Chapter 8

Michelle came bounding into my room at ten-thirty and jumped on my bed with a joyous, "Morning, Daddy!" She generally did that if she was home and I wasn't up by ten-thirty. But only recently had she started doing it wearing her pajamas.

And what pajamas they were! They looked like some kind of harem costume from The Arabian Nights. The top covered all of her arms but left her midriff exposed, while the bottoms widened out at the bottom like Turkish pants. But the most distinctive feature was their semi-transparency. From certain angles they looked quite solid, but from other angles, depending on the light, they were practically invisible. And she wore no underwear underneath!

I hadn't actually opened my eyes yet, but I knew what she had to be wearing. She'd just bought those pajamas a week before, along with some other similarly scandalous clothing, and she'd been wearing them every morning since. Just in the mornings, mind you. Naturally, she slept nude, on silk sheets no less. No doubt to drive me even crazier.

A simple "Good morning, time for breakfast!" would have awoken me soon enough, especially since she cooks the most wonderful breakfasts. But no. As had become the tradition since school let out last week, she woke me with a tickle attack.

I felt completely helpless because I was so exhausted from fucking my wife the night before. I raised my hands to cover my head and protect myself from her assault.

That gave her a great opening to tickle-attack my armpits.

I moaned "No!" and rolled over, hoping she'd go away and let me rest for a few more minutes. I was still in denial that I might have to wake up, and I kept my eyes closed.

Michelle tends to get what she wants. When I think of her, the words "barely controllable" come to mind. Her older sister Nicky has always been a model child, but Michelle has been headstrong and

Willful pretty much since she was in the crib. It got so bad that we eventually resorted, in desperation, to regularly spanking her for her many misdeeds, but even that didn't work. And now that she was a ravishing beauty, and she knew it, the situation was twice as bad as before.

Ruby is her "right hand man," and also takes full advantage of her own beauty and charm. When the two of them team up, which is most of the time, they're basically unstoppable!

My failure to aggressively respond to Michelle's tickling was a foolish mistake. If you give an inch with her, she takes a mile. She kept at it mercilessly, tickling me everywhere. She knew my ribs were sensitive to her tickles, so she pulled down my covers enough to expose them. I tried to cover myself up like a turtle, keeping my arms at my sides to protect my ribs and my armpits.

"Time to get up, Dad," she said while in the middle of her tickle-fest. "Rise and shine."

"Mmmgghphhf." My face was mashed into my pillow, which at least gave me a thankful respite from having to look in her direction and see her pajamas. Not only is my daughter mouth-wateringly beautiful in every way, driving a good, moral father like myself to near insanity with her body, but she has one unusual feature that her harem pajamas strongly emphasize: those damned twin torpedoes.

True, the fact that a slender eighteen-year-old girl like her would have such fulsome F-cup breasts is in itself remarkable. But that's not what really gets me. After all, her boobs are only two sizes larger than her mother Mindy's, and I can play with those any time. No, what kills me is the way those torpedoes completely defy gravity. They stick straight out, and I do mean straight out.

Until about a year ago, I'd never seen her topless, and I assumed that much or most of that effect was caused by some kind of especially wondrous Wonder-bra. But I was wrong. The first time I saw her take off her bikini top, during the nude beach trip last summer, I assumed her boobs would fall as the top pulled away. But no. No sag whatsoever. It's odd, but VERY arousing.

I've seen every Playboy centerfold going back to the 1950's issues, and I've never seen anything quite like it. She constantly looks like she's about to fall over because those large orbs sit so high up on her chest and jut so far out, but of course she never does. And somehow she manages to be graceful and athletic even with those twin peaks rocketing off her chest. (Although there are limits to how well she can do with sports given she effectively has two basketballs attached to her chest!)

Getting back to my point, it was almost more than I could take to see those twin torpedoes in her harem pajama top. On any normal girl, the pajamas would have covered all of her rack. But they weren't designed for someone with such a bountiful pair of F-cups, much less such a jutting duo. As a result, there wasn't much fabric below the nipples. I could see the entire underside of her boobs if she was above me, like she usually was with these tickle attacks. And then she'd move, and the light would hit her pajamas at the right angle and they'd become transparent, as if by magic. The truth was, I could clearly see her pinkish nipples most of the time no matter what the lighting was.

It was really too much. I hadn't even opened my eyes yet, but already I had an erection that could pound a hole through the Earth all the way to China. Meanwhile, she was laughing and giggling and taunting me, tickling me everywhere. I could feel her extremely long blonde hair on my skin here and there, brushing me like a thousand small and maddeningly arousing paintbrushes. I heard her say, "So, you're gonna play that game, eh? Well, if you're gonna cover up all your tickly spots I'm just going to have to find some new ones!"

Then, with a great whoosh, I heard and felt the covers get yanked off of me. This was bad. This was really bad. She knew I slept in the nude, and as a result she'd never done this before. At least I was turned over in a defensive turtle-like stance, so all she could see was my bare butt instead of my erection. But still, I was pissed.

I finally opened my eyes and turned my head. I saw her brilliant blue eyes staring right into mine from close up. She was smiling and having a ball. I glanced down and confirmed that she was wearing her sexy harem pajamas. Damn!

"SHELLE!" That's my nickname for her, a name that I'm the only one she'll allow to use. Not even Ruby gets to call her that. "Shelle, get my covers back on, this instant!"

But she said, "No way! Your feet look too tempting!" Then she burst into giggles. Suddenly I could feel her hands running all over the bottoms of my feet.

This was really bad too. I was extremely ticklish there. Being buck naked, I felt completely helpless to fight back or even do anything at all. All I could do was cover my privates with both hands. I had to close my eyes again because she was leaning towards me and her massive F-cups were dangling down and swaying around like she wasn't wearing a top at all. Hell, in that position her top didn't even cover her nipples!

But she wouldn't stop. My anger at her disobedience dissolved into hilarity, as I couldn't keep from laughing. I laughed so hard that it hurt. I thought I was going to hyperventilate. I found myself rolling all over the bed, trying to shake her away. Luckily I have such an ingrained sense of modesty that I cupped my privates without thinking, or who knows what she might have seen.

Finally she listened to my cries to stop and fell down onto the bed next to me, gasping with laughter too. I'd wound up facing up, so I finally was able to look her in the face. Or at least try to. Those damned twin torpedoes in her semi-transparent pajamas captured most of my attention. Thank God I had my hands thoroughly covering my crotch, but I still felt horribly vulnerable. I said as sternly as I could, considering I was still laughing, "Daughter, you're in trouble! Cover me up this instant!"

She laughed some more and said, "What's the problem? You seem to have your modesty well in hand!" Her eyes openly gawked at my hands over my groin. Unfortunately I had "morning wood," and since I have a thick and long dick when it's erect, I was having to be very careful to completely cover all of it and my balls. She had to know I had a big hard-on, just from the way I had my hands.

I was shocked by her boldness. As much as she'd been teasing me these last few weeks, it had always been about exposing her nakedness to me, almost always by taking her top off around the pool. Even in her morning tickle attacks she'd never purposely felt or seen anything below my ribs (although some accidental gropes may not have been so accidental, as I thought about it after the fact).

My mouth gaped, opening and closing like a fish, because I was stunned by her cheekiness. But she was just getting warmed up. Before I could say something coherent, she turned around so her ass was pointing my way, and said, "I'm sorry, Dad. I really am. I agree I've gone too far. I think I need to be punished. Can you think of any way to do that?"

She ostentatiously wiggled her ass back and forth. About half the time the light was just right, and I could see straight through her pajama bottoms like they weren't even there. Damn, she has a fine ass! The truth be told, every single inch of her is movie starlet perfect. Double damn!

I'm her father! I shouldn't be thinking the things I'm thinking. God, what is she doing to me?! It's all I can do not to reach out and caress that ass with both hands! I mulled over the frustrations of having a daughter with the body of a high-priced call girl and a face that should be in the movies.