Vacation With my Daughter – Day 1, Barcelona

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Tired after the long flight from San Francisco, by way of Paris, we handed our passports to the guy at the desk of the Monte Carlo, eager for our room and some rest. “Thank you, sir and young lady,” he said. “I see you are staying four nights. And the young lady became seventeen just yesterday. Moltes felicitats!” He appraised Ashley and grinned at what he saw, a girl who looked young for her age, with a winsome smile and long blonde hair framing blue eyes behind large glasses. If she had a flaw, it was that she was perhaps too fit, a little too slim, her breasts on the small side from too much tennis. I blamed the tennis fixation on my ex-wife, a former college conference champion. Ashley stood tall, though, with the long legs of a future model. She smiled and lowered her eyes, saying, “Gracies,” one of her few Catalan words. It probably helped that it sounded like regular Spanish. This would be Ashley’s first time in Barcelona – or anywhere outside the U.S. – and my second. My birthday present to her was really a wish for her to enjoy travel as much as I did. It was an even better gift for me, a chance to get to know her as well as her mom did. The third floor room surprised me, but no complaints. As requested, I found two twin beds, along with a decent TV, minibar, and a tiny balcony overlooking La Rambla, the main pedestrian street. The surprise was the large bathroom, which was partially enclosed by curved şişli escort bayan glass. You couldn’t really see through the glass, probably due to the shape, but it was strange to have the bathroom bulging into our living space. We tossed our luggage on to our beds – I automatically took the one near the balcony. With the sliding doors to the balcony open, city sounds filled the room. “Dad, can I shower first?” “Sure, honey, I’ll unpack my stuff. Take your time.” She took a thick terry, hotel-supplied robe from a hook and carried it into the bathroom. After a couple minutes, including a quick squeal about something, I heard the low roar of a bath being drawn. “Dad! There’s a Jacuzzi in here! And bath salts and stuff!” I could make out an indistinct figure stepping into the tub, but no amount of squinting provided any detail through the glass, probably just as well. A tall pink blur eased low and out of sight. I heard her sigh, “Hot! Hot! Hot!” I hung my clothes in the closet and glanced into the bathroom, but I couldn’t see her, just the reflection of a bearded forty year old who’d not slept well on the plane. “Dad! I can’t make this stupid thing do anything! Can you fix it without looking?” How hard could Jacuzzi controls be, even in Spanish? When I entered the bathroom, I smelled flowers, maybe lavender. Ashley had slumped low so everything but her head was obscured by foam of bubbles. Even mecidiyeköy escort bayan so, my cock began to harden with the awareness of my naked daughter close enough to touch. I found the controls on a corner of the tub and studied the simple pictograms. I pushed some buttons. All the jets came on at once and Ashley sat up suddenly. Her breasts stunned me. I hadn’t seen her in less than a bikini in years. These were not the round grapefruits of her mother, but more like our home grown peppers, soft blunt cones more long than wide, with a slight upward curve. Patches of foam clung to them. They looked totally delicious. Through the jet-swirled water, suddenly transparent, I saw her taut ab muscles . . . and the fine blonde hair of her pussy. Her lightly tanned legs stretched to the end of the tub. My cock got harder and I turned away. “Have fun, honey,” I said, and left before I had to say anything intelligent or adjust my cock. My daughter was beautiful and sexy and wholly desirable, even beyond my frequent fantasies. Sometime after I’d gotten into my own robe, found an English TV channel and had almost fallen asleep, Ashley came out, shyly, her robe cinched tight and a towel on her head. She announced it was my turn. No comment about her brief over-exposure, but she dared me to figure out how the shower worked without it spraying the whole bathroom like she did. Given the warning, I turned escort şişli the handheld toward the glass, then got the overhead showerhead going, a kind of rainfall. A hot shower after a long plane ride is among life’s great pleasures. I soaped and rinsed and finally stood dumbly as water cascaded over me. I turned toward the glass. Ashley couldn’t see me clearly, I knew, but looking out from this side, I discovered I could see her just fine. Unaware that she wasn’t the same blur she saw, I guess, she had slipped off her robe and, naked, was putting her things away. She would probably put the robe back on when the water stopped. Watching her walk back and forth, her breasts pointing the way, my cock became fully hard. I stroked myself. I saw her hold up a short, sheer negligee and wondered when she could ever wear it. God, what a tight little butt. I kept stroking. Let’s agree that masturbating is another of life’s great pleasures. The silky fine hair between her legs drew my eyes whenever she turned toward me. Remembering the handheld on the shower, I switched it on and aimed the hard spray at my balls. It reminded me of how Ann, my ex-wife, used to rub me when she helped me masturbate. The spray splashed in sheets against the glass, making Ashley even easier to see. I wanted to come while spying on my daughter’s naked body. Ashley looked toward the sound of the water and I flinched before remembering I was only a blur to her. I masturbated, the water beating against my balls, and Ashley walked toward me. Her breasts pressed against the glass. She grinned a wide smile and expressively formed the words, “I can see you.” She spun a pirouette and danced away.

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