Chapter 4
Christine H. came to my office beset by a serious problem. A beautiful blonde with well-chiseled features and a sensitive facial expression, Christine looked troubled the first time she talked to me.
I felt that the only thing that would bring her out of her troubled state would be leveling with me, getting her problem off her chest, and giving me an opportunity to grapple with it.
When I stated the importance of drawing herself out, she agreed, expressing a willingness to clear the air. She expressed herself very well and highly candidly. Recorded on tape is Christine's story, as related to me by her:
My parents were divorced when I was just a little girl, and I lived with my mother in a fashionable New York apartment, where every conceivable monetary need was taken care of.
As for my father, he was a wealthy and famous movie actor, and I found myself learning more about him through seeing his movies and reading about him in movie magazines and newspaper stories, I'm very sorry to say.
On the screen he was always playing some kind of dashing hero. He was depicted as so sophisticated and suave, as just the kind of man a girl would like to have as a husband or father. My friends at school would always tell me how lucky I was to have a father like that, which made me want to kinda cry, since I didn't really know him much better then they did.
He was always kind and generous about remembering my birthdays and Christmas holidays. I would always get a beautiful gift, and quite often he would call me up, either from Hollywood, where he lived a lot of the time, and other places, including many foreign ports, where he'd either be making a movie or would just be carrying on having a good time.
Through the first fourteen years of my life I only saw him a tiny handful of times. Then, just after I finished ninth grade, I suddenly got a call from him. He told me how sorry he had been over being unable to attend my junior high graduation, but expressed an intention to make things up to me.
I came alive with a wonderful feeling of excitement when he proposed that I take a boat trip with him. He wanted me to come to California to see him. Then he would test out his new yacht on the California waters. He even told me that he had named the yacht after me, which made me feel tremendously honored.
My mother, who still had a profound respect for my father, as he in turn had for her, was happy to see that I was so happy, and gratified that my father would want to do something for me to make me happy.
I flew to California and he was there to meet me at the airport. He looked even more handsome than he ordinarily did on the screen, and more handsome than the last time I had seen him some two years before. He was wearing a mustache, which made him look even more handsomely masculine and virile than ordinary, was deeply tanned, and was clad in a smart sport outfit.
I was thrilled to discover that he still maintained his magnetism with the opposite sex, which seemed to carry him on or off the screen, as women of all ages moved in on him nervously, seeking autographs. He was more than happy to oblige, signing their books with a smile. And even many women who did not actually walk up to him with autograph books would watch him from the distance and swoon.
"You see, my dear," he turned to me at one point as we neared the front entrance to the airport, where his chauffeured limousine was waiting to pick us up, "these are the penalties of being famous. You just have no time to yourself." But he said it anything like a man who was suffering, and I knew that down deep he enjoyed every solitary moment of recognition and that he would have been worried if people hadn't been that concerned.
The chauffeur drove us into Hollywood and high up into the hills overlooking it, where Dad's mansion was situated. It was protected by a huge gate that extended itself on all sides of it, thick shade trees that afforded a buffer, and was located at the end of a narrow winding side street, to insure maximum privacy. A view of the city sprawled out below was afforded through the select location positioning of the house.
No sooner did we get into the house than Dad asked me if I would like to take a swim with him before lunch, which the maid would be fixing. I emphatically agreed and he got me a pink bikini which he handed to me.
"I trust this will fit you," he smiled. "I got it for you yesterday, anticipating you'd want to do some swimming."
"Yes, I would," I grinned. "Thank you."
I was absolutely reveling in my glory. I dressed quickly in the guest bedroom that Dad had set aside for me, then joined him in the backyard. At that time he was in his middle forties, but his body in swimming trunks looked as magnificent as any athlete's in his middle twenties.
I had read articles in movie magazines relating his gift for physical fitness and the fact that he had his own gymnasium in his home, so that he could condition himself daily.
"Say, I can see that that little girl of mine isn't so little anymore," he eyed me approvingly as I stepped into the water at the shallow end of the pool in my bikini. He wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know. I was very well developed for my age. But it still sounded great coming from him.
We took several laps around the pool in the hot sun, then the maid came out and called us in, informing us that lunch was being served.
We got out of the water and Dad insisted on drying my body off with a brisk white towel.
"Say, my young lady has grown up," he nodded as the towel reached out and touched my tits. I got the distinct feeling that he had enjoyed the sensation of touching them with the towel.
He then dried himself off, after which we went back into the house and changed back to our clothes. As for the feast that had been prepared, it was fit for a queen, and I was honored that he had thought so much of me as to have something like it prepared for me.
Not only was there plenty of everything to eat, but there was even champagne handy, which my father served, toasting me as he did.
"I think you're big enough now to enjoy a few sips of this with me," he confided with a smile.
"I think so," I giggled.
The thing I liked was that he was treating me as an adult, whereas mother, despite her good intentions, and I wouldn't knock her for the world because she's one of the sweetest persons I've ever known, was inclined to be on the protective side and look upon me as some kind of sweet young juvenile.
I took a nap in the afternoon, then that evening my famous father took me out to a nightclub on the Sunset Strip, where he was constantly besieged by autograph seekers. He even ran into a famous Hollywood columnist who took one look at me and said, "Is she appearing in your latest picture with you?"
Dad looked at me and we both burst into laughter.
"No, old sport," he patted the columnist playfully on the back. "This is my daughter from New York."
"Oh, Mary's girl?" the man smiled at me.
"Mary's and mine," Dad nodded. "We're both very proud of her."
"You might as well. She's gorgeous."
"Thank you," I said.
We left the nightclub and he took me to a movie at famed Grauman's Chinese theater. After the film was over he took me out to where his footprints stood in the concrete. As he stood there with his feet in the cement, comparing the likeness of his footprints, a group of squealing teenage girls descended on him. He happily signed their autographs for the next few minutes, kibitzing with them as he did.
When he finished he looked at me and said:
"We'd better get home, young lady, 'cause I'm gonna test that boat for us tomorrow morning, The Miss Christine. You know, I really like the sound of that name."
Then he walked me back to the car, which was parked down a side street. The chauffeur was waiting for us. On the ride home I found myself wishing that Dad wasn't my father. I wished that instead I could be a grown-up real life lover of his, and hopefully marry him. That is what I really wanted.
As for the next day, it was absolutely wonderful. The Miss Christine was bright and new, breathtakingly beautiful, and we spent the entire day sailing.
I sat in a comfortable lounging chair wearing the pink bikini that he had bought me, which I was so proud of, and began quickly acquiring a tan in the sun.
As the day wore on I noticed something about Dad that I had heard was a part of his living pattern, but something I had seen very little of in my dealings with him until then.
He was beginning to do a lot of drinking, and the longer he drank the more frequently he began eyeing me with a boyish grin. I wondered what the grins were all about, but was inclined to dismiss them, shrugging them off and smiling back at him.
By the time late afternoon began to fall my father asked me to join him in the cabin below the deck. I was more than happy to join him, and wondered what he wanted me there for at that particular time.
"Baby, I really think a lot of you," he closed the door behind him and announced. Now we were all alone in the middle of the sea, completely closed in from the rest of the world.
"Thank you," I replied. "I love you too."
"No, what I'm talking about, baby, goes even deeper than that," he looked at me solemnly. "Maybe I've got to get about half drunk to get the guts to face up to it, but I've really been attracted to you from the moment I saw you at the airport. I've tried my damnedest to hold my emotions back and, for the most part, at least until now, I guess I've succeeded. But now it's just getting to be too much for me to be around you. As I'm sure you've heard, I'm a very passionate man, as most of the famous actresses in Hollywood have testified at one time or another."
"Yes, I've heard that," I acknowledged meekly.
"Well, honey, I hope you'll forgive me, but I just can't hold myself back anymore," he exclaimed, shuffling forward toward me. "You're just too beautiful."
He quickly narrowed the distance between us and placed a solid kiss on my lips. That kiss absolutely melted me like butter. The kiss I had seen thrill women the world over on the screen was now thrilling me.
Sure, he had kissed me before, but on every other occasion it had been a fatherly kiss I received. Now it was something different. I was getting the same kind of kiss that I would get from a passionate lover.
He threw those strong, protective arms around me, letting them encircle my body as I tingled with sensation to his wonderful touch. He delivered several more impactful kisses to my lips, then let his tongue work its way inside my mouth.
As my-tongue slashed against his I began burning up between my legs for the first time in my young life. Oh, yes, I'd felt little tingles in there before, and several times I had let boys I liked kiss and pet me a little, producing those responses, but never had I felt the kind of sharply intense pangs of excitement that I felt then and there as our tongues splashed resolutely against each other.
We kept up the Frenching for a long time, until finally we both rolled off of the sofa we were sharing and spilled out bodies on to the floor.
Then the real excitement began as we rolled on the floor, our hot hands touching each other in increasingly intimate ways. He ran his hungry fingers underneath my bikini top and roamed freely over my breasts, pinching my nipples and enjoying every wonderful sensation.
My pulse began to speed up and my breathing accelerated as he continued running his fingers over my knobs. Finally he took the liberty of unhooking my strap and pulling off my bikini top.
"Oh, now I can see all of those lovely boobs," he smiled, dropping his head between my breasts.
He licked the tips of my boobs, letting his tongue comb briskly over them as my body trembled with exhilarating passion.
"I've got to see all of you naked," he announced.
Then he put his fingers to work on the strap that held together my bikini bottom. One resolute tug later he pulled it off, sighing happily as he focused on my hairy snatch.
Dad applied his fingers diligently to my box, stroking with skilled professionalism. My whole body came alive with a new sense of flaming need as he went to work. Thunderous bolts of electric sexual excitement surged through me.
He kept up his brisk finger work for the next few minutes. Then he decided it was time to tongue my entire body. Dad began with a French kiss that sent me reeling into orbit. Then he kissed and nibbled on my ear lobes, after which he went back to some more intense breast sucking as he worked me into a great lather.
Then his active tongue zeroed in on my thighs, which he sucked and nibbled on. He worked his tongue effectively against the insides of them, then decided that it was time to move his tongue up. between my legs to my snatch.
His darting stabs caused my entire body to vibrate passionately as he moved in and out. He used his tongue like a torpedo, blistering me with his superb movements.
He drove himself at a nifty pace as his tongue continued working its way around inside my box. With brisk energy he moved me evermore toward explosion.
Dad wasn't about to stop until he achieved his objective, and finally he did, catching my load as I emitted a loud sigh. While he went after my juices he squeezed my buttocks for added support.
Once I got my orgasm off a big smile pushed itself across Dad's entire face. He got up and began taking off his clothes.
"I'm gonna get as naked as you," he announced determinedly.
He pulled off all his clothes, revealing that beautiful body that I had seen in swim trunks the day before, the body I had admired. Well, it looked even better now completely devoid of clothes.
Naturally the most conspicuous thing about it was the sizable bulge between his legs. It was the first time in my previously secluded life that I had seen a huge bulging penis exposed in the flesh.
Some of the young guys I had let kiss and pet me got hard while we were fooling around, and I could see the bulge underneath their pants. Some of them got so excited that they asked me to take their cocks out and play with them, but I wouldn't do it. In fact I completely stopped having anything to do with one guy I knew after he kept pestering me about taking out his cock and playing with it.
Dad stroked his dong proudly several times. It was obvious how proud he was of his physical prowess.
"This is what you do to me," he said. Then he lowered his body back down to the floor. "Tell you what, honey. I've just got to get this thing off. It's just driving me crazy. I'd really appreciate it if you could jerk it until the juice shoots out of it. I'd really like that. I don't want to force you to do too much with me, but I do need to get my release."
I nodded, then put my fingers to work on that warm, smooth, hard rod of his. It felt good to make contact with it, even though it felt a little strange for me in the beginning. The longer I ran my fingers up and down its hard surface the better it felt. And the faster and more talentedly I did it the broader the grin that surfaced on my father's lips.
"That's it, you're getting to be a real pro already," he laughed, "just keep up that finger work, just keep up the pumping, keep those fingers jerking, baby, that's all I need to get me off. Just keep it up and I'll be there."
I kept right on going until his legs began spasming more noticeably than before and he started gasping.
"Oh, just a few more," he sighed, "just keep it up a little while longer and I'll be there."
Then there was a louder gasp than before and I felt a jutting stream of warm cum hitting my hand. What didn't land in my hand and remain there squirted voluminously on the floor.
We got dressed after that and there was no more talk about sex during the rest of our excursion. The chauffeur was there to pick us up when we brought the boat in, and he dropped us off at a restaurant nearby, where we had a good meal.
Several times on the ride home, as I thought about the consequences of what had occurred on that boat, my father reached over and squeezed my hand gently, as if he had picked up on what I was thinking.
Before I turned in for the night my father came into the room and kissed me tenderly on the forehead.
"Thanks for a wonderful day," he said.
Then I watched him walk out of the room and close the door. I couldn't go to sleep for several hours, spending time tossing and turning as I thought about all that had happened.
It was supposed to be wrong to do things with your father like the intimacies we had exchanged that day. But somehow, strangely enough, it just didn't seem wrong. It seemed so natural, particularly the way that he had asked me to help him get his rocks off.
I wondered if that would be the only time that I would get so involved with him. I wondered if he would suggest future involvements and, if so, to what extent.
Once the next day dawned I got a much better perspective on what he had in mind. He suggested we take a boating excursion to Catalina Island, and that we stay overnight there. I told him I would be absolutely delighted.
He drank heavily on the ride over to Catalina Island, but never once made anything resembling a sex overture, except to smile at me now and then and occasionally look at my bare legs.
But after we reached Catalina Island and safely docked our boat, I could see the hellfire look in his eyes, and figured that something was definitely in the works.
We took a suite in a lavish hotel and immediately went inside it. Dad opened a fresh bottle of liquor and began belting down the sauce even quicker than before. He had a troubled look on his face as he did, as if he were at war with himself.
"What's the matter, Dad?" I asked.
"I'm just thinking, honey. I'm thinking about how far I ought to go with you. I want sex with you again, and I want it bad. I haven't been this uptight about the prospect of sex since I was just a kid. I've gotten so much about it through the last few years from so many different women that I've learned to take it for granted."
He put his glass down and walked over to me. He ran his fingers softly over my face.
"Oh, your complexion is so smooth," he lauded. "I just love to touch it. It's like silk."
Then he threw his lips suddenly against mine. They crashed together. He reached inside my blouse and bra and let his fingers go to work with precision. The longer he put those fingers to work the more anxious he became to go further. Finally he stopped working them inside my bra and asked:
"Would you do something for me, dear? Something that I really need?"
"What's that?"
"I wish you'd suck my cock. I don't imagine you've ever done that before. I'll guide you along, providing that you want to do it. Would you want to?"
I paused for several long seconds.
"Yes, I'll do anything to make you happy," I finally said.
At that point he unzipped his trousers, pulling out his big dick.
"Take this and play with it," he whispered. "You can start out by doing what you did so well the other time."
"Okay," I said obediently.
I went to work with my fingers as the anticipation flowed inside me. The longer I pumped the more triumphant the smile became that flashed across his face.
"Oh, you've got magic in those fingers," he lauded, "keep up that brisk finger work. I love it."
My fingers continued to work him over, until finally he was ready for me to move on to the next step. His breathing accelerated and he let out a gasp as he said:
"Okay, baby, now let that tongue go to work on my prick. That's what I want. Just listen to me and your old man will instruct you. I want you to start out nice and slow. Now let the tip of your tongue lick the tip of my cock. Nice and easy now, 'cause that's what I want."
Up and down I let my tongue slip. The first few times I experimented by letting it run around his warm smooth pole. But when he specifically requested that I run my tongue over the tip of his prick, I was more than happy to accede to his request.
It felt good to let the edge of my tongue tickle the end of that huge dick. And his whole body vibrated accordingly, enjoying contact with my tongue.
"Okay, baby," he said with encouragement, "now you can speed up the pace a little bit. Let that tongue go to work a little faster on my prick. Move it quicker."
I was happy to control my actions according to his wishes. He knew just what he wanted from a woman, having had so many during his whole life. Even though a lot of people were looking on what we were doing as wrong, I was flattered that I was able to please such a sophisticated man of the world with sex.
I stepped up the pace, licking the end of his huge stick, until he gave me orders to go to work on his entire dick. He was too excited to withhold his orgasm for much longer.
"Okay, baby, now you can suck me all over," he said briskly. "Let that tongue fly, because I wanna shoot in your mouth. Oh, are you gonna love that, are you gonna love catching my juice. C'mon and suck me, suck all the juice out of me, let me flood that cute mouth of yours, the mouth I love."
In addition to being about the sexiest man to look at that I had ever met, my father brought beautiful little nuances to the act of lovemaking itself. The manner in which he spoke, the manner in which he was able to draw me out sexually, was fantastic. No sooner did he utter those words than I was ready to do all in my power, absolutely all, to please him in every way I could.
I let my tongue race with superb grace up and down his long spear as he spread out his legs and thoroughly enjoyed my tongue action. He cupped his strong, firm fingers around my buttocks as my tongue continued sliding up and down in brisk, steady rhythm.
"Keep up that sucking," he urged, "keep that tongue pouring over my hot stick. I want that sucking, I want you to suck me, keep up that sucking, baby."
As I continued pumping up and down, he made another suggestion:
"Finger my balls, play with them. It'll make things even sexier that way for both of us. That's it, oh, play with them, toy with those balls, tug at that scrotum, oh, I love it, I want it, I want lots of great movements."
I gave him the kind of great movements that he sought, combining my sucking with finger tingling sensations on his balls. He began gasping and sputtering, and his body proceeded to shake even more noticeably than before as I pushed him ever closer to that magic moment he would shoot.
"Suck, suck, suck," he sighed impatiently.
My fingers continued sliding over his balls and my tongue manipulated itself with great conviction over the base of his rigid dong. Finally he issued one last warning:
"Hang on, honey, because I'm gonna shoot. Don't let that hot juice startle you. Stay with it. You might have the temptation to spit it out right away. Well, stick with it and you'll really enjoy it. Cocksucking is a great art."
I was determined to do what he said, to stick with his load and catch every precious drop of cum that bolted from his penis. As he began shaking more noticeably and he let out one final gasp, I received the first spurt from his dick.
As hard as it is for me to admit, I did waste a little of that first load as the hot juice rolled off of my tongue and fell to the rug. I even coughed a few times.
"Stay with it, baby," Dad encouraged, throwing his strong fingers around my head to brace me. "Hang on and suck that juice, you'll get to love the stuff, you really will, just like I loved sucking out your pussy. Stick with it."
Due largely to his steady encouragement and inspiration, I stuck with it and managed to gobble up most of his juice. Just as he had predicted, I liked it once I got used to it. Of course, I would like anything that was his, since I loved him that much.
He was so grateful for the job I did sucking his dick that he insisted on going down on me, which he did, with his usual degree of expertise, receiving not one but two loads from my snatch.
We spent the following day sunning ourselves. When I observed Dad watching my body closely, I knew that he was getting horny for more sex. He finally suggested that we go back to our room, to which I readily consented.
This time we had a beautiful sixty-nine. I found it considerably easier the second time around sucking his cock as compared to the problems I encountered adjusting to something new the first time around. It was amazing fun to be getting my snatch sucked by Dad's skillful tongue while I was giving him the same kind of excellent oral action with my tongue.
By the time we left early the following day I realized that I had a deep crush on Dad that wouldn't easily go away. It wasn't something I just could accept and quickly shrug off. You see, since I hadn't ever been involved with a man before on such an intimate level, and since that first man happened to be somebody like my father, things took on completely different significance than they would have given a separate set of circumstances. I wondered at that point, seriously wondered, if I would ever be able to become enamored toward anybody else. My desires toward Dad were that strong.
That evening, after the servants had retired to the guest house, and as I lay in bed contemplating the future, and the consequences of my sexual relationship with my father, he snuck into my room. He staggered a little, and held an open bottle of whiskey to his lips, from which he took occasional sips.
"Honey, I've got something important to talk to you about," he began, somewhat troubled.
"What's the matter?"
"I want you to completely level with me. I mean be as honest with me as you know how."
"Sure," I nodded.
"Well, are you a virgin?" I mean, has a man ever gone all the way with you? I mean really all the way."
"No," I shook my head.
"Did you ever go as far with another man as you went with me?"
"No," I told him.
"That's what I was afraid of," he nodded. "That makes the whole thing a lot tougher."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I'm all worked up just thinking about you. My old cock just can't rest, baby. And I was thinking of going all the way with you, going even further than we've gone so far. But now I don't want to, since I don't want to be the first person to go that far. I'm sorry to disturb you, baby. Get a good night's rest."
He took one last quick sip from his bottle, turned quickly on his heels, and started walking slowly toward the door. I couldn't stand to see him walking away disappointedly.
"Dad, wait," I called.
He stopped at the door, just as he had his fingers on the knob and was getting set to open it.
"Yes, dear?"
"I want you to be the one to go all the way with me," I told him with great conviction.
"You don't know what you're saying. No, I don't want to be the one to rob you of your virginity."
"Please, I want you," I announced in a loud, determined tone. And to prove my point I jumped quickly out of the bed and pulled down my pajama bottoms, then my panties, revealing my hairy cunt.
"Are you ever tempting me?"
He shook his head.
"Come and get me," I motioned to him. "I want you. I want you to make love to me, to go all the way."
He placed the bottle down on a table and rushed toward me, taking me in his arms and kissing me longingly on the lips. He was obviously overcome by my gesture.
Then he put his fingers to work on my pajama top, pulling it off, then going to work on my bra, which he also removed. Then he let his fingers slide over my breasts as the momentum accelerated.
Dad ended up guiding my body downward on the bed. As he ran his fingers soothingly over my breasts he dropped his head down between my legs and began licking my snatch.
He put his tongue to work fervently, while he continued letting his talented fingers run over my tits. He was getting me as hot as he could before working into the main event, a new experience in my life, that of a man going all the way with me.
I really think that, if he hadn't been such a heavy drinker, he never would have summoned up the nerve to have sex with me at all. But he was a hot man who. had an attraction toward beautiful women, and the drink gave him an extra stimulus, a means of warding off his normal apprehensions.
He continued sucking my snatch until I shot. Then he removed his tongue from my mound and put his fingers to work on it instead. He picked up the pace and began working his fingers with faithful ease, until my whole body was alive with excitement. I broke into a sweat of anticipation, ever eager to receive more in the way of thrills from my sexy father.
After he had worked his way into the passionate scheme of things he let his hard dong maneuver its way inside my nest. I'll never forget the scream I let out the first time he made contact.
"Do you want me to stop, baby?" he stopped his efforts long enough to ask. "I don't want to hurt you, but these first few strokes will hurt. I'll guarantee that. You're just not ready yet to deal with all this."
"Oh, yes I can," I said emphatically. "I learned before and I'll learn again."
"You sure? I don't want to force you into anything."
"I know you don't. I want you to do it to me. I can't wait, in fact. I want you to do everything to me."
"Very well," he nodded.
Then he went right back to his diligent efforts, sending that hot dong of his, that searing spear, into me relentlessly, time and again as he drove himself to passionate heights.
As that body surged forward a tremendous feeling of pride and satisfaction swept through me that I had done what I had, that I had insisted that he go through with screwing me all the way, that I was receiving those pulsating systematic stabs.
I noticed the blood oozing out of my pussy at one point, but it didn't bother me. I was enjoying his actions too much. I wasn't alarmed since I had talked to some older girl friends who had had their cherries popped, and they had informed me as to what it had been like to get it from a guy that way for the first time.
But whereas they had received it from boys, I was getting it from a man, one who women the entire world over desired to have sex with.
As he continued grinding his cock in and out of me, I put my hips to work diligently, moving them back and forth, in and out, as I kept perfect time to his movements.
He patted my ass cheeks several times to create added momentum as he drove his prick at top speed, moving ever nearer to the big moment when he would explode inside my cunt.
He finally locked his fingers around my hips as he rocked his body back and forth eagerly, pushing toward climax. His hungry lips reached suddenly forward, itching and quivering with anxiety. He let them swoop down and find my mouth.
At first he let his lips stab against mine several times. Then he let his tongue energetically work its way inside my mouth and grind against my tongue.
Back and forth the tongues ground as his body continued to move in and out with rapid strokes as he delivered spirited cock action inside my tight mound.
While we continued Frenching I felt the warm inspiring tingling of his hot juices exploding inside my twat. It felt so good to receive his inspiring nectar.
After it was all over he broke our French kiss and looked at me with alarm.
"I hope I didn't do something terribly bad," he shook his head.
"I love it. I hope you do it to me again."
"That's sweet of you to say."
"I really mean it."
"Well, you'd better get a good night's sleep now."
He patted my cheek, kissed my lips with gentle affection, then picked up his bottle, took a swig from it, and left my room.
When he left I suddenly discovered how sore my entire body was from the sensational tension of a new experience. Needless to say I was particularly sore between my legs.
We screwed off and on during the remainder of my stay with him, which, in all, lasted better than two weeks. Several times I noticed beautiful women leaving his room at various times of the day. Some of them were familiar faces from movies and movie magazines I had seen. Apparently he did have the pick of the crop, as he should have, considering how much he had going for him.
I'll never forget one afternoon as I walked inside the house after taking a refreshing swim. I was barefooted, wearing nothing other than my scintillating bikini.
I heard giggling coming from my father's room. Much to my surprise the door was wide open. I observed a brunette I had seen in many movies, a real glamor performer, with her head buried between his legs. They were both naked, and the brunette, if anything, exhibited even a better body than she did on the screen, where I saw her most of the time dolled up in bathing suits and short dresses to befit her sex symbol image.
They were both doing a little giggling, even the brunette was slurping more than giggling as she ran her tongue up and down enthusiastically over my father's dick.
"What a great hose artist you are," he chuckled. "Just keep it up and you'll get the juice you came after."
She wasn't about to be denied, judging by the intense way in which she applied her tongue, driving it spiritedly up and down Dad's tall restless dong.
At that point, as I stood outside the door, getting an eyeful, Dad finally observed me watching.
"Come on in and get an education, honey," he laughed.
The brunette became a little confused as she heard Dad address a comment to somebody else. She turned around and caught her first sight of me, lighting up with a big smile, showing those beautiful, even white teeth of hers.
"Hello, beautiful," she began. "Where'd you come from?"
"Outside, where I was swimming," I told her candidly.
"You don't say," the brunette laughed. If anything she was even drunker than my father.
"Honey, this is my daughter," Dad introduced us. Then he looked at me and said: "I suppose you're quite familiar with my friend here."
"Yes, I've seen many of her films," I nodded.
"Thank you, dear. You're so cute."
"As for now, let's finish this suck," Dad said, getting a little on edge by the long interruption.
"Have a seat, baby, and watch me finish your old man off," the brunette looked at me and winked.
I got myself quite an education, watching her do a fantastic job of cocksucking. I noticed her brilliant sense of timing, and the way that she would alternately speed up, then slow down, keeping Dad in a perpetual tizzy.
She kept it up until he exploded, and as the hot juice bolted out of his prick she reached out and tickled his balls, giving him some added sensation that way.
No sooner did the brunette finish than she jerked her head up from Dad's now satisfied peter, and gave me a big smile.
"I love you, honey," she said.
"What are you doing, baby?" Dad smiled. "Are you trying to put the make on my daughter?"
"I'd like to give her a little bit of an education," the beautiful actress casually admitted.
I was flabbergasted over what was happening. I couldn't believe that this beautiful woman, who had thrilled me so many times on the screen, was eager to have sex with me. Of course, at that time I just didn't understand the double-gaited nature of some of Hollywood's screen personalities.
"I like my kicks any way I can find them, sweetheart," she told me. "You're cute and I could give you quite an education. That is, if your old man will let me."
"I'll leave it up to my little girl," Dad said. "If she wants to go to bed with you then I'll let her."
"How kind of you, Dad," she looked at my father and winked.
Without any warning she then let her lips plunge resolutely against mine. I was amazed to discover that I felt all kinds of passion down between my legs. I never would have thought that possible with another woman, but here it was happening to me, and so fast that I could hardly understand the totality of all of it.
She went to work on my bathing suit when she found no resistance on the basis of her kiss. Once she pulled off my top and bottom she asked me to join her in bed.
"I'm gonna give you a trip around the world that you'll never forget, baby," she winked at me, spreading her shapely form out on the bed. "You just lie back and relax and let me take care of everything. I'm gonna overload that cute body of yours with thrills."
She began by showering my lips with kisses. Then she lowered her head to my breasts, which she sucked and nibbled on eagerly, running her fingers over my ass cheeks as she did.
"I love this body, just love it," she gasped.
I looked over and observed Dad standing next to the bed, watching us go to work with mounting interest. Finally I observed his fingers drop down between his legs. He began running his fingers over his cock as he watched us make love.
The brunette was completely accurate about one thing. She knew how to use her tongue, whether it meant putting it to work on my body or on Dad's cock, and she couldn't seem to work it fast enough.
Once she gave my tits brisk tongue action she let her tongue slip down toward my asshole. As she let her fingers glide with superb ease over my ass cheeks she put her tongue to work skillfully moving in and out inside my ass.
My ass itched with wild sensations as her tongue worked its way around it explosively. My whole body trembled with exhilaration under her spirited movements.
"Suck that asshole, baby," my father called. And while he watched he began working those fingers around his dong more briskly than before, getting completely caught up in the thrills of what was going on.
When she saw that she had sent the tingling sensations reeling through my entire body, my gorgeous brunette friend applied her tongue to my toes, which she sucked and nibbled on. That got me even hotter than I'd been before.
"I can tell that that box of yours needs attention, doesn't it," the brunette exclaimed with a knowing smile as she let her fingers manipulate smoothly over my snatch. It reminded me of the cool, intelligent pattern which my father followed when he was leading me toward sucking.
Then she got right into the act, dropping her head eagerly downward, swooping between my legs and letting her tongue go to work. My moist mound enjoyed the sizzling movements of her tongue as it sent thrills reeling through me.
She kept it up until I exploded three times, being a glutton for my juices. And when it was all over she had nothing but lavish praise for me, which I accepted modestly.
The brunette finally left, leaving Dad and I alone. He was happy to have me in the bedroom naked.
"How about blowing me, honey?" he asked, tickling my stomach with his fingers.
In a matter of seconds, I was going to work between those hairy legs of his, working my tongue around that big dong.
That meeting with my father, that vacation respite, changed the course of my whole life. In fact, ever since then I really haven't been able to work up a keen interest in a man.
Naturally I've had lots of date invitations, and lots of male pursuers. I've gone out and, on some occasions, I've let men get intimate with me. On every occasion I've left my mate satisfied, but in most cases they didn't satisfy me.
These poor guys didn't know it at the time, but they were having to compete with my famous father, and none of them could seem to cut it, I'm sorry to say.
Every now and then I get together with Dad, either if he's in New York, or when he has time to entertain me in Hollywood. The last time I visited him in California was a few months ago, and on that occasion we went to a Palm Springs hideaway for two weeks, where we did nothing but swim, fuck, and have fun.
I get the feeling that my father would like to cut off sex relations with me, not that he doesn't enjoy sex with me, because he definitely does, but due to the fact he sees it is adversely affecting my relations with other men. I have told him many times that I prefer him to any other man, and several times, instead of the look of joy I expected to see, I found instead a sad expression on his face.
It has reached the point of compulsion with me now to want to have sex with my father. Usually when I'm in the company of another man I'm thinking of him.
As for Dad, he keeps on drinking heavily, and I have a hunch that one of the reasons why he drinks as much as he does around me is so he can fortify himself when it comes to having sex with me.
But as for me, I'm so strongly drawn to him that I just can't help myself, and what makes things worse is that I can't seem to be drawn toward any other man in the way that I'm drawn toward him.
I'm in a turmoil since my better judgment tells me that it would be unwise and even foolish to expect to remain my father's faithful lover for the rest of his life. I know I should develop a serious interest in some other man, even though my inclinations are in the direction of continuing my relationship with Dad.
I guess that's where things stand now, and I'm getting to the point now where I'm getting really disturbed about things.
SUMMARY
It was highly unfortunate that Christine's first intimate contact, at the age of fourteen, was with her own father. Had she been involved in some transitory relationship with him it would have been much more simple for her to resume relations later with somebody else.
The first significant development in shaping Christine's future life was, then, the timing and the manner in which she became involved with her own father. In addition, circumstances worked against her by virtue of the fact that her father was far more appealing than most fathers were likely to be, along with being famous. Having sex with him, therefore, propelled Christine into a magnanimous state, making her appear like an adult and other young men who courted her appear like children as compared to her famous father.
Once Christine sampled the forbidden fruit she developed an appetite for more. The situation also worked in the case of her father. The more physical involvements that transpired between him and Christine, the greater the desire that ensued to engage in future acts with her.
As Christine mentioned in her narrative, there was also the factor of her father's heavy drinking, which no doubt played a heavy role in the development of their sexual relationship. Had it not been for the fact that her father's discretion and inhibitions had been significantly lessened by the intrusion of alcohol, he no doubt would have restrained his strong male urges in the direction of his daughter. He probably would have refrained from approaching her at all. But since he drank heavily, not only did he eventually capitulate to the extent of involving himself with her in various acts, but he even stood by and watched merrily as Christine had sex with another woman.
Although it appeared, particularly at the outset of my association with Christine, that I would have one of my most difficult cases to solve, circumstances intervened, taking the case out of my hands.
The afore mentioned drinking problem that had afflicted Christine's famous father flared up to the point where he sustained a serious heart attack coupled with a general breakdown in health.
Once he was released from the hospital he was ordered to take a lengthy and complete rest. Christine knew that she would have to get along without him in a sexual context, and instead looked after him like a devoted nurse, until he finally convinced her that she should not tie herself completely to him.
Despite her father's many faults, in the final analysis he wished the best for her, and wanted her to develop a sphere of contacts in her own age group, particularly a young man in whom she would become romantically interested.
As of last report Christine's father was remaining away from drink and was making good headway toward recovery, while she has taken an interest in a young man in her own relative age category. It appears as if things might have a happy ending.