Take Your Daughter To Work Day - Version Bravo
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They had no proper clothes, including Francine. And it was already past midnight. Bob's suite had two bedrooms, and he'd already ordered two daybeds to be brought up. He had assumed that, since girls sleep together at slumber parties, they could do so in one of the bedrooms. He hadn't thought about Francine at all, but then, he had a lot on his mind when these preparations had been made.
"Tomorrow I'll buy you something to wear," he said. "For now, you can just wear those jerseys as pajamas."
"Daddy," said Judith, patiently. She came to him and hugged him, reaching up on tiptoes. Brady watched her naked ass appear from under the jersey and averted his eyes. "Take a good whiff, Daddy," said Judith.
"Oh," he said. "I forgot about that."
"We'll manage," said Janice.
Had Francine been less distracted by Brady, who had moved to stand very close to her when the coach's daughter had flashed her ass, she might have perked up at the tone Janice used. But she was distracted. She was thinking about her own situation, and the long, thick, cotton nightgown back in her suitcase in the van, that she wore to bed these days. She'd been so upset to find the girls gone, that she had completely forgotten about luggage.
"Can we take a shower?" asked Kendi, who had been sweaty, wet and scared all in one day.
"Sure," said Bob. "Your part of the suite has its own bathroom."
"Where do we sleep?" asked Tiffany.
Which is how they all ended up in the part of the room Bob had set aside for their use. It was equipped with a queen bed. Two roll away beds were sitting against one wall. They were singles.
Girls started calling dibs on beds. When they were finished, Francine said "What about me?"
They all looked around. The queen would hold three. Each day bed would hold only one. Cramming another in the queen bed would mean they'd have to be the very best of friends. Had it been just the girls, that wouldn't actually have been a problem. By now they'd all figured out that Janice's solution to the pajama problem was to just sleep nude. Lots of girls did that back at school, though nobody would admit it to the nuns. And of course they hid the fact that sometimes girls slept together in the same bed.
"I've got a queen bed in my room," said Brady, softly.
It was suddenly quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
"Actually, I could probably bunk in with somebody else," he said, hurriedly. "That's what I meant."
"I should stay with the girls." Francine's voice shook slightly.
Bob was fascinated by the unspoken interplay between this strange woman and his assistant coach for special teams. He knew they had a past. And even if he didn't have the details, it was pretty plain that past involved some kind of relationship. Brady wasn't Catholic, and Bob could think of no circumstance in which Brady Hopkins could have met a nun ... or novice. He could feel the tension.
But he was tired. It had been a long day, a day he would never forget on many levels. He glanced at his daughter, wearing Clarence Zimmerman's jersey, and suddenly his mind's eye saw her up on that table again, her arms waving and her hips gyrating. He remembered her cherry-tipped nipples and the distinct, unmistakable absence of pubic hair. He was shocked to feel the reaction to that mental image in his groin.
"I'll be here with the girls," he said. "There's no sense in anybody being cramped up. Brady, pick anybody to stay with. If they give you any flack, have them call me. Tomorrow morning you and Miss..."
He looked at Francine, who said "Fox ... Sister Francine, actually."
"Tomorrow morning Brady and Sister Francine will take my credit card and go get you ladies some clothing. I'll look into your missing van and make arrangements for it to be delivered here. We can get room service for breakfast, but hopefully you'll all have something to wear by lunch. Sound like a plan?"
There was a murmur of agreement.
"Is there any chance we can order a snack now?" asked Monica. Her stomach rumbled at that moment and there was general laughter.
"I think we can do that," said Bob.
"We'd better get going," said Brady. "If I'm going to find somebody to stay with, I need to do that before everybody crashes."
"I hate to put you out of your room," moaned Francine.
"No big deal," said Brady. "You have no idea how delighted I am to see you again. That's worth all sorts of trouble to me."
Bob watched as the color rose and suffused Sister Fox's cheeks. Curiouser and curiouser, he thought. When he finally got to hear it, their story was going to be very interesting.
He was sure of that.
Ten minutes later, Brady stood in his hotel room. There was, in fact, one queen bed. It was a very standard room, not at all fancy like Bob's. But he hadn't expected anything fancy.
He stood, looking at Francine, as she looked around the room. The "dress" she was still wearing inflamed him. He tried to resist those feelings.
"Are you okay?" he asked, after she stood there silently for what seemed like forever.
She turned to face him.
"No," she said, softly.
"Can I help?"
"Yes. No." She lifted one hand and wiped at an eye. "Oh Brady," she mewled.
"I missed you so much," she whimpered. "That's what's so wrong."
"I'm here now."
"I know," she sighed.
"You want me to leave now?"
She took a step forward. She stood, feet together, and hands held in front of her, covering her loins.
"No," she whispered.
Bob stood in his part of the suite. He'd stripped down to his boxers. He looked at the TV and thought about seeing what the media was saying about the win. He heard a girlish shriek from the other side of the apartment, and imagined the girls there, getting in and out of the shower, moving here and there, covered only by towels, wrapped around naked bodies.
He closed his eyes and imagined Judith again ... all grown up ... a woman now. And that little chippie who was her roommate. He had a fragmentary memory of her lying on her back on that table, feet up in the air and legs spread. There had been three of his players all moving toward those open legs when he saw the table tip and they all went down together. That was when he'd roared, because all he could think about was the fat prick of an Ocelot plunging into his baby girl's defenseless, virgin pussy.
His eyes popped open. She hadn't been acting like a virgin. It suddenly felt like he had a bowling ball in his gut. Had some fat prick already slid deep into her belly?
He found himself standing in the open doorway of the other side of the suite. As his daughter's name leapt from his throat, he realized there were four naked girls cavorting around in the room. One of them had a towel wrapped around her head, but otherwise they were all buck naked.
"Judith!" his voice came stridently.
All four girls whirled and froze, so still they were like statues. He had no idea how long they would have stayed that way except just then Judith came from the bathroom, also naked, rubbing her hair with a towel held in both hands as she moved.
"Judith!" he said again.
This time she also stopped, frozen, as the other girls suddenly dove to grasp at sheets and blankets they were preparing to sleep on or under. There were squeals that sounded like they might be part terror, and part hysteria, but there was a disturbing tenor of excitement in those noises too, as if the girls weren't nearly as upset as it sounded like they were.
"Daddy!" scolded his daughter, letting the towel drop to hide her front. "You can't just walk in here!"
"I know," he said, holding up his hands. "I had to ... I need to ... could I please have a word with you ... in private?"
"Of course," she said. She walked toward him, wrapping the towel around herself.
He took her to the common room and stood, knowing he might be making the biggest mistake of his fatherhood.
But he had to know.
"Judith," he said, almost formally. "Are you still a virgin?"
She froze again, and his heart sank, because she looked so startled that he was sure that look was caused by being caught. Then she blinked several times.
"I can't believe you asked me that," she said, softly.
"I'm sorry," he said, and he really was sorry. "But I have to know. What I saw in that locker room..." He didn't finish.
He expected her to get mad and walk out, but she did exactly the opposite. She walked forward until she could put her hands on his shoulders.
"Daddy," she said softly. "We screwed up today. I know that. But that's the first time something like that has ever happened to me. To any of us. We don't act like that, Daddy. You don't have to worry. I'm a good girl. And my friends are good girls too." She frowned. "Well, most of them, anyway. Most of the time, anyway. Please don't think we act like that all the time."
"I don't," he said, simply. "But I have to know, Baby. I know I shouldn't ask you that. You're almost grown. But I can't help it. I have to know."
She went up on tiptoes and kissed her father on his cheek.
"Yes, Daddy. I'm still a virgin."
He sagged, and let out a long sigh. She giggled.
"Are you happy now?"
"You have no idea," he said.
"Awww. I love you, Daddy," she said, kissing him again.
"I love you too, pumpkin," he said. "I'm going to bed. I think I can sleep now."
She giggled again. Then she turned and sashayed back to their bedroom.
He sighed again as he watched her swaying hips.
And the fact that that towel only covered half her butt.
There's a saying: "I just can't catch a break!" That phrase is usually uttered by someone who's having a very long, very bad day.
In Bob Tanner's case, the day had contained stress he expected. There had been a dozen plays that had gone badly; dropped balls ... two turnovers ... and the other team's gains. In the end he'd been wrung out, as his team entered overtime. Then the euphoria of ultimate success, followed by stress he hadn't been expecting, as he saw his daughter in a situation he wasn't prepared for. Nor was he prepared to feel the level of lust that had shocked him to the core.
It had worked out, though, except for the fact that, as he returned to his room, he couldn't get out of his mind the images of the nubile, naked nymphs frolicking in that other room. And seeing his daughter again, her perky breasts upthrust as she dried her hair. And that final view of her half naked ass undulating as she walked away from him.
He knew he'd never get to sleep without some assistance. He wanted to masturbate, but guilt flooded him as he knew that, during that process, he'd imagine her again.
He turned to the mini bar.
Six little bottles later, he thought maybe he might be able to sleep after all.
Another person who was thinking along the lines of being unable to catch a break was Francine Fox.
In her case, it wasn't so much a crisis of faith as it was a recognition that she'd been running from something and, in the process, trying to be someone other than who she really was.
She loved Brady Hopkins. It seemed like she'd always loved him. And now, here in this room with him, she almost giggled hysterically as she compared herself with Fraulein Maria in The Sound of Music. She'd never done that before, but now the comparison seemed inescapable. All the reasons she'd fled to St. Clementine's were exposed as being flawed. Especially now that Brady was no longer married.
"Francine," said Brady, softly.
"Don't speak," she said, pushing a finger against his lips.
The dress was easy to shrug out of. It whispered to the floor as she reached for his jacket and pushed it back, off his shoulders.
"You don't have to find somewhere else to sleep," she whispered.
Two hours later, the aftershocks of the earthquake they'd all experienced continued.
In one room, Francine thrust her hips upwards as her lover's loins pounded hers. It was the third time they'd coupled, and she couldn't get enough. He had been tender the first time, violent the second time, and now he played a game of seeing how many times he could make her cum before he released himself in her again.
In another room there were three girls sleeping in a queen bed. Monica, on one side, rolled, tossing in her fevered sleep as she dreamed of seeing Janice pinned to the wall, flopping like a broken doll as a huge, black man fucked his impossibly big penis up into her.
She rolled into Tiffany, who was in the middle. Tiffany rolled away from her and ran into Judith, who was on the other side of the bed.
Judith, already sleeping right on the edge of the bed, was nudged just enough that she rolled out of bed and fell to the carpeted floor. She grunted, and woke enough to realize what had happened. She got up and tried to get back in bed, but the body of her roommate was there.
Judith's sleepy, befuddled brain reviewed the options and suggested that, across the apartment, there was a bed with only one person in it.
She had crawled into bed with her Daddy as a little girl.
She did so again now.
Brady grunted and froze as his penis throbbed, and he donated a third load of creamy spend to Francine's already soaked pussy.
"Oh Brady," she sighed, feeling the joy she had fled from, and now couldn't resist.
Exhausted now, and finally sated, at least for the moment, the reunited lovers finally drifted off to sleep.
Bob roused when he felt someone crawl into bed with him. He felt cool skin touch his, and then the woman cuddled with him to warm that skin. His brain registered the scent of shampoo, and he rolled to embrace the woman he was dreaming of.
Alcohol contributed to what happened as his almost sleeping brain matched up physical sensations with the dream he'd been having. Muscle memory, from earlier days, caused him to touch, and kiss his bed partner, preparing her for the ancient bedroom dance.
Judith also indulged in the warmth and security of cuddling with a man she trusted. She hadn't done this for many years, though, and her now grown body interpreted things differently than her younger body had. In some ways, her body simply reacted like it did when she and Tiffany played in bed.
But when his lips latched onto a nipple and sucked, she came wide awake. At that very moment his fingers found her already slippery channel, and one probed to test the readiness for something larger and longer.
She took a breath, in all likelihood to object, or at least ask him what he was doing, but his finger pushed deep. The only things that had penetrated that portion of her anatomy prior to this were tampons and the much shorter, much softer tongue of her roommate. This penetration took away the breath she would have used to stop what was happening.
Then the tingling, lovely, addictive feelings of being made love to flooded her body. It cannot be said that she knew what was happening. She was too shocked to think rationally, and too excited to recognize the taboo nature of her pleasure. If anything, she loved her daddy, and knew he loved her. From that vantage point, it was impossible for her to attach negative feelings to what was happening.
In another sense she was still a young woman, on an adventure, seeking to explore new things.
And this was a delightful new thing.
But then his muscle memory urged him to mount his chosen mate, and he rolled over on top of her, spreading her thighs with his knees as he muscled his way between them. His stiff prick was already in the perfect orientation to prod her untried lips, and the breath she might have used to stop him again simply couldn't be taken because of his weight on her chest.
Then, suddenly, she was full in a way she had never been full before ... full deep inside her body, in a way that stretched her almost painfully, and yet felt somehow perfectly normal.
He moved, not lifting himself, but sliding on her body as he probed deeply with his sexual spike. She grunted and panic blossomed in her as she struggled for air. Then he moved backwards, withdrawing from her stretched tunnel, and she was able to snatch a breath before he surged forward again, his chest crushing her tender breasts and scraping across inflamed nipples.
Her clitoris announced its complete and total approval of what was happening, and stars blossomed inside closed eyelids.
Now fully awake, she finally understood what was happening, and who it was happening with.
He rocked again and lips she had never kissed found hers. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, another new sensation. The tip of his cock pressed something deep inside her that caused a pain that was impossible, because it was a pain she suddenly craved.
"Daddy!" she gasped, finally.
"Mmmm?" He thrust again, and then again, moving faster.
She opened her mouth to speak, but then simply held her breath as the sensations she was feeling kept pace with the increasing speed of his movements. She was suddenly aware that she could have an orgasm. All she had to do was let it happen. She experienced a confusing mixture of emotions in which the part of her that knew this was wrong warred with the part of her that was intensely curious about what this kind of orgasm might feel like.
The curious part won. She surrendered to the experience. But she wasn't prepared for the strength of what happened as a result.
She flailed as she was overwhelmed by the powerful waves of ecstasy that threatened to render her unconscious. Her body did what instinct told it to do, and interior muscles she hadn't even been aware she had, rippled and clamped, before releasing to do it all over again.
Her muscles achieved their goal, and the penis they were clamping around delivered repeated surging spurts of soothing semen deep in her belly.
The joy of that orgasm seeped so deeply into her bones that she was incapable of viewing what had happened as something bad. If anything, she felt like she was finally someplace she could happily stay forever.
Her last words, as she managed to roll him sideways enough that she could breathe again, were "Ohhhh Daddy."
The reactions of the pairs of lovers so recently discussed, when they woke the next morning, fell at opposite ends of the spectrum.
When Brady and Francine awoke, they simply resumed what they had started the night before.
This time, when Brady groaned and flushed her full, she was cognizant enough to reflect on how completely dangerous it was to engage in this activity, at this particular time in her menstrual cycle.
She decided she didn't care. She already knew that she'd never take her vows.
Not if Brady would have her.
When Bob woke, however, and realized what had happened the night before, he was frantic with fear and worry that he'd ruined his relationship with his daughter.
He was confused, because his memory of what had happened, while spotty in the extreme, contained the undeniable fact that she had come to him, and that at no time during the ... incident ... had she screamed or objected in any way.
But that just didn't square with how the world was. Hadn't she just told him, face to face, that she was still a virgin? She didn't do this kind of thing!
Then she opened her eyes, and smiled sleepily at him, and said, "Good morning, Daddy. I love you."
It was more than he could process. His mind went numb. He rolled away from her, landing on his back and exposing his now flaccid penis to his daughter. She looked directly at it and, rather than frowning, looked curious instead. Then her eyes flicked to his face, where they saw the emotions registered there.
"Daddy!" she said, rolling toward him and putting a hand on his chest. "Nothing bad happened, Daddy."
He blinked, even more confused. He remembered what had happened! How could she say it wasn't bad?
She got up on her knees, and sat back on her calves, facing him. Her upturned breasts distracted him. Those cherry nipples were now soft and round, not the turgid, dark things he had sucked in the night.
"I don't understand," he said.
"Nothing bad happened, Daddy," she said again. "Do you understand me? I'm not mad." He saw a flush of red appear on the upper slopes of her breasts, and creep up to her cheeks. "I liked it, Daddy," she whispered.
"How can you like it?" he gasped.
She shrugged, and her breasts bobbed. "I don't know. I just did. I'll never forget it as long as I live. I still love you, Daddy. If anything, I love you more! I know that sounds crazy, but it's just how I feel."
Her words calmed him ... enough that he thought he might actually be able to function.
Then four girls who looked like they were going to a toga party flooded into the room, their friend's name on their lips.
Suddenly, he was helplessly paralyzed again.
"Are you okay?" asked Tiffany, staring at her friend, who was still sitting upright on her calves.
"I'm perfect," said Judith. "You guys should leave."
"No fucking way!" gasped Janice, who took in the evidence on Bob's penis, and recognized it for what it was.
"What happened?" asked Monica, who wasn't far behind Janice.
"You guys should leave," said Judith again, calmly. "Nothing bad happened. Tiffany pushed me out of bed and I came to sleep here."
"It looks like you did more than just sleep," said Janice, her voice suddenly crafty.
"It was an accident!" blurted Bob, who finally got enough control over his body to both speak and cover his genitals.
"Yeah," said Janice. "That's what I said when I got caught one time. It didn't fly for me either."
"Janice!" gasped Monica.
"Janice!" aped the person named, her voice high and sarcastic. Then she spoke normally, looking at Monica. "You know I've done it. So have you. And now, it looks like sweet little Judith has too." She grinned.
"This is so wrong!" moaned Monica.
"Horse shit," snorted Janice.
"Janice!" squealed Monica and Tiffany at the same time.
"You know what I never told you guys?" asked Janice. She didn't wait for anybody to inquire. "You all know I've done it. What I never told you was how much I really did it ... or who I did it with."
"You said you did it with some boy named Danny," said Monica.
"That was later. I'm talking about the first five or ten times I did it."
"Five or ten times?! I thought you said it was only three or four!" Monica went to sit on the edge of the bed, next to Judith, as if she might not be able to stand any longer.
"Probably more," said Janice, smugly. "To be honest, I don't remember. But that's not important. What's important was that the guy who taught me how to do that was my Uncle Phil."
"No way!" sighed Monica and Tiffany, again together.
"Way!" said Janice. "You know what they say. The family that plays together stays together."
"They do not!" said Tiffany, who looked angry now.
"It doesn't matter," said Judith, who stood up on the bed and walked to the edge beside Monica. She hopped easily down, landing on bent knees. "Nothing bad happened, and you guys are going to keep your big mouths shut about it. Is that clear?"
"What's that?" asked Kendi, speaking for the first time. She was pointing at the milky fluid that was currently running down the inside of Judith's right thigh. Her dismount from the bed had dislodged a glob of her father's semen.
"Never mind what that is," said Judith. "You guys need to leave. You shouldn't be seeing my daddy naked."
"You shouldn't be seeing your daddy naked!" gasped Tiffany.
Judith ignored her. "I'm going to take a shower. I recommend that you guys not be in here when Sister Francine gets here."
Habit kicked in and the girls scrambled, trying to arrange themselves into some configuration that would pass muster with Sister Francine. Judith herded them out of the room. She returned to the bed, climbing up on it on all fours to reach her still shocked father. She kissed him on the cheek, just like she always had.
"Nothing bad happened, Daddy," she said one last time. "I love you. We can talk about it later if you want, but I'm not sorry it happened. Okay? I love you and I loved what we did last night."
Then she went to take her shower and resume her role as a normal girl.
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