Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. WARNING: This story includes sexually explicit material. Please note any unfamiliar spellings and phrases may be due to the fact I am English, not American. I would like to thank the proofreaders for all their help. Any and all comments, including constructive criticisms, would be most appreciated. Please send to artemis55@hotmail.com This work is copyrighted by the author. You may download and keep one copy for your personal use as long as my byline and e-mail address and this paragraph remain on the copy. Any posting or reposting on a website or to a newsgroup requires my permission first (but I'll probably say yes). This story should not, under any circumstances be used to make a profit by anyone other than the author ====================================================================== Paint I hadn't been expecting him home this early, so he caught me by surprise. As soon as Chloe saw him in the doorway, she ran towards him, squealing in delight. He swung her up in the air and held her at arm's length. 'Daddy, Daddy! Hiya Daddy!' Chloe cried, wriggling and kicking her feet in the air. 'Kiss Chloe, Daddy.' 'I would love to if I could find a bit that wasn't covered in paint.' Chloe just giggled and squirmed some more but I could tell he was annoyed. I usually have any signs of our activities tidied away before Julian gets home. I tried to clean up as quietly as I could but there didn't seem to be much point. Chloe had been an unexpected surprise late in Julian's life. Since, barring another miracle, she would be his only child, he had from the start wanted only the best for her. He had read every book he could lay his hands on concerning childcare. He had even suggested that I went on a childcare course before he felt comfortable leaving Chloe in my charge. I drew the line at that outrageous proposal. While his concern could occasionally be irritating, it was easy to forgive when you saw how much he loved his daughter. One of his main obsessions was that Chloe should 'learn through play'. To that end he brought her educational toys and books. He even obtained tapes of Disney films and nursery rhymes in French and German. It can be a little disconcerting when a three-year-old starts prattling in a foreign language, I can tell you. I've had to learn smatterings of both German and French, just to understand what she is saying half the time. I put my foot down when he wanted to introduce Japanese. While a certain amount of education is fine in its place, I firmly believe that childhood is about having fun. As you can imagine, this has led to several animated discussions between us, to put it mildly. So I try to arrange things so that he doesn't find out how many silly games with absolutely no educational value we play. Today, we had started out, decorously enough, painting pictures. I'd taken all the sensible precautions of putting an old sheet over the carpet and sheets of newspaper over everything else that could conceivably be spattered. Unfortunately, we had run out of paper. One thing lead to another, and soon we were stripped down to our underwear and happily painting each other. Which, of course, had been the moment Julian chose to walk. He walked over and dropped Chloe in my lap, before carefully removing his tie, suit jacket and trousers and placing them, meticulously folded of course, out of harm's way. Most people would have looked faintly ridiculous kneeling in the middle of the sitting room clad only in socks, boxer shorts and a shirt but he still managed to look dignified. I suppose that's one of the things that makes him such a good headmaster, his innate air of dignity. 'Well you seem to be completely covered in paint, Chloe,' Julian said, pretending to examine Chloe. 'No, I've found a bare patch.' He picked up a paintbrush and daubed some paint onto her skin. She chortled and squirmed in delight as he did so. 'Well that's you all done. Lucinda, on the other hand, has lots of bare patches. I think we should do something about that, don't you, Chloe?' I had been so sure he was going to read me the riot act that it took me a moment to comprehend exactly what he was saying. I was busy formulating convincing arguments in defence of our unorthodox painting methods, when his meaning penetrated my brain. By that time it was too late. I was pinned on my back on the sheet with Chloe bouncing on my stomach and Julian holding my hands above my head. The pair of them then proceeded to smear paint over every reachable part of my skin. I tried to protest feebly but soon forgot about resisting. It was so refreshing to see Julian playing such a silly game. Even when he deliberately tickled me under my arms with a paintbrush, I still let him play. Then he got a mischievous glint in his eyes and he started to be more deliberate about where he placed his paintbrush. He painted little swirls along my inner thigh, as high as he could. It was the strangest sensation: the cool squidy feel of the paint being pushed across my skin by the delicate drag of the brush bristles. As the paint dried it contracted against my skin, leaving an itchy trail. When Chloe had painted my body it had been fun, maybe a bit ticklish in sensitive areas or painful when she jabbed too hard. Julian was making it an undeniably erotic experience. He moved upwards and drew a long stripe down my cleavage. Each stroke of the brush sent shivers down my spine and I couldn't control a small gasp that escaped my lips. He paused for a moment, running his eyes along my paint-smeared body, then looked thoughtfully at Chloe. 'I think you two are going to need a thorough bath. You stay there Lucinda, while I pop Chloe in, and I'll come back for you.' He scooped up Chloe and gave me an intense look. 'Don't move,' he commanded. Chloe is one of those children who loves bath time so she went with him eagerly enough. I lay still for a moment, waiting for my heartbeat to slow. I finally controlled the trembling in my limbs and gave myself a mental scolding for being so easily aroused in such an inappropriate situation. I had just sat up, and was planning to put away the paints, when Julian returned. He had one of those radio baby monitors in his hand, which he placed on the mantelpiece. He slowly walked towards me, dropping to his knees as he got closer. His pristine shirt was now splashed with a rainbow of colours and the bulge of his erect penis was distorting his boxer shorts. Golden evening sunlight was streaming through the windows, illuminating a typical suburban sitting room. I tried to tell myself that it was just my imagination working overtime and that the atmosphere was not as sexually charged as I thought, until he dispelled any doubts by reaching around me and unhooking my bra. He pushed me gently down flat on my back and smoothly removed my knickers. 'Now where were we?' he mused aloud. 'Ah yes, I remember.' He armed himself with a fat paintbrush, which he dipped in some clean water, and a thinner silky brush, which he left dry. Then he laid siege to my body. He began at my neck and worked down towards my breasts, starting at the base and progressing torturously slowly towards my nipples. He wielded first one brush, then the other. Each felt distinctively different yet equally stimulating. The dry one felt like a thousand feather-tip's brushing delicately across my skin. The wet one was a long slow glide of moisture. He took his time, tracing intricate patterns on my body. My nerve endings were tense, anticipating each glide of the brushes. I swear I meant to stop him, to sit up and pack the paints away in a business-like manner before joining Chloe in the bath. But somehow the touch of those brushes was so seductive. He progressed down my body until he reached the juncture of my legs. By this time, I was completely absorbed in the sensations shooting through my body. The fact that I was sprawled naked on the sitting room floor belonging to a respectable headmaster in broad daylight no longer bothered me. The fact that anyone passing the windows, such as a paperboy, could glance in and observe us was ignored. That it was entirely possible that someone could arrive and walk in and catch us was irrelevant. Even the background murmur of Chloe splashing in the bath and singing 'Frere Jacque' was no distraction to me. Any thought of respectability and appropriate behaviour had vanished from my mind. All I wanted was for him to continue his delicious torture until the building tension in my body snapped. So, when he nudged my legs apart, I eagerly complied. The feel of those brushes on my clitoris was indescribable. Why I didn't come there and then I don't know. He must have wet the brush again and it felt like a narrow tongue, probing along my folds. The soft brush swept across the tip of my clitoris like the gentle touch of butterfly wings. I could hear myself whimpering and moaning as the feeling built inside me. I thrust my hips upward, hoping for release. He continued to tease me, the silky brush flirting with my clitoris while the fat wet one made long sweeps around my opening. My body couldn't take the torment any longer and I orgasmed uncontrollably, limbs twitching and muscles spasming as the pleasure crashed through me. When I had calmed down again and my body had stilled, embarrassment came flooding back. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, to discover him smiling down at me. 'I think watching you orgasm like that in the sunlight is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen,' he said tenderly. 'It's a memory I will treasure, along with the first time my daughter called me Daddy.' Embarrassment scurried away with its tail between its legs. In that moment, I actually felt beautiful. I forgot about my plump thighs and wobbly stomach and gloried in the distorted reflection of myself through his eyes. I felt like Cleopatra, Helen of Troy and Marilyn Monroe rolled into one. Buoyed up by the confidence his compliment had given me, I rolled onto my knees and crawled towards him. 'Turnabout is fair play,' I murmured, attempting a seductive voice, as I removed his shirt and underwear. I didn't bother with his socks, as they didn't seem to be worth the trouble. He wasn't in bad shape considering his age. True he had a bit of sag around his middle and the hairs across his chest had a generous helping of grey but it didn't seem important. The fire of passion was in his eyes and his penis was jutting up, demanding attention. I lowered my head and enclosed it in my mouth, then licked and sucked until he was making noises similar to the ones I had been uttering earlier. Not wanting him to come in my mouth and present me with the perpetual dilemma of whether to swallow to please him or spit to please my taste buds, I avoided the issue by removing my mouth and straddling him. I lowered myself until he had fully penetrated me, then began to move up and down. Within moments I felt his muscles clench as he climaxed. I rested against him once he had finished coming, unsure what action to take next. While it felt natural in the heat of passion to parade around naked in the unrelenting glare of daylight, in the aftermath I felt too self-conscious to just stand up and walk to the bathroom. About the time my muscles were threatening to go into cramps and the sweat cooling on my skin was starting to make me shiver, Chloe's voice sounded behind me. 'Chloe all clean,' she announced. Getting a clearer view of Julian as I twisted to face her, she broke into giggles. 'Daddy is all dirty now. Daddy have a bath too.' I turned back to have a good look at Julian and saw that her observation was accurate. The paint had smeared off my body onto his and he was just as liberally bedaubed as I was. 'I suppose we'll just have to have a shower together,' he suggested, smiling into my eyes. At the thought of his soapy hands gliding over my body, an irrepressible tingle ran down my spine. 'Chloe, too, Chloe too,' the minx demanded, jumping up and down. 'Please Daddy.' She grabbed a pot of paint and tipped it all over herself. 'Look Chloe all dirty again.' she observed with a satisfied smile. There have been occasions when I have wished she wasn't quite so cute and smart, and this was definitely one of them. There would be no opportunity for erotic by-play if Chloe were involved in the proceedings. She ran over to one of the cupboards and pulled it open. 'Play with the water guns, Daddy, please,' she pleaded, dragging two of the said apparatus out of the cupboard. I swivelled to look at Julian in disbelief. Mr 'all play has to be educational' had the grace to look shame-faced. 'Chloe enjoys her bath so much more when we use the water pistols,' was his lame explanation. Sensing my displeasure, Chloe approached and offered me one of the toys. 'You have the power Uzi, Mummy,' she offered. 'It's the best one.' It looked like fun, so I abandoned my indignation and joined in. I couldn't help thinking of a couple of grown-up games Julian and I could play with those water guns, once Chloe was safely asleep. Copyright Vickie Morgan, 1999 artemis55@hotmail.com This story is distributed free of charge for your entertainment. It does take quite a lot of time and effort to write, type, edit and post a story. All I ask is that you take a couple of minutes to e-mail me, let me know that you've read this and perhaps give some reaction. Thank you.