The Old Man and Chelsea
mc; Mg; bg; Mdom; oral; preg; inc
Chelsea Rosenfeld hated the whole idea. It was bad enough that her parents were going to visit her eighty-one-year-old great-grandfather, but did they have to drag a reluctant twelve-year-old daughter with them? He was probably old and smelly and all touchy-feely, and don't forget, senile. Every preteen learned anyone that old had to be a pervert. She hadn't seen the man in six years, not since he moved into the retirement home. Or whatever assisted living meant.
She could have gone to DeeDee Schneider's slumber party. Rumor had it Hayley Evans was going to teach them some fun-sounding game named 'Truth or Dare.' With Chelsea's luck, she'd lose out, and they'd never play it again.
But no, she got bundled off to Senior Citizen Purgatory, neither Heaven, nor Hell, and not really living.
When her parents walked through the snow into the facility, Chelsea tried to hide in the backseat, hoping they forgot about her. She pulled her long woolen winter coat over her legs and flipped the lapels around her face, all to no avail. With that ruse failing, she resolved to remain grumpy the whole visit. Either she'd get early release or better yet, not get invited back.
When her mother opened the apartment door, Chelsea expected to find bars on the windows and prison gray on the walls. Instead, the two room dwelling was a cheery blue with bright white trim. The huge windows had calico drapes drawn back to let in as much sunlight as possible.
The only dreary thing in the room appeared in the green recliner, the old man. Ernst Katzenbaum wore his forest green terrycloth robe over his blue striped pajamas, even in the afternoon. He had stubble on his chin, along with a little of his lunch. Yuck, she thought.
Not wanting to face the old man, Chelsea headed to a window while her parents spoke to him. Thank goodness for earbuds so she wouldn't have to listen. At least the window afforded him a nice view. She wondered if he ever gazed out on the mountains in the distance.
She still wore her coat, feeling almost hot, but reluctant to take it off owing to her stubborn streak. She'd faint from heat exhaustion before she gave them the satisfaction.
A half hour passed before her parents approached her. Instead of leaving for home, they were going to do some errands around town. Chelsea almost cried when she heard she would be keeping the old man company.
Pouting, she collapsed on the guest sofa. With the apartment door closing behind her departing parents, it sounded like a prison cell going into lockdown to her. She felt all alone, except he was still there.
The silence in the room lasted a few minutes. Finally the old man said, "You know, I used to change your diapers."
"Do I…do I have to change yours?" She prayed she didn't.
The man gave a hearty laugh. "No, I'm not that far gone yet. My body below the neck works reasonably well. Above the neck, eh, maybe, not so much." He gave a huge sigh. "My eyes see less of the world each day. What I can remember, I fill in. But now my memory is evading me. The old days remain clear, but I can't remember what I had for breakfast."
"So, why did you bring up diapers?" asked the girl.
"To break the ice, my dear. Read nothing else into my statement. I haven't changed a diaper in over a decade. But I've changed more than my share. I saw diapers go from cloth to disposable and back again. That's a lot of bare butts I've seen. Come to think about it, yours might just have been the last tushie I powdered."
This is getting weird, thought the girl.
"What was your name?" he asked. "I seem to have forgotten it."
"Chelsea," she said.
"Ah, I remember being in Chelsea, back during the war. Nice people. Are you nice?"
"I guess."
"Well, a nice person would get me that amber bottle from the counter. Let me see if you are the nice person you claim to be."
Chelsea rolled her eyes, but retrieved the bottle anyway. The old man uncapped the bottle and downed the contents without any water. "You have proven your claim, just as nice as your mother. Then again Lila was always so well mannered.
"My mother is Elaine. Grandma Lila was her mother."
"An honest mistake. I hope you forgive me. And what was your name again?"
"Chelsea," she said, falling unto the sofa, exasperated once more.
They stayed that way for several minutes until boredom got the best of the girl. "Where's your television?" she asked.
"I don't have one," he answered. "My eyesight is so bad along with my memory. I had to give up reading, too."
"What do you do for entertainment?"
"I like to look through my photographs and reminisce about them. A very nice boy, though not from England, set up the machine so I can do just that." He gestured toward the laptop on a rolling table. "A new-fangled contraption called a computer. Would you bring it over for me?"
Chelsea scratched her head over how pictures were better than television. Nevertheless, she wheeled the table over.
The old man rearranged the recliner so the back was upright, but his legs stretched out. "Bring a chair up, sit a spell. And you could take off your coat. You're not going anywhere for a while."
Obediently, Chelsea shed her coat. Underneath she wore a red knit sweater with what resembled a brown reindeer head on it along with her favorite pair of jeans. A little cooler, she then carried a kitchen chair over, placing it next to the man. "Happy?"
"To be in the presence of a beautiful woman, of course I am. To have back my youth so I could do something about it, then I would be in paradise."
The girl laughed. "You're funny."
"Remember that wisdom when you get so old as this." He clicked a few keys and started a slideshow featuring old black and white photos, none of which interested Chelsea. He named people, places, and events that she neither heard of before nor cared about now.
The man noticed the squirming in the chair next to him. "I have something else that you might like better. It's a movie about when I met your mother. Did I ever tell you that story, Lila?"
"You have us confused again," said the girl shaking her head. "Remember, Lila was my grandmother."
He paid no attention to her protest. Instead, he clicked on an icon that brought up a video. Not just any video, but the famous Flipping Image Video. Chelsea had viewed it once at one of DeeDee Schneider's slumber parties. The video displayed only two images, one that contained a static picture and another that contained a similar image, just slightly changed. While the video ran, the images would exchange with each other. At first it was one fading into the other and then fading back. The process sped up until your eyes couldn't keep up with the changes. Your brain got confused and commands triggered the brain to do weird things. At the party she ended up making out with DeeDee, or so she was told.
"How do you know what's going on in the video?" she asked. "It's just two pictures over and over again."
"Ah, you are one who looks too closely and sees nothing. That is like my eyesight every day these past few years. Everything looks fuzzy. Yet if I imagine what is in the image, adding all that I remember, the dots move to let me see what I know must be there. Now, sit with me as I tell you what is so. Let my words move the dots. Know my words are truth because I am too old to lie."
Skeptical, Chelsea decided to give it a try anyhow.
"This story started many years ago," the old man began…
My family lived in the city, having emigrated from the old country a few years before my birth. Papa worked in a bank the entire time, rising to a very successful position. Mama stayed at home, raising me. I was said to be a handful.
Mama had a special way of talking to people. Using her soft speech, they would do anything she spoke. She said it came from her forebears, passed down from the times of the wise women. Papa never learned it, always remaining blustery when trying to get his way. I laugh because Mama could wrap Papa, and me for that matter, around her thumb with just a few words.
During the heat of the summer, Papa would send Mama and me on the train to the mountains. There we stayed at a resort, a big fancy place with swimming pools and horses to ride, and just about everything to make you forget how hot it was. During the evenings, we ate huge meals of delicious food, delivered by the funniest waiters ever. Papa would arrive for the weekend before heading back to the city Sunday night. Mama and I returned home the next weekend.
The resort owner had two daughters, Rebecca and Ruth. Rebecca was my age, yet thought of herself as much older, On the other hand, Ruth was four years or so younger, yet a better companion for me. Over the summers, Rebecca stayed away from the guests more and more, unless the boy was handsome and very rich. The former trait excluded me, and I downplayed the second. Ruth cared for neither attribute, not at that age.
I practiced Mama's spoken magic on the girls. Rebecca never listened enough to hear me, but Ruth would melt on every word. After seeing the effect, I used it sparingly on the younger girl, hoping to keep the power potent.
The year when I turned twelve, not quite a man, Papa took holiday during the winter break. The three of us grabbed a train and arrived at a mostly empty resort. The swimming pools were frozen, and the horses bedded down most of the time. However, there was still a lot of food, and Ruth. I had received a toboggan as a present and wanted to try it out on the snow-covered fields. Both girls brought out their sleds, but Rebecca tired of our sport quickly and left us at noon.
That departure allowed the two of us time alone. Those were simpler days, back when no one thought children could not be trusted together. Even alone, we respected each other.
Once Rebecca departed, I began noticing Ruth's skirt rise up more often. Many times that day, I caught sight of her white underwear. Nowadays, that would not be so unusual, but in those days, it was practically scandalous.
When I could not catch the accidental glimpse, I concentrated on gazing into her green sparkling eyes. I could have used the magic to further my burning desired, but from that day on, no power was needed.
When we finally ran out of energy, Ruth took me back to her private rooms at the resort. There she ran a hot bath for the two of us. As she stood there, shivering and naked, I formed an image, that of the girl I would marry.
She was the first girl I had seen without clothes. I never asked her if I were her first boy, fearing what she would say. I remain blissfully ignorant to this day.
After warming up, we spent our time kissing and cuddling whenever we could for the rest of the holiday. We both knew we had a mutual destiny together.
For the next several summers, I worked at the resort, seeing my beloved when we had free time. Every autumn I returned to the city to spend the remaining time away and alone.
On her sixteenth birthday, I asked for her hand. There was no doubt what the answer would be. That night we spent the first night in bed together, kissing and cuddling until her father put a bundling board between us. You might not know of that contraption, but in those days that heavy piece of lumber crushed down the blankets between two people on the bed. That way the hands could not touch the other in secret under the bed sheets.
I didn't mind, figuring after all those years of seeing each other, three more weeks wouldn't matter.
After the ceremony, my new father-in-law gave us the use of the honeymoon suite. For three days and nights, Ruth and I enjoyed the bliss of togetherness. Only when two become one do they understand and appreciate the true nature of love. Being inside of her, I found the reason for my being: to make her happy every day of our lives. I can only hope she thought of me as somewhat successful.
We had no training and very little advice as to exactly what to do during the wedding night. Instinct and adventurous experimentation guided us. It was strictly dumb luck to have excited the other to their climax together. As my seed poured into her and her body responded in accepting it, we thought it a miracle.
About nine months later, you were born, the proudest day of our lives.
The video ended with the last of his comments. Chelsea thought about her feelings during the show. The main image presented a young girl, probably Ruth. The other had started as an exact copy, but had changed to first being naked and then being pregnant. In the end, the first image faded away, leaving a faint reflection of Chelsea herself to take its place. The girl imagined a kinship with Ruth and her love with the old man on her honeymoon.
"That was a beautiful tale," said Chelsea, "even if you did confuse me with your daughter."
"My dear, can you forgive an old man? A beautiful woman is a joy forever."
"Of course. And you were right. I could see Ruth as you spoke. Was that your magic?"
The old man shook his head no. "That power waned over the years. I fear I have no more, not for a long time. Do you feel different after the story?"
Chelsea didn't answer him, mostly because she didn't have a way to express how she felt. A tingling in her loins. A tightening of her nipples. A desire to care for the man.
Instead of saying anything, she wet a tissue with her saliva and then wiped the remnants of his breakfast from his mouth. With him cleansed, she took his head in her hands and kissed him, stubble and all, full on the lips. Pushing the computer away, she climbed into the recliner, one knee next to each of his hips, and resumed the embrace. He grabbed her butt and held her, massaging her bottom as their lips remained locked.
When she came up for air, the girl said, "That was such a wonderful story. Why had I never heard it before?"
"We told very few. Ruth remained shy about our courtship. Women were not as public with their feelings back then. A lady did not speak of such things. But I think you in particular needed to hear our story."
"Is there more to the tale?"
The old man smiled. "Of course, my dear. However, I wish to be with my thoughts for a few moments, to relish in those exposed and recall those to come."
Chelsea climbed off her precarious perch on the recliner and stepped back to study the old man. She now saw him in a different light. Perhaps he wasn't yucky after all.
From the preteen's eyes, it wasn't hard to see why Ruth fell in love with him.
Chelsea sighed and took her place again in the chair while the old man closed his eyes for a moment. Her eyes fixated on the tempting laptop on the rolling table. Her fingers strained to click on the video again, to relive the romantic story she had been told. That was the twelve-year-old in her. Yet she knew the mature thing would be to wait for the old man to wake. Her more sensible elbows remained locked in place.
Torn between the two options, she chose a third. Walking over to the front window, she peered out. No sign of her parents. They hadn't told her how long their errands would take. When they left, she hoped it was only taking a minute. But now…now she wished they never came back.
The old man snorted awake. "Sorry, my dear. I must have drifted off. I cannot recall if I told you. There is another video that continues the story, if you would like to hear it."
"Yes, yes." The girl figured out her emotional state. She was horny, from the top of her head through the pit of her stomach to the curled up toes on her feet. But mostly her pussy felt tingly. There was something magic in the air, somehow connected with the story. Whatever it was, she needed more of the tale or she would just die.
"I require three things. First, I would like a bottle of water from the refrigerator."
Chelsea skipped past his recliner and over to the kitchen, returning with a fresh bottle. Turning over a new leaf, the newly helpful girl even opened it for him. "Next."
"I am too hot to remain in the robe. If you could help me out of it, I would be grateful."
She loosened the sash and pulled his arms out of the sleeves while he leaned forward. Thinking about it, the room did feel unbearably warm. She decided to shed her sweater also. Since she never wore a bra, training or otherwise, that left her with her favorite tank top to cover her modesty. She had worn it for two years, the material a bit thin and the fit a bit tight. Her over-excited nipples tried to cut two portholes and escape.
Glancing at the old man, she knew he was acutely aware of her predicament. And smiled his approval.
"And for number three, what do you desire, Master?"
"Sit with me. There is plenty of room in this recliner with a skinny person like me" He shifted sideways and patted the cushion vacated.
Chelsea sensed being drawn to the emptied spot. Once there, she felt comfortable and decided she never wanted to leave it. Ever.
"Let's see, where was I?" He clicked the icon again, and the video returned. This time the main image depicted a younger girl than the previous video. Perhaps in grade school. "My daughter was the apple of our eye," he began again…
Our daughter brought joy to our home. The only problem was the complication during the birth left Ruth unable to conceive again. We stated to our families that it hardly mattered as our little one appeared healthy and normal.
Secretly, this broke my heart. I had been raised as an only child. While it has some advantages, I missed the opportunity to grow up with a brother or sister. This became apparent in my lack of sexual education. Papa was closed lipped about such subjects, almost like he was about everything else except politics. That was the one issue that stirred his loins. On the other hand, Mama who usually taught me my life lessons, said absolutely nothing. That became obvious on my wedding night, and though we worked through it, I still wondered if it could have been better.
I moved to the resort, making it our home. I performed every task given me and earned more respect from my father-in-law. In eight years, I moved up to the assistant manager and knew I was being groomed to take over someday.
My daughter turned into a free spirit, having little modesty. While Ruth lacked patience for her and wanted to beat sense into the girl, I had other ideas.
I remembered back to Mama dealing with me when I was younger. While Papa yelled, Mama spoke softly. I began treating my daughter in the same way. After while, I realized she listened much like my sister-in-law, Rebecca. That is to say, not at all. Well, maybe just a smidge, but not enough to curb her habits.
She often ran around the resort topless, startling guests and residents alike. I took that in stride, still being easily confused with a boy her age. By the time she turned ten, her body began to change. We tried to convince her to become more dignified, but she had my stubborn streak.
That summer, we sent her to the city, to swelter with Papa and Mama. Between the heat, Papa's bluster, and Mama's secret power, she had to improve. Strangely, if anything, she got worse. Perhaps because of the heat, but my little angelic daughter ran around not only topless, but also only in panties. And that was if we were lucky.
Waiting her out, we relied on the cool weather of autumn. She proved to be immune to the cold clear days. Even when the snow began falling, my little girl braved the elements. At my wit's end, I gave up.
Ruth came up with a solution, although a strange one. Our daughter would be allowed into the adult circle of pleasure if and only if she became more dignified in front of the guests.
This added maturity level proved exactly the right course to take, though it taxed both my wife and me. Our daughter joined us in our bed. For the first two years, she was quite content to allow me to tickle her or massage her body to satisfy her part of the bargain. Eventually, it moved from fingers to tongue and from strictly her body to include both Ruth and mine. By the time she reached her sixteenth birthday, she had performed every sexual act we knew, except for the entering of her body.
Ruth became an integral portion of the sexual games. At first, she was there to spell me on particularly stressful days. Along the way, she found an appreciation for the young female body. We had never heard of such feelings, but my wife enjoyed our daughter as much as I did. I suspected she asked other guests, quite discreetly of course, and even attended demonstrations of such activities. I say suspected because I never asked, relying on my wife's good sense to guide her.
As her present for her sixteenth birthday, that night I took my little girl's virginity. That evening, we returned to the honeymoon suite, all three of us. Ruth prepared the two of us before stepping aside. With my daughter on her back, I lined up with her undisturbed entrance. As I penetrated her womanhood, I thought of my love for her, much as I had with my beloved Ruth.
I had forgotten the tightness of a virgin, having been years since my honeymoon. I also forgot their joy as they became filled by a man for the first time and the intense fireworks that accompanied their climax. Three times we engaged, sending my seed deeper each time.
As luck would have it, she was most fertile that precise night. I dispelled any notion a virgin could not become pregnant.
We waited nine months for the next addition to our family. When she was born, Ruth and I claimed her as our own. Lila became our second daughter, born of a miracle.
Our first daughter grew despondent and sought out a young doctor to cure her. As fate would have it, the cure proved to be him. They married and moved away. I have never seen or heard from them since.
"How sad," said Chelsea. "What was your daughter's name?"
"Naomi. She would be your true great-grandmother. Not many people outside of the family know about this."
As she digested the new information, Chelsea notice the old man's hand had wandered under her tanktop. "Wait a second," she said. He pulled his hand back, his eyes looking frightened like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Surprisingly, she sat up and pulled the clinging garment over her head. "There, now I'm topless like my grandmother's true mother loved to be. Isn't that easier?"
"But do you want to be this way?"
"Since I watched her video, I haven't needed to remain modest." She leaned over and kissed the old man, directing his hand over her miniature tits. They were barely bee stings, but they were sensitive.
She repositioned herself back to the knees at the hips. Instead of kissing, she stuck one of her nipples into his face. The old man knew exactly what to do, making the girl tingle all over yet again.
Eventually the old man desired a drink of water, and Chelsea settled in beside to him. "Is there more?" she asked.
He nodded. Clicking the icon again, the video started. The image showed another young girl, this one in a tee shirt and shorts. "Our family had regressed seventeen years," he began…
With the birth of Lila, Ruth and I returned to the role of new parents. The old chores became ours once more. Luckily, we had not grown too old to change a diaper. Ruth missed breastfeeding, thinking bottles never as good. It proved one problem I could not solve for her.
That same year, my father-in-law decided to promote me to replace him as he began down the slow path of his retirement. He burdened me with a resort that saw visitors finding other destinations. No longer were trains the only way to escape the heat of the city. Roads went everywhere and cars only stopped for a day or so at a time.
Looking to save the family heritage, Ruth and I decided to develop two camps on the property, sharing the natural beauty with youngsters. It took a year to get the structures built and the camp approved. We called in many favors from previous guests to help. The resort had given many families a pleasurable holiday.
While we kept the resort going all year round, mostly with my darling wife running it, in the summer the place was filled with hundreds of wild campers of both genders. Camp Panther for Girls and Camp Bobcat for Boys kept our dreams afloat for many years.
As director, I oversaw both camps, eventually finding assistance from some of the former visitors who had such fond memories of the resort. I became more of an overseer, freeing me up for free time and watching Lila grow.
My daughter went from baby to toddler to little girl faster than I could keep up. She inherited the beauty of her mother with the wildness of her grandmother. She also inherited the secret power from Mama. I rejoiced that she used it for good and not evil.
When Lila turned six, she attended camp for the first time. As a proud papa, I made excuses to visit her side of the camp just to watch my little one and her friends. I grew to realize that nature had designed the most perfect creature in the form of a little girl.
Over the years, Lila acted as out little spy for improvements. When problems popped up, she acted as peacemaker, bending the offending campers to her will.
Another trait ran in the family. Like Naomi, our younger daughter could also be a bit wild. Perhaps not as much, but occasionally she would run through stark naked. At her third year camp, she accidentally lost pieces of her swimsuit, preferring to get in trouble by skinny dipping. Though how much trouble can you get into with your father as the punishment authority.
At the end of her eighth season at camp, Lila told Ruth and me that she had met a boy, one two years older. How a thirteen-year-old could know love, I would love to know. A passing phase, I thought. She wanted to be prepared as her mother had been in the ways of becoming a woman. My wife and I considered the request for a long time. That fall Lila moved into our bedroom.
Slowly we educated her, Ruth taking much of the lead. I begged off, thinking her beauty would cause me to harm her. She was still so young.
Lila had kept up correspondence with the boy, all of it encouraging until one winter night, she received a disturbing letter. He revealed his feelings for another girl, one who lived in his town. While he pledged his friendship, it would never grow beyond that.
Lila cried for three days. Not even a February snowstorm could sooth her feelings. Her mother's embrace no longer comforted her. She knew she wanted, no, required more. That evening she came into my study and stood by the fire. My little girl explained in no uncertain terms that I was to make her a woman that night. It was the only consolation that would take her hurt away.
She unbuttoned her dress, a favorite of mine that reminded her of her youth. Once off, she tossed it into the flames. Shocked, I couldn't move. It would have been too late to salvage anyway. She did the same to her slip, bra, and panties. That left her naked in front of me. With her hands clasped behind her back, she fell on her knees at my feet. She gave me the option to take her to my bed, or she would throw herself onto the burning logs with her childhood clothing.
Not wanting to expose her body to harm, I took her in my arms and carried her to my bedroom. There I exorcised the demon who wrote the damned letter from her soul by making love to her. We spend the entire night and most of the next morning alone in each other's arms. In the afternoon, we invited Ruth to join us. For the rest of the week, we showed Lila how much love a family should share.
The old man patted the Chelsea's hand. "Sometime during that week, your mother was conceived. With as much semen flowing into your grandmother, it would have been a miracle not to."
The old man reached for his water. While he did so, Chelsea hopped out of the recliner. Unbuckling her jeans, she tossed them on the floor. "I wish you had a fireplace so I could burn my clothes as Grandma Lila did. But I don't think I'm as brave as her yet."
Then she returned to the nest with the old man. "You can touch me, down there, if you want," she said. Placing his hand on the outside of her panties, she used both to stroke her enflamed pussy. After a moment, he continued the caress without guidance. His muscle memory recalled the precise fondling technique to send her over the edge in only a few minutes.
"Is there more to the story?" she asked once she recovered.
"There is one more chapter, if you still want to hear. I have not bored you too much, have I, my dear?"
"Oh, no," she said, beginning to slowly masturbate herself again.
"Then help me out, as I did you." He took her hand, and they both reached though the open slit in his pajamas. With a little difficulty, they extracted the old man's manhood.
"It's so long," she said. "And so stiff."
The man smiled at her. "In my youth we boys always prayed for a long schlong." He chuckled. "With any luck, you will know what long truly is someday. For now, you will have to settle with me."
With a few more strokes, the girl triggered his body and a glob shot into the air, falling onto her fingers. The old man's body went from tense to limp and his eyes closed.
"I killed him," she murmured.
"No such luck," he said weakly. "But I did see paradise once again." His eyes closed and sleep overtook him.
Chelsea brought her hand to her nose. It smelled all right. She touched it with her tongue. It didn't taste bad.
She thought of Ruth and Lila, and even Naomi. They must have tasted it, back when he produced more. For a moment he envied them.
Leaving the recliner so as not to wake him, she walked over to the front window again and peered out. Still no sign of her parents. Just as well. She wanted to finish the story without interruption.
After an hour, the old man snorted awake. "Sorry, my dear. I must have drifted off." He took a drink from his bottle. "I cannot recall if I told you. There is one last video that concludes the story, if you would like to hear it."
That's what I've been waiting for. As she approached the recliner, she pulled off her soaked panties. "I don't need these anymore."
She climbed back into her little nest and positioned his hand on the newly exposed area. She grasped his still stiff cock. As they stroked each other, the video began again. This time the image featured a young girl holding a baby. "Where was I?" asked the old man. "Ah, yes. My little Lila became a woman…"
Of all my daughters, Lila was the most sensual. I believe Ruth imparted her love for me into that little girl's heart. At first, her broken heart drove her, but as the days turned into years, her choice of partner became more diverse. Family became friends and one became many. But I get ahead of myself.
That spring and summer, Lila stayed away from the camp. At first it was the hurt, but then her condition became obvious. Ruth had her work around the resort, out of sight of either the campers or the regular guests. Lila took the assignment as an opportunity to learn the business.
Without an excuse to keep tabs on my girl as I had before, I found myself lusting over the other Panther campers. Beauty frolicked everywhere around that camp. Perhaps not with the very young, but those near Lila's age excited my fantasies. Sensibly, I kept my distance, painful as that was.
With the arrival of my daughter Elaine, I considered my life complete. Ruth and I had been at the resort for so many years. We trusted our managers to run the resort and camps, allowing us to retire from the day-to-day operation. Ruth spoiled the baby while Lila spoiled her father. She set me up with campers for single encounters. I do not know why she chose that gift for me. Perhaps it was brought on by her own awakening to womanhood. In any case, Lila picked and groomed one or two campers a year to see the camp director.
At first, my emotions ran from nervous to scared to petrified. Every knock on the door made me jump. Would it be a police officer or a father with a shotgun? But after a season or so without repercussions I began to cautiously relax my nerves.
The first camper had the name of Sharon and smelled like a rose. We did little more than neck before she left camp. Others followed, their names lost to the ages. Each I treated with respect, always following their desires. I never did anything I wouldn't do with my daughters.
I regret not keeping in better touch with my campers. Some send postcards or pictures of their babies. A few even sent their children to the camp when they grew up.
When Lila grew too old, Elaine filled her spot in the cabins while her mom became a counselor. My special campers had dwindled, but then again my age had caught up to me. My little girl sensed it and the summer she turned twelve, decided she would be my last.
The final week of camp came and went. That year two girls, Dorothy and Bernadette, had been selected to keep the old man happy and looking the other way about the camp shenanigans. By then the camps had merged, and I gathered through the grapevine that I was not the only father-to-be.
When the last busload crossed our gate, Elaine came into my office. Silently, she pulled her camp tee shirt over her head and unhooked her training bra. Standing there for a moment I saw her nerves almost make her stop. Then with a sigh, she raked her camp shorts and panties together down her long legs.
Before me stood my daughter, naked as she could be. But I saw her mother when she was that age. And the ghost of Naomi along with my beloved Ruth. My life flashed before my eyes.
She knelt before me and unbuckled my pants. After pulling them down along with my boxers, Elaine took my manhood in her hand. Like an expert, she licked it to life. Once it stood at full attention, she took it into her mouth. I came within moments, the whole aura of the event overcoming my will to hold out.
Elaine swallowed every drop, smiling up at me when she finished. But she wasn't done. Rising to her feet, my little girl pulled off my shirt. Then she took my hand and led me to the couch. After she brought me back to the ready position, she mounted me. Doing all the work, she slid down my shaft, working every inch to consume me. With our bodies as close as they could be, we made love until we both climaxed. She fell into my arms, and I held myself in her.
"Once again that was beautiful," said Chelsea, still holding the old man.
"Yes. Your mother was my last love. She was so much like Ruth that my childhood recollections flooded back to me. I felt younger until my body reminded me of my true age. "
"So what happened after that?"
The old man smiled. "My wife and I retired from running the resort. Lila took over, but decided to sell off the camp locations. The new owners converted the camps into a nudist colony. We stayed together until the day your mother brought home the man she fell in love with. Elaine was all of sixteen. It hurt so much for my little girl to move away. I thought of losing her like I had Naomi."
The old man grew silent, as though his emotions had gotten the best of him. Chelsea decided to change his mood. "Am I like my mom?" she asked.
"Very much," he said.
"Let me be just like her." She swung her legs around, straddling him again. This maneuver lined up her soaking pussy above his rigid member. "Don't worry. My friend used a hairbrush on me." She guided him into her slit and then into her opening.
Even without her hymen, the journey inside was difficult, her body very tight. Still she persevered and soon had him deep inside. She began riding him, and he squirted into her fertile body.
Chelsea dismounted and curled up next to the man. She dreamed about becoming a mother.
When she woke, Chelsea saw her parents sitting by the old man. "Good morning," said her mother.
Chelsea rolled a little, exposing her freshly fucked pussy to her father. After today, she felt no need for modesty. She glanced at the computer. She knew the videos had changed her life forever.
"We have to go, honey," said her father.
The girl wrapped the coat around her naked body, leaving her other clothes on the floor. She gave a kiss to the old man. It was almost like they knew she'd never see him again.
Walking out the door, she happily carried his last present and would raise his last child in her loving family. A sister among sisters.
