<div class="floatleft">(https://www.urbasm.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/Elizabeth-Turner-bikini.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong><br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>June 5th, morning.<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Outside<br/><strong>Mood:</strong>Feisty<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Mar<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>Celeste would have been happy to spend the rest of the night right wrapped up in those strong arms, if Mar gave her the chance. It had not taken her very long to decide that Daddy's lap was her very favourite seat in the whole house. And it was<em>her</em>seat. She'd decided that too and did not feel that it was at all presumptuous for her to make, even though their little family had only been together a few days now. No. Mar's lap was her spot, her seat, her place. It belonged to her, just as much as she belonged to Mar and to Erin.<br/><br/>On the other hand, she knew better -- especially now -- than to resist Daddy's wishes. So when the older woman began to usher Celeste out of her chair, she reluctantly obliged. Her only protest was a small, barely audible whimper, and for a brief moment she clung a little tighter onto Mar's arms as if with no intention of letting go. But she quickly relented, slid her butt off Daddy's lap, and rose to her feet.<br/><br/>She had reached around to give her bikini-clad ass a few gentle rubs -- the pain hadn't left her completely just yet -- when Mar mentioned her plans for their evening together. The news put a bright smile on the younger girl's face, and she eagerly nodded her head. "What movie should we watch?" She asked, though it really didn't matter to her. The snuggles were what she really wanted -- and the caramel corn. Any treat her Daddy made was bound to be delicious -- yet another of the many wonderful things that Celeste had learned in these past few days with her new family. "What kind of juice do we have to drink with the popcorn? Oh! Or can I have a soda?" Celeste had a very sweet tooth.<br/><br/>She was thinking about all these things as they made their way back out into the yard to where her chores remained undone. Seeing the weedy earth dampened her mood a little bit. She frowned, but giving her pink bum another quick rub decided it would not be a good idea to complain. Anyway, the work went quickly enough, and she was just pulling up the final weed from the garden when she heard some footsteps coming up behind her. Celeste didn't turn to greet them. She knew they belonged to Mar and suspected her Daddy was coming over to check on her progress.<br/><br/>Then she squealed.<br/><br/>"<em>Daddy!</em>" She gasped, spinning around to face her attacker. This turned out to be a poor decision. The hose was still spraying water when Celeste turned, and so the girl's front was doused too. Her breasts, her tummy, even a little bit of her face. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape. "That's cold!" She protested, hugging her arms tight to her body. A scowl darkened her face. A scowl that quickly gave way to a mischievous grin. Celeste's blue eyes sparkled, and suddenly she rose to her feet, rushing at Mar.<br/><br/>The attack was doomed from the start. Of the three women in this little family of theirs, Mar was the biggest and the strongest. She was tall and athletic; she was a tomboy to the core. Celeste landed firmly on the other side of the scale. She was soft, sweet, and feminine. Her arms were toned, but they weren't strong. She was stubborn, though. And she constantly overestimated her own strength. She tried to pry the hose free from Mar's grip, giggling when she realized it wasn't working.<br/><br/>"Give it to me!" She demanded, playfully. Her intent had been to pay the older woman back; if she couldn't be dry, at least she could soak Mar's clothing too. So far, it wasn't going well. So, Celeste tried another tactic. Giving up on appropriating the hose, she simply hugged her own wet body to Mar's. She wrapped her slender arms around the older woman's waist, squeezing their bodies close together. It wasn't nearly so effective as the dousing with the hose had been. But it was something. Mar would, at least, likely have to change her top.