Strange day

Olya was lying on her side in her room, on her own bed, quietly crying from shame. She couldn't understand how it had happened? Everything was going as usual, light flirting with her beloved father. And then, a few moments later, she was already standing naked, on all fours in front of her father, burning with shame, burying her burning face in the pillow, sometimes turning her head to breathe.

Her father didn't hold her, didn't order her, didn't threaten her. That made it even more shameful, that she stood there and allowed him to stand behind her and didn't run away anywhere.

Olya quietly sobbed and felt herself blushing again at the thought that came to her mind — you wanted this yourself, after all, before this you

had never allowed anyone such a thing — She covered her face with her hands and squirmed her legs. It still seemed to her that the semen was on her little bud, her butt, and her legs. Warm and a bit sticky, but Olya had washed it off long ago, before coming to her room and lying down. She squirmed her legs again and even slipped her hand between her legs, ran it there. Her leg and the part of her butt that was underneath were wet, but now from her own juices. She was remembering what had happened, and a fire was raging between her legs. She was also ashamed that she had liked it very much, except for one moment when she had even cried out and jumped up. And then, closing her eyes, kneeling, she felt hands on her waist that gently pulled her back and Olya, slowly and on her own, got back on all fours again, and again buried her face in the pillow.

— How could this be, guys chase after me at the institute, and I, here, at home… What came over me? — she thought.

She had come to her father's room after the institute, in a robe. There was nothing unusual about that, it was her usual home attire. Her father was lying on the sofa, covering his shorts and part of one leg with a sheet, watching TV, with his hand under his head. Olya sat on the sofa, at the edge, tucking one leg under herself. Her father looked at her, saying

— Close the vent, or there will be a draft, you'll catch a cold in your throat — and stared back at the box. Olya looked down, between her legs, looked at her father playfully, shaking her head and trying to cover the resulting view with the flap of her robe

— Well, where are you looking? Shameless. There, all gone, not embarrassing anymore? — she asked. Her father looked between her legs once more and went back to watching TV.

— No shame at all. Instead of blushing, he's looking there again! — Olya playfully scolded her father.

— What's new there anyway? I've seen you since childhood, well, you've grown up a bit, hair appeared there. You know, like with nudists, the issue isn't that everything is visible, but that it shouldn't be the sight of genitals that arouses, but the mutual desire to be together and in each other. — said her father, not taking his eyes off the TV and yawning. Olya at that moment stuck her finger in his mouth and quickly pulled it out so her father wouldn't bite her finger. That's how they sometimes joked with each other.

— Eh, didn't have time to close my mouth — said her father. Olya laughed cheerfully. Then she waved her palm in front of his eyes

— Pay attention to me, please. Hellooo — she said pleadingly. Her father tore his gaze from the screen, looked at his daughter,

— Speak, you little slut, what did you want?

— Well, not a slut, I am — Olya said playfully, pretending to pout — I have panties on. Well, people go to the beach in swimsuits. And you said yourself there's nothing new there — Then she said in a pleading tone:

— Daaad, will you give me five thousand, I want to buy myself new jeans. They're so cool, a bit torn on the knee and butt. You know, threads hanging like fringe. Like they're torn, but nothing's visible. Will you give it, huh?

— Let's take one of your jeans and saw it with a wood saw. We'll even saw between the legs of the jeans, it'll be the same and it'll ventilate, by the way — her father laughed.

— Well no, it won't be like that — the daughter said slowly, playfully, and pleadingly — and I don't need anything to ventilate, everything there is clean, always. Come on daaad, will you give it, huh? Well they're new, brand-name, there's a sale, at the store. I already tried them on, they put them aside for me, they'll wait until tomorrow, they said

— And what do you need so many clothes for? I haven't seen a single guy with you? — her father smirked.

— They run around in whole herds. But I'm daddy's girl — said Olya, sat on her father's leg, putting his leg between her legs, then getting on her knees, leaned over and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder — purrr, purrrr — Her father stroked Olya's head:

— You've trampled all over my chest with your eyes — he laughed.

— Are my eyes bad, or what? — the daughter playfully protested.

— Excellent little eyes, fabulous — he laughed again.

— Well then don't protest

— Alright, I'm quiet. Too bad the eyes are closed — her father said laughing. Olya pretended to be indignant, looking at her father with an indignant look and shaking her head.

— Well, you didn't have such eyes in childhood — her father laughed.

— Well, you look at mom. She has gorgeous eyes — Olya laughed.

— Agreed — said her father.

— So, will you give the money. I'm such a good girl, such a smart girl you have — she said playfully.

— I will. Do you need it right now? — asked her father.

— No, later is fine. Mom and I will go buy them together tomorrow — the daughter smiled.

— Oh damn, you got me. Already even agreed with your mother that she'll go buy them, and just wheedled the money out of me — her father said, smirking, shaking his head. Olya sat on her father's knee

— I tried them on yesterday, and when I buy them, I'll come and definitely show you, put them on and demonstrate. My butt in them is so tasty, like mom's, just a bit smaller — Olya said playfully, squinting — mom has a tasty butt, right? — she looked at her father.

— Tasty. You should move your knee away from your parent. Somehow you don't feel right when someone's knee is present there, even such a charming one — her father laughed.

— Oops, sorry — said the daughter, laughing silently and shrugging, moving her leg a bit, swayed her hips sitting on her father's knee — and it's nothing terrible, here I am sitting on your knee, right on my panties

— Well, sorry — she stroked her father, with her palm on his chest — you boys, everything is different there than with girls

— You covered my whole knee with dew with your little bud — her father smirked.

— I didn't with my bud And there is no, any, dew there — spreading her legs, she shamelessly looked between her legs, examining her panties — Lift your knee a bit — said Olya and rose slightly. Her father bent his leg a little. Olya squirmed on his knee with her crotch:

— Here's the bud. And back then I was sitting with my butt

— Well now the hair on my knee will stand on end — her father laughed. Olya squirmed on his knee again.

— Lift your leg higher. Now the hair on your whole leg will stand up — she said playfully. Her father raised his knee a bit more, chuckling, looked at his daughter. She started moving her hips and rubbing her crotch against his knee. She exhaled heavily and stopped moving, squinting, looked at her father — give me your hands — she asked. He extended both hands to her. Olya took them and again started moving her hips, squirming on his knee, looking at the ceiling and playfully, slowly, shaking her head. Then exhaled heavily a couple of times.

— Princess, this is not a broom. And I'll have not just hair on my leg standing up, but the peace disturber will rise — her father said quietly.

Olya stopped rubbing and looked at her father's shorts, covered by the sheet but slightly visible from one side. Right at the place where the peace disturber should be

— A tent city will be — she said playfully, herself stunned by her own boldness — let me ride on the slide. Bend your knee more — rising slightly, she asked. Her father, looking at his daughter, fully bent his leg at the knee. Olya, sat on the knee with her crotch and slowly bending her own legs, leaning back a bit, holding her father's hands, slid down his leg. Doing this several times and repeating, like when little children are rocked on a swing — ooooh ooh, ooooh ooh — She sat down, squirming on the knee and glancing at her father's crotch, looked at the hair on his leg:

— Something's not standing up — she laughed.

— Your white panties are blinding — her father smirked. Olya looked between her legs

— Let's ride some more — she laughed and taking her father's hands more firmly, leaning back again, slid with her crotch along her father's leg — ooooh ooh, ooooh ooh — glancing occasionally at her father's crotch. He noticed these glances but didn't show it.

— It'll slide better there now, you'll get all worked up — her father smirked.

— Everything's fine there — Olya said playfully, sitting on her father's knee and swaying on it.

— Well you tricked me. Aren't your little hairs standing up on your leg? — she drawled playfully. Her father sighed, squinted slyly

— Probably something's in their way? Not rubbing the right way on the leg

Olya playfully made an indignant look, slid down the leg forward and putting her own knee against her father's crotch, pressed lightly — oh, oh, oh. Look at me — she said just as playfully.

— What are you doing, Beauty, your mother will tear you apart. If you break her favorite toy — her father laughed.

— Well no, I'm being gentle — she said, pouting. She got up and sat on her father's knee again, swaying her hips — let's ride some more — she stretched her little hands out to him. He extended his to her and Olya slid again — ooooh ooh, ooooh ooh. Move your leg back a little. Yeah, like that. Ooooh ooh, ooooh ooh — Her father watched his daughter, he understood why she liked riding on his leg and squirming on his knee so much. But he couldn't help himself. He really liked this exciting game with his daughter. Sometimes they allowed themselves to joke like this when they were alone, never crossing the line of what was permissible. But today, the daughter had come up with something new, riding on his leg and squirming on his knee, she herself spread her legs, showing her panties, although before she would always playfully protest if he looked there. Now, squirming on his knee, she calmly allowed him to examine her panty-covered pubis.

Olya slid off the knee again, only forward and leaning towards her father, standing on her knees, rubbed her nose against his nose and raised her head. Under the hanging flaps of the robe, the daughter's bare chest was fully revealed.

— You have gorgeous eyes — said her father, shamelessly peeking under his daughter's robe. She, playfully, indignantly widened her eyes, making her lips into a bow:

— Where are you looking again? Your shameless eyes, ooh — she asked sternly, pressing the robe to her chest with her hand.

— What, melted from my gaze and became a size smaller? — her father laughed.

— Damn, well, here, here. Look — pretending to be irritated, Olya opened the flaps of the robe from the top and shook her breasts, immediately closing the robe back, looking playfully at her father.

— Cool, no words. Peaches — her father laughed.

— That's right — the daughter said contentedly and sat on her father's knee again.

— Well give me your hands — pleadingly, Olya stretched out, extending her hands to her father. Her father extended his hands to her and Olya rode down his leg again — ooooh ooh

— There'll be a water slide there soon — her father laughed. His daughter looked at him reproachfully, shaking her head

— I don't have dandruff, anywhere — she smirked.

— You have such a beautiful hairstyle today — said her father, looking at his daughter's face. Olya, coquettishly turned her head

— I tried

— And on your head too, a beautiful hairstyle — her father laughed — Olya pretended to be indignant again

— Damn, everything there is natural, no styling

— That no one styles it at all? — squinting his eyes, he looked mockingly at his daughter. Olya slid forward along his leg and on all fours, examined her father's face, with an expression of, well what to do with you, should I kill you or something.

— Well you're doing it on purpose, I know — said her father and slipped his hands under his daughter's robe, pressed his palms to her tits. Olya widening her eyes, pretending to open her mouth, inhaled air

— Where, damn, scram right now — she said, just looking at her father. He squeezed her tits and pulled his hands out.

— Firm peaches, top grade

— Well you're just — said Olya, shaking her head and making a surprised-indignant face.

— Seems like nothing's missing there — her father laughed, peeking under her robe. Olya continued to stand and shine her chest under the robe. Then she pressed against her father with her chest and lightly bit his shoulder, said

— Well, no one does any styling at all, you know.

— I can imagine — her father sighed, when mom's holidays come, I find myself in the same position.

— What, have mom's holidays started, or something? — rising on her hands and looking at her father, Olya asked.

— What, do you want a little brother or sister, or something? — her father laughed.

— Well, can't I ask anything — the daughter pretended to be indignant, examining her father's face. Looking where her father's gaze was directed, she looked under her robe, looked at her tits and again began to examine her father's face.

— Mom didn't leave a single pimple to pop on you — the daughter said disappointedly.

— She only left one, though there's something else to pop it with — smiling suggestively, said her father. Today they were joking harshly.

— This one? — moving her knee a bit at her father's crotch, Olya inquired.

— You're so perceptive — her father smirked.

— She'll come, find something to pop it with — the daughter smirked.

— And if she doesn't find it?