place," I said firmly. Father nodded his head that he understood.

"OK, we're going to try this again," I said. "I'm going to make it super simple so there's no confusion." He nodded again.

I cleared my throat and spoke slowly, carefully, enunciating each word, "I ... want ... to ... fuck."

Now my father was playing stupid. He knit his eyebrows, pretending not to understand.

I sighed and added, "You!"

Dad's face broke into a huge grin. He paused, composed himself, and in the same voice I used he said, "Starlight ... Suite ... an hour ... or two."

I kindly patted his chest where I'd hit it with my fist and said, "See that wasn't hard, was it?"

He smiled and gave my ass a little squeeze before letting it go. Now in a much better mood, I told my new pupil, "But next time, try to get it under fifteen minutes. An hour is a long time to make a girl wait."

Father shrugged his shoulders as if to say that was the best he could do, and returned to the contract.

I retrieved my champagne flute. As I left my father to his work, I said, "You know, you just might get the hang of this hooking up thing," pausing before adding, "with a little more practice."

That made father snort.

----------

I drifted through the lounge. It had a remarkable view of the perversions being performed on the poop deck. The crowd, however, was paying very little attention to it. They showed about as much interest as a class outing to the local aquarium. Except in this aquarium, the sharks were gang raping the anemones.

Eventually I found myself with Margo, Diane, and Victoria. Champagne glasses kept appearing, which kept the conversation lubricated and convivial. It was just another girls night out—except for the, you know, billion dollar boat, naked fat Russians, and mermaid prostitutes.

----------

I didn't notice where the time had gone, until I felt Diane insistently tapping my shoulder and throwing her eyes towards the door. Just outside were Rebecca and Nikki, excitedly hopping up and down and pointing at me. Blocking their entrance was one of the more imposing stewards.

I waved to the steward to let them through, and they immediately bounded past him, scampering over to our corner.

All traces of their mermaid selves were gone. Their skin was pink from being freshly scrubbed. Rebecca's hair was now in a loose bun while Nikki had pulled hers into a ponytail. Nikki was wearing a simple white spaghetti strap sundress that matched her strappy heels. The fabric was thin and the hem a bit frayed, giving her a "poor farmer's daughter" look.

Rebecca was a little more urban. She wore a large white satin jacket, unzipped enough to reveal the cleavage between her obviously braless tits, with black Reeboks. The wide knit waistband of the jacket hugged her hips, like the world's shortest miniskirt. It was hard to tell if either one was wearing anything else.

The night air had gotten cold enough that the most prominent feature of their outfits were their erect nipples, poking out proudly through both the thin cotton of Nikki's dress and the satin of Rebecca's jacket.

Their nipples might have also been reacting to the atmosphere in the room, which had become a bit chill. Margo and Diane were decidedly cool towards the new arrivals. I couldn't quite put my finger on why. I didn't know if it was just because they didn't know them, because I breaking some unwritten etiquette letting "the staff" mingle with "the guests," or maybe just because they'd been watching them whore it up the past two hours and couldn't get that picture out of their heads. Even the ship's staff was acting a little snooty; I had to flag down a steward to get them some champagne.
Victoria seemed to be the only one immune and was making a genuine effort to welcome them.

I wrapped one arm around each of their waists and made the introductions. "Rebecca, Nikki, this is Margo, Diane, and Victoria," I announced, nodding towards each one. Hands were shook.

The conversation was friendly enough, but there were still awkward pauses. I could tell this wasn't their scene and suggested Rebecca, Nikki, and I take a walk around the ship. The motion was unanimously toasted with raised glasses, and the three of us left the lounge.

I took one last look around the room. At some point my dad had left, hopefully to get that contract signed.

----------

The temperature had dropped noticeably since I was last outside. It was a light breeze, but cold on my bare skin. Goosebumps danced across my arms.

Nikki was oblivious of the cold, her thin cotton dress billowing about her long legs. She was talking non-stop, punctuated by exaggerated expressions, animated gestures, and the occasional giggle. Rebecca was more reserved, but no less friendly. She had a worldly, and slightly wry, sense of humor. The two went together like peanut butter and jelly.

I was having a great time with my new friends, but the rendezvous with my dad was starting to nag at me. Having made such a fuss about needing his "services" so badly, it would be super awkward to stand him up now.

I tried to ease into my impending departure, saying, "Have you got plans for the rest of the evening?" Rebecca and Nikki exchanged glances. My subtle attempt at brushing them off wasn't so subtle, and they immediately got quiet.

After an uncomfortable pause, Nikki said, "Oh, you know, we might take the launch back and catch a late flick or something," without much conviction.

Their downturned faces were stabbing at my heart, but I had to scrap them off somehow. "I made plans to get together with my father later," I said, with all the sincerity I could muster. Best to be direct about it.

You'd think I'd just told them their puppy died. They murmured their reluctant acceptance, "Oh, yea, sure, we understand."

No one wanted to say goodbye, so we just stood there, staring at the deck.

Finally, I inhaled deeply and asked, "Would you like to join me and my dad?"

Their mood changed like fireworks exploding. They both leaped at me, arms wide, into a group hug that almost knocked me over.

After their excitement receded a little, they disentangled themselves. Rebecca took one hand and Nikki took the other. Rebecca asked, "What are we waiting for?" and the two took off running down the promenade deck, dragging me behind them.

We hadn't gone ten feet before we realized, laughing, that we had no idea where we were going. Wandering the deck, we eventually found a crewmember who was all too eager to help out three, knackered, underdressed, girls with anything they might desire. I'm sure he was disappointed to learn we only wanted directions.

----------

The Starlight Suite was on the fore end of the third upper deck, right below the bridge. Entering the dimly lit room we were immediately impressed. It was a very large cabin (for any boat, even a "super-yacht"). There were the usual amenities: desk, night tables, dressing table, a settee, a small table and chairs. Everything was white. An ice bucket, a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and boxes of chocolates were arranged on the table.

The room's centerpiece was a huge, circular, bed in white satin set in the middle of an expanse of window wrapping 280 degrees from the port side all the way around to the starboard side. The bed was on a raised platform so it was level with the windows. Laying on the bed gave you an uninterrupted view of the entire ocean.

It was stunning, and we were stunned.

Nikki was the first to move. Reaching down, she pulled her dress over her head, took two giant steps, and propelled her naked body—pole vault style—into the center of the satin circle, bouncing a few times before settling on her back, arms and legs wide. As I suspected, she wasn't wearing anything else.

Not to be left behind, Rebecca tore at the laces of her Reeboks. Soon one shoe went flying, the other quickly following. She finished unzipping her jacket and dove, head first, after her friend. Surprisingly, she was wearing a pair of canary yellow booty shorts with the word "DANCER" across the butt.

I stood there watching the two like they were an Internet kitten video. Rebecca and Nikki both looked back towards me. Since I wasn't moving, they both sprang off the bed and flew directly at me, a blur of hair, boobs, arms, and legs.

Before I knew it, Rebecca was pulling my cover up over my head and Nikki was untying the string of my bikini top. The moment I was naked, each grabbed an arm and literally tossed me into the bed, piling in after me.

We settled into a half naked tangle of bodies, mostly on our backs, enjoying the feel of satin against our skin and the expanse of ocean and sky. We were now very quiet. There wasn't anything that needed saying.

Well, that turned out not to be true. After a minute or two acclimating to this piece of heaven, Nikki spoke up, saying, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Not knowing what she was thinking, I ran through the possibilities in my head: sex with Nikki, sex with Rebecca, sex with Nikki and Rebecca, watching Rebecca and Nikki have sex. Yep, that was my list.

It wasn't any of these things. Both Nikki and Rebecca propped themselves up on elbows to look at each other. In unison they screamed, "Chocolate!"

In a blur, they were scrambling off the bed again. I sat up, scooted to the edge, and dangled my feet over the side. The two girls were already returning with boxes of truffles.

Lips and fingers were soon sticky with chocolate. The satin sheets were the next victims. Then there was chocolate on cheeks, shoulders, breasts, and nipples. Each of these, of course, had to be carefully, and lovingly, licked clean by another member.

I was kissing Rebecca's cocoa-covered lips while Nikki suckled my nipple. Nikki sat up and leaned back to show me streaks of chocolate across the bottom of each tender white breast. I nuzzled one with my nose, lifting it to lick the chocolate off the underside. Rebecca was behind me now, cupping my breasts in her hands, kissing my back and shoulders.

It was intoxicating. I'd never had an experience like this in my life. It was tender, sweet, and unhurried. For once I wasn't trying to fuck, or get fucked, or get off, or get someone else off. I just wanted to bathe in this pool of creamy flesh forever.

Which is why I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard my father's voice say, "This is a surprise."

----------

Nikki did jump, literally. She twisted around, like a cat thrown into the air, and began backing away from my dad, trying to cover her small breasts with one hand, like a Catholic schoolgirl who just got caught topless behind the bleachers.

Rebecca used me as a human shield, shrinking behind my back. She slowly removed her hands from my breasts, so as to not bring attention to the fact that she had just been squeezing the boss' daughter's boobies.

I felt bad for them and mad at my dad. Everyone was acting like they were in serious trouble. I was going to put a stop to that.

"Way to harsh the mood, Dad," I scolded him. "I didn't think we needed to put a sock on the door. You never heard of knocking?"

Father threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Mia culpa," he said. "I just didn't expect guests."

At the word "guests," both Rebecca and Nikki visibly relaxed.

I got off the bed and ran to my father and took him by the arms. "Oh Daddy," I said, in a voice I hadn't use since I was thirteen. Jumping up and down in front of him, I pleaded, "Rebecca and Nikki are so nice, can't they stay, can't they, please, please, please, please, pretty please with a cherry on top?"

I not sure if it was my winning argument or my bouncing breasts that won him over, but he consented—like he had a choice. Who was I kidding? What red-blooded guy is going to kick out two of three naked girls out of the world's most luxurious bed? Play the spoiled daughter card, and there was no universe where anyone was walking out of that room.

I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tight. He returned the hug. We stayed like that for a moment, father caressing my bare back, and me probably getting chocolate on his suit.

We just stood there. I didn't hear anything from Rebecca or Nikki. Pretty soon this became awkward.

I looked up into my father face and smiled. He smiled down at me. I admitted to myself that I had no idea what to do next. I finally said, "I got nothing."

We both broke out laughing. It was infectious. Soon, Rebecca and Nikki were laughing too. It was a great moment, but I still didn't know what to do next.

Do I just start fucking my dad and let the other two fend for themselves? After all, this was my reservation. Or is it more polite to offer one's prostitute pals to your father first? Is it like a dance, where it's OK to cut in? Where was Miss Manners when you need her?

Unbeknownst to me, a course of action had already been taken. Nikki appeared behind me. She grabbed one arm and said, "Sorry Mr. Grant, but I'm calling 'dibs.'" With that, she pulled me away from my father, dragged me across the room, and backed into the settee, pulling me in with her. I fell backwards, smashing her thin body against the back of the couch. As soon as I had, her arms wrapped around my chest and her legs wrapped around my waist. One thing for sure, I was not leaving.

I wanted to protest, but truth be told, I hardly minded this soft prison. She pressed her lips to my ear, and in a barely audible whisper that no one else could hear, she said, "Let Becca have this." She was insistent.

I tried to turn my head, ask her what this about, but Nikki held me in place like a vice.

"Please?" she whispered.

I don't know what it is she wanted, or why she wanted it so bad, but this was her play and I was willing to let her have the field.

I said, "Sorry Dad, it looks like you're on your own."

Nikki practically vibrated with joy. She released her grip on my chest. He free hands began stroking my breasts while she kissing my neck. I tried once more to turn around, but Nikki was still in control. She whispered, "Thank you," in my ear, although I still had no idea what for.

Father and Rebecca stared at each other for a moment, being the only two left standing—or kneeling. There was an unspoken agreement that they were going to get busy, so father began to remove his suit jacket. Seizing on something to do, Rebecca crawled off the bed. She caught his jacket as he slipped out of it and reverently hung it on the valet. As he loosened his tie, she returned to unbutton his shirt, carefully folding and stacking each article as if it was a precious manuscript.

Nikki and I watched the process from the settee. Nikki was warm.

Rebecca patiently helped my father undress until he was standing naked in the middle of the room. Then almost as an afterthought, she peeled off her booty shorts and flung them into the pile with her shoes and Nikki's dress. Now everyone was naked, if you didn't count Nikki's high heels.

Rebecca went straight away to the bed. She crawled on, but then spun around and lay on her back with her head towards my dad. She bent her legs, planting her feet flat, a little wider than her hips. She did the same with the hands, palms down just above her shoulders.

Rebecca then pressed up, pushing herself into back bend that made my back hurt just looking at it. She was now arched like some inhuman four-legged spider, her bellybutton pointing towards the ceiling, and her head and hair hanging upside down between her shoulders.

Apparently, my dad was no stranger to this bit of gymnastics. He casually stepped onto the platform surrounding the bed. Rebecca's mouth was at the perfect height to accept by father's cock, and that's where it went. Rebecca's head, upside down, began sliding up and down my dad's soft prick. Father reached out and arm, his hand skimming her abdomen and disappearing between her legs.

"That's just showing off," I thought to myself.

With Rebecca and father engaged, Nikki threw her legs open, releasing me from my captivity. It was short-lived parole. She planted her heels on the either side of me and pushed herself straight up. I had been leaning against Nikki, but with Nikki now gone I fell backwards, between her legs, against the back of the settee.

Nikki did a three point turn above me and dropped back down. This girl could move like a ferret. She was now sitting in my lap, facing me, her bare ass on my thighs and her nipples mere inches from mine. She gave me peck on my lips and coyly asked, "So what 'cha want to do?"

I looked at her for a second before asking, "What was that all about?"

Nikki tried to ignore the question. She said, demurely, "Nothing." She began to stroke my sides with her hands, leaning in for another kiss, this time pressing her breasts into mine. I wanted to point out that answering a question and pretending you didn't hear it were mutually exclusive.

I took hold of her arms and pushed back upright. I said, as firmly as I could without being overheard, "Spill."

She twisted around and whined, a little louder this time, "It's nothing. Can't we just have some fun?" Nikki's tongue has many talents, but deception wasn't one of them.

I reached up, grabbed her nipples, and gave them a good pinch. She chirped like a startled bird, her hands flying up to protect her nubbins from my attack. It didn't help. I held each nipple firmly between a thumb and finger. The threat was obvious; start talking or these beauties are going to suffer.

Nikki was clearly in distress. Not from my nipple torture; I wasn't actually hurting her. I think she just didn't know what to say. She hemmed and hawed, stalling for time. I waited patiently, slowing rolling her nipples between my fingers.

In a rush, Nikki whispered, "Becca doesn't have what you have." The words were painful, but there was relief too. She let out a rush of air, as if she'd finally confessed to some heinous crime.

If Nikki thought that was an explanation, I wasn't impressed. "Becca didn't have what?" I asked to myself. "A Miata? Blue eyes?" I lifted Nikkis tits by her nipples to make sure she hadn't forgotten whose party this was. There was more to this.

Nikki finally found her words. "Becca doesn't have a father who loves her the way yours loves you," she whispered. That caught me off guard. I let go of her nipples. She clutched her breasts, comforting them. She looked down to see, checking for damage.

After verifying that her breasts were unmolested, Nikki continued, saying, "Last week, Becca wanted to stay with you because she was worried, worried that you were," she paused, searching for the words, "you know, forced." Nikki eyed me to see if I understood her meaning. I think I did.

"But you weren't," she said, brightly, like she'd arrived at the happy ending. Then just as suddenly, Nikki's smile turned back into a frown, saying, "But that just made Becca sadder, 'cause it reminded her of what she didn't have."

Tears welled in Nikki's eyes. She leaned into me, pressing her body against mine. I could feel the wetness on her cheeks. She whispered rapidly in my ear, as if to get it out all at once, "Becca's father raped her. He never really liked her. He got drunk one night and raped her. She waited for him to pass out, grabbed everything she should carry, and ran away from home. She's never been back. That's when we moved here."

Nikki was softly crying now. I wrapped my arms around her naked body and held her as she sobbed. I wanted to protect her, comfort her, save her. I almost started to cry myself.

Almost.

I looked up see Rebecca with new eyes. Rebecca was now standing on the edge of the bed, facing away, straight legs, bending at the waist. My father's face was buried between her ass cheeks. I could only assume he was doing to her pussy what he'd done to mine the last time we had dinner.

Rebecca then continued to bend forward, folding up like a pocket knife, until her head was between her knees. She wrapped her lips around my father's erect cock and resumed her blow job, a contortionist's version of a 69.

"Well, if this is therapy for daddy issues," I thought to myself, "she's getting her money's worth."

I gently patted Nikki and got her to sit upright in my lap again. She wiped tears from her face. I softly said, "Take a look," motioning towards the bed. Nikki turned around to see Rebecca blowing my dad upside down while being eaten out.

Nikki turned back around, smiling, her sorrow dissipating like smoke. I wrinkled up my nose and said, "I think she's going to be OK."

Nikki agreed.

----------

I tenderly held Nikki for a while. Then our hands began to roam again. I ran mine up and down her back, across the soft skin of her ass, and down her legs, tickling the parts in between with my fingers. She ran her fingers through my hair, pushed my breasts together, and kissed my neck. Nikki was getting horny again, and so was I.

Nikki made her move. She snaked a hand down between our stomachs and slipped a finger into my vagina. It went in easily. She tortured me by wiggling it around inside, probably getting payback for her nipples, before pulling it back up and popping it into her mouth. Like sucking a lollipop, she pulled her finger out of her mouth and put it into mine.

"Somebody loves me," she said with a shit-eating grin. Passionate Nikki was back.

Nikki got off my lap. She grabbed my legs and pulled them to one side, causing me to fall on my side. After some adjustment, I was laying longwise on the settee, my head on a pillow, my legs spread. Nikki was kneeling on the floor near my feet, leaning across the cushion. She positioned her head right above my wide open sex.

"I believe this is where we were," Nikki said, then turning her head towards Rebecca and raising her voice, "before we were so rudely interrupted."

Nikki's head dived between my legs and the whole evening started over again.

I turned my head to see what Rebecca thought of this. Neither Rebecca nor my father were paying any attention to us.

Rebecca was getting the business end of my father's dick. He was still standing. Rebecca was hanging from him, her arms wrapped around his neck. My father had his arms hooked underneath her knees, keeping her legs spread wide and lifting her hips while he drove his cock into her with considerable force. Rebecca's ass would bounce up with each impact, only to fall again, driving my father's meat deeper inside her. Her sweaty face was only inches from his. She had the eyes of a mad woman.

"Is no one going to use the bed?" I asked myself.

Nikki was now doing little circles around my clit, overexcited from the prolonged foreplay. I put my hand on her head, hoping to get her to ease up a little. She didn't. Her long slender finger entered me and started working in and out. Now it was two fingers. She shifted toward the center of the settee, her breasts now pressing on my leg, her hair cascading across my stomach—at some point her ponytail had come undone. Her face was almost sideways in my pussy now, allowing her the freedom to push her fingers all the way to her knuckles with each stroke.

I glanced over to the bed again. Rebecca and my father were both standing in the middle of the bed, my father fucking her forcefully from behind. She was bent forward with her arms straight back behind her, their arms locked together; she was clutching his biceps while he was holding hers. Her head and hair hung down limply, swinging with each thrust.

Nikki kept scooting around, a little bit at a time. Before long she had worked her ass around to my end of the settee, her head never leaving my pussy. She got on her feet, lifted a leg, and began to swing it over my head. She was getting into a 69.
I saw her slim bald pussy descending towards my face and panicked. Instinctively, I threw up my arm and blocked her hips. For the first time, her face disengaged from my vagina.

"Oh, don't worry, I cleaned my kitty," she said. She must have thought I would get freaked out smelling Viktor in her vajayjay. "No stinky Russian juice here," she reassured me, reaching back and patting her pussy like the head of a very good dog.

"No, it's not that," I sputtered. Nikki cocked her head and knit her eyebrows. She didn't understand.

Now it was my turn to be at a loss for words. I just didn't know how to say it. Oh, who was I kidding? I knew how to say it, I just didn't want to. "Nut up, Charlotte," I told myself.

I took a deep breath. "I," I started to say. "I've never ... you know ... done that." All the air from my lungs was gone. I felt my face flush in embarrassment.

Nikki got off and kneeled next to me. The mood was ruined. She stared at my face trying to make sense of what I was saying. It progressed through a series of expressions: bewilderment, astonishment, settling on disbelief.

Nikki said slowly, "You mean to tell me that you've never, you know, tasted a girl?" She waited intently for the answer.

I could only nod.

Nikki's face changed to puzzlement. Trying to be considerate of my obvious embarrassment, she approached her next question slowly, asking, "How long have you been, you know, together ... with girls?"

For some reason I couldn't look at her. I stared at the ceiling hoping someone had written an answer there. It was as blank as my mind.

Steeling myself, I turned back to Nikki, looked her straight in the eye, and said, "You were the first."

Nikki's hand flew to her face and she started laughing hysterically into her palms.

Embarrassment turned to outrage. "It's not funny," I protested. Here I was, in the middle of indescribable life changes. Changes that were calling every sexual boundary into question, even my own orientation, and this bitch was laughing at me.

Nikki threw herself onto me, hugging me and smothering me with kisses. The dim light of the room was blotted out by the mass of hair falling in eyes. Her kisses reassured me that she wasn't being mean, but I still didn't know what was funny about this in the least.

Finally, she sat back up. With a radiant smile she said, "I'm not laughing at you, sweetie. I just can't believe that I was the one who ... you know ... took your girl-cherry."

I blinked. The whole thing seemed funny now. I shrugged and said, "I guess you did." That earned me even more hugs and kisses.

As soon as I regained use of my lips again, I asked, "Do you think there's a Foursquare badge for that?"

Our lovemaking disintegrated into a fit of giggles.

----------

Nikki insisted I chronicle my every sexual experience since our first liaison. I described sitting and watching my dad fuck Beth, which even Nikki thought was a little weird. She ran her finger up and down my leg as I described making love to my father.

When I told her about fingering Tina's, and then Margo's, pussy while my father fucked them in the ass, she perked up. As I described it, she took my hand and guided it between her legs. She took hold of my middle finger and pushed it inside her. Without breaking eye contact, she then slipped her finger into me. She started lazily sliding hers in and out. I returned the favor.

"See," she said with blissful smile, "that's something you can do."

We continued to finger each other as I described getting fucked by Diane and her magic dildo/cock. Nikki's eyebrows shot up when I told her about that. She kept stopping me to ask questions. I think she was making notes.

I followed Nikki's lead. When she slipped two fingers into me, I slipped two fingers into her. When she pulled out and rubbed my clit, I pulled out and rubbed her clit. Nikki was proud of her new student.

When my story caught up to tonight, Nikki make a low whistle and said, "That's just nuts. It's like learning Swan Lake before you've taken your first tendu." (Dancer translation: doing the crazy hard stuff before learning the basics.)

I'd already learned a new trick. Nikki would occasionally pull out her fingers and run them past my pussy, almost to my asshole. She wasn't going for that. Instead, she would tease the tender bridge of skin between the two, before returning to my warm wet folds. I tried to do the same to her, but I'm not sure I was as successful.

Having exhausted my sexual legacy, we continued to masturbate each other in silence. Nikki pulled her fingers out of me and put them in her mouth, licking them clean. I did the same, exploring the taste of her salty sex.

A new smile broke out on Nikki's face. "Hey, you want to try scissoring?" she asked.

Pretend you're standing at the edge of a cliff. If just anyone asks you, "Would you jump off this cliff?" you'd say, "No!" You might even thrown in a "No way, dumbass!" But if you are completely and utterly taken with the person standing there, when they ask you that question you just say, "Sure!"

"Sure!" I said.

Nikki got to her feet and helped me stand up. I looked back over to the bed. I'd completely forgotten there were two other people in the room.

Father was laying on his back, spread eagle, his still rock hard cock—my god, that man has stamina—pointing straight up. Rebecca was straddling him, but not your typical cowgirl position. Her legs were 180 degrees open, straight out to either side. Her arms were languidly dropped across her knees. She was raising and lowering herself over my father's dick using only the muscles in her sinewy thighs. Her body glistened, sweat covering every inch of her skin, her hair was plastered to her shoulders and back.

"Have they been at this the whole time?" I asked, shocked to hear my own voice, and then realize that I'd said it out loud.

"Becs can dance a forty minute solo," Nikki told me. "I don't think there's a guy alive that can outlast her."

I wondered if Nikki could.

Nikki guided me over to the bed. There was still plenty of room. I crawled up to lay next to my father. He and Rebecca's eyes were closed, Rebecca focusing on her balance, Father just trying to hang on this ride.

I was now laying parallel to my father. Nikki first followed me in head first, but just to set my legs slightly apart before spinning around. There was a pause while she removed her high heels. Probably not a safe fashion accessory for what we were about to do.

With one leg over me, Nikki wedged her other leg underneath my butt. This tilted my hips up, rolling me slightly to my right, towards my father and Rebecca. Nikki, her hips at almost a 90 degree angle to mine, was rolled the other way, away from Rebecca.

With a little adjusting, our pussies finally met. Nikki propped herself up a little on one elbow and I followed her lead. It was a very intimate feeling. There was much more contact than the sexual positions I was used to. I was sandwiched front and behind by her warm legs, thighs, and ass. At the same time, I felt as if I was holding her whole body between my legs.

Nikki started to gyrate her hips, grinding her vulva against mine. I tried to do the same, matching her rhythm and motion, but let's face it, Nikki was doing all of the real work here.

I was starting to see the appeal. I tried to relax and let the stimulation carry me. I wasn't expecting an orgasm. Hell, I'd probably broken my orgasm machine with so many false starts and interruptions this evening.

While Nikki tried to squeeze some pleasure out of my loins, I became engrossed in watching Rebecca slowly fuck my dad. I had a front row seat now. Rebecca's wide open legs left nothing to the imagination. I watched as her hips descended, engulfing my father's thick, veiny, cock, until her bald vaginal lips touched my father's hairless pelvis. Then she would ascend, uncovering his turgid phallus like a silk veil being pulled back to reveal a priceless statue. And just as my father's bulbous head might escape her velvety folds, she'd sink back down again, and again. I watched as a bead of sweat form on her thigh and drop onto the wet satin sheets.

A hand touched mine. It was my father's hand. Our fingers intertwined. I looked over to see that Nikki had taken Rebecca's hand. Rebecca smiled, but didn't open her eyes. We were no longer individuals. My father and I were fucking Rebecca and Nikki, together, as one organism.

Nikki had now pushed herself up, braced by one arm, so she was almost sitting on my crotch, pressing me down into the soft bed. She was doing a bump and grind—literally. She'd kind of tap my pussy with hers, sink into me, and either make circles or rocking motions, like she was the pestle and I was the mortar. I tried to rock back, but I was very much on the receiving end of her lovemaking now.

It was happening. Oh my god, I was coming. I was really coming. I clamped my legs together, squeezing Nikki's ass between them. But this hindered Nikki's ability to press her pussy against mine. I willed myself to relax, to open my legs, allow Nikki to have me. It worked, but only for a moment. On Nikki's next thrust, I spasmed again and clamped my legs together.

The cycle repeated over and over, until my orgasm ran its course. My head fell back against bed, my legs thrown wide. I wasn't every trying to work against Nikki anymore.

Nikki continued to grind into me, using me like a deflated sex toy. She became more insistent, her pace quickened, then I felt her pelvis shuttering. I could feel her orgasm between my legs, almost as sure as if it was mine. I tried to push up, offer help in her quest, but I just couldn't find the strength.

Nikki slowed and finally stopped. Breathing heavily, she disengaged herself, turned around, crawled over, and laid on top of me. I wrapped my free hand around her sweaty back.

"Was it good for you?" I asked, between breaths. I would have pretended to puff on a cigarette, but both hands were occupied.

"That was great," Nikki declared, clearly pleased with the outcome.

We laid there, breathing. Nikki rested her head on my breast, so we both had something soft to lay our heads on.

My vanity ultimately got the better of me and I asked, "So how did I do, in comparison to other girls?"

Without lifting her head, Nikki said, "No idea. I'd never done that before."

I waited a beat before saying, "So I'm the best you've ever had?"

Nikki reached up and pinched my free nipple. I reached down and slapped her ass.

----------

I can't tell you how long Nikki and I laid there. I felt her get up and crawl somewhere.

I tilted my head back and opened my eyes, drinking in the view of the upside down ocean and sky. I turned my head to see my father, still prone, his eyes still closed.

I looked down to see that Nikki had crawled over my father and was now straddling his stomach. She was pressing her whole body against Rebecca, her arms wrapped tightly around her back, their lips locked in a prolonged kiss. Rebecca had stopped moving—how could she not—and had placed her hands flat on Nikki's lower back. The soft room light and moonlight conspired to perfectly outline Nikki's slim figure.

I willed myself to roll over, and flopped across my father, landing askew with my head and one breast on his muscular chest, my free hand finding the juncture of his abdomen and leg and, oops, Nikki's ass. I felt my father breathing in and joined him.

The bed bounced as, somewhere, bodies tumbled across it, giggling. Then I heard a voice say "Whoops!" accompanied by the sound of something hitting the raised platform, followed by more giggling. I lifted a finger to confirm that Nikki's ass was no longer there.

My eyes flew open as hands grabbed my ankles. I was being dragged, rather indelicately, feet first across my father's prone form. As soon as my hips were on top of him, my legs were pulled apart and down. Like a speed bump, my pussy thumped over my father's pelvis and bumped into his stiff cock ... and a hand ... two hands.

Giggling hands were pressing the head of my father's dick into me. I rocked my hips back to improve the angle. It didn't take much effort; my pussy's been in various degrees of wetness all evening. I parted easily.

Once the head was inside, hands grabbed my ankles again and pulled back once more. My entire body was sliding down the front of my father. The only thing not moving was his thick cock, which slide right into where it wanted to be.

Loose hair and two sets of kisses alighted on my ass cheeks, and then they were gone. Only the sound of giggling and bare feet scampering across carpet remained.

I laid there with my father's cock in me. I felt like I'd come home from a long journey, a world tour of feminine charms and secrets. It's been exciting and fun, and I'm definitely going back. But at this moment I was glad to be home, glad to be with my father, glad to be my father's lover.

"Well, you know the saying," I said to myself. "You can bring the cowgirl to cock, but you can't make her ride."

I found the strength to place my hand on my father's broad chest, pushing myself up, and pulling my legs up to the side. I lifted up just a little, before pushing down on him, trying to send his cock as deep into my pussy as I could. There was no way I going to compete with Rebecca's performance. Dad would just have to settle for a vanilla fuck.

Like an old married couple, we settled into the rhythm of familiar lovemaking. My father opened his eye and smiled, just slightly.

"How was your day, dear?" I asked, as casually as could.

"Much better now," my father replied. He placed his hands on my ass cheeks and began lifting me up with each stroke. Thank god, because I was already starting to get tired.

"What have you been up to?" father asked, continuing our mock conversation.

"Same ol', same ol'," I said, trying to sound bored. I let my hair fall over my face so he couldn't see me grinning.

Forward, back, forward, back, I rode him. I was all out of orgasms today, but father wasn't. I felt him stiffen as his cock erupted inside me. I slowed, letting the spasms subside, feeling the familiar trickle of cum dribble down my thigh.

I fell forward, like an exhausted marathon runner throwing themselves through the finish line ribbon. I laid, once again, on my father's chest, his softening cock still inside me.

Then it happened. My father said, "I love you." I smiled. Those words were better than any orgasm.

I rolled off of him onto my back, and said, "Tell me that tomorrow." I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

----------

I opened my eyes to an arc of stars. The dim room lights had been turned off, leaving only the night sky and moonlight. Father had rolled onto his stomach and was snoring softly, his hard ass looking a little babyish in the soft rays.

Correction, it wasn't my father snoring. I turned the other way to see Rebecca and Nikki spooning. Nikki was balled up in a fetal position, Rebecca wrapped around her like a glove. Rebecca was the one snoring.

I stared at the ceiling. In an uncharacteristic moment, I started to contemplate my future. I started with what was certain. I was definitely going to keep working for my dad. I was definitely going to keep fucking my dad, every day, every way.

Was I going to keep having sex with girls? I waffled on that for a moment. It was all still so new, so I put that in the "highly probable" category. "Oh, who am I kidding?" I chided myself. I mentally slid that over to the "definitely" category with my dad and new job.

Was I going back to school? Maybe. What about dating? That was a little more problematic. Dad had already said he expected me to still go on dates, but the scenarios playing in my head were absurd: "Thank you for a lovely dinner, Robert. Would you like to come back to my place and have a threesome with my father?"

Of course, if I started dating girls, that might work. But if I'm not going to date boys, what are my chances of getting married? Or having children?

"I should just marry my dad," I said to the room. I continued to stare at the ceiling. The words "marry my dad" spun around and around my head, like a ribbon twirling on the end of a stick.

A second later, I remembered a promise I'd made. I got off the bed as gently as I could, trying not to wake anyone. Cum stains, sweat, and chocolate were everywhere.

"I hope the boat didn't require a cleaning deposit," I said to myself.

I managed to find my father's pants in the dim light and fish out his cell phone. It was 3:42 in the morning. Thankfully, father hasn't upgraded to one of those smart phones with the fingerprint sensors. Clutching his phone, I snuck out of the cabin.

The night air was cold. It occurred to me that I was still naked. Part of my brain was now trying to figure out why that revelation didn't send me scurrying back into the cabin, frantically trying to cover myself. That part of my brain didn't know what I've gone through these past weeks.

I padded across the hard deck to the railing, goose bumps and nipples all rising to the occasion. Leaning against the icy metal, I unlocked father's cell phone.

"You fucking bastard," I yelled at the phone. My father's home screen image was an up-skirt of my ass wearing Margo's red pea coat. It was undoubtedly taken in the lobby following my misfortunate wardrobe malfunction Tuesday.

"We're going to have words, mister," I muttered as I dialed Kate's number. It went straight to voice mail.

"Hey Kate," I said into the phone. "It's Char. What 'cha doing this weekend? Call me," and I hung up.

I thought a get together with my crazy roommate and bestie was just what I needed. I stared at the image of my ass on dad's phone. And then a wicked, wicked, thought occurred to me.

I muted the camera function so wouldn't make any noise. I quietly opened the cabin door and snuck back inside the room, searching for something that would make a really nice picture ...

----------

End of part 4
Log in or Sign up to continue reading!