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I was shocked to get an excited phonecall at work from my 19 year old daughter, Lindsey, that Wednesday afternoon. She had called to tell me that her friends had backed out of a planned cabin trip to New Hampshire and that wasn't I the lucky man to be able to spend some quality time with her instead.

"What?" I said monotonously. She explained that she had planned for this trip for quite some time and was highly disappointed when her buddies reneged. Then, upon glancing at my desk calendar at home, she had pleasantly discovered that I had scrawled "Beaver Hunt" for this weekend's fishing trip with my friends.

Over dinner, I tried to reason with her and my wife. "But, honey, wouldn't you rather be with girls your own age instead of a bunch of flabby old men who probably drink too much?"

My wife was no help. "This might be a good opportunity for just the two of you to get away and talk before she goes off to college. Think of it as make-up time for all your business trip."

Lindsey smiled approvingly. I squirmed in my seat. I couldn't very well tell them why I had written "Beaver Hunt", that my buds and I spent just as much time at the strip joints as we did on the pond, that we partied pretty heavily. Now the thought of my pretty young daughter accompanying us--Jesus, the guys would probably eat her up the second we hit the woods. No fucking way! I pursed my lips and thought of a way to get out of it. But it was no use. By the end of dinner, too late to change my own plans, I had agreed to take Lindsey along.

A quick phonecall to the guys saying that I had to back out solved the dilemma of my friends with my own daughter. So I simply changed reservations at a different site 2o miles upstream. Piece of cake.

The drive on Saturday morning was taxing. I had never really taken a good look at Lindsey before now. She had truly grown into a lovely young woman, firm and athletic, yet exuding the budding sexuality of a screen siren. Her outstretched legs in cut-off jeans was enough to arouse my natural curiosities. Nature sightseeing, huh? Good Lord, what was I thinking? She was completely distracting in her youthful exuberance and seductive voice. By the midpoint I had to relieve my straining cock at a rest stop. But, not enough time to relieve my throbbing urges. I had to wait for the night...

We pitched our three-man tent along the pond's softer grassy area. It was a secluded site, one that offered a spectacular view. But it was the view on the inside that captured my attentions and left me speechless.

I watched her pull out a satin nightie. "Lindsey, what the hell is that?"

She giggled. "I forgot my flannels, Dad. This was the stuff I had packed for the girls trip to a cabin. I wasn't planning on sleeping in a tent or a sleeping bag."

I shook my head in macho disgust. "Relax, Dad. You don't mind, do you?" And there was that flirtatious smile again! I left to take a piss while she changed. Of course, I stole a forbidden glance and saw her outline as she removed her clothes. Lindsey's outline was breath-taking.

When I returned she had already crawled into her sleeping bag and was reading a book. I got into mine and shed my own clothes, save my jockies. We talked some more of her future plans for school and then we said goodnight.

Who knows how much later it was when Lindsey asked what the noise was. She had been startled by a snapping of twigs.

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