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On Valentine Lake (Part Two of Two)

6. In A Haze

As Lizvette cradled my head at her breasts, letting me drift in and out of my lover’s haze, her eyes explored the boat. After several minutes of silence, she said quietly. “It would be fun to have a boat like this, daddy. Are they very expensive?” I opened my eyes and lifted my face from between her pillowy, expectant mother’s breasts and looked at her. “You know I have a baby on the way, right? I really don’t have money for a cabin cruiser right now. I have to start another college fund.”

“Poor daddy. I bet you didn’t know how expensive I was going to be, did you!” She thought that was hilarious, but when I didn’t laugh, she added, “Oh stop worrying. Everything will be okay. Besides,” she said as she positioned her leaking nipple in front of my mouth, in her baby talk voice, “you will always have mommy, no matter how poor we may be.” With that she gave her nipple a squeeze, intending to give me a taste of fresh cream, but instead, squirting breast milk all over my face and up my nose. Another round of one-sided hilarity followed as she doubled over in hysterics wiping her milk off my face and out of my hair. “Facials are fun aren’t they daddy?! Ha ha haa!”

She was right, of course. I did enjoy it. I sat up to flush out my nose while she rubbed the last drops of milk off my cheeks and neck. I rose to get a drink out of the fridge as she resumed her thinking aloud about the benefits of boat ownership. “We could have the baby’s birthday parties on it, and water ski, and catch salmon and I could make you salmon croquettes and me and Vanessa could pose for you on it!”

” ‘Vanessa and I’ baby. Want another sandwhich?” I opened the refrigerator door and stooped to pull a drink can from the plastic packing collar. In doing so I noticed a prescription d**g container in the back, on the lower shelf. I reached for it, too.

“Vanessa and I. No, thank you, daddy, but I will make you one. And you could teach me to drive it and we could sail around the world together one day.” I sat down with the medicine bottle and read the name. It had been prescribed three months before to an Aloysious Thibodeaux of Metairie, Lousiana, 500 miles away. “Well maybe not around the world but we could go sail all around the Gulf of Mexico. Let’s get a big one and start a tour service! What’s that daddy? Are you sick?”

“No, baby. It’s somebody’s medicine. Probably the boat owner’s.” She took the bottle from my hand and read the name. “No, daddy. This is for Aloy shuss … Thee Bo Ducks.” I remembered upon first seeing the boat how poor the paint job was. It occurred to me I did not see an identification number on the hull. “Al-oh-ISH-us, baby. TIB-uh-doe. Hand me my phone. I need to make a call.” She put the sandwhich beside me and retrieved my phone from my jeans on the floor. “And that little metal strip with the numbers on it.”

“Hello, Paul? It’s William. I’m good buddy, thanks. Hey, do you have access to Lexis to run a VIN for me? I think I stumbled into something.” Lizvette snuggled next to me, with her head on my arm, and took a bite of my sandwhich. I read the VIN to my friend Paul, who runs the Special Investigations Unit for an auto and boat insurer. “Hot? The insured wouldn’t be an Al Thibodeaux, would it? Louisiana? Yeah, I think I found it. Did he report a boat stolen too? A trawler, about 10 years old?” Paul checked, Lizvette chewed and looked at me like she was watching a TV show. I motioned for her to grab her phone. To her, I whispered, “Text this to me, baby,” I repeated the information Paul read to me. Ford F150. White.” He also gave me the hull identification number of the boat Thibodeaux reported stolen. “I’ll know more at 2:30. Sit tight for now. No, I didn’t buy it! Okay. Thanks.”

“He stole everything didn’t he, Daddy?” Lizvette put the sandwhich to my lips and silently commanded me to take a bite. “From Mr. Thibodeaux. Even his medicine!” It was the medicine that most outraged her sense of injustice. “He’s bad.” She took a drink from my can of soda and asked what we should do.

“We have a few hours to plan it, baby. We’ll think of something.” She fluffed the pillows on the sl**per and pushed me backward onto them. “You’ll think of something. You always think of clever things, daddy.” She positioned herself on her side with her head on my stomach, and reached for my cock. She began to play with it and I welcomed the distraction. I wished only that a mirror had been in front of us so that I could see her face. I loved watching her play with it, as though she were playing with her little dolls. I stroked her hair as she stroked my shaft and we settled back, quiet and loving, again.

As my cock stiffened and thickened, Lizvette put her lips, so soft and full and firm, around the tip and sucked at it gently, like a baby with her pacifier. I patted her bottom and reached for the plug, still firmly lodged between her cheeks, deep in her little bubble butt, and manipulated it slowly, pressing inward and pulling just slightly outward, in little circles. My angel mimicked the movements with her lips and tongue around my shaft. We were both a little drowsy, silently pleasing each other as we relaxed with the gentle rocking of the boat, and the cool breeze that whistled quietly into the cabin. I closed my eyes and heard, playing through the ear buds connected to her phone that lay beside me, Elton John singing “Tiny Dancer,” and I smiled at the thought that she had downloaded it into her music collection, evidence of my influence on her tastes. And now she’s in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand…

She had already give me two orgasms that day, and a third was unlikely for me. My cock could still stay stiff and ready, for her only, but age had made multiple orgasms too much to hope for. But oh how it feels so real, lying here with no one near…

She lifted her head off my stomach just slightly, to pull her hair back, then with a soft sigh resettled against me and took my cock deeper into her mouth, nibbling and sucking, and I knew, enjoying the feeling of her daddy’s muscle in her control. She cupped my balls in her hand and held them tight. (“They fit so right in my palm, don’t they daddy?” I remembered her saying once.) I could see her dark lashes, so long and gracefully curled, against her cheek as she rested with closed eyes. Lay me down in sheets of linen. You had a busy day today…

I leaned back and stretch my legs straight, holding her bottom in one hand and stroking her forehead with the other, and closed my eyes to enjoy the loving sensations my baby was giving me. Soon I felt that ticklish feeling in the tip of my cock as drops of pre cum spouted into her mouth. Not an orgasm, but little drips coaxed from my nuts and up my shaft from her teasing squeezes and loving licks. I felt her swallow and relax her lips to take in a breath of air, then resume, thirsty for more.

“I treasure you, angel. You are my joy,” I said quietly, almost to myself more than to her. I didn’t want to rouse her from the pleasant haze she rested in. She would tell me eventually, I knew, exactly what she was thinking and exactly how many cum drops she tasted, and assure me she heard my words very clearly, and tell me I thought she was sl**ping, didn’t I?

I pulled her hair back slowly and gently and saw on her lobe the tiny earrings I had picked out for her months ago, little pearlish stones set in silver, glistening like freshly shot semen on her skin. (“I know what this means, daddy. You chose them because they look like cum splash, didn’t you?” she said when she opened them.) I thought again what a miracle she was in my life, and how I treasured her. I was a middle aged man, a father, a husband, and a lover to a girl a third my age. How long would it last? I never knew. How many more risks could I take? Not many, I was sure. And it was that thought that focused me on my current predicament. I was sitting naked, on a stolen boat, with my cock in the mouth of a 15 year old girl who was carrying my baby. And it was getting late.

I needed to think of something clever. Now.

7. On The Hook

At 2:00 I called Mike from the boat. “She’s not a bad little ship. I don’t want to guarantee a deal just yet, of course. Looks like she only has a primer coat of paint, and I’ll need to have that redone professionally. And I don’t see a hull number on the transom.”

“No hull ID on the transom? Why that boy of mine must have painted over it in a rush to finish. But don’t worry about that I have it here in the papers and I’ll see to it gets painted right back on this afternoon,” Mike said.

“I’ll have to insist on that before money changes hands, of course. You mentioned the trailer might be available, we can talk about that, too. And, I’m thinking, what the hell, I may have enough in the bank to convince to you to part with that truck while we’re at it.” I named a price and said, “Of course I’ll need to make a call to my banker to transfer some funds around, but if you’re serious about selling…”

“I’m serious about selling, but I can’t give that truck away you know. I just put a new alternator in it and had a complete engine overhaul done. I tell you what, Bill. I like you. What do you say to bumping that number up by $2500 and the whole rig is yours today?”

“$2500? That must be some alternator you bought. Let me meet you half way at $1250 more and you can unload all this old stuff on me before sundown. One cent more and I’d feel like a sucker. What do you say?”

“I say $2000 more will put a smile on your little girl’s face and get you the last boat and truck you’ll ever need.”

“Bring the truck and trailer to the dock office in 45 minutes and let me kick the tires. If my foot hurts, you get an envelope of hard cash with an extra $1750 for the truck and trailer.”

“Well Bill, you just said the magic word and won yourself the rig. Truth is, I need the cash to take care of my wife. She’s had a run of ill health here lately and I tell ya that medicine is expensive. I’ll see you in 45 minutes.” So full of shit. He had the deal made and still laid the sob story on me. The fact that he was ready to sell so low for cash confirmed for me he was the thief.

Lizvette stood at the sink, rinsing our dishes. “Remember baby, wipe down anything you may have touched. I don’t want your prints anywhere in this boat. And you remember what to do when we dock?” It was vital that any evidence of her presence here be erased. I planned to make my role in this untraceable too, but that might not be possible, depending on when the cops arrived.

It was time to dress her and I took a long last look at her beautiful little body, so plump and perfect. I saw the little cleft in her butt cheeks and remembered the plug. “We better take it out now, baby. Come here.”

Lizvette protested, as if I’d just told her to turn off the TV and go to bed. “Nooo daddy. But why?”

“Well don’t you want it out? Isn’t it uncomfortable when you sit?”

“No.” She smiled brightly and added, “It feels good!”

I remembered the package said it could be worn all day, but the girl in the picture was a grown woman, and this was my little Lizvette. Even with all the dicking I’d given her little ass the last five months, she was still quite petite. “Well. Let me check it. I want to make sure you’re not bruising.” She had a tendency after I was a little rough, to turn blue back there. She complained less and less and I wanted to be sure it wasn’t leaving any marks.

She stepped toward me as a I sat on the sl**per. I unhooked her school skirt in front and let it fall to her shoes. “Turn baby.” She stepped out of her skirt and put her butt to my face. Instinctively, I kissed it, through her panties. ‘My precious.” I pulled her panties to just below her butt. “Ah. So pretty.” She wiggled it side to side twice for me, playfully. I could see a slight cleft between her cheeks where the head of the plug protruded from her little hole. I parted her buttocks with my finger and thumb for a close inspection.

Her brown skin was as smooth and baby soft as ever, pink where it was supposed to be with no signs of swelling. “Is it snug enough baby? I mean, it won’t fall out will it?”

“It gets a little loose sometimes but I just use my muscles and pull it back in,” she said. I considered that. We might have some fast moving to do later and I didn’t want her slowed down by anything.

“Can you still wear your cotton thong?” I had packed one for the trip, thinking it would be required apparel to go with the plug, like a jock strap and a cup.

“Yes of course! You think I’m too fat for the thong?” Uh oh. I stepped into that one.

“Well I mean I’ve jacked off with it so much it’s always in my laundry. I know cotton shrinks.”

“Awww you cum into it a lot when you miss me? So sweet daddy.” It worked!

I pulled the thong from my bag and removed her panties. “Turn baby. Put your hands on my shoulders.” As she balanced on my shoulders I pulled the thong up up legs and as high as I could get it over the baby and her belly. “Good. Turn.” She put her butt to my face again. I tugged the thong string taught against the plug and secured it. “Good baby. Now you can keep it in. Let’s put your panties on, too.”

“Noooo! That’s too much! I hate wearing so many clothes. That would be my thong my panties my shorts and my skirt.” She was right. I’d forgotten about her shorts, which were sort of built into her skirt. “You can use my panties tonight when we go to bed.”

We had by then set aside a few minutes at bedtime to text each other. She called it our “going to bed time” because for her it was. Sometimes we sexted and traded pics, but most times we just chatted about our day, plans for the baby, and made sure we ended with a kiss and an “I love you.”

I lifted her skirt back up to her waist and fastened it. “You’ve gotten pretty good at taking my skirt off me and putting it back on,” she grinned. “Naughty daddy.” I patted her bottom and kissed her belly.

“It’s a skill most men never acquire,” I said, with some pride. “Okay baby. Ready for this?”

“Yes, daddy. I know what I’m supposed to do. This is going to be fun! This is the most exciting Valentine’s day ever.”

“I planned a little more romance for you, sweetheart, but yes this has turned out to be very memorable.” I pulled my jeans on and my shoes, then folded the linens and packed them into the duffle bag. I wiped down the medicine bottle and placed it back in the portable refrigerator, and removed the unopened soft drinks. After all was just as we found it, we headed back to the docks.

8. At Gunpoint

I had about 20 minutes to work before Mike and Ty were due. I retrieved a pocket knife from my glove box and went to work scr****g just enough primer paint off the transom to confirm the hull ID. Mike used cheap paint, what else? to hide it and it flaked right off. I called Paul. “The hull ID matches. I’ve got the boat and the truck. Don’t leave any more footprints in the database on your end, okay? I want to do this anonymously. I’m meeting the thief in about ten minutes and I need to call it in to the cops like NOW.”

“Watch yourself, William. If you’re up against a ring, those guys play rough. You hear me?”

I laughed. “Paul this clown is working alone. No ring would have him! Don’t worry. Just stay out of that database. The cops will have it in custody in about an hour. I’ve got to call it in.’

“Okay but call me when you’re in the clear, alright buddy?”

Lizvette met me at the payphone as I dialed the local police. “Here’s the envelope and the tissues daddy. And I put two logs from the stack out front in the back of your car.”

“Good girl. Now keep an eye on the entrance to the lot and signal me when they pull in. Ty will probably be driving a second car. Make sure you see where he parks it, okay?” She nodded as the police department dispatcher answered.

“Lime Rock Police Department. Is this an emergency?”

“Hell yeah, it’s an emergency!” I spoke in my best southern boy accent. “They’s about to be a stolen truck and boat sold to a sucker over at the Lake Isabel docks. Old boy tried to sell it to me last week but I saw right through him. I got the VIN number, the hull number and everthang. They’s even a medicine bottle with the real owner’s name on it the icebox. It’s all stole is what it is and I just heard another guy is planning on buying it for cash in about 10 minutes! You got to get over here! Never mind my name. I ain’t testifying against no crime ring. I done called ye and told ye and I tried to tell that sucker it’s all stole but he thanks I’m just a yokel don’t know what I’m a talkin bout. You just get a car over here before somebody else gets robbed.”

Lizvette covered her mouth to conceal her giggles as I read the ID numbers to the dispatcher. I stuffed the envelope with tissues and tucked a hundred dollar bill on top of them so it would show through the face. I dialed her cell number. “I’ll wait for him on the patio in the rocking chair. Take your spot at the lot entrance and do not lose this connection, baby.”

A few minutes later as I sat rocking in front of the dock office, she reported. “They’re pulling in, Daddy. Ty is following him in a black car. It’s a …. Charger.”

“Where’s that old man of yours, little tamale?” I heard Mike’s voice, low and slimy, coming through her phone. My bl**d boiled.

Lizvette giggled. “Oh he’s waiting for you. Don worry.” I saw Mike in the truck pull toward the office and slow, looking for a space. Then Lizvette said, “Oh is this the new car daddy is buying?” I then heard Ty say, “Shit. He can’t afford this.” Lizvette replied that she never rode in a charger before and asked if she could get in. Ty of course consented. “Careful, baby,” I whispered. I heard her close the door as she got in. “Nice car. Too bad it smells like dirty butt.” I then saw Ty pull forward with Lizvette in the passenger seat. He parked a few rows back in an area of open spaces. Not good.

“Baby, get him to park on the front row. Where he will have to back out.”

Mike maneuvered the truck and trailer into one of the designated doubled spaced spots for such vehicles and I rose to walk over to him before he got out. Through my earpods I heard Ty say to Lizvette, as he pulled into a spot facing the curb and the lake, “What you got on under that skirt, beautiful?”

“An Adam and Eve Firefly butt plug. In Aqua,” Lizvette said to Ty. “And my boyfriend’s baby.” I heard Ty mumble something like, what the hell, before Lizvette added, “You should get your hand off my thigh before you make me throw up, okay? Good boy.”

I said to her, “I’m turning off the speaker now baby. Get him to the boat. Text me when everything is set.” As Mike shut off the truck engine I looked into the windshield and inspected the VIN plate. It was a Chevy VIN. I smiled as he got out. “I see I won’t have to worry about an inspection for a while.”

No, Bill, you just made the sweetest deal on a Ford ever. I’m the one feeling like a sucker. But, like I said, I gotta look after my Mrs.”

I led him to the lake side of the dock office, out of view of the lot entrance and asked for the papers. He laid them flat on the barrel head outside the office door as Ty and Lizvette approached. Ty was carrying a can of spray paint and some stencils. “Get to work on that hull number so this gentleman can enjoy his new boat, son.” Ty said to Lizvette, “You got my number. Use it when you’re tired of playing mommy.” Lizvette replied, “Yes! I have all your numbers!” She began laughing hysterically at Ty’s confused reaction. Mike glared at him. Yes. The k** was stupid enough to give Lizvette his number. “Quite a boy you have there, Mike.”

“Get to work, son,” he barked. Lizvette vanished. I turned my attention to the title paperwork. Both the boat and the truck were listed as being purchased from M&T Auto and Boat Sales. Sell dates were over a year ago. Obvious bullshit.

“Looks official. Got a pen? Need to fill in the ID number for the boat.” I said to Mike.

“Aw you can fill in the blanks later. Nobody ever reads this stuff. But, here I’ll sign as seller.”

I took the bulging envelope from my pocket and laid it down for him to see the hundred through the paper, but keeping my weight on it. “I’d prefer the numbers were on it before money changes hands.” Mike obliged after seeing the phony stack of bills and began copying the numbers from a scrap of paper he pulled from his pocket. “Youre a stickler, aren’t you Bill. Say, what kind of work do you do?”

“Hey dad!” Ty called. “The paint has been sc****d off!”

Mike looked past me at Ty and the partially exposed hull ID. I looked at the numbers he had written. Phony. “I’m in insurance. Property and Casualty. You know. Auto. Watercraft. Say, the numbers dont seem to match up.”

Mike looked from the boat, to me, to the paper. After a few seconds he regained enough composure to say, “Why, hell, I wrote down the number to my other boat. I can fix that. I’m sure I have this one written down somewhere. Let me call you with it later tonight.”

My phone vibrated. A text from Lizvette. “They’re here. They’re looking at the truck tag.”

“Hey you know we may have a mutual friend. Do you know an Aloysious Thibodeaux?” I asked him. His left eye started to twitch. I remembered his “tamale” crack and was hoping I was bringing on a stroke.

“No, I uh, no I’d remember a name like that. Does he live around here?”

“No, Al lives in Metairie. Louisiana. Ever get out that way?”

Ty called out, “What do you want me to do, dad? Paint over it or sc**** it?”

“Get in the car,” Mike growled.

Ty, ever the quick thinker, stood there in the stern of the boat, dumbstruck.

“Get in the car!” To me, Mike said, “$500 and I walk away. You can get twice that in salvage for the rig, no questions asked.”

I pulled the VIN plate to the Ford from my pocket. ” My $40 dollars buys you this. After you lose my phone number. Let me see you delete it.” He showed me my name and number, and the texts, and I watched him delete it all. I tossed the VIN plate on top of the papers. “Put that somewhere safe.” I pocketed my $40 deposit and the envelope of tissues and walked away. “Oh and my best to your wife,” I said over my shoulder.

Lizvette was waiting behind the wheel of my SUV, stopped behind Ty’s Cougar to prevent him from backing. Ty stood staring blankly in the direction of the squad car parked behind his dad’s hot truck as I climbed into the passenger seat of my car. “Move that outta my way or watch me ram it,” Ty said to Lizvette before I closed the door. Lizvette smiled and yelled back, “You can ram it, son. Up your pimply butt!”

Mike by then had gathered his phony documents and was getting into the truck, in too big a hurry to notice the squad car that had moved to block the lot exit. He started the truck and tried to back out, not knowing the reason he couldn’t was the large quarter sawn logs placed behind the trailer tires. The squad car pulled in behind him, two cops emerged with guns drawn. “Out of the vehicle hands behind your head! Move!”

“Ha ha haa! We got him, daddy! We got him!”

“You were perfect, baby. I’m so proud. Back away slowly, now. Don’t attract attention. Just cruise slowly to the exit and make a right. Let’s take a drive around the lake, baby.”

9. Beyond The Sea

Lake Isabel was a man-made lake that covered 2,300 acres. It was built in 1911, and was initially intended to be a reservoir to provide water for the local towns that had formed in the area in the 19th century. Soon other water sources were developed and Isabel was redesigned as a resort area, a scenic retreat, a park and picnic area, a bathing beach, and in some sections, a high-end real estate development. Many old-money homes, designed by world-renowned architects, overlooked the water along Prather Drive, the paved two-lane road that encircled the lake. Aside from the docks, there were many old sites and structures along the drive that I recalled from my youth, or had heard of from the lake’s earliest days. There were the cement ruins of the old boat house that once served as a paddle boat rental service, the long disused bathhouse from the 1920s, the old red brick pump house, the dam and spillway, and the still-visible but crumbling foundations of barracks housing from the 1940s, which were used first by American soldiers who trained here, then as housing for German prisoners of war, many of whom chose to remain in the area and become citizens. Stone tabled picnic areas, from the earliest days, still stood and enjoyed regular use. As we passed by them, I recalled memories involving each of these sites at every stage of my life, especially my youth.

But it was a particular spot that I wanted to show Lizvette that day, a spot I recalled from my teenage years, on a small peninsula hidden in a woods, just large enough for a single car to park and enjoy a secluded view of the water, and enough privacy to keep the cops away. As Lizvette pulled out of the docks parking lot, I directed her to make a left onto the main road, then, about half a mile later, another left, onto Prather. She was still filled with excitement at bringing the thieves to justice, chirping and celebrating their arrest. “It was just perfect, Daddy! Did you see the looks on their faces? They couldn’t believe it! Will the police give Mr. Thibodeaux his boat back now? And his truck?”

“No baby, he probably replaced them by now. His insurance company owns them.” The historic old homes of the local rich soon came into view, and as I hoped, her attention was captured. “Daddy look! The White House! Only smaller.” She pointed to the home of R.L Caruth, probably the most colorful of the old millionaires. “Close, baby. It’s a smaller version of Monticello, modeled on Thomas Jefferson’s home. I’ve heard it has a bowling alley in the basement.”

If it had been a Saturday, Prather Drive would have been filled with cars enjoying a slow scenic tour along the tree lined road, with windows down and radios blasting, with cyclists pedaling along the bike path, joggers trotting and frisbees flying, but because we were playing hooky, we had the entire oasis to ourselves. “See that little space in the opening of the trees up ahead? Where the road curves? Pull in there, baby.” I still had two more presents to give her and we had another hour to enjoy.

Lizvette deftly maneuvered the SUV into the narrow space, just as I had first done thirty five years before in a 1974 Buick. The spot was smaller than I remembered, and the brush surrounding it was thicker, mossier than before, a sign that it received fewer visitors now. Still, there was enough greenery, even in February, to provide adequate cover. Lizvette parked, rested her chin on the steering wheel, and took in the view. “It’s so beautiful, Daddy.”

I opened the glove box in front of me and removed the two packages. One was quite a romantic gift. The other was quite sexual. I decided the moment called for the romantic one. I had intended on getting her a new heart-shaped locket to attach to her anklet, that would contain photo detail cut outs of our lips, mine in one side, hers in the other. Instead, I found a sterling silver heart pendant and chain, very smartly designed, with a small sapphire stone set (“gypsy set” as the sales girl said) on the upper left side, where one end of the chain was attached. On the right side was a hollow, banana-shaped space, which left an arch at the top where the other end of the chain attached.

“So pretty! Daddy!” Lizvette ahhed and giggled and clapped her hands together, happily. “Very good, Daddy! Put it on me now.” She lifted her hair to expose her neck and leaned toward me as I clasped it above her shoulder. The heart fell low, into her cleavage, and she unbuttoned her blouse to give me the full view. The silver shone brightly between her cocoa colored breasts. “Yes, baby, it looks even prettier there than I had hoped.”

“Thank you, daddy. I will cherish it forever.” She leaned toward me for a kiss. Our lips met and I felt her hand grip my chin, cupping it tenderly. I returned the gesture and we kissed for several minutes. Her breath was sweet with a hint of cinnamon from her gum, and her lips were wet. Our mouths were watering for one another as I felt her hand reach between my legs. Her lips were now at my ear and her voice was a low breathy whisper, hot and sultry on my skin. “Let me kiss it, daddy.” She felt my cock harden in her hand beneath my jeans, just as she knew it would.

The moment was now right for the second and final gift. “I have one more present baby. Something I want you to have when you miss me.” I had wrapped it in red tissue with white ties at each end. She held it in her hands and squeezed it. “I think I know what this is,” she said with a hint of naughtiness. “And it isnt a banana.” She unrolled the tissue and held the object to her face. “A pretty, purple dildo. Nice. I don’t have one.” She was not impressed and seemed to be ready to resume our make out session.

“Baby. Look at it.”

She looked at me, then held the toy to her face again, examining it, appraising its shape and appearance. “It looks like a good size for me, not too big, not too fat. I like how the light shines through it.” She considered it further. “And it does feel good in my hands.” Finally, it hit her. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Ohmygod! Daddy! It’s you!”

It was a homemade dildo from a casting kit I bought months ago at a condom and sex toy shop. My plan had been to have it ready by Christmas, but there was just never the time, or the occasion, to make the casting while I had a really good hard on. My cock was always at its hardest when it was in Lizvette, and making it without her was difficult. Finally, one recent Sunday morning, I awoke, alone in the house for the morning and with a glorious boner after dreaming of Lizvette. I ran to the den closet, where I had kept it hidden, slapping and rubbing my cock to keep it stiff, and made the impression. The end result was now in her hands, and she was beaming. “You were dreaming of me? Oh daddy that’s so sweet! And look how hard and thick you were! Poor daddy. I wish I had been there to make it better.”

“It’s safe to put in your mouth, too, baby. No toxic materials at all.”

“You know I like sucking on you when I’m sl**py, don’t you, daddy? Is that why you did this?”

She didnt wait for an answer. She lunged at my face and kissed me. “This will be so helpful at bedtime for me. Except,” she put her head on my shoulder, “this one won’t be as hot as yours.”

She kissed my ear. “And it won’t throb in my mouth to your heartbeat.”

She reached down to unbutton my jeans. “And it won’t ooze your delicious milk.”

She took my cock out and reached for my balls. “And it doesn’t have this soft, smooth nutsack for me to squeeze,” she put her tongue in my ear, “to drive you wild.”

She lowered her head to my lap as I pushed my jeans down to my ankles. I opened my thighs wide and lifted my hips so she could get her hand under my balls. She scooped them up expertly in one hand and plunged my cock deep into her mouth eagerly. I felt the back of her throat in an instant. She had never deep throated me that quickly or easily. My little angel was growing up so fast!

I reached under her skirt for a hand full of ass and was glad she had refused to wear her panties over her thong. Her butt felt so good, naked and smooth and firm in my hand while her throat opened and closed on my tickling, tingling dickhead. After just a few squeezes I began to feel the surge of ecstacy in my balls as she teased them. I reached for the plug under her thong and gave it an abrupt shove. She pulled hard on my nut sack and closed her jaws tight over my dick. My cock erupted in her mouth as I held her head down with my right hand and pushed the plug in deeper with my left. “God DAMN BABY thats good.” My cum shot from me so hard it almost hurt.

After at least a dozen pulses of jizz I was drained. I patted Lizvette’s head and let her off my dick. She rose quickly, coughing and spitting cum and saliva on my shirt. I opened the glove box for a napkin and handed it to her. Her eyes were watery and bl**dshot. “Did you (cough) like it (gulp) Daddy?” She wiped her mouth and her eyes, then dabbed at my shirt. “Sorry I’m so messy.” She made throat clearing sounds and little gasps for air as she swallowed the last of the cum and saliva still stuck in her throat.

“That was amazing, Lizvette.” I was proud of jer, and awestruck at this new skill level she had acquired. “I will never forget this, baby.” As I said those words, to Lizvette’s smiling face, her cheeks still wet, it occured to me, I said almost the same exact words 35 years before. And in that very spot.

“Is this your best Valentine’s day ever, daddy?”

“Yes baby. By far.”

She wiped her cheek and sniffled, “Mine, too.” She smiled. Her eyes sparkled wetly in the sunlight flickering through the trees, so youthful and happy, as if tears of joy were about to fall. “It feels like this is the first real Valentine’s Day I ever had.”

She looked so fragile, so vulnerable. I wanted to give her some tenderness. I put a disk of old standard songs in the stereo, Frank Sinatra, Nat Cole, Tony Bennet, Bobby Darin, and rolled the windows down. I got out of the passenger side of the car and opened the back hatch. I pulled out the blanket I had packed and spread it over a shady patch of ground on the water’s edge. I took Lizvette by the hand and sat her gently down, and held her as she leaned back against me. “I love this old spot. I’ve been wanting to share it with you, angel.”

Her face rested against my chest as she asked, “Did you used to bring your girlfriend’s here? When you were young?”

“Yes. But not just that. I also used to come here alone, to just sit, or play my guitar. I wrote songs here. Now I will have a beautiful memory of us here, too.”

She cuddled closer, tucking her legs in and holding my hand in both of hers against her breasts. “Daddy try and think of when you knew I first loved you.”

I could focus more clearly now, having just orgasmed, on matters of the heart, where she wanted me to focus. She didn’t want to hear about grab-ass pool play, when she exposed her little ass cheeks to my bare hands, or her bikini-covered pussy lips. That was just her tease, her sex-play. She wanted to know when I knew she loved me.

Somewhere beyond the sea
Somewhere waiting for me

Bobby Darin’s voice floated to us from the car stereo. A favorite of Lizvette’s, and of mine. She liked hearing me imitate Bobby and serenading her, normally, but this wasn’t the time. “Yes baby I do know. I know it very well.”

My lover stands on golden sands
And watches the ships that go sailin’

“That first night, when you came to spend the night with Vanessa. You and I were walking up the stairs in my house. I was going to get you a towel for your shower.”

She snuggled closer. I heard a deep, satisfied sigh as her little chest rose and settled. “Mmm Daddy. Yes. Go on.”

If I could fly like birds on high
Then straight to her arms
I’d go sailing

“We walked very slowly up the stairs. You were two steps ahead but very close. Your pretty bottom wiggled. I wanted to lead you to my bed.”

Lizvette giggled. “Your breathing was getting heavy! You were so sweet, daddy. Keep going.”

We’ll meet beyond the shore
We’ll kiss just as before

“I took you to the hall linen closet and picked out a fluffy towel for you.”

“Youre thirstiest, you said.”

“And then we walked to the bathroom.”

We’ll meet (I know we’ll meet) beyond the shore
We’ll kiss just as before

“I wanted to come in with you. You looked up at me, like you were telling me it would be alright if I did. And we just looked at each other. You started to close the door. But very slowly. And we never broke eye contact.”

“Mmm daddy. You do know. You do know.”

Happy we’ll be beyond the sea
And never again I’ll go sailing

“I knew, baby. You were telling me without speaking that we were in love. And I never felt such joy.”

No more sailing

“And it wasn’t just because of my age?”
“No, baby. Because of you.”

So long sailing

“And you’ll still love me when I’m really old? Like 22?”
“Forever, baby. Even when you’re really super old, baby. Like 26.”

Bye bye sailing

“Oh daddyyyy….”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Updated: October 21, 2016 — 1:29 pm

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