Olivia, Anouk and Daddy

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I suppose it’s a phase that many families go through, despite the well intended advice from those who’ve been through it and not so welcome advice from many who haven’t. Unfortunately we were one family who suffered the hormone rages that seemed to last forever. Growing up seems to move on so swiftly in younger years – babies aren’t babies for long, toddlers only toddle for a brief span of time, kids get to school and learn bad habits and bad language that you strenuously deny came from you. Then come the two or three years that they question everything. It’s all part of growing up and starting to form their own unique personality.

Olivia, our only daughter, was no different. From day zero to age one she was cooed at, from two to five she had a perpetual smile, except for raging tantrums slap in the middle of large stores, a burst of tears every time we got through the sweet-laden shelves at the supermarket checkout and filling most of her clothes and the car child seat with sick after a day out at a well known British theme park. I remember the car stank for many days afterwards. The smiles still held from five till ten, except the times she KNEW she was right and grown-ups didn’t realise the trauma she suffered while being persuaded that green vegetables were good for you and that cola was NOT the only drink that little girls were supposed to consume. From ten to twelve, apart from frequent visits to the dentist caused by the sugary drink she worshipped, life wasn’t too bad. We compromised, because life became so much easier if you could negotiate a resolution.

Then at precisely 00.01 hours on Thursday 15 October, 1992, the day of her thirteenth birthday, everything changed. Her beautiful, usually smiling face became creased with frowns. Her manners vanished completely, she didn’t speak but growled, she challenged everything we and her school teachers told her. She decided she was right and that everyone else was just plain stupid, she bullied, smoked, stayed out late, drank whatever alcohol was available. It was fun to puke, it meant that you’d had a good time and it was always OK to unfasten one button too many … why did the good Lord give girls tits if they were to be hidden?


“I think we badly need a holiday,’ I suggested to Linda, my once loving wife. We hadn’t made love, in the strictest sense of the word, for well over a year. We’d had sex on my birthday four months before.

“I think we do, if only to save our relationship,” said Linda, and she was right.

Being school summer holiday break we’d had more than enough of Olivia, either sulking, disobeying or making her brother’s life hell. Given also that financing hobbies, treats, clothes, pocket money etc., etc., meant we were both working; tired and stressed we both looked forward to a budget break ASAP.

The drive to Dover was anticipation, the crossing to Calais was discovery but the long journey through France, avoiding expensive toll roads, was an enduring nightmare. The French holiday in August and even if the end of the world was imminent they’d still holiday in August. Even through picturesque villages there was a spirit of festival … festival of flowers, festival of food, of beer, of fish, of dance, of cheese, fireman’s festivals, the mayor’s festival and then of course the festival of marriage where all the village turns out. Even when we reached the French equivalent of civilisation we had to wait an hour while a cycle race passed through and barriers were removed.

We argued, by god we argued. We argued after I’d taken a right fork instead of left – we’d driven 20 miles before we realised we were heading in the wrong direction. When we finally reached our destination we were tired, hot and hungry.

Thankfully, Olivia and an older girl she befriended managed to spend hours playing pool. Looking back, that became a quiet holiday for us – we hardly saw her. That was when she was 16, the girl she befriended maybe 19 or 20, acting even a couple of years older than that. I remember we went to a BBQ organised by the camping site – unlimited booze, you just topped up your plastic cup.

“Daddy,” Olivia said, “Please, please, please can we go to the BBQ?” quite as soon as she got to know about it. Included in the request was a hug and a smile, something in short supply at home.

“Yes, please, can we?” from Luke, her brother, without the hug.

I had no option. Linda, my wife, would enjoy the food, I would enjoy the unlimited beer and the kids, hopefully, would behave themselves. However, the Dutch girl who’d befriended Olivia couldn’t afford the BBQ and her self-styled hippie parents (my opinion) weren’t going to tip up the cash.

“Please, please, daddy, can Anouk come?” By the age of 16 Olivia knew perfectly how and when to ask. “Her parents can’t afford.” Notice the indirect question, not asking me to pay but expecting me to offer. I looked at Linda and she just shrugged her shoulders. My decision again.

“How did you and Anouk become friends?” ataşehir escort I asked Olivia.

“Oh I was bored so I went the room where the pool tables are. I met her there.”

“I didn’t know you played pool.”

“I’ve played loads of times at youth club,” Olivia replied, “And I’m quite good at it.” Ah, that’s why the sudden switch of clothes, it now made sense. “And Anouk is good too.”

“OK,” I answered, “I’ll get another ticket.” I wasn’t going to give either girl the money, but at least the Dutch girl had kept Olivia out of my way.

“Are you playing pool this afternoon?” I asked Olivia.

“Yes, I expect so.” I knew they’d been drinking too, Anouk possibly buying it as she was of legal age.

Nothing more was said until I decided to have a walk round to the bar area. Anouk buying drinks? No, one of the guys watching the game passed two glasses of lager to them. Did I say ‘watching the game?’ Both girls took their drinks, drank a good mouthful and placed the glasses nearby. Bending to take her shot, I could see why Anouk had a captive audience: the guys in front got an eyeful of cleavage and the guys behind were gazing at a pair of flawless long legs, her skirt short enough to offer a glimpse of her knickers too.

Minutes later I too was sat, local beer in hand, watching Anouk’s talent … butt cheeks hardly concealing a tiny strip of knicker gusset. The girls had it all worked out; all they had to do was wear short skirts and low tops and their games of pool were free. The drinks, I found out a few minutes later, were from accepting challenges from men, young and old, to play against one of them. Same tit view but much closer and from where I sat I could see Anouk’s white and pale blue polkadot knickers – and, I was sure, a few glimpses of labia majora.

Then it was Olivia’s turn to entertain a man, I’d say, who was a similar age to me. Of course, he paid for the game. Anouk came over to me.

“Hallo, Jack. You like this game?”

“I enjoyed watching you play.”

“You want to play with me?”

I smiled at the intended bad English. “I’d love to play with you.”

Anouk leaned forward just enough, “This is good, but I get thirsty.”

“Thirsty for what?” I answered, making sure she knew I’d looked down the tunnel of her cleavage. Two could play this tantalising game, “And your blue polkadot knickers are lovely.”

I doubt that she blushed, but if she did it wasn’t noticeable. “Mmmm, are you game to find out?” She leaned a little further and I’d swear the elderly guy across the room nearly had a heart attack. I could smell her cheap perfume.

“Vodka and coke,” she whispered, “Is my special favourite.” How much sex can you get into a whisper? In Anouk’s case the sexuality just oozed into any conversation.

I bought Anouk’s special favourite from the bar and placed the 10 franc coin in the pool table’s coin slot. I broke off, not potting any ball but leaving one directly over a pocket.

Anouk easily potted it but missed another easy chance. Several shots later I amazed myself that I hadn’t lost my touch from my student years.

“Wow, you kept that quiet,” Anouk smiled her very infectious smile, “Where did you learn to play like that.”

“Oh, I learned to play many years ago, and I like to think I can play along as good as any man.”

Anouk’s smile widened. “So, are you going to teach me?”

“Well,” I began, “Your stance is all wrong. You really ought to … Wait, it would be easier to show you … like this …” We now had an audience and Olivia’s jaw dropped as my arm went around Anouk’s waist. “And you,” I pointed to Olivia, “Don’t say a word. This is simply a bit of coaching.”

Olivia just watched, stone faced, as I took my time to demonstrate some fundamental basics of the game. At least, that was my excuse.

I knew the problem. Olivia was jealous.

Olivia’s real feelings came through very strongly both later that day and the next. Linda wasn’t around when Olivia gave me a big cuddle; “Daddy,” she began, “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“Well,” I answered, “I do – even the times when you’re moody, untidy and just a pain in the arse.”

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she smiled, still hugging me close. “I’ll try to be good. But you still love me don’t you, even when I let you down?”

“Yes, I do and that’s a promise.” Olivia let go the bear hug and held both my hands, kissing me on the cheek. I noticed tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. “Hey,” I hastily added, “No need for tears.” I passed her a clean tissue. She was quiet for a few moments, gripping hard on to my hands.

“Do you like Anouk better than me?” Olivia continued after a while.

“No, why?”

“Because you were real close to her, looking at her tits, touching her bum, putting your arm around her.”

“No, not on purpose, I was just teaching her how to stand correctly and cue properly.”

“It’s OK daddy, I won’t tell mum. kadıköy escort I just wanted to know if you still love me.”

It was me this time who hugged Olivia, kissing her gently on the cheek, holding her tearful face close against my chest. “I do love you, and Luke too.”

“Will you teach me how to play pool better, like you did Anouk.”

I laughed, “Not quite like that … Anouk’s older than you, I’m not supposed to …”

Olivia interrupted me, “Yes, daddy, I know. But you were looking at me, weren’t you?”

I had to admit to her that I had. Despite her moods, the braces on her teeth which all linked back to her love affair with cola, her often greasy complexion from stuffing burgers and chips and her resulting slightly tubby figure, Olivia was fast becoming a young woman and was already endowed with ample tits.


The BBQ was good – two tear off strips on the ticket to exchange for food and the remainder of the ticket to show to the guy guarding (if that’s the right word) the booze. The wine came from three large boxes and the beer direct from two barrels, all being replenished immediately they were empty. As the evening went on people spoke louder and cared less. Everyone was happy, which is the way it should be, even Linda who was in animated conversation with another woman who I didn’t recognise.

I’d certainly had too much to drink when Anouk approached me. “Hallo Jack. I have not thank you for ticket.” Hell, I wasn’t going to criticise her English grammar, Anouk was beautiful and delightfully sexy in any language – and I didn’t know any Dutch.

“It’s OK. You’re Olivia’s friend. It’s a pleasure.”

“But I can thank you, that’s fair, OK?” she tugged at my hand, “Come.”

Having an idea of what Anouk might have in mind I glanced around. Linda was now in animated conversation with the unknown woman. Olivia was talking to a young man around her age. We went round the back of BBQ area, past a few touring caravans and into the darkened children’s play area.

“You sit,” Anouk pointed to a sturdy looking swing. “I entertain, then we play. You like play with Anouk?”

Even after numerous pints of cheap French beer (hey, they never serve the top brand at BBQ’s do they?) my mouth was suddenly dry. “Sure,” I replied, “Why not?”

It was dark enough in the play area to at least disguise the fact that Anouk was loaning me the warmth and wetness of her mouth. Her target had been swiftly released from my shorts. “I like you men who, how do you say, are commandos, and I like even more you men who are big.”

“Oh Anouk,” was my sole reply to her slow sucking at my bazooka gun. She started to gag at first, but quickly recovered in a way that convinced me she had BJ’d many others. Then suddenly she stopped.

“Wait Jack. Now we play in the playground. My kind of play. Yes?”

I hadn’t been inside a woman in months, hell, I’d not jacked off for ages. In the darkness I couldn’t tell what tiny knickers Anouk had swiftly removed before she ensured my shorts were also on the soft surface of the playground. Within seconds she climbed on the seat, face to face, straddled me and guided my ten inch missile inside her. Then she kicked out with her feet until we were swinging higher and higher, every movement giving us both exquisite pleasure. I’d done science at school but here was a practical demonstration of centrifugal force causing Anouk’s cunt to press heavily against me.

I tried, how I tried to hold off cumming, but to no avail and month’s supply of baby juice was now inside her. Far from complaining that she hadn’t reached her goal, Anouk simply let the swing come to a stop with my shrinking member still inside her. Quite expertly she broke our union, lifting herself up and off of me like an expert. She’d done this before.

“Lick me out,” she ordered, “I want to come like I’ve never done before.”

I felt I’d no option after she’d so kindly fucked me. I got off the swing seat. Anouk sat, skirt hiked, legs apart. I didn’t need to see, her scent then my tongue guided me in. Her scent was fresh, her juices mingled with my spent cum. OK I’d liked out a few pussies in my college years but this was the first time I’d tasted my own cum.

“Come on, lick me, yes” … and then a steam of Dutch words I hadn’t a chance of understanding, then “Fuck me with your tongue, harder, faster, lick me, come on come on come on yes tongue fuck me yes ohhhh yes yes.” Her thighs tightened around my head as she exploded into a huge cum.

We’d been away from the BBQ for what seemed like forever, but it couldn’t have been more than 15 or 20 minutes. Linda was still talking away to the same woman – how the fuck do they talk for so long? Olivia and the boy were kissing, arms holding each other together as if they’d been friends for months.

My head was spinning. What had I done? I hadn’t fucked any other woman since Linda and I married the year before Olivia was born. Hell, this girl meant nothing bostancı escort to me but I hadn’t had sex with Linda for ages. The beer had lowered my inhibitions – that was my excuse – but why did I need one? Did I still love Linda? Should we talk things through? I didn’t know, and right at that moment I didn’t care.

The evening ended and not a word was said about my temporary disappearance.

“I saw you were kissing a boy,” I said to Olivia, “A new friend perhaps?”

“No,” was Olivia’s short answer then, I thought, reluctantly, “He tried to grope me and I slapped him across his face.” Another pause, “Anyway, where did you go?”

Damn! Quick thinking was needed, “It was your friend, Anouk. She’d had too much to drink and she felt really ill. I said I’d go with her and she puked up near the play area.”

“Oh daddy, that’s so lovely.” A hug and a kiss followed which I never ever deserved.

“So thoughtful,” added Linda and she smiled for the first time in days. Then I felt like shit.

The following morning everyone except Luke was hung over so I decided to take a walk to the beach.

“Wait, daddy,” said Olivia, “I want to come with you.”

The beach was just a few minutes walk away from the camping ground. The day hadn’t yet warmed and there was a pleasant breeze coming off the sea. Quite a number of people, men and women, mostly but not completely younger rather than older were jogging or briskly walking along the sea-dampened sand. We stayed on a constructed pathway for a while before crossing some gritty sand to the smoother spit to join the route of the joggers, greeting some with a cheery ‘bonjour’. Many were plugged into phones listening to music, taking very little notice of anyone else, intent on their keep fit routines.

“I love you daddy,” said Olivia, quite out of the blue. She had been holding my hand, sometimes gripping it tightly, ever since we left our holiday home.

“And I love you too, sweetheart,” I replied, and it was true. Something was changing from within Olivia, something truly remarkable.

“Daddy, can we do this more often?” she asked.

I laughed, “Are you going to pay for another holiday?”

“No, I mean walks, like this, just us two.”

“If you want, yes.” Every step we were taking helped shake off my still alcohol frazzled brain. My mood lifted, there was a spring in our step, we talked more than we’d ever done. We talked of this and that and of nothing in particular.

“I love you, daddy,” repeated Olivia. I squeezed her hand gently and smiled.

“Race you, daddy,” she said, letting go of my hand and scooting off two yards ahead of me before the words were out of her mouth.

“That’s not fair,” I protested, but Olivia never stopped. I was twenty yards behind her by the time she stopped by the lifeguard station.



We turned around, walking back to where we had started, almost getting soaked by a large hairy dog shaking off seawater after retrieving a ball its owner had thrown into the sea. I was surprised by how far we’d walked and how time had quickly passed by.

After picking up supplies from the expensive camp mini-mart we feasted on croissants and coffee then Anouk called for Olivia to play pool.

“Are you coming too?” asked Anouk.

“Why not?” I answered. Linda was still hung over, a grouchy bitch best left to herself.

The day was warming nicely. I bought the girls drinks, fed the coin slot several ten franc coins and enjoyed playing Olivia then Anouk, letting them win. The bar wasn’t busy on this rapidly warming day, though doubtless it would be later on as people returned from the beach.

A man rather older than me offered to buy Anouk another drink. They moved to another pool table and I watched as a spotty faced youth offered to play Olivia. Anouk’s partner never hid his desire to make the best of paying for the privilege of Anouk’s presence. I saw Anouk casually unbutton her blouse a little more. Whether for my entertainment or the few guys in the bar I noticed one time, as Anouk leaned over too far, she was missing knickers. Forget the seascape or the countryside, this was one view well worth seeing.

For the rest of the holiday Olivia was very clingy, often kissing me gently on the cheek. We walked by the some more, most mornings, just father and daughter. I felt loved and I hoped Olivia felt that way too.


I can remember this holiday above any other for several reasons. It was the last summer holiday that all four of us spent together, as Olivia went away with friends the following year; it was on a strict budget – done on the cheap; it was the beginning of a reconciliation with Linda, though our relationship was to suffer again a few months later; it was the first time I’d fucked anyone else since we married and, most importantly it was a pivotal point in Olivia’s battle with raging teenage hormones.

Thankfully I’d had managed to speak with Anouk before Olivia did. The rest of the holiday had been simply that; a holiday. A chance to rest, a chance to build on family ties, a chance to talk. We had booked a cheap overnight stop on the way back to break the journey. We arrived home refreshed.

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