As always, a heartfelt ‘thanks’ to Kenji for his editing help. Again, any mistakes are mine, so…I understand that the story may ‘drag on’ a bit, but hey, it’s the way I write it seems. Comments, good bad or indifferent are welcome, but not necessary. I’m enjoying the writing so…
We woke the following day, the spring sun streaming through the balcony door. We both stretched our arms, looked at each other and laughed, embracing one another. With mutual grunts of, “Ewww,” we ran from the bed to the ensuite. While daddy brushed, I sat my naked ass on the toilet and peed, daddy smirking at me from the corner of his eye. I stood and handed him the soft tissue, and without saying anything, he took it and wiped my still-sore pussy. I leaned in, bit his chest, and then changed places, his bladder loudly pissing in the bowl. He ran one hand over my warm butt, as I brushed and then fixed my hair. He stood from the loo, looked at me, my eyes on his hard, morning cock, and smirked. I let out a little, “Humph!” and kneeled, taking his cock in my mouth and cleaning him.
“Better?” I smirked, and ran to the bed.
We buried ourselves under the warm duvet, basking in the morning glow we both had. Daddy grabbed the menu and ordered room service for us, famished as we were. I grasped his hardness and smiled.
“God, dad…I LOVE how hard you are in the morning,” I smiled, and moved over his body.
“Mmmm…well, you can thank nature for that, darling,” he whispered, and sucked my breast. “You need to be quick, sweetie,” he moaned, as I sat on him, stroked his meaty daddy-cock, wiped it along my labia, and took him.
I closed my eyes, my hands on his stomach, lifting and lowering myself as my pussy became wetter with every deep thrust. He went to say something, but I ‘shushed’ him, too intent on the rushed orgasm I needed. I dug my nails into his chest, as I slid up and down his hard pole. [God, he was so hard, I thought.] I dug my nails in again, telling daddy to, “Embrace the pain,” knowing those words could set off a series of encounters I wasn’t sure I was prepared for. I was suddenly jealous of my mums, jealous that they had my dad like this every morning…or, so I imagined.
“Go on…daddy. Pull my tits. Just…uggggh…pull…uggggh…them…harder!” I moaned, shifting my pussy around his dick. He manfully pulled my nipples, his hands full of my small breasts, as he lifted his cock up, burying himself deep inside me. I slammed myself on his stiffness, each solid thrust making me squeak with desire. “C’mon…dad…fuck me…fill…me…fu– dad– you’re…so…ohhhhh…fuc–” I moaned, as I squirted my sap over his hard prick. My muscles grabbed him, massaged his cock and at my first flush, he came, his sperm surging into my cunt.
We took each other, using each other to quench our morning desire…for a while! I surreptitiously looked at the clock; we had another seven minutes before breakfast would arrive! I savoured our mutual juices sliding from me, down his still-hard cock, and over our groins. The room smelled of sex; from last night and this morning. It was a scent I would never tire of. He harshly slapped my ass, telling me, “Off!” and pushed me off his body, both of us groaning at the loss of connection.
“Fuck, Chloe,” he chuckled, still trying to breathe. “Talk about a quickie!” he then laughed. I grabbed my crumpled dress from the bottom of the bed, wiped his cock and groin, and then seductively wiped my body. “I can hardly wait to wear this for you, daddy,” I smiled, wickedly.
“I’ve never used this word to describe you, Little One…but you certainly are the little slut, aren’t you?” he smirked.
My blush gave him his answer.
We both rose, grabbed our robes, and readjusted the bed. Moments later, there was a knock at the door. I jumped on the bed, my back on the pillows, as I demurely pulled my robe over my body.
“Good morning,” the waiter said to us both, his eyes on me, but he quickly readjusted them.
Daddy directed him to set up our morning breakfast outside on the balcony. He laid out a freshly ironed linen tablecloth, then the cutlery. Plates, flutes and glasses were placed along with the sumptuous breakfast. Daddy tipped him, too generously, no doubt, and he took his trolley out.
I crawled from the bed and joined him outside, the cool, spring morning waking us. Daddy opted for a Spanish omelette, while I had poached eggs and salmon. We had fresh croissants, still-warm French baguettes, fruits, juices, coffee and teas. It was the perfect way to begin our first full day in Paris. I ran my foot between his open legs, my toes playing with his hardness. Daddy ignored me, so I brought both feet together and stroked his meat.
“Cum on my feet, daddy,” I playfully said.
He grabbed my feet and massaged them, his thumbs digging into my heels, as his fingers dug into the little pads under each toe.
“This bursa escort weekend isn’t all about fucking and making love, Chloe,” he said, with determination.
I pouted, let out an exaggerated, “Humph,” and pulled my feet from his hands. We held hands and giggled, slowly finishing the food laid out. We talked and flirted, enjoying each other’s company and roughly worked out the day. We had a quick shower; well, fast for us! His infatuation with my butt hadn’t wavered, as well it shouldn’t! He generously kissed and slavered his tongue on me, making out with my small globes and even smaller rosebud. [Fuck! This man, I thought.] We teased each other that we were going to make love…or fuck, but both knew we had places to go, people to see, etc.
We looked at the roll-top bath and were determined to make the time for a long, slow soak later. Daddy tenderly dried me off, as I did him, and then I shooed him from the bathroom to prepare myself. Thirty minutes later, I was ready to get dressed, but we jumped on the bed and FaceTimed home. As they were an hour behind, we could talk with everyone. Maggie and Lily were ecstatic, their little faces lit up and happy to see us. After catching up and laughing with them, mom sent them to finish getting dressed for school, as mums looked at us both and broke out in joyous laughter.
“We can see you’re getting, uh, reacquainted? You both look so relaxed. Just…wonderful. Take care of our Little One, Tom,” mums said. We chatted for a while, me blushing, which they enjoyed.
We said our goodbyes and signed off.
Dad went to the bathroom, so I FaceTimed Maisie, and caught up with her. Eventually, dad opened the door and crept onto the bed, smiling at her on the screen.
“Good morning…Tom,” she cheekily laughed. “I can tell you’re taking care of mo ghràdh,” she smiled.
“She said, ‘my love’, daddy,” I whispered, as she continued to talk with dad.
Surprisingly, their conversation was not hesitant, even though he was naked from the waist up. As we all talked, I laid my head on his chest, and Maisie began to cry.
“What’s…what’s wrong, mon amour?” I asked, thinking I had gone too far with my intimacy with dad in front of her.
“Nothing…nothing, my hen. You both look so…in love. You look…bonny. I wish I was there…to watch only, aye? I’m so happy for you both. Truly,” she almost whispered.
“Ohhh, mon amour. I do miss you, too. I…I wish you could watch, too. Someday…perhaps?” I smiled, and looked at my father. “Maisie? Tu es l’amour de ma vie. My dad is, too…but in a completely different way.”
“Chloe…I know. Now…go out and enjoy your day…and send more photos!” she smiled, and we disconnected.
I turned to dad and hugged him. “How are you handling all this, Chloe? I don’t see how you’re doing it. You have this wonderful woman who you’re so in love with, yet you have similar feelings for me. Isn’t it confusing?” he asked.
“Probably no more than when you and my mums got together. It had to be so much more…intense with them both, you know, sharing, paying attention to two women instead of one. I don’t see how the three of you have done it,” I said, flummoxed.
“Hmmm, well, it’s been tough, Chloe. Not tough, but time-consuming, let’s say. There’s been a lot of juggling between us, but…we work. Just like you and Maisie work. I know you’d like to share us with her, but that can’t happen, all right? At least, not yet. I’ve learned never to say never when it comes to your mothers, so…” he laughed.
Hmmm, I thought. Would I really want to share my dad with Maisie? Fantasy is one thing, reality another. That would wait, though. We had places to see!
I asked daddy’s opinion on my ensemble for today. His smile said it all. He sat on the sofa transfixed, as he watched me pull my loose bra over my shoulders and then attach it at the front. I bent over, my butt on display, as I pulled up the matching panties. I turned my head to him and blew him a coquettish kiss.
“You have a perfect ass, Chloe,” he mumbled.
“Thanks, daddy…but your cock is going nowhere near it, so…forget it!” I laughed.
It was his turn to pout.
I wore a light-green summer dress, another daringly high slit up the front with a low-cut front. It looked sexy and playful, and would work no matter where dad took us. I finished off with my trainers, and we were set.
We headed out, daddy taking the lead. We browsed the small shops on St Germain, hand in hand, with no one paying any mind to the apparent age gap. We passed numerous jewellery stores, each different and too expensive for my pocketbook! Daddy did take me in, as he needed my advice. Hmm. He had done enough, so I would vehemently discourage him from buying me anything in these stores. He was looking for mums, though. Whew! Nothing caught my eye, so we kept walking. He kept checking his watch, which was unusual.
“Do we need to be somewhere?” I smiled, bursa escort bayan as I wrapped my arms around him.
“We’ll be fine, sweetie. I do have one place we need to be,” he cryptically said, as we continued our walk, me stopping and taking photos.
We finally approached a high-end perfume shop, and dad opened the door. I wondered. Hmm? He held the door for me, and I walked into this emporium, the scents wafting through my nose. The shelves were stocked with old and new bottles. It had a slightly decadent feel about the place, the ambience relaxed and sensual.
An elegant lady walked out and said a haughty, “Good morning”‘in her perfect, Parisian French. Dad said ‘good morning’ in his also perfect French, which took her aback for a moment. I smiled to myself. Snooty French bitch, I thought to myself. Dad’ll take care of her!
We’re here to see Madame De Bruijn, if you please,” he said, calmly. “I am Monsieur Lawrence, yes?”
She turned and opened the old oak door, and dad smiled at me, my arm looping through his, waiting…
A moment later, an even-more-elegant lady walked quickly and commandingly into the room. They caught each other’s eyes and embraced gently but comfortably. They kissed each other three times on the cheek, then held each other at arm’s length.
“You look stunning, Stephanie. How have you been?” he asked, as if she was an old friend.
“Wonderful, Tom. Thank you. And this is…Chloe?” she asked, in French.
“Yes. Of course!” he smiled. “Madame De Bruijn, this is my daughter, Chloe. Chloe, Madame De Bruijn, the most exquisite perfumier in Paris,” he said.
“Please…Stephanie. It is a pleasure to meet you, at last, Chloe. Welcome,” she said heartily, and hugged me with the obligatory three kisses. “She is very beautiful, no? Let me see…is Chrissie your mother?”
“Yes…yes, she is,” I stumbled. “Thank you…” I said, wholly thrown back by this.
“Both your mothers are very beautiful, Chloe. Please…come with me?” she asked, and I followed her to the back room, passing the stony-eyed assistant to a room filled with botanicals, potions, lotions, and powders.
“Dad…Tom…are we…?” I asked.
“Yes…Stephanie is extraordinary. I’m hoping she can help you create your own personal scent, hmm?” he said. He leaned into my ear and whispered, “You can call me dad, daddy or Tom. Whatever you prefer, all right? Stephanie knows, okay?”
I eventually loosened up and had the most glorious time opening these tall glass jars and inhaling the beautiful scents. Stephanie and I talked for quite a while, trying to discern what I liked and who I was before even pulling out herbs, spices and floral scents. She complimented me on my French, which I accepted gracefully, telling her it was all down to my dad. Dad just whiled away the time by nosing about, talking with the assistants and learning about what they did. Eventually, I found my scent, a mixture of rose, jasmine, and ylang ylang, and grounded with an earthy, spicy, ever-evolving base notes of, cinnamon and ambergris.
Now wanted to find one for Maisie. I told Stephanie about her, us, and what she liked. I mentioned a few of her quirks, which she chuckled at, but was essential in trying to match the scent to her. We trawled through bottle after bottle, inhaling, as Stephanie explained the subtle scent I was smelling. We finally decided on an effervescent, sunlit citrus with a soft rose and apple essence, and woody cedar, vetiver, and vanilla, but not the sickly sweet notes you would normally find. It was perfect, as my mind drifted off to the beautiful fragrance on her neck, the seemingly romantic floral notes perfect for her.
Two hours later, I was through. I couldn’t remember having a better time in a shop. I dabbed a few drops behind my ears and on my wrist, and leaned into daddy.
“You like?” I asked coyly, as he leaned into my neck, holding me firmly around my waist. Madame De Bruijn just watched, a small smile on her minimally made-up face. I lifted my wrist, and daddy took my hand gently and breathed in my scent.
“I…I love it, Chloe,” he sighed.
“I…I had one made up for Maisie, daddy. I’ll pay for hers, ‘kay?” I said.
He whispered, “Do you have any idea how much it will cost?” he asked.
“Uhh, no…but she’s worth it,” I stammered, worried that I had gone too far.
“Here’s the perfumes for your Chrissie and Emily, Tom. Now, Chloe, when you or Maisie need more…call or email and just quote this number here. I will keep your particulars in your file, okay?” she said.
Dad paid for it all, handed Stephanie a hotel card, and asked if she would have them delivered to our hotel.
“Room number?” she asked.
Dad embarrassingly said, “The penthouse suite, Stephanie,” and thanked her. We all hugged, kissing each other’s cheeks, and she saw us out. The snooty lady had changed her tune rapidly, all ‘genuine’ smiles now.
I took daddy’s hand, escort bursa and we walked into the spring sun. When we were a discreet distance away, I pulled his head to mine, kissed and thanked him for his generosity.
“You really shouldn’t have, dad,” I shyly said.
“Chloe…what have I always told your mothers and you, hmm? If I can’t spoil the people I love, then what use is it, eh?” he smiled, and pulled me into his chest. “Come on, let’s take a walk and see where we end up,” he smirked. God knows what was on his mind because I had no ideas!
I was content just to take his hand and walk with no destination in mind, as daddy’s company was more than enough for me. We walked down the stairs of the ornate Art Nouveau Metro and exited at the Jardin des Plantes where he took me to the greenhouses. My only comparison was the Eden Project, where Maisie had taken me. We entered through the Art Deco colonnade into this biodiversity sanctuary, passing the oldest tree in France! Although not nearly as large as Eden, what it lacked in size, it made up for in ambience. We spent several hours ambling around, where, at last, I could explain something to my dad!
We grabbed a sandwich and drink and lay on the manicured lawn, our backs supported by the immense oak trees. I slipped my trainers off, wriggling my toes for daddy’s amusement, as I leant my leg up, so my foot rested on his lap, the slit in my dress open.
“Really?” he chuckled.
I could only shirk my shoulders, as if to say, “Why not?”
He tenderly grabbed my foot, his firm thumbs once again digging into my soles. As we talked, I let out a low moan, as he caressed my foot and toes. His hand moved under my long dress, fingers tightening around my thighs. I think we were talking about palaeontology, as his fingers slid beneath the edge of my panties, his fingers stopping at my moist opening. I had to laugh at the absurdity of it all; I knew he was taken with the exhibit we had just seen, but couldn’t he be a bit more seductive? Still, as I was on the receiving end, I didn’t complain!
I laid my right leg on his hip, my toes now not a distraction, and moved closer. I played with the buttons of his shirt, while his fingers lightly slid around my labia and through my sparse mons hair. To anyone walking by, we were just two lovers having lunch and a cuddle…or, so I hoped.
“You’re not going to make me…wet my panties…are you, daddy?” I smirked.
“Hmmm,” he whispered, as his finger slid over my clit, my hips pushing onto his finger.
He leaned over, his head in my neck, and he murmured, “I love your smell, Chloe,” my groans louder now. I wasn’t sure if he was talking about my new perfume, or my pussy scent. My mind chose the latter, and I pulled his head to mine, my tongue easily sliding into his eager mouth. He slid two fingers into my now-sodden cunt, my panties pushed annoyingly aside, as he curled them inside me.
“You’re…you’re really going to make me…cum? Here?” I whined.
“All over my fingers, Little One,” he hissed, and kissed me again.
“Ohhhhh…fuck…dadd–that’s….fuck….you,” I breathlessly replied, my pelvis slowly rubbing his hip.
He held me tight, as another finger slid into my valley, his eyes on mine and my hair bunched in his strong fingers. We gazed at each other lustfully, as his thumb caressed my swollen clit. I tried not to be too noticeable, with my hips gyrating against his body, but I couldn’t help myself. At least, that’s what I would tell the gendarme, if he came over and broke up this illicit coupling.
“Do it, Chloe…cum for your father,” he teased, rubbing my clitty so agonisingly slowly.
I could feel a cool breeze waft over me, as I came on daddy’s fingers, my body shaking and quivering at his gentle, but persistent, onslaught. I laid my mouth on his shoulder, moaning and twisting my body, as his fingers firmly fucked me. His thumb kept the same maddeningly sluggish caresses on my clit. My nails dug into his arm, the tremors passing through my body, as I gushed into my fresh panties. [Fuck, I thought, my breath short, and my heart beating so quickly.] I moved my hand down and pushed his away from my gushy cunt. As I lent up and kissed my father, my scent permeated the air around us. He slowly pulled his fingers from my panties, coated my lips with my juices, and then sucked them dry, my tiny orgasm still stirring.
“God…daddy…you’d…probably fuck me right here…wouldn’t you?” I giggled, through my hesitant breathing.
“Shall we find out, Chloe,” he smirked. No, was all I thought!
We lay together, chuckling at yet another indiscretion. I doubted we would make it to the Gare du Nord on Sunday without a fine of some sort! I laid my head on his chest, revelling in his arms, his breath and just him. I casually slipped my panties off, dove into my purse and grabbed a fresh pair. Daddy laughed at me.
“What?” I said. “I had a feeling this might happen at some point. A girl needs to be prepared,” I giggled. “You can carry these for me, ‘kay?” I asked, handing him the wet pair. He, too eagerly, grabbed them. And yes, my deviant father brought them to his nose and deeply inhaled, shivers surging through my body again.