This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or businesses is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now. This is a very slow build and not hard core. If this will frustrate or disappoint you, it may not be the story for you.
Family Changing Room
Stephanie left me sitting alone on the bench in the Family Changing Room. I didn't know what to make of her reaction. I closed my eyes as I attempted to process what had just passed between us.
My body was still in control, so the images that appeared in my mind weren't helpful in thinking things through. I saw Stephanie in tight pink bikini underpants, smiling at me from the doorframe of her bedroom that morning. I saw her strip off her shorts as she stood next to me just a few minutes ago. I saw her earnest face as she said "I won't tell Mommy."
I noticed with interest that my shorts were around my ankles and my cock was in my fist. As I looked down, the first shot of cum hit me in the face. That hadn't happened since I was in college. I had to stifle an animal groan that welled up in my chest. The orgasm rolled over me in three waves, each shorter but sharper than the last. I honestly thought I was going to pass out. I lay back on the bench and gasped for air. Lights were flashing in front of my eyes.
Gradually a more normal chemical balance returned to my brain. Shit, I thought. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT. I just jerked off to my eight year old daughter. And fuck, I haven't cum like that in years. I'm a fucking pervert.
Other thoughts streamed through as well, unbidden. I've broken the spell. I've freaked her out. It's never going to be the same again.
But why did she kiss me? I couldn't fathom.
I caught my breath, cleaned up the sizable mess I'd just made, and joined my daughter at the pool. I smiled sheepishly, and she smiled a little. We were both subdued. I studied her face for clues on what she was thinking, but her mind was now opaque to me. I noticed her eyes checking me carefully to determine if I was still hard. Not anymore, I wanted to say.
We returned to the Family Changing Room. One thing was clear - Steph was no longer taking the lead in our game. She watched me as I went to the shower, still in my suit. She followed, still in hers. The ball was back in my court.
I needed to know how things stood. With Stephanie beside me in the shower, I stripped off. I hesitated before turning to look at her. She was studying me. Water streamed through her hair and around her glistening face. She bit her lip. I trembled inside. She looked... well, disappointed I guess. She turned away, peeled off her suit, rinsed it for a second, and went back to the bench. We dried off and dressed in silence and walked back to the car.
As we drove she faced the side window and stared out. I heard a soft sniffle. And another. She was crying. Oh shit. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT.
"Steph. I'm so sorry, honey. It just happens sometimes, and it's... you're not supposed to see me that way. I guess."
"What do you mean, it just happens?" She kept looking out the window.
It wasn't the question I'd expected. "Sometimes a man's penis just gets stiff."
"Mommy said it gets that way so that you can make a baby."
"That's right, honey." I wasn't getting it.
She was really sobbing now. "I can't make a baby, Daddy. Mommy said I'm too little."
I'm such as idiot. She had an eight year-old's understanding. Daddy loves Mommy. Daddy's penis gets stiff. Penis goes into vagina. Penis plants seed. Seed and egg make baby. Erections without sex and sex without babies weren't part of her model.
I pulled the car into the parking lot of a Dunkin Donuts we happened to be passing. (Come to think of it, when are you not passing a Dunkin Donuts these days? I mean, they're all over the place... My mind was desperately trying to find something else to think about, something safe.)
"You thought I wanted to make a baby with you?"
She turned to look at me, and my heart broke. Her face was red and wet with tears. She nodded.
"Oh, honey. It's just not like that."
It seemed impossible, but her face became sadder. She looked down.
"So it wasn't because of me," she said quietly.
Another veil lifted. Now I understood the kiss. She was acknowledging my desire, and apologizing because it was futile. How can I know so little about my own daughter?
And now I had to decide whether to lie to her. Thinking back on that moment, I really don't know if honesty and love overcame fear, or desire overcame reason. Both, probably.
My mind was racing. I tried to be rational. "You and I can't make a baby, Stephanie. And not just because you're too little. People from the same family... I mean... fathers and daughters... don't make babies. The babies sometimes aren't healthy and people don't think..." They don't think it's right. I didn't say it. "It's hard to explain, but it means we couldn't ever make a baby, honey."
She now looked confused as well as hurt. I was avoiding the real issue.
"But sex isn't just about making babies, Stephanie. Did you ever hear someone talk about 'making love'?" She chewed her lip, uncertain. "Making love is sex, but not because you want a baby. You do it because it's a special way to say 'I love you'. And it feels really nice."
She seemed to understand. "You and Mommy do that?"
"So you were thinking about her."
I looked deep into Stephanie's eyes. Moment of truth.
"No, I wasn't."
Some warmth slowly returned to her face. "You wanted to make love with me, Daddy?"
She wasn't making this easy. Until she'd said it, I suppose the thought hadn't fully crystalized in my mind. Attraction is one thing, but contemplating the act is something else entirely. I nodded, as much an admission to myself as to my daughter.
"And that's why your penis was hard?"
Christ. A swallow. Another nod.
She dropped her eyes to her lap again, still sad, but the tears were gone.
After a long time, she said softly, "We can't, can we?"
"No, honey. It's for grownups."
She was the defiant eight year-old again. "That's SO not fair."
I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud. She instantly looked hurt.
"You're mean, Daddy."
"I'm sorry, sweetie. I was just thinking the same thing when you said that."
I wondered how often these feelings were part of the father-daughter dynamic. I expect it's not uncommon. But the Family Changing Room had driven things to the surface that usually remain unrecognized, and are certainly seldom spoken.
"Can we still want to, Daddy?" Oh God. Like I had a choice.
My turn to look out of the window. I spoke without thinking.
"Only if we keep it inside, Steph. Inside, and just for us."
I felt her hand on my knee, and her hair brushed my face as she kissed my cheek.
"I love you, Daddy."
"I love you too, Stephanie." I swallowed hard a few times before I turned back and started the car. As I pulled onto the road, I realized what I hadn't said to Stephanie. I told her sex was for grownups. But I didn't say that it wasn't for Daddies and their daughters. It hadn't even occurred to me. That barrier, if I had ever had it, seemed to be missing from my mind.
I had admitted to my eight year old daughter that she excited me sexually. I looked her in the eye and told her she made my cock hard. It seemed to make her happy that I felt that way. And then I told her that we couldn't do anything about it.
At some level, she forgave me and shared my frustration. But at another level, she was pissed. And jealous of her mother. And God knows what else.
The manifestation of this seething kettle of feelings was that she began to tease me relentlessly. Hell hath no fury, and all that.
Our trips to the Family Changing Room continued. For the next few weeks, I managed to avoid being alone there with Stephanie. Even so, she went out of her way to provoke me. It got to the point where she would strip off her shorts and underpants before even taking off her shoes. Naked to her knees, she would look me in the eye and put one foot up on the bench as she slowly unlaced her sneaker and rolled down her sock. And then do it again with the other foot. She could tell it drove me crazy, and she loved every minute of it.
She also constantly flashed me at home. The t-shirts she wore to sleep in got shorter and clearly revealed her panties. The panties got smaller too, it seemed. Carol began to notice, but she misread things completely. "Time to get you some new clothes, Steph," she said. "You're outgrowing things so fast." Perhaps for the first time in history, a daughter looked disappointed to hear her mother suggest taking her shopping.
When Carol wasn't home, Stephanie took a shower and emerged from the bathroom in a poorly draped towel. Or she forgot to wear panties at all under her t-shirt. Or she left her door open when she was changing.
If you're the sort of person that finds these images appealing, the situation may sound like heaven. It wasn't. While I didn't really feel guilty about my desire for her, I had enough sense and fear that I knew I couldn't act on it. I started taking precautions. Specifically, I started masturbating before we went to the club.
The candid discussion of my erection with Stephanie had given me a recurring nightmare. In the dream, we're sitting around the dinner table as a family, and Carol asks, "Did you have fun at the pool today?" Caroline cheerily replies, "Yes, Mommy. And we saw Daddy's giant hard on!" We all laugh, in the dream. Hahahahaha. You're so silly, Daddy! I keep trying to say "I couldn't help it!" Everybody just keeps laughing. But I realize that Carol isn't laughing with them - she's laughing at me. Not in a nice way. Then she turns into a giant evil clown puppet, and I wake up in a cold sweat.
(The clown puppet thing is left over from my childhood, but it still scares the shit out of me. What are parents thinking when they buy something so hideous for a 3-year-old? That grotesque fucking doll stared at me from the corner of my room for years, plotting my violent death. I was too afraid to throw it away because I just knew it would come back on its own the next day, confirming my secret knowledge that it was alive. So for everything that happened after I started having this dream, I blame the clown puppet.)
I didn't want to get hard in the Family Changing Room. The preventative medicine was easily applied. I suppose it was kind of odd that I was jerking off thinking about seeing my daughter naked, so that I wouldn't pop a hard on when I saw my daughter naked. Like morphine to a heroin addict, I guess.
Problem is, addicts don't always think clearly. The day it happened, I could have sworn that I closed the door. Really. I mean, I always closed the door. Always.
It was after school, and Carol wasn't home. Stephanie made a point to parade in front of me in her underpants as she changed out of her school clothes. "Are we going swimming, Daddy?" she asked coyly. She knew that we were.
"Yes, honey. Get dressed, please."
I went into my bedroom. And closed the door. I always closed the door.
Lying on the bed, eyes closed, hand around my raging cock, I couldn't get the image I'd just seen out of my mind. Stephanie's bikini panties were brilliant white with a yellow flower on the hip, and at least one size too small. The material stretched perfectly skin-tight - no wrinkles could be found. Trust me, I looked for them. The waistband rode so low in front that you could see a small separation on each side, where the elastic leaped straight over the ravine between her pubic mound and her hip. In back, you could clearly see the tops of her perfect cheeks and the dainty cleft in between. The bottom edge curved exactly along the line where her legs met her sex, framing a prominent outline of the lips of her tiny pussy. Even though I'd seen her naked many times, the vision of her in these panties was even more arousing.
Eyes closed. Imagining Stephanie standing by the bed in her underpants. She smiles at me. "I won't tell Mommy," she says. So hard I'm leaking. Squeezing and pumping my cock.
I open my eyes for a second. Not sure why.
Stephanie is standing by the bed in her underpants. She's not smiling at me.
I close my eyes again. Can't be. Can't be.
Eyes open. Stephanie's still there. My hand's still moving. Oh fuck.
Eyes closed. Really tight. I still see her standing by the bed in her underpants. It doesn't matter whether they're closed or not. And now they're closed really tight because I'm cumming incredibly hard.
I keep my eyes closed as my orgasm subsides. I pray that I've gone insane, that it was a hallucination. I really want to be insane right now.
"Are you OK, Daddy?"
I nod slowly. I'm hearing voices too. More comforting evidence of insanity.
"You had sex with yourself," she said very softly. It was a statement, not a question. I don't think the concept had occurred to her before. But she's very bright, my Stephanie.
Yes, honey, I was thinking. I've just TOTALLY FUCKED MYSELF.
I opened my eyes a little. She was still there, looking pensive. Her eyes were wide, fixed on my dripping cock. It throbbed obscenely once more in response to her stare.
"Because of me?"
I was helpless under her gaze. I nodded.
"I'm sorry, Daddy." I think she was, at least partly.
"It's OK, honey", I managed. "You weren't supposed to see."
She looked serious. "I won't tell Mommy." Oh God. My gut clenched and my cock spasmed again at the same instant.
I locked eyes with her. "It's really important, Stephanie. Really, really important."
I think she sensed that I was scared. She pouted a little, disappointed in me.
"Just for us, Daddy. I remember." She pecked me on the cheek and skipped out of the room.
Two nights later, Carol and I were in bed. We were both tired, but had still reached for each other and made love slowly and sweetly. She was working a lot, and I missed her.
She was spooned against me, her bare bottom nestled comfortably against my softening cock while I cupped both breasts. Even after 10 years of marriage, she overwhelmed me. When I was with her, I didn't think of anything else.
Unless she talked, of course.
"I have to tell you something."
Uh oh. She's fucking the senior partner at her law firm. She has cancer. She's accepted Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior. Her mother's moving in.
"It's about Stephanie."
My mind went blank. I heard myself say "Hmmmmm?"
"You know I gave her the basic birds and bees."
"Ummmmmhmmmmm." I was afraid that if I opened my mouth I'd scream.
"So tonight as I'm tucking her in, she says 'Can people have sex with themselves?' Just like that, out of the blue."
"Exactly." Carol misinterpreted the panic in my humming. "So I said 'Where did you hear about that?'"
"Stephanie said 'Andrea told me.'" Oxygen returned to my brain.
"Oh. That's good." I actually said that. Andrea was Stephanie's best friend, and was potentially better informed, being 9 and all.
She laughed. "Exactly." Fortunately, I was often ironic. Sometimes on purpose.
"So then she asked, 'Is it true?' I didn't really know how to answer her."
"I can imagine." I really could imagine. "What did you say?"
"Well, I told her the truth."
"What do you mean?" I was genuinely curious now.
"I told her about masturbation."
"Exactly. Do you think I did the right thing?"
Life is strange sometimes. I embraced the strangeness.
"What did you tell her, exactly?"
"I told her that people touch themselves because it feels nice. And that people do it when they want to have sex but don't have anybody that they love right then."
"That was a nice way to say it, I guess."
"Thanks. Then she said, 'Or if they love somebody but they can't have sex with them.' She's so smart, sometimes, don't you think?"
A long pause. "She asked me how to do it."
"She asked me how to do it."
"I heard you. That was more of a shock and concern noise."
"Exactly." She turned to face me.
"You didn't tell her, did you?" I asked.
"No. Well. Not exactly."
"I told her that she's too young. And she got that look in her eyes."
"The 'I'm not a baby' look." I knew it well. "And she said 'I guess I can ask Andrea.'"
"Oh God." We both laughed.
Her face turned sad. "It's too early for this, Rick. I want her to be a little girl for a few more years. Like 10 years."
"Then we'll have to send Andrea to boarding school."
She smiled. "Exactly. CATHOLIC boarding school. With ugly nuns."
I nodded. "So?"
A pause. "I told her that she can only do it in her room, by herself."
"So you told her. How to do it."
"No. Well. A little."
She sighed. Her voice was resigned. "OK. I told her to find the bump and rub. And to not put anything inside, because it could hurt her."
"The bump." I giggled like a schoolboy.
"Don't tease me. This was hard. I bet I screwed her up for life."
I held her tight. "She would have asked Andrea and probably gotten some ridiculous ideas. Or become a lesbian. You're the best mother in the world. Dr. Ruth would be proud of you."
"Thanks. I think. What are you doing?"
"I'm finding your bump."
For the next two weeks, the words "find the bump and rub" revolved constantly in my head like the scrolling news banner on CNN. Every time I saw that Stephanie's bedroom door was closed, a vivid image played in my mind. My little girl lying on her bed. Eyes closed, mouth slightly open. Completely naked. (Or maybe wearing only socks.) Knees up, with the backs of her heels against her thighs. Legs spread wide. Small fingers of her left hand separating the lips of her soft, bare sex. Delicate inner folds revealed. Index finger of her right hand methodically sliding over her tiny clit.
Her hand moving faster now. A furrow on her brow. Her slender hips rise in rhythm with the down thrust of her finger. Soft high-pitched gasps escape her with each stroke. Her face and chest flushed red. Her bottom clenching as she lifts it off the bed. Biting her lower lip. Her body spasms and goes rigid. And again. Her face a mask of pleasure. Her mouth opens as the waves pass over her. A moan signals the final release of tension. As she slowly relaxes, she turns over on her side, her hand still cupping her smoothness.
The picture was both obscene and irresistible. And while savoring the vision, I said to myself, she's thinking about me, about my cock. I had to shake my head to snap back to reality.
From time to time I also noticed Carol watching Stephanie's closed door. Like me, she seemed to be trying to see though it. Eventually our eyes met. She looked sheepish, knowing she'd been caught.
"I Googled it," she said, a little defensively. "Everybody says it's normal. Healthy, even."
"I believe you. You should stop worrying." I hesitated, but I couldn't resist teasing her a little. "What did you Google, exactly?"
She blushed. "I tried a few things. I really hope they don't monitor what you search on."
"They do. It's how they decide what advertising to show you."
"Really?" She looked concerned.
"Well, yes. But they don't know who in the house did the search."
"Aha! Credible deniability. As a lawyer, I'd have no problem pinning it on you."
I feigned outrage. "You're the one downloading all the porn."
"I skipped the porn. Well, most of it. It's pretty awful. But there's lots of parenting advice sites, and they all have these letters from concerned parents. 'Help! My child is masturbating, what should I do?'"
"And they all say not to worry about it, right?"
"Well, yes." She paused. "But they also say you shouldn't teach them how to do it. You're supposed to let them figure it out for themselves."
"Hmmm. Thinking back, I guess I was self-educated. Were you?"
She nodded. "But not until I was 12."
"We've always known that Stephanie is a gifted child," I offered.
"You're not helping."
"Sorry. But you're being silly. Someday she'll thank you. And it's not like you taught her. You just gave her a hint."
"Don't remind me." A long pause. "Do you think the Family Changing Room had anything to do with it?"
She's really, really smart, my wife. It's one of the things I love about her. I searched her face carefully to see what was behind her question. I was glad to see there was no hint of accusation - she wasn't thinking I'd done anything improper.
I looked a little shocked. It wasn't hard, given what I'd just been asked. "God, I'd hate to think that. Maybe you should talk to her about it."
Somehow, given everything that had happened I felt that I could really trust Stephanie to say the right thing if her mother asked. More than that, I felt I had to trust her. I had to trust her totally.
Carol looked thoughtful. Suggesting a talk with Stephanie seemed to steer her further away from any suspicion. "I have no idea what I'd say to her. But maybe you should stop using it, at least with Stephanie."
I nodded. "You're right." She was right. Shit, she really was right. "If she's thinking about these things, you're right." I felt relieved, actually. For the most part.
"You told her, didn't you." It was a statement, not a question. Stephanie was regarding me with a cold, angry stare. We were in the car alone. I'd just dropped Caroline off at kindergarten, and was taking Stephanie to her school a few blocks away.
"What? Told who?"
"Mom. You told Mom about us." Shit. I guess I should have expected this. Her tone was icy. And it was jarring to hear her call her mother "Mom", rather than "Mommy".
"No, honey. I didn't tell her. Believe me, I wouldn't."
She wasn't convinced. "Then why did she say I couldn't go in the room with you?"
The truth seemed best in this case. "I think you scared her a little with your questions, Stephanie."
She continued to glare, but was quiet while she thought it through.
"I told her Andrea said it."
"I know, sweetie. She believed you. It was really good that you said it that way. But she thinks you're too young to be thinking about sex. And I guess she thought being naked with me was part of why you asked."
She seemed to accept this, but was still visibly annoyed. "Is she mad?"
"No, honey, she doesn't think we did anything wrong. She just doesn't want you to grow up too fast. And... well, neither do I."
She looked down. "But you let me watch you. When you had sex with yourself. You saw I was there but you didn't stop."
She sort of had me there. "I couldn't help it," I said plaintively. Who was the eight year-old here? She actually smirked in response. I knew I was in trouble.
"You know why I asked her, Daddy?"
"I'm not really sure, honey. Why did you ask her?"
"Duh. Cuz I wanted to know."
We both laughed a little. She smiled at me impishly.
"You could have asked Andrea," I offered.
"I did ask her. She doesn't know anything."
"Hmmm." An awkward silence. "You could have asked me, you know."
"I'm a girl," she said flatly. You idiot, was clearly implied but not spoken.
"I know you are, honey. Believe me, I know." I actually blushed a little. "But I know a little bit about how girls work."
"Oh." I could tell she hadn't considered this possibility. "I thought Mom was the only one I could ask, really."
I nodded. "I can understand that, I guess. So tell me, honey - why did you want to know?"
"So that I could do it for you. Since you did it for me."
I swallowed hard. She went on. "I know we can't have sex together, Daddy. But I thought we could have sex with ourselves together."
With my eyes wide open, my vision of Stephanie on her bed projected itself in technicolor in front of me. Finding the bump. Rubbing. Christ.
"I don't think it's a good idea, Stephanie," I said after a time.
"But you want to," she stated, no doubt in her voice. She could read my face so easily now.
I tried not to nod, but I don't think I entirely succeeded. "We shouldn't," was all I could manage to say.
The following week was awkward at best. Stephanie and I were both unsure where we stood. I could tell that we both felt that we'd lost something. Still, the underlying tension remained unabated. She continued to tease me at home, but without the previous enthusiasm. I'd catch a glimpse of her in her underpants, and she'd flash me a little smile before disappearing around the corner. Her time behind her closed bedroom door grew longer.
The next Saturday we had another split soccer schedule. Carol and Caroline had an early afternoon game. Stephanie's game was over by 9. On our way back to the car, I asked if she wanted to go swimming. "I'm a little tired today," she said. "I think I'd rather just go home."
I'm sure she saw my disappointment. Without Caroline, I had thought that perhaps we would go back to the Family Changing Room together. I'd been hard all morning thinking about it, in fact. She gave me an inscrutable smile and just said, "Don't worry, Daddy. We'll go again." We were both quiet on the way home.
We arrived to find an empty house and a note saying that Carol and Caroline had gone to lunch before her game. They wouldn't be home until late that afternoon. When I told Stephanie we'd be on our own for the day, she said, "I know, Daddy. I told Caroline to get Mommy to take her early." The mysterious smile was on her face again.
"You did?" I'm slow sometimes. I admit it.
Stephanie nodded, and took me by the hand. She grinned at me and blushed. My brain was starting to work again, but still wasn't making the leap. "What are you up to, sweetheart?"
She tugged on my hand and led me through the house. To the stairs. Up the stairs. Into my bedroom. We entered. She closed the door. Somewhere along the way, my feeble mind caught up to what was happening.
"Stephanie. I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't a good idea. I don't think..."
"Daddy?" Her voice was soft but amazingly firm.
"Just shut up, ok?"
Her mind was made up. After a time I nodded, as usual unable to deny her.
Stephanie was still in her soccer uniform. She nimbly slid the voluminous shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor. I gazed in awe at her flat tummy, and worked my way back up to her eyes. They were regarding me calmly, patiently. Back to our old game. She was in charge again.
I dutifully unbuttoned my shirt, and tossed it on top of hers. Her face was triumphant. She kicked off her cleats. I stepped out of my boat shoes. She paused for a moment, biting her lip. She was wearing socks, but I wasn't. After a moment's deliberation on how to handle this imbalance, she sat on the bed and peeled off her knee-high white leggings. I acknowledged her fairness with a smile. That didn't count, so it was still her turn.
She slid her soccer shorts over her hips and let them fall to the floor, pushing them into the growing pile of clothes. She was wearing the same tiny underpants that she'd had on when she caught me masturbating. Apparently she'd been planning this for a while. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. There was now no possibility that reason would prevail. Any sense of guilt had been driven to a remote, inaccessible part of my mind by the most powerful surge of lust I'd ever felt.
My khaki shorts joined Stephanie's in the pile, making obvious the massive tent in my boxers. Stephanie regarded my excitement with satisfaction. I felt myself blushing, matching my tiny daughter's already flushed complexion.
Stephanie took her time with her panties. She knew she was driving me mad, and was clearly enjoying every second. She wriggled her hips as she pushed them down and defiantly kicked them off her legs. Her eyes never left my crotch as she did this.
She stood naked and unashamed, and perfect. As with every time I'd seen it, the uninterrupted slope of her belly down to her bare puss took my breath away. I stood looking in awe a little too long. Her face was resolute. It was my turn.
I had to stretch the waistband of my boxers to its limit to get it over the head of my throbbing cock. I let them drop on their own, and pushed them with my toe into our now complete mound of laundry. It was Stephanie's turn to swallow. Feeling her stare was almost like a caress. My penis twitched in response, a third active participant in our silent conversation.
I guess Stephanie hadn't fully thought out her evil plan. As we regarded each other, it became clear that she wasn't really sure what to do next. As she hesitated, I entertained obscene possibilities. God, I wanted her. Her mouth was at the exact height of my cock. I almost came spontaneously from the image of her lips gently wrapping around me.
I opened my eyes to find her still two feet away, her face excited but unsure. Her innocence returned a modicum of sense to my mind. "Let's sit on the bed," I suggested. She nodded quickly, seeming glad for the help.
I sat with my back against the headboard. Stephanie sat beside me. Where Carol usually was. Which was just too strange, even for this already strange scene.
"Why don't you sit at the end, and face this way, honey." Her face questioned me. "That way, I can see you better." Her smile returned. I handed her a pillow, and she propped herself against the post at the foot of the bed.
She stretched out her feet, and I did the same. Our toes met and mingled in the middle of the bed. We pushed against each other, giggling, legs failing, releasing the palpable tension. For a moment, she was just my little girl again. It broke a barrier, in a sense - I hadn't really allowed myself to think of Stephanie in the same moment as both a sexual being and as my daughter. It was as if there were two people, only one of whom existed at any given time. But here she was, my precious girl, my intensely provocative girl, who had lured me here, arranged our tryst, stripped for me, and lay naked on my bed.
I slowly, deliberately pressed my feet against hers and used the tension to open her legs. I looked into her eyes as I gently spread her. Remembering my imagined scene of Stephanie in her bedroom, I pushed her slender legs wide, and guided her small feet until her heels were pressed against the back of her thighs. The lips of her smooth sex parted slightly, revealing for the first time to me the small, delicate folds within. She seemed to relish my visual exploration. She drew her knees back even farther as I stared.
Her hand entered my field of view. Tentatively, it crept up her thigh until it rested against her bare mound. She cupped herself gently. In response, my fingers wrapped around my cock.
"You're so beautiful, Stephanie."
Her entire upper body glowed bright red in response. She looked down. "You are too, Daddy." It was almost a whisper.
Her hand started to move a little. She pressed her palm against her slit, and slowly rubbed it. Up, then down with a bit more force. She watched my reaction as she repeated the motion. A few more rubs. She continued to watch me. It was intensely erotic - but I could tell she was doing it for me, not for herself.
"Don't you like it, Daddy?"
"I love it, sweetheart. But... did you ever, ummm... find the bump?"
She shook her head. "I didn't really know what that meant."
My imagination had gotten ahead of things, obviously. "I guess Mommy should have shown you." Scrunchy face. "OK, maybe not. But she didn't tell you everything."
"What do you mean, Daddy?"
"Will you do what I tell you to do for a minute?"
She nodded. "Open yourself up, honey, with your fingers, like this." I closed and opened my thumb and forefinger. Stephanie spread the lips of her puss with her left hand. I was shaking as the soft pink interior was revealed. She was looking down at herself intensely. "It's weird," she said.
"It's perfect, honey, and beautiful like the rest of you." She looked a little skeptical, but was willing to go with it. "Now use your other finger and touch near the top." She probed with her right index finger. "Not there, sweetie. Up a little." I watched as her finger nestled between her tiny inner lips and moved slowly up. "That's where I pee, Daddy." Another scrunchy face. "I know, baby. Just a little farther." Her finger resumed its northward migration.
Suddenly, she stopped. Her finger moved back and forth, almost imperceptibly. Her eyes got big. I smiled at her. "The bump," I said. "Rub right there."
She made a little circle around it, and gasped. She did it again, and her eyes closed. "There you go, honey."
"Why didn't Mommy tell me?" She sounded exasperated. All this time practicing on her own, and she'd been doing it wrong the whole while!
"She tried, in her own way."
Her finger continued its tiny orbit, but faster now. "That's sooo amazing. Now I REALLY want to do it."
We both laughed. She bit her lip and bore down. "That's it, sweetheart. You can't hurt it." I was slowly stroking myself. Her hips started to move as she rubbed and watched me. I leaned back, and relaxed, and watched in awe as my little girl truly pleasured herself for the first time. She sped up and slowed down, pressing into her hand by lifting her bottom. I guess the practice hadn't been entirely wasted after all.
Her breath was short. "Am I gonna have one, Daddy?"
For once I was on top of things. "An orgasm, you mean?" She nodded rapidly. "I think so, honey. I hope so. Just don't stop."
"Andrea told me about it," she said between pants. I couldn't help but giggle.
"Tell me when you feel like you can't hold back, baby. I want to do it at the same time." I squeezed my cock and it leaked profusely, the slippery sensation of my precum bringing me perilously close to the edge. I had to hold my hand perfectly still, or I would have cum at that instant. She continued to frig herself energetically.
Stephanie's eyes were glued to my cock when suddenly she issued a sharp... well, squeak. I'm not sure what I was expecting - certainly not the guttural moan of a porn star, or even my wife's elegant coo - but the girlish sound seemed to fit Stephanie perfectly. Her eyes wide, her bottom lifting, her fingers madly assaulting her flushed pudenda, she squeaked. And squeaked again. On the third squeak, I answered her with a loud grunt as cum exploded from me. We both let go, allowing each other to see without reservation the animal nature of our desire. Our eyes locked; hers were filled with intensity and newfound wonder, mine with pure joy at the privilege of witnessing such beauty. It seemed like it lasted an hour. As the waves subsided, we slumped back and closed our eyes. I became aware again of the warmth of her small feet, still pressed against mine.
I didn't want to break the blissful silence, but I had to know what she was thinking. "That was so special for me, Stephanie... so... perfect." I basked in the glow of the soft smile she returned. "How do you feel, honey?"
She looked thoughtful. "Now I know how come there's so many babies," she said. We both laughed like little girls.
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