Polly Gamey 1 Preludio and 2 Andante
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3. Presto
"I'm in!" Lizvette sat across from me in our booth at The Prime Steakhouse in the Bellagio. In front of her was a plate piled high with mashed potatoes (a double order, to the chef's delight, I was sure) and a steaming steak buried in mushrooms. She was looking at her phone and the private website operated by Secret Hearts. "Candy's pictures are already up! Look there I am helping her with her headband! And helping her put on my blue garter!"
"That was your garter, baby?"
"She's so nice, isnt she Daddy?" She looked up from her phone, and whispered, "She said you're handsome. She hopes Kit will look like you when he's older. Hehe!" She had been talking about the wedding and the photos we all took together afterward non-stop since we left. I don't think she heard, or answered, a single question I put to her.
"Oh! The site has chat threads! Kit and Candy have one and everybody is congratulating them! Will we put our pictures up too, Daddy?" Minister Cahuaya told me about the site, how it is for couples who had been married by the church to keep their photos private, and to communicate with one another. He assured me it was highly secured and had been in operation for several years with no hacks, that photos were copy-protected. He gave me a temporary password after our interview, and after the fee was paid. He said many couples find communication with others in similar marriages very supportive. It would be nice to have friends I could discuss taboo love with, I thought.
"I don't know, baby. I'll think about it. Maybe."
"We should. Look! There are other couples like us!" Her voice was alarmingly high.
"Baby," I shushed her. The steakhouse was busy with dinner time patrons, but anyone nearby might have overheard her comment about our being a couple. No heads turned. She looked up at me, unsure why I was alarmed. We were a couple, weren't we? Then back at her phone, which she now placed in front of me.
And she was right. There were more than a dozen couples like us. Mature, or at least obviously adult, men paired with very obviously post-pubescent girls. These were the so-called Flavian Unions, named for the Roman emperor and a time when a girl of 12 could marry. Flavian couples were straight, made of one adult, who could contract with the church, and a minor, almost always the girl, who was at least 12, and entering into the union of her own free will, or at least able to convince Piero Cahuaya that she was not being forced. After her own private interview, Lizvette told me he had said to her, "I have the authority to end any abuse a c***d may be suffering once and for all, my young one. You may tell me without fear."
Lizvette said, "I wish we knew before that we were going to be witnesses so we could have dressed up, though. Still, you look cute in your lei!"
"Are our names given in the pictures?" I didn't recall giving consent to the photos taken with the couple to be posted. Lizvette looked again. "Nope. Just says 'Kit and Candy and dear friends.' What does ... naw hee naynay mean, Daddy?"
"Oh. Yes. That was the reason for the Hawaiian theme." I leaned in closer to tell her the story, one that I found quite touching. "Long ago, there was a Hawaiian Princess named ..." I looked at her phone to remind me of the name "Nahienaena. She and her brother married, which was common for royalty. But Christian missionaries came to the island and forced them to divorce, so she had to marry another man. But in her case, she was truly in love with her brother."
"Aww that's so sad. They should have run away together!"
"That was also your solution to Romeo and Juliet's problem, as I recall."
"Well they should have, too. But I know." She repeated my practical and boring explanation. "There wouldn't be a play if they did that."
In fact, I thought Nahi's story was sad too, and very painful for the princess and her brother. I had often wondered what life would be like as a couple with each of my sisters. With Dawn, so elegant and tasteful, life would be filled with the finer things, and the sex would be creative and magical. With Liliana, life would be comparatively simpler, more relaxed, less demanding, and sex would be just plain fun. Then with Blair, I know I would be well cared for, much beloved, and sex would be about expressing emotion. But through all the years with them, before time and age and our own families gradually took them away from me, and me from them, I was never made to choose. And if somehow I had been forced to, I would not have been able. I wanted them all.
Secret Hearts also offered Platonic marriages (named I assumed after the theory that Plato preferred sex with young boys) for gay couples with one adult. For parents and their offspring, they offered Oedipal marriages for mothers and sons, and Elektra marriages for Fathers and daughters. Piero also sanctified polygamous unions. "Your own situation is far more common, however, Mr. Conlin," he had told me. "The mutual attraction between an adult man and a girl of your Lizvette's age is quite natural, especially in evolutionary terms."
Lizvette returned to her choice of topic. "Candy said she never met any man who loved her as much as Kit does, and that he is the cutest boy she ever knew. She said he begged her to live with him but she knew what he really wanted, and she was just joking when she said 'You have to marry me first!' then he told her about the church and asked her to marry him! She said ..." Here she lowered her voice, "She said she could never say no to her little brother! Ha ha!"
She then turned her attention to her dinner and made the potato mountain disappear while nibbling on the steak and mushrooms, the remants of which we took upstairs to our room. There, she began to undress and started the shower. I took off my pants to join her. "No, Daddy! You can't see me till after we are married!" She pushed me backward through the bathroom door. In her bra and panties, her hair in a towel, she demanded, "Out!"
I was sleepy anyway. I protested, but only enough to let her know I wanted her. I laid down on the luxurious hotel bed, in only my polo shirt, and stretched out. I texted Lois, telling her we had a safe trip and that now I was enjoying a lap dance from the beautiful and talented Brandi. "She can keep you! Dirty old man. Love you," came the reply.
I closed my eyes and after a few minutes felt a piece of cloth fall over my face. "No peeking," Lizvette was feeling playful. Then, as suddenly, I felt a tight band around my head, fastening the cloth over my eyes. "Ha! Ha!" She had a grip on each of my wrists at my side. "You can't see me, before the wedding, Daddy," she reminded me, "But you can feel me!" I felt her weight straddling me. "You liked Candy's butt, didn't you Daddy?" Before I could reply, she plopped her ass down hard on my face, soft damp and fresh from the shower. She was delicious. "Hers you can look at but not touch," she seemed to scold, "But mine you can have all you can eat!"
. . . . . .
My head was resting on a pillow as Lizvette's full weight pressed down on my face. I could feel her pushing the edges of the pillow toward either side of my head with her feet, fluffing it, as she positioned herself squarely and firmly over my mouth and nose. I stiffened my tongue and stuck it out of my mouth as far as I could, waiting for her asshole to find it and close over it. She had not yet touched my cock, still holding my hands down, and trying to force them under my hips. I wanted to feel her stroking me, so I lifted my hips enough to let her push my hands beneath my body, which she did, so that she could go to work on my cock.
But she didn't touch it. She had me blinded and pinned, and running out of breath, completely ignoring my dick, which I could feel stretching out toward her, flat and hot against my skin. "Its okay if you liked her butt, Daddy." She lifted herself high enough to let me take a breath. She spoke quietly and firmly. "I know mine is the only one you eat. Isn't it?" Before I could answer, she dropped herself back into my face with her full weight, completely relaxed on me, as if she were seated on a cushion. "Ahhh. So comfy, Daddy. Mmmmm." She began wiggling and wriggling quickly, opening her cheeks wider, using my nose, my tongue, and my chin each in turn, like wedges to pry open her tight butt. I could taste the natural flavor of her freshly washed ass, but it was mixed with a new scent, a sort of musky perfumy smell, very clean and pleasing, and complimenting her own garden-fresh taste. Not her usual body wash, I knew. The hotel bath soap, it must have been.
"My ass will be wide like hers when I'm 33. But I bet you would rather have it at 15, wouldn't you?" She lifted herself and I felt the cool hotel room air sweep over my face. "Or younger? Wouldn't you?" she repeated, a little more firmly.
"Yes, baby." I gasped and gulped a lung full of air before she came down on my face again. She began rocking in a back and forth motion. I poked my tongue out again, knowing she was looking for it. She found my nose first, though, and began teasing her asshole with the tip, while I tried to reach for her clit with my tongue.
"The minister asked me if I ever have to do things I don't like, Daddy. Things that are unnatural, he said." Her pussy was now damp and her lips opened like petals for my tongue. "I lied to him, Daddy. I said, 'No! My Daddy loves me! He treats me so good!' I didn't tell him what you did to me. I will never tell anyone. You want me to keep our secret, don't you Daddy?"
I had no idea what she meant but I was getting very hot and very low on breath. My cock was ready to be stroked, and I didn't have the patience to pretend much longer that she really had me restrained. I played along when she lifted her ass for my answer. "Yes, baby, never tell what I did." I got the words out with just enough time for some air before she turned the lights out again.
"How could I tell him that you ****d me in the ass, that you throat fucked me till I passed out, and you jacked off over my naked body and came all over me?" She spoke in almost accusing tones, as if she were preparing to blackmail me. "That you made me your personal anal whore? He would have called the police, Daddy." She was now rubbing her pussy and ass hard on my face. And she was getting very wet. "My Daddy loves me very much, and wants to adopt me, but he can only adopt my baby, I told him. He would never make me do anything I don't want." She began to laugh. "I lied about everything, Daddy!"
I began to pull my hands from under my ass to grip her, but she was too quick. She leaned forward with all her weight to press downward on my thighs, not letting me lift them. That gave me a chance to breathe. I had grown even more weakened under her weight than I knew.
"Bad Daddy!" I gave up the effort. In her condition, twelve weeks pregnant, I did not want to wrestle. I gave in. "You want baby to touch your cock, don't you? Are you still thinking of Candy's ass? When it was 15? Wishing it was her smothering you?" She sat again with her full weight on my face, and this time her asshole was positioned perfectly over my mouth. Up my tongue went. I was in her, feeling her rim gripping the tip of my tongue. She loved it. "Does she taste as sweet as your little girl? Does she? Can you smell her, too?"
She wasn't waiting for an answer or giving me breath. She was getting her butt tongued and she was exciting herself with talk of our secret, my **** of her, my making her an anal whore, and, for some reason, enjoying teasing me with talk of Candy's ass. She had obviously noticed me admiring it. Thoughts of what she may have noticed, but dare not say, about Bethie occurred to me. My cock lifted itself, still untouched and unkissed, from my skin, reaching for her.
Lizvette knew I loved almost more than anything to have her sit on my face. I loved it for the feeling, the taste, the view. Never for anything like being dominated, like the porn sites depict it. We thought it loving and playful. She always giggled when my whiskers tickled her little cheeks, when my tongue teased her. But tonight was very different. She was playing a sort of role.
"Baby is cumming, Daddy. Your charming little girl is having ....zzhhhh....an orgasm!" She leaned forward, positioned her pussy over my nose and rubbed her clit hard against it, back and forth more slowly each time until she came to rest at last.
"Oh God! That was good! She sat upright on my face and stretched her arms. "Did you like it too, Daddy?"
I replied from beneath her ass, inaudibly. "Oh!" Her girlish voice had returned. Her performance was over. She lifted her ass an inch or so from my face. "Sorry!"
Still blind and pinned, I huffed, "Baby, you ... almost .... suffocated me." I was out of breath and in need of a good hard blow job. Very frustrated.
"But this is your bachelor party, Daddy! Aren't you enjoying it? Here." She pulled the cloth from beneath the band around my eyes and stuffed it into my mouth. The taste was familiar. The fabric was silk. And the scent could be only one thing. "Suck on these and I will suck on you." As she repositioned herself to blow me, I realized that I had been blindfolded with, and was now sucking on, freshly worn panties.
"Oh Daddy your hair grows so fast! I need to shave you tomorrow for the wedding." She began, finally, kissing my dick. "Poor Daddy you're so hard! I want to see you." She reached across my chest for the lamp switch. "And you can see your bachelor party prize." The light illuminated her smiling face looking down at me. Her hair was piled up high and pinned and she still wore her top, though her nipples protruding through it told me she wore no bra. She covered her mouth and laughed convulsively as she looked at me.
In the light I could make out beneath my eyes the bunched fabric that was stuffed in my mouth. I could make out blue and white stripes, but was too eager for my orgasm to think of how I might look to her. Lizvette took her position on her side with her mouth over my cock, which now bobbed upwards straining to get near her lips.
"You look so helpless and cute! I'm sorry I teased you, poor baby." She gave my cock a deep suck on the shaft, letting me watch her full dark lips clinging to it. She did that up and down the length of my cock until a little, watery spurt popped out. "Oh! I better hurry!"
She put the head between her lips and sucked hard at it. I felt another little spurt go into her mouth. "Daddy? Do you like your bachelor party present? Ha! Ha!" I thought she meant the blow job I was getting after the face sitting.
"Yes baby, I'm loving this. You feel so good."
She smacked my dick with a kiss and said, "No silly Daddy!" She pulled the panties from my mouth and waived them in my face. Full-cut and two sizes larger than her own, I understood what she had done. "Candy's wedding panties! They're yours now! Ha!"
She gave my dick a long lick and watched it go off. I couldnt stop it. I gushed up my chest and onto the panties she had dropped there. "Oh yes! So sexy, Daddy. Cum for your little girl." The psychlogical impact of what she had done struck me. Images of Candy's thighs and round ass, covered in the panties I had had on my face, in my mouth. I shot off so fast I almost didn't feel the tickle that accompanies an orgasm. She held my cock upright to catch the final dribbles and mini-spurts on her tongue, but I was still hard in her hand. I wanted more, now that I knew it was a party.
From outside the hotel we could hear a roar of approval from the crowd watching the fountain show. "I like my Daddy's fountain better," Lizvette said. She picked up Candy's panties and examined the cum streaks on them. "She won't be wearing these again. And neither will you, husband!" She pulled the band that had held them over my eyes from my head. I saw that it was the blue garter. "But this is still good for tomorrow." She flicked them at me, like a rubber band.
"Baby how did you get them?" I held them by the elastic above me, examining them. Very fine silk and in medium.
"When she changed out of her dress. That's when she said you were handsome. She asked if you are getting a bachelor party."
"And did you mention what I do with your panties?"
"Noo. I didn't have to. It was all her idea! Did you like it?"
She still held my dick, tight with her thumb and forefinger wrapped hard around the base, and her palm pressing down on my nuts. I was still hard. Thinking of it all, I felt a rare second wave orgasm cumming on.
"Baby hurry. Get your mouth on it!"
She did as told, and took in a mouth full of fresh Daddy jizz. I pumped it into her slowly that time. It rolled from my cock in streams so thick I saw it begin to ooze from the corner of her mouth. She swallowed a few times and let my cock fall softly out of her mouth. "Daddy! That was a lot of cum! I'm stuffed."
I stretched my legs in post-orgasmic relief and told her, "I haven't cum like that in ... Ever."
She smiled. "I know how to make you cum like that every time," she said with some pride. I caressed her head. "Daddy. Tell me the truth. This is much better than your first bachelor party, isn't it?"
That was my first bachelor party, but I opted not to tell her that. It would only disappoint her. "You really know how to surprise me, baby," I said. "It could not have been sexier."
. . . . . .
I woke with the sunrise as it flowed into the room beneath the curtains. Lizvette lay on my right, in deep sleep and snoring her little girl snore. I kissed her cheek and nudged her face just slightly to the side to quieten her. Her lips responded with a reflexive little air kiss in return. She licked them, then closed them, and went back to a quieter sleep. She lay on her back, still in her little top, and her newly expectant mother's breasts swelled so beautifully beneath it, I had to resist the temptation to reach beneath and hold them. She needed her rest and I didn't really want to start anything. I craved coffee.
Though it was early for me, I had slept enough and was feeling anxious about the day, and to find out how well my plan was working out. I needed to check our phones for messages, and be sharp enough to reply if necessary. I rose, naked except for my pullover sport shirt, and double-checked to make sure the Do Not Disturb sign was hung on the door. I had no conscious memory of hanging it after rolling in our luggage - or Lizvette's - the night before, but it was there. I started the coffee maker and saw myself in the full length mirror beside the door. My green polo shirt was rumpled, my gray hair was sticking out in all directions, my beard was coming in over my cheekbones, and, as Lizvette noted last night, my pubes were bushy, way overdue for a trim. But she had promised to tend to that later. "Your peter is so pretty, Daddy. I hate seeing it covered with hair," she told me once in a text message. In the mirror, I saw myself smile at the thought of her grooming me later.
As the coffee brewed I passed by the open closet and saw that she had unpacked and hung our clothes. My black suit was out of it's garment bag and neatly hanging. Beside it, concealed in black plastic, hung her dress, which I had yet to see. On the shelf, I noticed a small package, wrapped in white gift wrapping with a purple ribbon around it. Another surprise to look forward to. But I wondered if, in her unpacking, she had stumbled onto my gift to her? I checked the inner pocket of my suitcase and found it was just as I left it, though she could have peeked.
I stepped into the bathroom for a whiz and saw that she had all of her things laid out on the counter, her lotions and cosmetics, our toothbrushes, her hairbrush, my trimmer. On a hand towel beside the sink, Candy's panties, rinsed and cleansed of my cum, were laid out and drying. Lizvette had prepared our little love nest very tidily as I slept last night. I began to brush my teeth and thought how busy she had been, and for only a two night stay. I felt bad that I could not have gotten us more time away together. She would have liked a honeymoon day, but I just couldn't think of a way to keep her longer. She had missed enough school with doctor appointments and days with me. There would be time later, I promised myself.
I showered quickly, put on a fresh shirt and undershorts, poured a cup of coffee and sat in the recliner by the window to check our messages. Lizvette's first. She had several of course but three that mattered to me. From Johnny, her boyfriend: "Luci texted me asking where Im at. I told her we are having dinner with my Nana. W/b when you get this. Not sure what else I supposed 2say." Lizvette's story to Johnny was that she was with girlfriends at the lake, on a boat without her parents permission. Luci s Lizvette's overprotective and deeply suspicious older sister. She hated me. Still does.
And speaking of the devil Luci, a message from her: "I know you're at the lake. Johnny can't lie worth shit!" Nice way to talk. Luci, like many over-confident and self-admiring people, believed she was quite clever, but Lizvette could play her like an old song. How she will laugh when she sees that, I thought.
And from her mother: "Thank you for letting me know you got there alright, angel. Don't overdo things." A very dear woman, Mrs. Feliciano. So trusting, so caring. Any man would be happy to have her as his mother-in-law.
Things were going well. I was relieved. As I held her phone in my hand, a new message popped up. From Candy: "Hope your party went well. Kit sure had fun at ours! Sweetest love. See you at the chapel." A pair of overlapping hearts ended the message. So, Lizvette invited them. I was happy she would have a girlfriend with her. That had been another thing I was regretting.
Checking my phone, a message from Lois: "How much did you pay Brandi!!! I just checked the account. Ouch! Be careful, please." I paid the chapel in cash and would explain the expenses to Lois as a bad night at the blackjack tables. The hotel charge would be explained as me picking up the tab for the 4 of us, to be reimbursed.
And a message from my own angel, Bethie, sent just after midnight her time: "Miss you so bad, Daddy. Stay away from those naughty girls. You already have one!" She added a smiley with it's tongue out. Lois must have told her my Brandi joke.
A photo was attached. Out of habit before opening any photo from Bethie, I checked to make sure I had privacy. Lizvette was at a safe distance and of course fast asleep. I gave my cock a tug, feeling it awaken at the sight of Bethie's text, and opened the photo. I heard myself whisper, "Oh my god." She took my breath.
It was a close shot, from below her breasts to her eyebrow. She wore an olive green top with spaghetti straps overlaying those of her black bra as they disappeared beneath it. The beautiful smooth coffee and cream skin of her face, her neck, her chest and shoulders was generously visible for me. Her breasts, covered by her top but obviously the focus of the photo, so full, and firm, now fully matured and round and voluptuous, filled the lower half of the frame, from the bottom left diagonally upward to the right, with her flat tummy under them, such a beautiful contrast to her new womanly curves. Her chin rested atop the back of her long slender fingers stretched below it. Her lips were full and soft, and seemed almost to be offered for my kiss. Looking at them I remembered how similar they looked not many years ago when she first puckered them for me in my car, after we pulled into our driveway, returning home from our first Daddy-daughter date. That magical night ended there, with our first kiss, which had been wet, flavorful, inappropriately long, and impossibly tender. "Sweetest love" as Candy texted, captioned the memory perfectly.
I studied the photo more. Gone from her cheek was the soft baby fat Lizvette still carried. Bethie's were now sculpted high, and classically beautiful. Only one eye was visible in the frame - I was always so proud of her compositional skills, she was quite visually adept - and looking into it, though made-up so dramatically and tastefully, accented so smartly with dark liner and shadow, something in her eye seemed to be saying she truly missed me, and not simply my presence in the house. I read her message again. "You already have one." I looked again at her picture. This was not a happy smile, or a playful kissy face. This was my daughter, so quickly becoming a woman, with whom I shared a very secret intimacy, and one that we had each made sacrifices for, taken risks for, telling me something very important, I knew. I heard again Lizvette's guitar playing the love theme, and this time, I heard the lyrics.
"What is a youth? Impetuous fire.
What is a maid? Ice and desire.
The world wags on."
A new season approached in Bethie's life, one that I could not be fully part of. Just as time had taken my sisters from me, time and age and all the responsibilities of life now called for my daughter, no longer my little girl, and too, too soon a woman.
"A rose will bloom
It then will fade
So does a youth.
So does the fairest maid."
Did she miss the closeness we had when she was younger, too? The private moments that became rarer as she grew more popular at school? Was she feeling our time slipping away? My heart ached to think so.
I replied: "I have a VERY GOOD girl! A perfect angel. I love you so much, darling. Can't wait for my welcome home kiss." I could have said so much more, but doing so might have alarmed her. I was about to tap send when I noticed I had not commented on her photo. I added, "I treasure this picture. My little girl has become my beautiful young woman." I tapped the send button and exhaled "My Bethie."
Lizvette stirred. I saw her arms raise and stretch, then fall again to her sides, but she did not wake up. She would want breakfast when she did, I knew. I was looking forward to Eggs Benedict in the hotel cafe myself, then a stroll through the casino. We would have a few hours before the wedding, and I wanted to see the wonder and the spectacle of Las Vegas, or at least The Bellagio, through her eyes. I loved showing her new things, like I had with Bethie.
The thought occurred to me then that maybe the need I was satisfying with this trip, the wedding, the formality, this bond I was searching for with Lizvette, was a way of avoiding with her the fate that awaited me with Bethie. I knew Bethie would always be my daughter, always love me, always be in my life, but it would never be as it had been. Lizvette, too, I knew, would need to move on, and sooner than I wanted to consider, to find a young man she would truly share the rest of her life with. Unlike Bethie, I was not sure Lizvette would still be in my life ten years from now, even if I was raising our c***d. Yes, she would visit, but would I be nothing more than an ex-lover to her? And was I being selfish to want more?
With my wife I shared the bond of matrimony and the parentage of our c***d. With my sisters and my daughter, I shared the bond of blood, and though those relationships were never meant to be so deeply intimate, so passion-filled and sexual, they were, and whether I had initiated it, or they did, or fate did, mattered not. Love for me meant depth, sex, and permanence, and only my love with Lizvette lacked that final quality. No, I wasn't being selfish. I was fulfilling a promise. I could not do as Piero said most men do and simply adopt my youthful beloved to care for her. I could only marry her.
She yawned and stirred again. She lifted herself up on her elbows and looked at me and the morning light behind me through squinting eyes, smacking her lips. "You're awake already," her little voice croaked.
"Good morning, sweetheart."
She looked at clock beside the bed, then back at me. "I'm hungry, Daddy."
"I know you are baby." I stood and walked to the bed. "Let me start your shower." I kissed her temple. "Then we'll go downstairs for a nice breakfast."
"Yummm..." She smiled.
I looked at her sleepy, happy face and the morning sun lighting her youthful beauty. "We're going to have a lovely day, darling."
. . . . . .
"I'm in!" Lizvette sat across from me in our booth at The Prime Steakhouse in the Bellagio. In front of her was a plate piled high with mashed potatoes (a double order, to the chef's delight, I was sure) and a steaming steak buried in mushrooms. She was looking at her phone and the private website operated by Secret Hearts. "Candy's pictures are already up! Look there I am helping her with her headband! And helping her put on my blue garter!"
"That was your garter, baby?"
"She's so nice, isnt she Daddy?" She looked up from her phone, and whispered, "She said you're handsome. She hopes Kit will look like you when he's older. Hehe!" She had been talking about the wedding and the photos we all took together afterward non-stop since we left. I don't think she heard, or answered, a single question I put to her.
"Oh! The site has chat threads! Kit and Candy have one and everybody is congratulating them! Will we put our pictures up too, Daddy?" Minister Cahuaya told me about the site, how it is for couples who had been married by the church to keep their photos private, and to communicate with one another. He assured me it was highly secured and had been in operation for several years with no hacks, that photos were copy-protected. He gave me a temporary password after our interview, and after the fee was paid. He said many couples find communication with others in similar marriages very supportive. It would be nice to have friends I could discuss taboo love with, I thought.
"I don't know, baby. I'll think about it. Maybe."
"We should. Look! There are other couples like us!" Her voice was alarmingly high.
"Baby," I shushed her. The steakhouse was busy with dinner time patrons, but anyone nearby might have overheard her comment about our being a couple. No heads turned. She looked up at me, unsure why I was alarmed. We were a couple, weren't we? Then back at her phone, which she now placed in front of me.
And she was right. There were more than a dozen couples like us. Mature, or at least obviously adult, men paired with very obviously post-pubescent girls. These were the so-called Flavian Unions, named for the Roman emperor and a time when a girl of 12 could marry. Flavian couples were straight, made of one adult, who could contract with the church, and a minor, almost always the girl, who was at least 12, and entering into the union of her own free will, or at least able to convince Piero Cahuaya that she was not being forced. After her own private interview, Lizvette told me he had said to her, "I have the authority to end any abuse a c***d may be suffering once and for all, my young one. You may tell me without fear."
Lizvette said, "I wish we knew before that we were going to be witnesses so we could have dressed up, though. Still, you look cute in your lei!"
"Are our names given in the pictures?" I didn't recall giving consent to the photos taken with the couple to be posted. Lizvette looked again. "Nope. Just says 'Kit and Candy and dear friends.' What does ... naw hee naynay mean, Daddy?"
"Oh. Yes. That was the reason for the Hawaiian theme." I leaned in closer to tell her the story, one that I found quite touching. "Long ago, there was a Hawaiian Princess named ..." I looked at her phone to remind me of the name "Nahienaena. She and her brother married, which was common for royalty. But Christian missionaries came to the island and forced them to divorce, so she had to marry another man. But in her case, she was truly in love with her brother."
"Aww that's so sad. They should have run away together!"
"That was also your solution to Romeo and Juliet's problem, as I recall."
"Well they should have, too. But I know." She repeated my practical and boring explanation. "There wouldn't be a play if they did that."
In fact, I thought Nahi's story was sad too, and very painful for the princess and her brother. I had often wondered what life would be like as a couple with each of my sisters. With Dawn, so elegant and tasteful, life would be filled with the finer things, and the sex would be creative and magical. With Liliana, life would be comparatively simpler, more relaxed, less demanding, and sex would be just plain fun. Then with Blair, I know I would be well cared for, much beloved, and sex would be about expressing emotion. But through all the years with them, before time and age and our own families gradually took them away from me, and me from them, I was never made to choose. And if somehow I had been forced to, I would not have been able. I wanted them all.
Secret Hearts also offered Platonic marriages (named I assumed after the theory that Plato preferred sex with young boys) for gay couples with one adult. For parents and their offspring, they offered Oedipal marriages for mothers and sons, and Elektra marriages for Fathers and daughters. Piero also sanctified polygamous unions. "Your own situation is far more common, however, Mr. Conlin," he had told me. "The mutual attraction between an adult man and a girl of your Lizvette's age is quite natural, especially in evolutionary terms."
Lizvette returned to her choice of topic. "Candy said she never met any man who loved her as much as Kit does, and that he is the cutest boy she ever knew. She said he begged her to live with him but she knew what he really wanted, and she was just joking when she said 'You have to marry me first!' then he told her about the church and asked her to marry him! She said ..." Here she lowered her voice, "She said she could never say no to her little brother! Ha ha!"
She then turned her attention to her dinner and made the potato mountain disappear while nibbling on the steak and mushrooms, the remants of which we took upstairs to our room. There, she began to undress and started the shower. I took off my pants to join her. "No, Daddy! You can't see me till after we are married!" She pushed me backward through the bathroom door. In her bra and panties, her hair in a towel, she demanded, "Out!"
I was sleepy anyway. I protested, but only enough to let her know I wanted her. I laid down on the luxurious hotel bed, in only my polo shirt, and stretched out. I texted Lois, telling her we had a safe trip and that now I was enjoying a lap dance from the beautiful and talented Brandi. "She can keep you! Dirty old man. Love you," came the reply.
I closed my eyes and after a few minutes felt a piece of cloth fall over my face. "No peeking," Lizvette was feeling playful. Then, as suddenly, I felt a tight band around my head, fastening the cloth over my eyes. "Ha! Ha!" She had a grip on each of my wrists at my side. "You can't see me, before the wedding, Daddy," she reminded me, "But you can feel me!" I felt her weight straddling me. "You liked Candy's butt, didn't you Daddy?" Before I could reply, she plopped her ass down hard on my face, soft damp and fresh from the shower. She was delicious. "Hers you can look at but not touch," she seemed to scold, "But mine you can have all you can eat!"
. . . . . .
My head was resting on a pillow as Lizvette's full weight pressed down on my face. I could feel her pushing the edges of the pillow toward either side of my head with her feet, fluffing it, as she positioned herself squarely and firmly over my mouth and nose. I stiffened my tongue and stuck it out of my mouth as far as I could, waiting for her asshole to find it and close over it. She had not yet touched my cock, still holding my hands down, and trying to force them under my hips. I wanted to feel her stroking me, so I lifted my hips enough to let her push my hands beneath my body, which she did, so that she could go to work on my cock.
But she didn't touch it. She had me blinded and pinned, and running out of breath, completely ignoring my dick, which I could feel stretching out toward her, flat and hot against my skin. "Its okay if you liked her butt, Daddy." She lifted herself high enough to let me take a breath. She spoke quietly and firmly. "I know mine is the only one you eat. Isn't it?" Before I could answer, she dropped herself back into my face with her full weight, completely relaxed on me, as if she were seated on a cushion. "Ahhh. So comfy, Daddy. Mmmmm." She began wiggling and wriggling quickly, opening her cheeks wider, using my nose, my tongue, and my chin each in turn, like wedges to pry open her tight butt. I could taste the natural flavor of her freshly washed ass, but it was mixed with a new scent, a sort of musky perfumy smell, very clean and pleasing, and complimenting her own garden-fresh taste. Not her usual body wash, I knew. The hotel bath soap, it must have been.
"My ass will be wide like hers when I'm 33. But I bet you would rather have it at 15, wouldn't you?" She lifted herself and I felt the cool hotel room air sweep over my face. "Or younger? Wouldn't you?" she repeated, a little more firmly.
"Yes, baby." I gasped and gulped a lung full of air before she came down on my face again. She began rocking in a back and forth motion. I poked my tongue out again, knowing she was looking for it. She found my nose first, though, and began teasing her asshole with the tip, while I tried to reach for her clit with my tongue.
"The minister asked me if I ever have to do things I don't like, Daddy. Things that are unnatural, he said." Her pussy was now damp and her lips opened like petals for my tongue. "I lied to him, Daddy. I said, 'No! My Daddy loves me! He treats me so good!' I didn't tell him what you did to me. I will never tell anyone. You want me to keep our secret, don't you Daddy?"
I had no idea what she meant but I was getting very hot and very low on breath. My cock was ready to be stroked, and I didn't have the patience to pretend much longer that she really had me restrained. I played along when she lifted her ass for my answer. "Yes, baby, never tell what I did." I got the words out with just enough time for some air before she turned the lights out again.
"How could I tell him that you ****d me in the ass, that you throat fucked me till I passed out, and you jacked off over my naked body and came all over me?" She spoke in almost accusing tones, as if she were preparing to blackmail me. "That you made me your personal anal whore? He would have called the police, Daddy." She was now rubbing her pussy and ass hard on my face. And she was getting very wet. "My Daddy loves me very much, and wants to adopt me, but he can only adopt my baby, I told him. He would never make me do anything I don't want." She began to laugh. "I lied about everything, Daddy!"
I began to pull my hands from under my ass to grip her, but she was too quick. She leaned forward with all her weight to press downward on my thighs, not letting me lift them. That gave me a chance to breathe. I had grown even more weakened under her weight than I knew.
"Bad Daddy!" I gave up the effort. In her condition, twelve weeks pregnant, I did not want to wrestle. I gave in. "You want baby to touch your cock, don't you? Are you still thinking of Candy's ass? When it was 15? Wishing it was her smothering you?" She sat again with her full weight on my face, and this time her asshole was positioned perfectly over my mouth. Up my tongue went. I was in her, feeling her rim gripping the tip of my tongue. She loved it. "Does she taste as sweet as your little girl? Does she? Can you smell her, too?"
She wasn't waiting for an answer or giving me breath. She was getting her butt tongued and she was exciting herself with talk of our secret, my **** of her, my making her an anal whore, and, for some reason, enjoying teasing me with talk of Candy's ass. She had obviously noticed me admiring it. Thoughts of what she may have noticed, but dare not say, about Bethie occurred to me. My cock lifted itself, still untouched and unkissed, from my skin, reaching for her.
Lizvette knew I loved almost more than anything to have her sit on my face. I loved it for the feeling, the taste, the view. Never for anything like being dominated, like the porn sites depict it. We thought it loving and playful. She always giggled when my whiskers tickled her little cheeks, when my tongue teased her. But tonight was very different. She was playing a sort of role.
"Baby is cumming, Daddy. Your charming little girl is having ....zzhhhh....an orgasm!" She leaned forward, positioned her pussy over my nose and rubbed her clit hard against it, back and forth more slowly each time until she came to rest at last.
"Oh God! That was good! She sat upright on my face and stretched her arms. "Did you like it too, Daddy?"
I replied from beneath her ass, inaudibly. "Oh!" Her girlish voice had returned. Her performance was over. She lifted her ass an inch or so from my face. "Sorry!"
Still blind and pinned, I huffed, "Baby, you ... almost .... suffocated me." I was out of breath and in need of a good hard blow job. Very frustrated.
"But this is your bachelor party, Daddy! Aren't you enjoying it? Here." She pulled the cloth from beneath the band around my eyes and stuffed it into my mouth. The taste was familiar. The fabric was silk. And the scent could be only one thing. "Suck on these and I will suck on you." As she repositioned herself to blow me, I realized that I had been blindfolded with, and was now sucking on, freshly worn panties.
"Oh Daddy your hair grows so fast! I need to shave you tomorrow for the wedding." She began, finally, kissing my dick. "Poor Daddy you're so hard! I want to see you." She reached across my chest for the lamp switch. "And you can see your bachelor party prize." The light illuminated her smiling face looking down at me. Her hair was piled up high and pinned and she still wore her top, though her nipples protruding through it told me she wore no bra. She covered her mouth and laughed convulsively as she looked at me.
In the light I could make out beneath my eyes the bunched fabric that was stuffed in my mouth. I could make out blue and white stripes, but was too eager for my orgasm to think of how I might look to her. Lizvette took her position on her side with her mouth over my cock, which now bobbed upwards straining to get near her lips.
"You look so helpless and cute! I'm sorry I teased you, poor baby." She gave my cock a deep suck on the shaft, letting me watch her full dark lips clinging to it. She did that up and down the length of my cock until a little, watery spurt popped out. "Oh! I better hurry!"
She put the head between her lips and sucked hard at it. I felt another little spurt go into her mouth. "Daddy? Do you like your bachelor party present? Ha! Ha!" I thought she meant the blow job I was getting after the face sitting.
"Yes baby, I'm loving this. You feel so good."
She smacked my dick with a kiss and said, "No silly Daddy!" She pulled the panties from my mouth and waived them in my face. Full-cut and two sizes larger than her own, I understood what she had done. "Candy's wedding panties! They're yours now! Ha!"
She gave my dick a long lick and watched it go off. I couldnt stop it. I gushed up my chest and onto the panties she had dropped there. "Oh yes! So sexy, Daddy. Cum for your little girl." The psychlogical impact of what she had done struck me. Images of Candy's thighs and round ass, covered in the panties I had had on my face, in my mouth. I shot off so fast I almost didn't feel the tickle that accompanies an orgasm. She held my cock upright to catch the final dribbles and mini-spurts on her tongue, but I was still hard in her hand. I wanted more, now that I knew it was a party.
From outside the hotel we could hear a roar of approval from the crowd watching the fountain show. "I like my Daddy's fountain better," Lizvette said. She picked up Candy's panties and examined the cum streaks on them. "She won't be wearing these again. And neither will you, husband!" She pulled the band that had held them over my eyes from my head. I saw that it was the blue garter. "But this is still good for tomorrow." She flicked them at me, like a rubber band.
"Baby how did you get them?" I held them by the elastic above me, examining them. Very fine silk and in medium.
"When she changed out of her dress. That's when she said you were handsome. She asked if you are getting a bachelor party."
"And did you mention what I do with your panties?"
"Noo. I didn't have to. It was all her idea! Did you like it?"
She still held my dick, tight with her thumb and forefinger wrapped hard around the base, and her palm pressing down on my nuts. I was still hard. Thinking of it all, I felt a rare second wave orgasm cumming on.
"Baby hurry. Get your mouth on it!"
She did as told, and took in a mouth full of fresh Daddy jizz. I pumped it into her slowly that time. It rolled from my cock in streams so thick I saw it begin to ooze from the corner of her mouth. She swallowed a few times and let my cock fall softly out of her mouth. "Daddy! That was a lot of cum! I'm stuffed."
I stretched my legs in post-orgasmic relief and told her, "I haven't cum like that in ... Ever."
She smiled. "I know how to make you cum like that every time," she said with some pride. I caressed her head. "Daddy. Tell me the truth. This is much better than your first bachelor party, isn't it?"
That was my first bachelor party, but I opted not to tell her that. It would only disappoint her. "You really know how to surprise me, baby," I said. "It could not have been sexier."
. . . . . .
I woke with the sunrise as it flowed into the room beneath the curtains. Lizvette lay on my right, in deep sleep and snoring her little girl snore. I kissed her cheek and nudged her face just slightly to the side to quieten her. Her lips responded with a reflexive little air kiss in return. She licked them, then closed them, and went back to a quieter sleep. She lay on her back, still in her little top, and her newly expectant mother's breasts swelled so beautifully beneath it, I had to resist the temptation to reach beneath and hold them. She needed her rest and I didn't really want to start anything. I craved coffee.
Though it was early for me, I had slept enough and was feeling anxious about the day, and to find out how well my plan was working out. I needed to check our phones for messages, and be sharp enough to reply if necessary. I rose, naked except for my pullover sport shirt, and double-checked to make sure the Do Not Disturb sign was hung on the door. I had no conscious memory of hanging it after rolling in our luggage - or Lizvette's - the night before, but it was there. I started the coffee maker and saw myself in the full length mirror beside the door. My green polo shirt was rumpled, my gray hair was sticking out in all directions, my beard was coming in over my cheekbones, and, as Lizvette noted last night, my pubes were bushy, way overdue for a trim. But she had promised to tend to that later. "Your peter is so pretty, Daddy. I hate seeing it covered with hair," she told me once in a text message. In the mirror, I saw myself smile at the thought of her grooming me later.
As the coffee brewed I passed by the open closet and saw that she had unpacked and hung our clothes. My black suit was out of it's garment bag and neatly hanging. Beside it, concealed in black plastic, hung her dress, which I had yet to see. On the shelf, I noticed a small package, wrapped in white gift wrapping with a purple ribbon around it. Another surprise to look forward to. But I wondered if, in her unpacking, she had stumbled onto my gift to her? I checked the inner pocket of my suitcase and found it was just as I left it, though she could have peeked.
I stepped into the bathroom for a whiz and saw that she had all of her things laid out on the counter, her lotions and cosmetics, our toothbrushes, her hairbrush, my trimmer. On a hand towel beside the sink, Candy's panties, rinsed and cleansed of my cum, were laid out and drying. Lizvette had prepared our little love nest very tidily as I slept last night. I began to brush my teeth and thought how busy she had been, and for only a two night stay. I felt bad that I could not have gotten us more time away together. She would have liked a honeymoon day, but I just couldn't think of a way to keep her longer. She had missed enough school with doctor appointments and days with me. There would be time later, I promised myself.
I showered quickly, put on a fresh shirt and undershorts, poured a cup of coffee and sat in the recliner by the window to check our messages. Lizvette's first. She had several of course but three that mattered to me. From Johnny, her boyfriend: "Luci texted me asking where Im at. I told her we are having dinner with my Nana. W/b when you get this. Not sure what else I supposed 2say." Lizvette's story to Johnny was that she was with girlfriends at the lake, on a boat without her parents permission. Luci s Lizvette's overprotective and deeply suspicious older sister. She hated me. Still does.
And speaking of the devil Luci, a message from her: "I know you're at the lake. Johnny can't lie worth shit!" Nice way to talk. Luci, like many over-confident and self-admiring people, believed she was quite clever, but Lizvette could play her like an old song. How she will laugh when she sees that, I thought.
And from her mother: "Thank you for letting me know you got there alright, angel. Don't overdo things." A very dear woman, Mrs. Feliciano. So trusting, so caring. Any man would be happy to have her as his mother-in-law.
Things were going well. I was relieved. As I held her phone in my hand, a new message popped up. From Candy: "Hope your party went well. Kit sure had fun at ours! Sweetest love. See you at the chapel." A pair of overlapping hearts ended the message. So, Lizvette invited them. I was happy she would have a girlfriend with her. That had been another thing I was regretting.
Checking my phone, a message from Lois: "How much did you pay Brandi!!! I just checked the account. Ouch! Be careful, please." I paid the chapel in cash and would explain the expenses to Lois as a bad night at the blackjack tables. The hotel charge would be explained as me picking up the tab for the 4 of us, to be reimbursed.
And a message from my own angel, Bethie, sent just after midnight her time: "Miss you so bad, Daddy. Stay away from those naughty girls. You already have one!" She added a smiley with it's tongue out. Lois must have told her my Brandi joke.
A photo was attached. Out of habit before opening any photo from Bethie, I checked to make sure I had privacy. Lizvette was at a safe distance and of course fast asleep. I gave my cock a tug, feeling it awaken at the sight of Bethie's text, and opened the photo. I heard myself whisper, "Oh my god." She took my breath.
It was a close shot, from below her breasts to her eyebrow. She wore an olive green top with spaghetti straps overlaying those of her black bra as they disappeared beneath it. The beautiful smooth coffee and cream skin of her face, her neck, her chest and shoulders was generously visible for me. Her breasts, covered by her top but obviously the focus of the photo, so full, and firm, now fully matured and round and voluptuous, filled the lower half of the frame, from the bottom left diagonally upward to the right, with her flat tummy under them, such a beautiful contrast to her new womanly curves. Her chin rested atop the back of her long slender fingers stretched below it. Her lips were full and soft, and seemed almost to be offered for my kiss. Looking at them I remembered how similar they looked not many years ago when she first puckered them for me in my car, after we pulled into our driveway, returning home from our first Daddy-daughter date. That magical night ended there, with our first kiss, which had been wet, flavorful, inappropriately long, and impossibly tender. "Sweetest love" as Candy texted, captioned the memory perfectly.
I studied the photo more. Gone from her cheek was the soft baby fat Lizvette still carried. Bethie's were now sculpted high, and classically beautiful. Only one eye was visible in the frame - I was always so proud of her compositional skills, she was quite visually adept - and looking into it, though made-up so dramatically and tastefully, accented so smartly with dark liner and shadow, something in her eye seemed to be saying she truly missed me, and not simply my presence in the house. I read her message again. "You already have one." I looked again at her picture. This was not a happy smile, or a playful kissy face. This was my daughter, so quickly becoming a woman, with whom I shared a very secret intimacy, and one that we had each made sacrifices for, taken risks for, telling me something very important, I knew. I heard again Lizvette's guitar playing the love theme, and this time, I heard the lyrics.
"What is a youth? Impetuous fire.
What is a maid? Ice and desire.
The world wags on."
A new season approached in Bethie's life, one that I could not be fully part of. Just as time had taken my sisters from me, time and age and all the responsibilities of life now called for my daughter, no longer my little girl, and too, too soon a woman.
"A rose will bloom
It then will fade
So does a youth.
So does the fairest maid."
Did she miss the closeness we had when she was younger, too? The private moments that became rarer as she grew more popular at school? Was she feeling our time slipping away? My heart ached to think so.
I replied: "I have a VERY GOOD girl! A perfect angel. I love you so much, darling. Can't wait for my welcome home kiss." I could have said so much more, but doing so might have alarmed her. I was about to tap send when I noticed I had not commented on her photo. I added, "I treasure this picture. My little girl has become my beautiful young woman." I tapped the send button and exhaled "My Bethie."
Lizvette stirred. I saw her arms raise and stretch, then fall again to her sides, but she did not wake up. She would want breakfast when she did, I knew. I was looking forward to Eggs Benedict in the hotel cafe myself, then a stroll through the casino. We would have a few hours before the wedding, and I wanted to see the wonder and the spectacle of Las Vegas, or at least The Bellagio, through her eyes. I loved showing her new things, like I had with Bethie.
The thought occurred to me then that maybe the need I was satisfying with this trip, the wedding, the formality, this bond I was searching for with Lizvette, was a way of avoiding with her the fate that awaited me with Bethie. I knew Bethie would always be my daughter, always love me, always be in my life, but it would never be as it had been. Lizvette, too, I knew, would need to move on, and sooner than I wanted to consider, to find a young man she would truly share the rest of her life with. Unlike Bethie, I was not sure Lizvette would still be in my life ten years from now, even if I was raising our c***d. Yes, she would visit, but would I be nothing more than an ex-lover to her? And was I being selfish to want more?
With my wife I shared the bond of matrimony and the parentage of our c***d. With my sisters and my daughter, I shared the bond of blood, and though those relationships were never meant to be so deeply intimate, so passion-filled and sexual, they were, and whether I had initiated it, or they did, or fate did, mattered not. Love for me meant depth, sex, and permanence, and only my love with Lizvette lacked that final quality. No, I wasn't being selfish. I was fulfilling a promise. I could not do as Piero said most men do and simply adopt my youthful beloved to care for her. I could only marry her.
She yawned and stirred again. She lifted herself up on her elbows and looked at me and the morning light behind me through squinting eyes, smacking her lips. "You're awake already," her little voice croaked.
"Good morning, sweetheart."
She looked at clock beside the bed, then back at me. "I'm hungry, Daddy."
"I know you are baby." I stood and walked to the bed. "Let me start your shower." I kissed her temple. "Then we'll go downstairs for a nice breakfast."
"Yummm..." She smiled.
I looked at her sleepy, happy face and the morning sun lighting her youthful beauty. "We're going to have a lovely day, darling."
. . . . . .
Liesl
- 04.12.2021
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