MY OLD FLAMES DAUGHTER

Wistful, nostalgic, hot, old and young,

We all carry that memory of a sweet, sweet fuck from youth. 

At the time, we weren't processing it. We were so goddamn cock or pussy obsessed, pumping and humping.

And it was there yesterday, and randy the next day and the day after.

Frances Jackson — Fran —was my beautiful lay.

Well, more, but youth doesn't realise the deeper layers of connection.

Fran and I were caught up in a summer of heat between our workplace hotel management course. We met on the course and hit it off instantly—pure joint lust.

We worked insanely hard, long hours each day, but still screwed each other with passionate vehemence. I think we both believed all fucking was like this. We both had experiences, some earlier separate, one-off sexual encounters.

But together, we realised this was what frickin sex was meant to be —building layer on layer of repeated sensations together. There was ardour, urgency, and endless romping through the night — not twice but often, both of us coming three times.

We didn't need to get each other into the mood. We had instant sexual oomph.

I saw her naked body. I had a boner.

She touched my pecker. Her pussy was wet.

We turned each other on.

Well, our bodies did. Our genitals were on autopilot, stimulated so quickly and repeatedly.

Ah, both sweet, amazing nineteen —your body has it to give, and you take it.

We didn't question whether it would last or where it was going. It lasted and stayed in each mind-blowing cock releasing and clit tingly orgasm.

It was always headed to the next rendezvous.

We lived in the sexual moment, fondling privates together. Licking and sucking each other off intensely in writhing sixty–nines. Then I doggy pounded her pussy till she moaned loudly in total climatic sexual release.

How can you lose that — it is as easy as separating.

You write a few letters; each one gets shorter.

You rush several late-night phone calls.

Different professional work locations in distant state capitals.

You stop writing.

She stops calling.

You can't pinpoint the exact moment of drift — maybe it was seeing Hailey's arse going up the stairs or flirting with her the next day in the lift.

You screw Hailey hard in the cleaner's service room. It's exciting. It's delicious, but neither of you craves another one-off.

Neither of us looking at commitment.

Raelene, Erin, Sammie, Abby, Stephanie — all came and went in a naughty workplace afternoon or a one-off torrid night.

You attend a course six months later interstate as you climb up the management tree.

Frances is there.

You meet and talk, but the passion is gone.

There isn't the — let's head off now and fuck each other's brains out.

We had it, but let it go. Our instant sexual electricity is gone. We don't even think about just fucking for old-time's sake.

Frances is seeing no one special. You get that much from her. You give as much back. But you both know; you are both fucking here and there.

I don't realise it yet, but I was looking for that frickin sexual magic we had. Our special sexual elixir. Trying to find it with someone else.

Trying. 

Trying.

Trying.

The phenomenal copulation combination doesn't ever come for you again.

I couldn't find the sexual philosopher's stone. The alchemy that was more than Fran's and my genitals in sync together.

Fucking Frances was more than screwing Frances.

The spiritual, esoteric erotic knowledge of self coalesced too late.

Frances was gone.

After interminable one-night stands, I settled for Nicole.

Nicky and I drift into casual together. We both need sex, and the sex is good. It's regular, and we share a love for the water.

After five years, I get repeated hints from Nicky and propose.

Her maternal biological clock kicks in; she is in her late twenties, and we have three kids. The second pregnancy is twins.

The years drift by in family and work mode. Then we drift. Nicole centres her life around our three boys. We both see the divorce coming for several years, but get the lads through college first.

After the divorce, I accepted a job as a cruise director.

It was a complete break from my past life.

I took short trips out of Sydney into the South Pacific. I used my position as chief entertainment officer to entertain middle-aged ladies. I know my limitations.

Otherwise, I perv on the copious, youthful cruise eye candy.

However, recently, I had a déjà vu moment at sea heading for Noumea.

I saw a young woman poolside with a great tan and instantly thought of Frances.

I had thought occasionally about Frances over the years. Sex is full of associations across time. Some are deliberately recalled, others are involuntary memories, popping into our heads at what seems unrelated moments.

Then, as we process and savour past great sex, we realise that it was a colour, a time of day, a gesture, a smell, or a taste that brought it back.

There was an unmistakable physical resemblance. A damn too close physical similarity; it looked genetic.

Though in my gobsmacked daze, it took a while to process that the young woman had to be Fran's daughter.

I positioned myself as inconspicuously as I could with a tablet in my hands. I looked busy.

I was — I was — unethically using my access to the cruise's manifest to search the passenger list…Jackman…Jackson…Penny Jackson…Ms… inside shared cabin.

Then, her roommates, three females. No boyfriend on this cruise.

Next, I was more than perving on a young woman sunbathing; I was mentally stripping her.

It was also evident that the three girls stretched out next to her were her travelling companions. They were all good-looking, but I wasn't attentive to great boobs and thighs.

I was focused on Ms Penny's sharp nose, light blue eyes, and fair hair.

Fran's youthful features all unfolded too clearly.

What the hell did I think was going to happen?

The: she is fucking gorgeous, thought; was playing around naughtily through my mind…along with…I needed to fuck her…before my mind tried to put my reprehensible dick back on its straining leash.

Yeah, the mind is sturdy, but your cock is stronger.

Gatsby had his green light across the bay, but a lime green bikini was way closer in my case, yet seemingly impossible to touch.

I could dream and scheme how to seduce her.

Seriously a nineteen-year-old hottie on a cruise with a mid-forties guy?

I needed to accept that the past with Frances had receded like my hairline.

I got back to work.

However, I didn't screw a willing randy widow, Georgina, who was seated with us at the petty officer's table for dinner the night before we reached New Caledonia.

On the last cruise, I wouldn't have hesitated.

I knew why.

I wanted Penny.

But I knew it was Penny as Frances — I was over-layering the daughter with residual lust and lost love for her mother.

I was hankering for a youthful sexual recharge.

I wanted to taste what was as close to Frances as I could get now.

Yes, it was seedy and dirty, but I wanted this young woman like I hadn't wanted anyone since her mother.

As it happened, I got caught in a shitload of unexpected work situations to sort and smooth through. This only allowed me to catch glimpses of Penny in the shopping arcade, the gym, around the pool and one of the nightclubs.

Thankfully, she danced with her girlfriends, though I felt jealous seeing her bump and squeeze into her BFF; Penny as a lezzo crossed my mind fleetingly.

I had no actual or manufactured reason to fraternise or even risk being sexually direct with her.

Penny became merely the stuff of daydreams till I was unexpectedly given an extra duty due to a colleague's illness: the random passenger ballot to organise for the captain's table on the homeward journey from Noumea.

Well, I rigged the seating arrangement unashamedly.

I placed the MILF widow Georgina next to the captain, he was a lech, and she was horny. I put the three best-looking, hot young petty officers on the table with me, on the understanding that if we all got lucky, then Ms Penny was mine.

There is something special about the captain's table on a cruise; it relaxes everyone and liberal quantities of free alcohol, always doing their sex prep job.

The captain apologised to do his rounds first, and Georgina followed the skipper soon after, no doubt directly to the rear of the ship and her rear end.

All the girls, including Penny, were flirtatious. They were all young frisky skittish kittens whose pussies needed servicing tonight. They were a dress slipping down away from impulsive genital need.

My fellow officers, in their twenties, had no problems seducing girls who wanted to be seduced.

These college graduates had come on a cruise for sex and hadn't frickin scored.

Well, they had all hit the good-looking blokes in a uniform jackpot simultaneously, and pair by pair, they headed off.

They weren't questioning their luck.

My fellow officers were delighted with the standard of chick they were escorting away for an all-nighter and would repay me with plenty of drinks in port.

Penny was now mine alone.

But could I get her back to my cabin?

She wasn't displaying any doubts about being left alone with the oldest officer, old enough to be her father.

Repugnant, I gulped down my remaining beer.

This was scurrilous if Fran ever found out. What the fuck was I doing?

Well, I knew: I was about to try and fuck my old flames daughter.

It should have been hard for a guy my age with someone so young, pretty, and hot. Her sheer summer dress nearly fell off her shoulders, her cleavage on show, her thigh flesh so supple, hinting at the softer, sought-after flesh between her legs.

Her lips were moist as she finished her wine.

Was it the uniform?

Was it my chatty confidence?

Was it only that the young lass just wanted a holiday, no strings attached fuck fest?

Was it something intangible, the unnamed sexual alchemy we all keep hunting for?

I invited her back to my cabin. I just asked her directly.

You win, you lose, but at least you know.

Penny accepted with a genuine smile. For the life of me, I didn't know why at that moment but we were moving.

We moved in one direction; we were heading for sex together.

Any thoughts of reprehensible me were buried under my balls.

She paused outside my cabin. She knew my name from the introductions at dinner. Yet, she stopped and deliberately read the door sign: Jeremy Martin, Entertainment Officer.

"Jeremy Martin: Entertainment Officer…Okay, Jerry…time to entertain," she said.

I thought of being gentle, taking it slowly, or giving the pretence of the romance young girls seek on their first cruise.

Penny literally ripped my tongue out of my mouth as my cabin door shut automatically behind us. She was wild: it was feral kissing. It was how you go tongue in tongue as a teenager: greedy.

She was nibbling on my neck; hickey evidence, no doubt, tomorrow. She was using her teeth on my lips — hungry, hungry — needy, needy.

When was the last time the poor lass had a root? 

She is a carnal being. Penny was squeezing my lips between hers. Drawing them out, nearly too far. But the intensity, while not entirely pleasurable, was exciting because she was so frickin excited.

Our hands got super busy on each other's bodies. It was clawing, pawing; groping.

The hedonistic, self-indulgent, self-seeking pleasure — touching for self first.

She only had one speed — hyperdrive.

Penny fumbled through my zip and pants and yanked out my erect cock. Tugging hard and roughly. She was so keen.

My hand was under her dress. My fingers straight into her already wet slit.

She had obviously been thinking of sex before she was even in my cabin.

Penny moaned loudly.

"Oooh, oooh, oooh."

Panted.

Booty writhing exuded sexual hunger.

I thought: Oh shit! She's a bloody virgin.

But she knew what she was doing on her knees, sucking me off

Well, giving my cock a good go.

Penny had little idea how to work the shaft in her mouth, use her hand to support the shaft or fondle my nuts.

She just sucked — but she was intense and enjoying it — she didn't realise she was slowly working me back to flaccid.

I had to stop her enjoyment or lose mine and her potential cock filling bliss.

I got Penny up and stripped her dress off very fast. Her bra and panties were gone in a blur. I sucked her titties leisurely now. I had the pace. She was like a pliable, erogenous sex doll. Her nipples were licked and squeezed by me till she moaned loudly.

"Aah, aah, aah."

I kissed her belly and navel and kissed her full, wild, fair pubes. My hands eased her girly softness apart, and my tongue was in her slit.

Penny was pressing into me — she was pressing into me.

My tongue tip found her clit and gave her the pleasure impulses she sought. Shards of satisfaction skeining and layering through her pussy. Both inside and out.

Her skin was so alert. Her pussy was purring. Her clit smouldered with pleasure.

Her young body was mine to manipulate like a marionette.

I had to dog her. Her arse cheeks were deliciously fetching —eye-catching young rump, easily parted and her fur bush, so stunning viewed between her fleshy white thighs.

I had forgotten how good the full bush looks from between a woman's butt cheeks. It made her pussy more defined. It added a more profound sexual vulnerability as my cock stabbed and speared deep into Penny's pinkish opening.

She just moaned and moaned.

"Oogh, ugh, oogh, ugh!"

Hell, I was groaning a lot too.

Her pussy was so tender. She was so supple in adjusting to my filthy deep prodding, alternating with ramming, thrusting and cock head play around her sensitive, cute lips.

Her body was so acquiescent to my cock. My hands were on her hips. I was drilling deep — pushing hard.

I watched my cock fill her, spread her and draw her lips slightly out as my cock pulled back from her body — then plunged in.

It had nothing to do with Frances, I realised. Penny was Penny and wanted her pussy filled.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But I had now screwed both mother and daughter.

However, it was clear her horny body was in this sexual moment for herself, as was I.

Her mellow accommodating pussy was a cock's best friend. So wet, tight, and happy to be packed.

I turned her over and urged her to spread her legs on the edge of the bed. She was so unashamedly eager — her beaver splayed for cock.

Her legs were high and wide. Her head was on her chin.

Penny didn't meet my eyes. She watched her pussy get piston pounded. Her eyes were glued to the friction of sex between us.

I had wanted to lock with her eyes like I used to with Fran, but the realisation was here as I was drawn down to my pumping cock burrowing into her fur nest.

Penny was Penny — and great sex — was great sex at the moment— at the moment.

It can't be held — that's why we need it again and again.

I gave the young woman the deep long cock time she needed.

I held my pleasure back.

My aim was to spurt over her titties, but I held to her emerging climax.

"Mmm, yes, mmm, yes. Oh, I'm close. I'm cumming. I'm cumming! Ooh, ooh, ooh."

I thrust and thrust, passing on the immediate selfish male impulse to jizz her belly button and concentrating on sustaining a long, invigorating pleasurable fuck for a horny young girl.

Sensational cock and pussy together, extra moments of heightened delight.

I worked her clitty till she groaned in exquisite repeated satisfaction—her whole body taking on a beautiful flush, and I filled her pussy with my jizz load. 

"Uggh, uugghh, UGH!"

Exquisite pitched happiness from her vocal chords.

Finally, there was a lull for my body and brain in cuddling her on my bed.

About twenty minutes later, cradled on my chest, she was youthfully sound asleep.

I scrutinised her facial features. Yes, I could see there was genetic Frances, but there was also a new separate being, too.

Penny explored and found her sex life like Fran and I had many years ago.

Penny slept so innocently.

I had my qualms of misgiving.

You scheming bastard, she doesn't deserve to know who you really are. At least let her believe in the cruise tryst or whatever she wants to remember. Don't overlay it with the past….

I slept soundly, too, nestled into a young woman's bountiful hair.

When I awoke the following day, Penny was gone from my cabin.

I looked in the mirror with guilt as I shaved.

What if she ever realised who I was?

We were back in Sydney Harbour that morning — the end of the cruise.

I saw Penny and her girlfriends at breakfast.

They all said, "Hi."

They all that youthful I had a great fuck last night look on their faces.

Penny thanked me for the invitation to the captain's table last night and wished me well on the next cruise.

I wished her well for her future, etcetera…

The boat was empty in port, and the cleaners were busy everywhere.

I had work to do before shore leave in the evening, including perusing the passenger surveys. There was the dreaded feedback, the usual few nitpicky complaints, and plenty of the standard: "Best time we ever had."

One cryptic survey, though, stopped me in my tracks.

In a neat script was written:

You would give more than a Penny to know all my thoughts. I'm glad I got to experience what my mum did, too. The cabin service was top-class.

— We all carry that memory of a sweet, sweet fuck from youth.