I Asked My Daughter to Pose Nude for Me

My name is Mateo, I’m forty-nine years old, and I live in a wooden cabin so close to the sea that some nights the sound of the waves slips into my dreams. My whole life I was a disaster on legs: backpack on my shoulder since I was eighteen, no respect for anything or anyone. Until Camila came along. She pulled me out of the pit, dragged me away from parties that lasted for weeks and from the things that were killing me slowly.

But Camila was no saint either. She was as wild as I was. We got drunk on the beach, laughed at everything, fucked on the sand until the sun came up behind the dunes. She’d climb on top of me with sand still stuck to her ass, drive my cock all the way in, and laugh while she came. She was my muse, my north star, the reason for every painting I made for twenty years.

When she died, everything went dark. A sudden illness took her in a matter of weeks, cruelly and without warning. And I stopped painting. The easel gathered dust in a corner of the studio. I couldn’t touch a brush without seeing her there, posing naked against the sunset light, with the smell of salt still clinging to her skin and dried semen between her thighs.

We sold the big house in the city and I moved to this tiny cabin, almost on top of the sand. I lived alone, talking to the seagulls, until my daughter had to come back.

***

Renata was twenty-one and proud as the ocean. She came back because she could no longer pay the rent or tuition in the city, and that had left her bitter. She barely spoke to me. She went off to walk alone along the shoreline for hours or locked herself in her room with the music blasting. I respected her silence. I had enough of my own.

One afternoon, in hellish heat, I heard the shower running. Then the bathroom door opened and the steam came out with her, wrapped in nothing but a tiny towel. She smelled of coconut soap and warm skin. When she lifted her arms to dry her hair, the towel parted for just a second.

I saw more than I should have. I saw a young body with golden tan lines, marked by the white lines of a bikini, a narrow waist and shoulders still damp. I saw firm breasts with dark, erect nipples from the cold, a flat stomach, the neat triangle of hair between her thighs. I froze with a cup of coffee halfway to my mouth, feeling my cock harden inside my pants.

Shame. That was what I felt first. And then something worse: the urge to paint that I hadn’t felt since Camila was gone.

That same night, without thinking too much, I opened the oils. But I no longer painted the landscapes I used to. I painted bodies. Curves. Golden skin against the light. Cunts parted open and hard nipples.

***

The next day Renata came into the studio looking for a charger and fell silent in front of the canvas. A woman seen from behind, wet hair, drops sliding down the spine until they vanished into the curve of the ass. She recognized herself instantly.

—It’s me… —she said softly, her voice trembling—. Why did you paint me like this, Dad?

I lowered the brush slowly.

—I hadn’t painted anything since your mom died. I couldn’t. Every time I tried, I saw her standing there, posing, and everything inside me broke.

Renata took a couple of steps closer. Her eyes filled with tears.

—I miss her so much too —she murmured.

—She was my whole world —I answered, and my voice cracked on the last word.

We fell silent. Outside, the sea roared against the rocks. The afternoon light gilded her face and lit up the freckles on her nose.

—I’m sorry for making you come back —I said—. For dragging you out of the city, out of college, to bring you to this lost little town where nothing ever happens.

She shook her head, though a tear escaped anyway.

—I always wanted to be like Mom —she confessed—. So free. She walked naked around the house, on the beach, and didn’t care what other people thought. That part of me… it’ll never come out here.

I laughed, with a nostalgia that hurt.

—When I met your mom, she was exactly like you now. Rebel, fearless. Her parents hated me, did you know that? She came from a good family, money, a surname, all that… and ended up with a starving nobody like me. But we really loved each other. One of those loves you don’t see anymore.

Renata gave the faintest sad smile.

—I want to feel like that again. Free.

I put a hand on her shoulder. Her skin was still warm, and she smelled of salt and soap.

—Then stop worrying so much. Live your life. I don’t have any ties left, baby. We do what we want and nobody cares.

We looked at each other for a second too long. The air in the studio thickened with something neither of us named.

—Pose for me —I asked, almost in a whisper—. Like your mom used to pose. Like the models did when we were young. It’s just art… but it’ll make you feel what she felt.

It took her a while to answer. Then she nodded, shyly.

***

The first session was tense as a wire about to snap. She took her clothes off slowly, looking at the floor, covering herself with crossed arms. She stood in front of me with hunched shoulders and her legs together, as if she wanted to disappear.

I painted in silence, trying to focus on the light and the shadows. On the golden tan broken by the pale lines of the bikini. On the curve of her waist, the swell of her ass, the barely visible shadow between her clenched thighs. But my pulse kept slipping, and she noticed. She said nothing. She just blushed and looked toward the window. I adjusted the brush with my left hand so she wouldn’t see how my cock was pressing against my jeans.

The following sessions changed little by little, the way the tide changes without you noticing. Renata stopped covering herself. She began to stand up straight, to touch her hair, to let the sea breeze come in through the window and raise goosebumps on her skin and make her nipples hard as pebbles. Sometimes she would glance at me with a shy little smile that undid me, and her legs would open a little more than necessary.

***

One afternoon the heat was unbearable. I was shirtless, sweating, with the fan spitting out hot air. Renata arrived in shorts and a sports top and took them off without being asked, as if it were already the most natural thing in the world. She stayed in her panties, then slid them down with two fingers and left them draped over the chair.

—I brought something today —she said softly.

She pulled a joint from the pocket of her shorts and showed it to me with a conspiratorial smile.

—Mom and I used to smoke sometimes, on the balcony… remember?

I smiled.

—How could I forget.

We lit it and shared long pulls, passing it back and forth in silence. The smoke mixed with the smell of salt air, turpentine, and sweat. It relaxed us fast. Our eyes both went red and the laughs started coming on their own, over anything at all.

—Pose however you want —I told her, my voice rougher than I meant it to be—. No rules. No poses. However it comes to you.

She sat on the stool, legs closed at first. But after another hit she slowly opened them, just enough for me to see everything: the pink cunt, neatly shaved, already gleaming with wetness between the folds. She looked at me with an innocent little face that nevertheless had a spark of flirtation burning in the depths. She bit her lower lip.

—Like this? —she asked, tilting her head, hair falling over one breast.

I nodded. I couldn’t find my voice. I painted with my hand shaking so badly that the line came out broken. Renata ran her fingers over her neck, lowered her hand, and brushed one nipple. She pinched it softly, then harder, making it stiff. Then her hand went lower, she parted her cunt lips with her index and middle fingers, and slowly stroked her clit with her middle finger. A breathless sound slipped out of her. A low groan escaped me too, involuntary, and my cock painfully pressed against the fabric.

She laughed, teasing, without taking her finger from between her legs.

—Do you like it?

—A lot —I answered, no longer hiding it.

She opened her legs wider. She braced herself back on one hand, arching her back, chest forward, and with the other she kept touching herself, two fingers now sliding in up to the knuckle in her wet cunt. The golden tan contrasted with the pale patches of skin. Her breathing came in broken gasps. The joint burned down between my fingers, forgotten.

I put the brush down. I went over to her.

—I want to correct your pose —I lied, and we both knew it.

***

I put my hands on her hips. Her skin was burning. My body brushed her thigh and she didn’t move a millimeter. She only took a deep breath and lifted her face to look at me with those big, shining eyes, glazed by the joint and by desire.

—Dad… —she whispered.

I kissed her. Gently at first, as if testing whether the ground would hold. Then hungry, with tongue, biting her lip. She tasted of smoke, salt, and something sweet I couldn’t name. I held her face in both hands and she kissed me back with the same desperation, as if she had been holding it in for months. She hung from my neck and sucked my tongue like it was candy.

I lifted her off the stool and sat her on the long studio table, between the tubes of oil paint and the jars of turpentine. I kissed her neck, went down over her collarbone, traced the tan with my mouth until I found a breast. I took the nipple whole into my mouth, sucked hard, bit it slowly, played around it with my tongue. I moved to the other one, not letting go of the first with my fingers, squeezing it, tugging it until it turned purple. She buried her fingers in my hair and threw her head back, arching against my mouth.

—Don’t stop —she gasped—. Please.

I knelt on the wooden floor, spread her legs with one rough push, and finally got a close look at her cunt for the first time: pink, shiny, with the inner lips already swollen and parted, the clit peeking out hard as a pearl. I blew gently and she shivered all over. Then I ran my tongue flat over her, from bottom to top, in one slow stroke, tasting all of her. She was sweet, salty, sour, all at once. The taste of a young woman in heat I hadn’t tasted in years.

—Oh, Dad… —Renata moaned, pressing my head to her cunt with both hands.

I licked her without hurry. I sucked her clit, wrapping it with my lips, tugging gently with my mouth, circling it with the tip of my tongue. I slid two fingers inside and started curling them upward, searching for that spongy spot inside her, while I kept sucking the pearl outside. Renata writhed on the table, knocked tubes of oil paint to the floor, moaned softly, biting the back of her other hand so she wouldn’t make noise, even though there was no one there to hear us except the sea.

—I’m going to come —she gasped—. I’m going to come in your mouth…

I shoved my tongue in, pulled it out, shoved it in again, and went back to her clit, sucking it whole. I felt her cunt tightening around my fingers and a wave of hot liquid wet my chin. She came screaming, squeezing my head with her thighs, shaking all over. I licked her through the last contraction, until she pushed my face away because she couldn’t take it anymore.

When I stood up, she was already tugging at my belt with clumsy fingers. She yanked my pants and underwear down and my cock sprang out, hard, thick, the tip already wet. Renata opened her eyes wide and a hungry little smile escaped her.

—My God… —she murmured, and climbed down from the table.

She knelt in front of me without taking her eyes off mine. She grabbed my dick with both hands, squeezed it, shook it slowly. Then she stuck out her tongue and licked the tip all over, collecting the drop that had already formed. She licked her lips with a greedy expression.

—Just as I imagined —she whispered.

She took it all the way into her mouth, choking on it, and pulled it back out again covered in spit, strings of saliva hanging from it. She sucked me like a crazy girl, bobbing her head, pressing me with her cheeks, looking up at me from below with eyes full of tears from trying so hard. She sucked my balls, licked my shaft from base to tip, swallowed me again. I grabbed her hair with both hands and started fucking her mouth slowly, in and out.

—That’s it, baby, that’s it… suck me good… —I growled.

I lifted her before I came and sat her back on the edge of the table. I looked her in the eyes while I pulled her toward me, grabbed my cock, and dragged it through her wet cunt, up and down, rubbing her clit with the tip. She was panting, moaning, moving her hips searching for me.

—Put it in me, Dad, please, put it in already…

I entered her slowly, centimeter by centimeter, never taking my eyes off her. She was trembling, wet, tight, so tight I had to bite my lip not to come right there. I felt her open around me, give way, take me in completely. I sank all the way to the hilt and held still for a second, feeling her pulse around my cock.

She wrapped her legs around my waist and dug her nails into my back. I started slowly, deeply, feeling her clench with every thrust, feeling her chest sink and her back arch. I held the back of her neck with one hand and with the other I gripped her hip to set the rhythm. I sucked one breast while I fucked her, bit it, then let it go to look at her face.

—More —she begged against my ear—. Dad, more… harder…

I sped up. I fucked her with hunger, the table hitting the wall, jars vibrating, brushes rolling to the floor. Renata dug her nails into me, bit my shoulder, screamed every time I drove into her to the hilt. I grabbed both breasts, squeezed them, pressed them together so I could suck them both while I kept hammering into her.

—Turn around —I ordered, my voice rough.

I made her turn around and lean over the table, ass up. I kissed her sweat-damp back, bit one shoulder gently, went down nibbling along her spine to the base of her ass. I spread it with both hands and ran my tongue all the way from her cunt to her asshole, and she shuddered with a long moan.

—Oh, God, Dad, what are you doing to me…

I stood behind her, grabbed her hip with one hand, guided my cock with the other, and went back in, this time harder, in one thrust. I tore a cry out of her. I started fucking her from behind with hard, dry strokes that made her ass bounce against my pelvis. The sound of flesh against flesh filled the studio. I slid my hand between her legs and found her clit, started rubbing it in circles while I hammered into her.

Renata moaned, gasped, repeated my name and then the word she shouldn’t have said, over and over.

—Dad, Dad, fuck me, fuck me harder, don’t stop…

I grabbed her hair, wrapped it around my fist, and yanked her head back. Her whole back arched. I fucked her like that, pulling her hair, her ass pressed tight to me, feeling her cunt begin to contract around my cock.

—I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming… —she started repeating, higher and higher.

She came shaking, clenching my cock with her whole body, milking me, sobbing with pure pleasure against the wood. I held on for a few seconds more, thrusting while she kept shaking, until I couldn’t anymore. I pulled out and came across her lower back and ass, thick spurts of hot semen running over her golden skin. I growled against her nape, squeezing her hips until I left marks, while outside the sea kept roaring and the joint smoke still hung in the studio’s hot air.

When I was done, she turned just enough, ran two fingers over her back, brought them to her mouth, and sucked them while looking me in the eyes.

***

We stayed wrapped around each other on the table, sweaty, not speaking, smelling of salt, smoke, and semen. Outside, evening was falling and the golden light came in through the window as if nothing had changed.

But everything had changed. And we both knew it.

Renata turned her head and looked at me with a small smile, the first real one since she’d come back.

—Now I really do feel free —she said.

That night I went back to painting until dawn. And for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t Camila’s ghost looking at me from the canvas.