The Massage

With him agreeing, and my own glass of water nearby, I quicky set down my towel. I don't like wrinkles so I had make sure the towel was flat before I lay down on it. I closed my eyes, soaking in the sun, knowing my father was behind me, grabbing the lotion and getting ready to put some on me. That he might have read my diary, know what my darkest fantasy was, and had enough beer in him to act, well, that never entered my mind. I could feel him straddle me soon enough, his strong caring hands undoing the strap holding my bikini top on. His initial massage without lotion felt good, but soon enough I could hear the familiar squish of lotion on my back as he began to apply it, massaging it into my skin.

Dad knew how to massage, his hands worked on a few knots in my lower back, his hands going to my arms, my biceps and lower arms. When his hands brushed my breast, it was an innocent thing, his hand slipped or he misjudged where the knot ended, nothing to worry about. I smiled when he made the comment about my computer use, and asked me to move my hair so he could get at my upper back & shoulders. His touch lingered a little longer on my other breast, but I ignored it, this was Dad after all. "Working on my GPA, worried about the championships, the scholarship. Lot of big things this year I want, and it'd be devastating if I didn't," I told him as he kept working out the knots in my back. I let out an appreciative groan as he worked out a really tight knot.

He told me to take a breather, to which I reminded him how driven I am to be the best, school, sports, my career. I want to be the best, show the world a girl can be as good as any boy. A little distracted by the conversation, I spread my thighs apart for him, they were sore too and if Dad was offering to massage them, why not? As he began to work on my thighs, his hands massaging the muscles, he talked about me needing to relax. When I suggested a professional masseuse he frowned a little, guess he didn't trust one not to do something stupid. Funny thing, and I didn't really notice it at first, was how his hands seemed to linger in places that they perhaps shouldn't.

I didn't stop him however, as his hands ran along the line of my bikini, his remark that he didn't want to leave my bikini line uncovered was reasonable enough and I let him. Yeah it felt a little different, and he was touching me in places any boy would've been slapped for, but this was my father, harmless, so I thought.