Chapter 13

But there was more. There were her friends. And, as the saying goes, "birds of a feather flock together." As so often happens, the only other girls who could stand to be near the overwhelming beauty of my daughter were other similarly gorgeous girls. I'd been successful as a writer, and so we'd moved to a very wealthy neighborhood, smack dab on the California coastline. In fact, our house was up on a cliff mere blocks from the ocean, in one of the top ten most exclusive neighborhoods in the United States.

Most of the houses around me were owned by rich men with trophy wives. It so happened that my wife was a stunning "trophy wife"-type knockout. But I hadn't known that she'd grow up to be drop dead gorgeous when I'd started dating her when she was only fifteen, so you could say I got very lucky. Plus, there's the fact that she's anything but a "trophy wife." I don't know what most of our neighbor's wives do all day – maybe they sit around and file their nails or something. But Mindy works, and has a very successful career of her own. She's damn smart.

Of course, I would never divorce Mindy in a million years. But there seemed to be some kind of rule in the neighborhood that every wife had to look like she could enter a national beauty pageant. And at the first sign she was losing her looks, more often than not she was divorced and replaced by a younger sex object.

The long and short of this was that the daughters of such families more often than not were beauty pageant winner types as well. I half-seriously waited for the day some kind of exploitative "Girls Gone Wild" TV show found our neighborhood. I figured that once they saw all the young vixens here, they would never need to go anywhere else.

Each girl at my daughter's high school seemed more tempting than the last one. Thank God neither my daughter nor any of her friends were cheerleaders, because I was already getting far too much visual stimulation lately. Cheerleading wasn't 'cool' because my wife and I had taught Michelle the importance of more serious pursuits. She did well in her classes and in sports, just like her friends did. We didn't raise her to be a dumb blonde airhead, and she actively avoided playing up that stereotype.

And the absolute cream of the crop were her four closest friends, Ruby, Anjali, Nina, and Lisa, with her best friend Ruby being the most beautiful of all. That was a lucky break of sorts, because Michelle and Ruby had been best friends since kindergarten. Heck, they were closer than most sisters.

Ruby is just as much of a voluptuous knockout as my daughter is, and that's saying a lot. It was fitting that they referred to each other as "breastest friends" since they were both so stacked and they were practically joined at the hip. Michelle was the more outgoing of the two and the natural leader. Ruby obviously thought the world of her, and could often be seen right behind her, saying something similar to "Me too!"

So I was rather surprised and relieved that Ruby had not been over in the past couple of days. She usually hung out with Michelle here after school. Since yesterday was the first full day of summer vacation, I thought they'd want to be together for sure.

I figured she probably was working at the local video store. Both of them had just started their summer jobs, and Michelle had a half shift yesterday. Not surprisingly, they were working at the same store, Grand Avenue Video, a local video rental store that seemed to be slowly going bankrupt. They'd had the same job last summer, and they hated how boring it was. Oftentimes, they were able to take the same shift, so they could at least keep each other company, but that didn't always work out.

Ruby and Michelle didn't appreciate the nicknames "Gruesome Twosome," "Satan's Hell Spawn" and "Hellions" I used for the two of them together. That wasn't surprising, since those names weren't exactly flattering. Instead, they referred to each other as "bosom buddies" and "breast friends" from time to time. This was a not-so-subtle reference to their stacked figures. Their oversized breasts seemed to define them and their friendship in many ways. Even though boob jobs were all the rage at my daughter's high school, Michelle and Ruby both had massive, all-natural bosoms. They never had to worry about lacking in popularity, even if they never said a word!

Ruby was a particularly appropriate name too, because she had the reddest hair you could imagine. It was such an exotic and beautiful color that it was hard to believe it wasn't dyed. It was a reddish brown, but much more red than brown. "Flaming red" was a pretty apt description of her natural color.

While Michelle kept her blonde hair long, straight, and full, Ruby kept hers very short. It was cropped almost like a boy's, except more stylish, spiky, and pixie-like. It was a little long in the front, and sometimes her hair fell into her eyes. Also, Michelle's eyes were blue while Ruby's were green.

But other than that, Ruby and Michelle were very physically similar. They were both tall. They both had impressive, all-over tans (although less so in Ruby's case, due to her Irish ancestry). They had the dictionary definition of "hourglass figures." There's no question they could have been models, and very highly paid models. In fact, I knew Michelle, at least, had already been approached by some modeling agencies, but I'd ordered her to turn them down. Who knows where something like that could lead? I had the usual parental worry, imagining her ending up in some porn video or as the centerfold in Playboy or some such magazine.

It's very tough on a father living"in this kind of neighborhood. Not only did I swear I would never cheat on my wife, I don't even want to mentally cheat on her. But it seems that no matter where I look, there's some gorgeous trophy wife or some mouth-wateringly curvy and nubile daughter flaunting herself in a skimpy outfit.

There's something extra special about Ruby that gets my motor running, though. She seemed older and more confident than most of her classmates. Probably she got it from being around Michelle so much. Unlike many girls her age, she didn't seem to be suffering from any self-confidence issues (except when it came to comparing herself to Michelle – she seemed resigned to living in Michelle's shadow).

She knew how sexy she was and knew how to wield her sexiness like a weapon. Whenever she looked at me, it was as if she was saying, "I dare you to screw me. You know you want to. Go ahead and do it. I dare you!" Lately, whenever she came over I tried to make myself scarce, because I didn't even want to THINK about her. Plus, my willpower was weakening and I didn't want to face the two of them together, with their combined sex and tease appeal.

Recently, it seemed that Ruby was even more blatant in her teasing than Michelle was. True, I'd discussed it with Mindy last night, but I'd downplayed it some because I didn't want Ruby to get in trouble. I think that because Ruby didn't have Michelle's incest concern, she felt she could be even bolder with me!

Ruby had been coming over nearly every day since school let out. The pattern was fairly predictable. She'd come in the house wearing very little, maybe a cut-off T-shirt and shorts, and then immediately strip down to even less. Namely, her bathing suit. While Michelle loved the regularly-designed but teeny tiny bikinis, Ruby went for some more unusual bathing suit styles. She preferred one black bathing suit that covered her lower privates much like a G-string. That was bad enough, but even worse was the top part. One thin strip of fabric rose from one of her hips, covered a nipple and little more on one side of her, wrapped around her neck, came down over her other nipple, and then attached to thin fabric on her other hip.

As a result, her ample breasts were covered by nothing more than two thin vertical strips. Just the slightest movement was liable to unveil one (or both!) of her proud, constantly erect nipples. Pretty much the entire time she would be over at our house, her nipples would play "peek a boo" in that damn suit. Sometimes she wouldn't even try to fight it and would let both straps fall to her sides. Then she would playfully feign ignorance, or else proudly square her shoulders and practically dare me to admire her amazing exposed hooters.

But that wasn't all. There was another suit, a bright red one, that was even more scandalous. It was very similar in design. A thin strap rose from her pussy mound, barely covered a nipple, went around her neck, back down over the other nipple, and then down to her pussy again. A thin spaghetti string ran from the back of her neck down through the tempting valley of her ass crack to hold it together on the back side.

The end result was that on her front side, about the only fabric to touch her skin was right on her pussy and on her nipples, plus a little bit around her neck. If she strained or stretched in any direction, that would cause the thin strap to ride up into her crotch, cupping her pussy lips and tightening the string that lay permanently buried deep in her ass crack – all while rubbing and pressing hard against her stiff nipples. From the way she smiled and even groaned at times, I had no trouble imagining that that was in fact what was happening, and no doubt she enjoyed it.