Papa-san

It was nobody’s fault; we married way too young. If Chris hadn’t gotten pregnant, we probably wouldn’t have lasted ten months together. We had very different ideas about what was important. As it is, we spent ten years together, most of them unhappy. Finally, one day, she took the cat and left us. The divorce was amicable, quick, and relatively cheap. She didn’t want any of the stuff, and didn’t fleece me too badly. She probably felt guilty about leaving a nine year old daughter without a mother.

I had always been extremely close to Christie, probably partially because of my lack of intimacy with her mother through much of our marriage. We became that much closer when Chris left us. She seemed to hold up well, considering. I told her all the time that her mother didn’t leave because of her. I told her that her mother loved her, it’s just that sometimes mommies and daddies, blah, blah, blah. It would have been easier if the bitch would at least call her daughter more often.

As for me? If I missed having a cat, I figured I could scatter hair on all my clothes and furniture, put a litter box full of shit in the utility room, scatter vomit in unexpected places throughout the house and have the experience without the vet bills. As for missing Chris? We hadn’t had sex in over a year by the time she left. I missed sex miserably, but not Chris. And I didn’t miss sex enough to make it worth dating. My friends tried to set me up all the time, and I tried a few times, but every time it was a miserable failure.

I was mother and father to that child, in addition to working a demanding job. The only good thing that I did while married was make the sacrifice to get a college degree. I took classes nights and weekends for six years, in addition to working full time. So at least I was able to take care of Christie on a single father’s salary.

I threw myself into being the best dad I could. I was at all the school events, parent’s night, PTA meetings, you name it. I checked her homework every night, read her papers, helped her with math. We did everything together; movies, skating, date nights.

When she went through puberty it was a bit awkward. Of course, that’s an awkward age no matter how many parents you have, but the first time she had her period, I had to have a talk with her. No dad should have to be the one to have that talk. Don’t they have that talk in the fifth grade like they did when I was a kid? Probably not. We live in Texas, where people think it’s immoral to educate kids in school about their bodies.

I can still remember that night; she came to me, thinking something was wrong, and told me she was bleeding. When she told me where, I immediately knew what was going on. I told her to use a washcloth while I went out to get pads. How the hell was I to know what kind? Why are there so many damn brands and styles? How many different shapes do women need? To wing, or not to wing?

I got a few different kinds and took them home. We sat at the table, embarrassed, reading the instructions. She picked one out, and we got a pair of her panties and figured out how to attach them, then she went to the bathroom to clean up and try it out. I hoped that would be the last time I’d ever have to do anything like that. Poor kid; every time she saw me for a month her face would turn red. I figured out what kind to buy her by seeing which box was almost empty, and kept those on my shopping list.

I could tell from her laundry that it took her a while to figure it out. Poor kid; I hoped she wouldn’t be embarrassed by an accident at school. I can understand why Chris left me, but why couldn’t she be part of her daughter’s life?

As Christie grew, she became more independent and more plugged in to activities at school. She was into the theater arts department, and would stay after school for hours practicing. She had private singing lessons twice a week, and dance lessons three times a week. She was becoming very talented, and it was keeping her in great shape. Her junior year, she got the part of Liza Doolittle in the school’s production of My Fair Lady. A great coup for a junior. I was proud of her.

Her growing independence enabled me to concentrate on work, and spend more time at the office. I moved up in my company, and my future looked bright. Maybe when Christie moved off to college, I would date and entertain lady friends. I might even remarry. I was still only thirty seven, and I missed female companionship desperately.

On Christie’s eighteenth birthday I decide to leave the office early; something I never did. It was Friday, the one night of the week that her Theater Arts director never had anything scheduled, so I hoped she’d be home. I had bought her a car, and I wanted to give it to her as a surprise. It was a red, two door Acura, very sporty, only two years old. It was a lot of money, but she would need a reliable car when she started college in just a few months. I knew she would love it. I picked it up at the dealership and tied a big blue bow to the top. I planned to have her drive me back later to pick up my car.

The garage door opener was in my car, so I had to park in the driveway. Luckily I had my front door key. Her door key was on the table by the front door, so I knew she was home. I was so excited. This was the greatest birthday gift ever. I was as happy for her as I knew she would be. I had an ear to ear smile, thinking about the look on her face when she saw the car in the driveway.

I looked in the study, where she did her schoolwork, but she wasn’t there, so I continued down the hall to her room. The door was about a quarter of the way open. When I got to it and looked in, I was shocked to see her lying on her bed, naked. Her knees were bent, feet flat on the bed, spread widely. She was looking at something on her phone and her right hand was furiously rubbing her crotch. Lying on her back made her already small breasts look completely flat, but her nipples stood out long and hard.

I had been ready to knock, and my hand was still in a fist, poised by her door. My smile had been replaced by a slack jaw, my mouth opened wide in silent shock. I was so surprised I was unable to move momentarily, and that moment was when she climaxed. It all happened so fast and unexpectedly, I was completely unable to even turn away.

I flushed so much even my ears burned bright red as I watched her writhing on the bed, grunting and whimpering, her hand slowing. She had dropped her phone and was clutching a breast, rubbing her nipple. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was me, mouth agape, hand raised to knock on her door, my face red as a beet.

When she screamed I finally was able to come to my senses and turn away. I walked quickly to the kitchen, not thinking to close her door, and paced. I heard her door slam and lock behind me.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I thought.

What was I to do? Pretend it didn’t happen, hope it blew over? Damn, there was no way I could pretend I didn’t see what I saw. She knew it, and I knew it. We could ignore it. Damn, that’s all we could do.

My thoughts raced, tumbling on each other, but none stayed in my head long enough for me to make sense of any of them. I was visibly shaking, my heart racing, embarrassed for my little baby, embarrassed myself.

“Oh, shit, why didn’t I say something when I came in? Why didn’t I just say, ‘I’m home,’ like I always do? What was I thinking? Damn, Damn, DAMN IT!”

I went into my room and changed out of my suit. This had suddenly turned into a very depressing day. I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was only 4:00. Too early for the news, and I had no idea what kind of drivel would be on TV at 4:00 in the afternoon. I didn’t care to find out. I paced the house, hoping Christie would come out, hoping we could pretend it never happened.”

At 5:00, I finally decided I had to say something. I knew she would be so embarrassed she wouldn’t want to ever come out of her room. Hell, I knew I would be if I had been caught by my parents with my pants down. But I had to say something. I didn’t want my baby to be unhappy.

I knocked on her door.

“Not now, dad.”

“Christie, please talk to me. I’m really sorry. I had no idea you were undressed. I have something for you, and I just wanted to surprise you. It’s my fault, sweetie, I apologize. Please come out.”

“I can’t.”

“Please, honey, it’s really okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

“I love you, sweetie. Don’t be angry. It was an accident. It was my fault, but it was an accident. I didn’t know you weren’t dressed.”

“Leave me alone!”

At 6:30, I tried again.`

“Christie, sweetie, dinner’s ready. Come on out and have something to eat. I want to show you what I got for your birthday.”

“I’m not hungry.”

I ate alone, dejected. I decided to get out of the house for a while, at least long enough for her to come out of her room so she could eat. I didn’t want her to go without dinner. Her birthday cake sat on the counter, the candles unlit.

“Sweetie,” I said, knocking on her door, “I’ve got to go out for an hour. I’ll be back by eight.”

I drove back to the dealership, unlocked my car and pulled out the garage door opener. That killed fifteen minutes. It would take ten minutes to get back home. I drove around for half an hour, dejected, trying to think of anything I could say or do to make my daughter feel better.

I put her car in the garage. At least she had eaten some of the plate of food I left her on the counter. I cleaned up the kitchen and sat down to watch the news. I barely heard a word they were saying, as my thoughts were elsewhere. I tried to read, but found myself reading and re-reading the same paragraph over and over.

At 9:30, I tried one last time.

“Honey, won’t you talk to me?”

“I’m sleeping, dad.”

I sighed, and went off to get ready for bed. Lying in bed I tried to form the words for the conversation we would need to have eventually. Nothing came to mind.

The next morning I did the lawn early and showered. As I sat reading the paper, I heard her door open and her bathroom door close. After fifteen minutes, she came into the kitchen.

“Good morning, sweetie. Did you sleep well?”

“Fine,” she said, not looking at me.

“Happy birthday, sweetie. Can I show you what I got you?”

“It was the worst birthday ever,” she blurted out, and started to cry.

The saddest sight a father can see is his daughter unhappy and crying. It broke my heart. I went to her and held her. Her shoulders trembled with her sobbing. She cried for a long time as I hugged her, trying to soothe her.

“There, there, sweetie, it’s okay. You’ll see. It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

She finally stopped shaking, and I held her face up.

“That’s better. Please let me show you what I got you for your birthday, okay?”

“Okay,” she said with a frown on her face.

I led her to the garage and opened the door. I pushed the button to open the garage door, so there would be more light. Her eyes opened wide as she realized it wasn’t my sedan in the garage.

“For me?”

“All yours, honey. I’m really proud of you. You’ve always been a great daughter, and you’ve worked hard at school. You’ve kept your grades up, and always helped out around the house. You deserve it. Want to take it for a ride?”

The smile left her face, and she said, “Yeah, I bet you’re real proud of me now.”

“Honey, you’ve done nothing to make me less proud of you. How can you say that?”

“Come on, dad, you saw me. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

Okay, dad time. Something wise will do about now. What would Bill Cosby say? Nothing came to me, so I figured I was going to have to resort to honesty.

“Okay, honey, I saw you. You weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“Maybe not wrong, but so embarrassing.”

“I know honey. We’ve all been embarrassed before. I don’t think any less of you. You weren’t doing anything wrong. Everybody does what you were doing. Everybody.”

I could see her absorbing that.

“Okay, dad, let’s take it for a drive.”

I followed her home from the dealership. After she showered and changed, she took her new car out for the rest of the day to show all her friends. She came home for dinner, then changed clothes for an evening out with friends.

The next few days were awkward, but gradually it appeared that she was going to get over it and our relationship would go back to normal. As I thought back over the last year, I realized that she had begun to masturbate regularly, and I just hadn’t noticed. She would lock herself in the bathroom often for long periods of time. Where she had always taken showers, she began taking long baths in the evenings, even when she didn’t need to clean up. Hell, when I was her age, I rubbed myself to sleep almost every night. For that matter, I still did.

At dinner one night a few weeks later, she said, “Dad?”

“Yes, honey?”

“You said everybody did it? Do you really think everybody does?”

It took me a split second to realize what she was talking about. I had hoped we were done with that awkward topic. Time for Wise Dad to come to the fore again. Now where did I leave my cape?

“Yes, I’m sure,” I said, hoping that would end it.

“Dad, I can’t stop doing it. Does the urge go away when you grow up?”

She had her eyes down, looking at her plate as she picked at her food.

“Well, it might slow down a little. Honey, you have to remember, you’re eighteen. Your hormones are raging through your body, and it’s hard to control them. You’re going to feel things you’ve never felt before, and you have no frame of reference for how to handle those feelings. This is a very vulnerable and difficult time for young people. You can talk to me anytime, about anything. It’s easy for young people to make mistakes when their hormones control their thinking.”

“Like you and mom?”

I hesitated.

“Yes, like me and mom.”

“Did you have to get married? Because of me?”

“You were the best thing that ever happened to us.”

“Did you have to get married?”

I decided right then that I was going to be honest with my daughter for the rest of her life. No more pretending. She was old enough to deserve and expect honest answers.

“Yes,” I said.

“So when does it get easier to control your hormones? Am I a freak? I can’t help what I do, almost every day. Sometimes more than once.”

“No, you aren’t a freak. You’re normal.”

“You said everybody does it. Do you?”

Once again I hesitated.

“Yes. I do too.”

“Does mom?”

“Yes, she does too.”

“Even while you were married?”

“Yes.”

“Both of you?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you need to do that when you were married? You had each other.”

For whatever reason, I had assumed that Christie would get the information she needed to have a healthy sex life with her husband from a book, or school, or by osmosis through the internet, without the need to have her clueless dad have this difficult conversation. Time again for Wise Dad. When he didn’t show up, I figured honest answers would have to suffice.

“Sex is complicated. When we first got married, we had sex often. But I was young, and wanted it more, so I would sometimes do that in the shower, or in bed after your mom was asleep. Later, as she got pregnant and had days when she didn’t feel good, she didn’t feel like it very often. Then, after you came, she was tired a lot, and I started going to college while working full time. There were a lot of pressures on us at such a young age. That’s why I hope you’ll make better choices, and marry the right man for the right reasons.”

“What about mom. If she wasn’t in the mood as much as you, why would she ever do that.”

“When a man has sex, he gets the same stimulation as when he…well, when he masturbates. But it’s not the same for a woman. She needs to be stimulated in a different place. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” she said, though I could tell from her face that she needed to think about that. “Later, when she was too tired to want sex, or at the end, when she was unhappy living with me, she still needed the release, just like you do, so I’m sure she did it while I was at school or work.”

“I think I saw her once,” Christie said, smiling. “I was at a play date with Julie, but we had a fight, so I ran home. Mom expected me to stay much later. When I came in, I could hear her making noises in her room. By the time I got there, she was laying on her bed, not doing anything, but when she saw me she got real flustered, and she wasn’t wearing clothes. I could see her put something under her covers, and she asked me to go to my room.”

“Yes, I imagine she was doing that. I told you, everybody does. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m really sorry I saw you, and embarrassed you. I hope you’ll get over it.”

“Why does a woman not get that when she has sex?”

“Well, technically it’s possible. But most women need to stimulate themselves.”

“Then why have sex?”

“I think it feels even better when you have sex. Plus, it’s a very intimate sharing between people who love each other. And, most women enjoy pleasing their husbands, just like good husbands enjoy pleasing their wives?”

“What’s it feel like when men do it?”

“That’s one thing that nobody can explain in words. Just like nobody can explain what women feel. It feels better than anything in the world, but I can’t explain how the feelings feel, any more than you can explain a color to a blind man, or a sound to a deaf man.”

“When men do it, sperm comes out. What’s that like?”

“It’s thick, and it comes out in globs rather than a stream.”

“Dad?” she said, her eyes down and her face reddening. “I’d like to see that.”

“You will, honey. I don’t want you to rush into marriage. I want you to go to school. But one day, you’ll meet the right guy, and you will experience everything wonderful that life has to offer.”

“Can I see you do it?”

“No. That’s a private thing, and never to be shared with your father.”

“Did you know that in Japan, families bathe together nude and think nothing of it. Do you think it’s dirty?”

“If a family grows up practicing nudity, I don’t think it’s dirty. But we didn’t. And I do think it’s dirty to masturbate in front of your children. It’s probably illegal, too.”

I was beginning to be very uncomfortable with the conversation, but I wanted my daughter to feel comfortable asking me anything. I realized that she was very naïve for her age, and I’d rather her get these answers from me than from kids at school.

“Dad, I’d really like to see you do that. When I do, you know, I think about that. Sometimes kids text me photos of themselves, and I look at them when I do it. I want to see a real one. Is that dirty? Just to see it?”

“Yes, that would be inappropriate.”

“Even if I want to really badly? Sometimes when I touch myself, I want to see that so badly it hurts. Sometimes even when I finish, I still hurt for more, to see a real one.”

I suspected she had been looking at inappropriate material on her phone the day I caught her, and now I knew she was. I was afraid that she was very vulnerable, with her raging hormones, and that some guy would take advantage of her, like I had done at about her age.

“I never want you showing your body to boys, or looking at them. That could lead to things that would really upset your future plans, like disease or pregnancy.”

“I know, dad. Can I see yours? Would that be dirty?”

I couldn’t believe what she was asking. Still, I didn’t want her resorting to her classmates to satisfy her curiosity. Like she said, lots of families practiced nudity.

“No, that wouldn’t be dirty.”

I could see her face light up.

“Not here, in front of the living room windows. In my room.”

She followed me into my room. My heart was pounding, and my face was red again. I took off my tee shirt and threw it on the chair. She lay on the bed, her head propped up on a hand. I hesitated. I couldn’t believe the position I had gotten myself into. I unbuttoned my shorts and let them drop to the floor, stepping out of them. I started to turn around, then decided to let it fly. Full Monty. I pulled the waistband of my boxers down and stepped out of them. My dick was on full display for my daughter, who stared at it. It was soft and hung down six or seven inches, resting on my sac.

“Satisfied?”

“Thank you. Is yours big, or are they all that large?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. I think most are around the same size.”

“When it’s hard, does it get bigger, or does it just stand up?”

“It gets bigger.”

“I’d like to see that. Can I see that.”

“That’s not appropriate. When a family practices nudity, they don’t do it to become aroused.”

“When does it get bigger? What makes it stand up?”

“Well, when your mother was here, she would make me excited and it would get bigger and stand up.”

“Does it not get bigger anymore?”

“No, it still does sometimes?”

“What makes it get bigger now?”

“The same thing that makes you aroused. It could be thinking about something exciting, or like when you see photos on your phone.”

I felt odd, standing in front of my daughter butt naked and telling her about the birds and bees. I had always assumed this conversation would have taken place while clothed.

“Can I put my shorts back on now?”

“Are you uncomfortable being naked?”

“Yes. A little.”

“Good thing you don’t live in Japan. I think I’d like that. Nudity, I mean. Can we try it? I think it would be fun. You said it wasn’t dirty.”

“It’s not dirty, but we didn’t grow up with it. Other people wouldn’t understand.”

“It could be our little secret,” she said, getting up.

I pulled on my clothes as she went to her room.

“Good night, dad.”

“Good night, sweetie.”

I was sweating, and my heart was racing.

“Wow, that was weird,” I thought.

I closed all the shutters in the house for the night, and sat down to watch some television.

The next morning as I sat reading the paper and drinking my coffee, I heard Christie’s bathroom door close. She soon came out and walked into the kitchen, completely naked. I almost dropped my coffee cup.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing, papa-san. Just being a good little Japanese daughter.”

“Please go put some clothes on.”

“Can’t we just try it, dad? You said it wasn’t dirty.”

“It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Me too, a little, but we’ll get used to it. Okay?”

I shook my head, and went back to my paper.

“Don’t walk around like that when the shutters and drapes are open, okay?”

“Okay, dad,” she said, getting a cup of juice out of the fridge.

She sat down next to me and took part of the Sunday paper. I stole a glance at her. She really was a beautiful daughter. Her skin was so beautiful. She had very little breasts. Her mother had had very small breasts when she was Christie’s age. In fact, until the last few years, when she had allowed herself to get fat.

“Dad, are there any guys that like girls that don’t have large breasts?”

“Yeah, there are. You’ll meet someone who thinks you’re perfect.”

“It seems like all the guys at school chase the girls who have big tits, and nobody wants someone like me.”

“It just seems that way. Things are different in college. People don’t run in cliques in college. You’ll see.”

“Okay, well I’m going to go to the lake with some friends today,” she said, getting up to get dressed.

I watched her walk away. She had the same butt as her mother did at her age. What a strange young girl. I couldn’t imagine myself, at her age, wanting to see my parents nude, or wanting them to see me nude. And I damn sure couldn’t imagine Chris opening up that much.

The next evening, after work, I came home to find Christie nude again, walking around the house as if nothing were wrong. I figured this was a phase that wouldn’t last long, and resolved not to fight it. She’d grow out of it.

When I called her to dinner, she came in nude, and I had to put my foot down.

“Not at the table,” I said. “Even nudists get dressed for dinner.”

“Okay, papa-san, I’ll put my robe on, if you promise to get nude after dinner.”

I didn’t say anything, and she said, “Promise?”

“Look, I’m not comfortable with that.”

“Promise, papa-san. You said there was nothing wrong with it.”

What a strange child. Sighing, I relented.

As soon as the dishes were up, she made me keep my word. I felt ridiculous. Where do you put your hands when you’re standing in front of your daughter, naked? Do you cross your leg when seated?

She sat in my lap and put her arms around my neck, making me very uncomfortable.

“See, papa-san, this is fun. Are you going to get big today?”

That was the last thing I was going to do. My dick was shriveled with the discomfort I felt. I had never felt so exposed.

“No.”

“Papa-san, what makes you get excited? Do you look at pictures?”

“Various things. I’d rather not talk about that.”

“Is that dirty?

“Maybe a little. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“This isn’t dirty, is it?”

“No.”

“Why won’t you tell me what makes you get big?”

Sigh. She wasn’t going to let up. I had resolved to answer her questions. They were personal, maybe inappropriate, but I resolved to be truthful.

“Sometimes just memories. Mental images.”

“From you and mom?”

“Yeah.”

“Other ones too?”

“Yeah, sometimes just my imagination, with girls I’ve seen on TV or movies, imagining what they would look like.”

“I do that too, with musicians I like. I think about them, loving me, you know.”

“Yeah, that’s what I do.”

“What do you do when that happens.”

“Sometimes the same thing that you do.”

My daughter was sitting in my lap, both of us naked, talking about masturbation. Weird. Ever since I walked in on her, she made me very nervous being around her.

“I’d like to see that,” she said, a serious look on her face.

“Why would you want to see your father do that, sweetie? I can’t understand why you’d ever want to see your father naked, or be naked in front of him.”

She looked me in the eye and said, “I want to see a man squirt. Any man. I ache to see that, when I’m lying alone. You said you didn’t want me to look at other boys, or show myself to other boys. You said it was okay for us to see each other.”

“Y…y..y…yes, it’s not dirty to see each other nude. We’re in the same family. But not when it’s big, and definitely not when it squirts.”

“I want to see it squirt. Does it squirt far? What does it look like?”

My face turned red and I was stammering, totally flustered. I didn’t know what to say to her. She was obviously very curious. I wanted her to understand her body, why she felt the way she did. And I didn’t want her making the mistakes her mother and I made. But I didn’t want to masturbate in front of my daughter. I’d never masturbated in front of anybody, not even her mother.

“Can I touch it, daddy?” she said. “I’ve never touched one. I just want to know what it feels like. It’s all I can think about when I lie in my bed. I can’t even go to sleep at night, thinking about it until I have to touch myself. Please?

“You can touch it,” I said. I didn’t want her touching other boys, who would take advantage of her.

She gingerly touched it. It had shriveled to almost nothing.

“Why is it little today?”

“It’s normal for it to be different sizes at different times. I’m a little uncomfortable and nervous, so it gets little.”

She wrapped her hand around it and held it up.

“Does that hurt, daddy?”

“No, that doesn’t hurt. It’s not very tender. The balls are, but not that.”

“Does it hurt to touch a man’s balls, then?”

“Not necessarily. It can feel very good. You just have to be more gentle.”

“Can you show me how to do it? I want to be a good wife when I marry. I want to know how to touch it.”

I took her hand and held it palm up, then put it under my sac and let her heft the weight of it, gently.

“You can massage it a little harder than that. You just have to be careful.”

She gently stretched my sac, being careful not to pinch the balls. Then she stroked the top of my dick.

“What does a man enjoy his wife doing to that,” she said, pointing to my dick.

“There’s a channel that runs on the underside of a penis.”

I lifted up my dick and let her see the tube on the underside.

“See, kind of like a vein. That’s where the pleasure is. When mom would rub that, it’s kind of like when you rub yourself. That’s the only spot that provides pleasure. When a man and a woman have sex, the woman rubs that with her vagina. Well, she rubs all of it, but that’s the part that makes him squirt.”

“Ooh, I’d love to see that.”

“You will, sweetie, one day.”

“I ache so badly, daddy, you have no idea how much I ache. I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“No, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I have to touch myself,” she said, her hand resting on my dick.

“That’s okay, but that’s something you have to do in your room, in private.”

“Don’t send me to my room, dad. Please?”

“That’s something that’s private, sweetie.”

“Okay, I won’t touch myself. Do you like having a good Japanese daughter, papa-san?” she asked, giving me her biggest smile.

“You’re a good daughter,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. “But I’m a little uncomfortable with you in my lap naked.

I rose, and she got up. My dick wasn’t as shriveled as it had been. Still small, but a little bigger.

“Ooh, is it gonna get big, daddy,” she said, pointing at it.

“No, it’s not going to get big tonight. Can I get dressed now?”

“No, I want to take a bath together, like they do in Japan.”

“No, we can’t do that.”

“Why not. You have that big bathtub, big enough for both of us. Please?”

“No, I don’t need a bath.”

“Come on, daddy, let’s take a bath like a Japanese family does.”

“Oh, all right.”

I had to admit, that big Jacuzzi tub did feel good. I had rarely ever used it. The water was hot, and we eased into it slowly. The jets made the water bubble up, and the steam billowed into the air. She lay next to me, her head on my chest. It had been a long time since she laid with me like this, and certainly never nude.

“Daddy, what’s it feel like to have a man inside?”

“I don’t know, you’d have to ask your mother that.”

As soon as I said it, I regretted it. She didn’t comment.

“Sometimes, when I rub myself, I want something in there so badly I almost cry. You don’t know how badly I want it, how much it hurts.”

That’s where she was wrong. The years faded away. We were behind that shed, the night Christie was conceived. Chris hadn’t brought any of the condoms I had purchased that she was hiding for us to use.

“You didn’t forget them, you just don’t give a shit about me,” I accused her. “You don’t want to have sex, so you left them.”

My balls ached, I could think of nothing but burying my dick in her pussy. We necked passionately for more than an hour, with me groping at her clothes. Her bra was off, her pants were off, I had my hand in her panties. I was nude, as hard as I’ve ever been, begging her, pleading with her, just like Christie was pleading.

“Please, daddy, you don’t know what it feels like.”

Chris was panting, trying to be strong, but helpless to do so. I had been fingering her all night, she was desperately horny. I finally got her panties off and rolled on top of her, pinning her wrists above her head, pulling her stiff nipples into my mouth, one at a time. I didn’t get halfway into her before spraying my load, leading to the conception of the only thing worthwhile in our relationship. She had her hand between us, rubbing her crotch, trying for relief before I softened and fell out of her.

“You don’t know how hard it is, daddy?”

I came back to the present.

“Yes, I do, baby. I know exactly how you feel. Let me show you something.”

I got up, wiping off some of the water with a towel, then reached under the cabinet and pulled out an old vibrator that Chris had left behind. It no longer worked, but it was the shape of a dick, and not too big.

“Here, sweetie,” I said. “This is kind of like a man.”

“Thank you, daddy.”

I sat on the edge of the tub as she experimented with the dildo. I had gotten too warm in the tub, and it felt good to be out. My little girl tried to work the dildo into her tight little pussy, without success.

“How do I do it, daddy? It won’t go in.”

“Be patient. Why don’t you hop out and dry off, I’ll get you some lubricant to help it slip in.”

She lay on her back on the bed, idly playing with her pussy lips as I got some lotion and spread it on the dildo.

“Here you go, sweetie,” I said, handing it to her. “Try it now.”

She bent her knees and spread them, placing her feet flat on the bed, as she had done the day I accidentally walked in on her. She gently and tentatively rubbed the dildo up and down her slit. It was already wide open, she was so frantic with lust. She pushed it against her opening and it went in a little. Her face was scrunched up as she tried to force the dildo into her tight little pussy. It was in a little, now a little more. I stood by the side of the bed, watching my little girl impaling herself with a dildo. She got it in, far deeper than I could have imagined. Her eyes were closed, and her features relaxed, a look of ecstasy on her face.

When she opened them, she looked at me wide eyed and said, “Ooh, it’s big, daddy. So big.”

I looked down. My dick was fully erect.

The years folded back, and I remembered her mother the first time I saw her naked. She looked exactly like Christie does now. I had been fumbling with her clothes for fifteen minutes, pleading with her to let me touch her. She had been telling me to stop, pretending like she didn’t want it. Finally, when I hadn’t gotten very far, she took off her top. I saw her bra, covering her tiny little titties, and thought I was in heaven. She took off her bra. Her nipples were hard, just like Christie’s were now. She unbuttoned her cut off shorts, and pulled them down, then removed her panties. It was a warm summer day, we had gone to the river, deep among the trees.

“Well?” she said.

It was only then that I realized I was still partially dressed. I stripped my clothes and sucked on her for ten minutes, every part of her body. We didn’t know what we were doing, but we had a lot of fun trying to figure it out. In the end, we got the right tab in the right slot. When I felt my balls tingling, and my sperm filling her, I thought I would never want anything else. I was prepared to spend the rest of my life beside that river, draining every ounce of my balls in her fabulous cunt.

“Daddy, it’s really hard. Can I touch it? Please?”

I looked at her. Her nipples were so erect they were knotted up, with goose bumps all over her areolae. She had her legs spread wide, the dildo stuffed into her little pussy. Her lips were gaping open and she was rubbing her clit.

“Please, daddy, please, let me touch it.”

I took two steps toward the bed. She let go of the dildo. It stayed in her pussy, filling her. She never stopped rubbing her clit as she reached out and wrapped her little hand around my thick, long dick. I reached down and tweaked her nipples. She squeezed and pulled my dick, willing the cum out of it. I leaned forward and she pointed it at her chest. One, two, three thick wads of warm cum shot onto her chest. As she grunted through a noisy orgasm, a thick stream oozed out of my dick, puddling between her breasts.

She rarely wore clothes around the house anymore unless her friends were around. She insisted I go nude as well. She enjoyed seeing, and touching my dick. She no longer waited until I was gone to masturbate. In fact, I think she went out of her way to make sure I knew. I think it turned her on more to know that I knew she was doing it. She used to only do so in the bathtub, or alone in her room at night, or when I was at work. Now she lay on her bed and masturbated whenever the mood struck with her door wide open. She used the dildo I had given her, working it in and out while rubbing her little cunt, moaning and whimpering.

It didn’t take long to become accustomed to the natural lifestyle. Still, when she sat in my lap, or playfully touched my dick or balls, or when she was masturbating, I got very hard. I knew it was wrong, she’s my daughter, but some things you can’t control.

She never tired of looking at my dick, especially when it was hard. She was always trying to get it hard. She experimented with provocative positions that would make me excited; leaning over in front of me, her tiny titties dangling and jiggling in front of my eyes. Sitting next to me in my easy chair, the fresh, clean scent of her hair in my face, her legs over mine, her hard nipple brushing against my chest.

I had always masturbated regularly, and had a very active libido, but now I relieved myself almost daily. My dick felt like it was always ready to cum, sensitive to the slightest touch. Occasionally, she would sit in my lap, idly playing with my dick, taking me past the point of no return and pretending like it was unintentional. I discouraged her from touching my privates, telling her over and over that that was wrong. But it was sometimes difficult to be adamant when my dick demanded relief more than my brain demanded decorum.

One night I brought a present home for her. After I had taken off my clothes, I went into her room and gave it to her.

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Can I open it?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

As she tore off the wrapping paper, she asked, “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion, just a surprise. Something I’ve been meaning to get you, and something I know you’ll like.”

She looked at the present, in its clear plastic case.

“Another one? Thanks, daddy.”

“This one’s different. Let me see it.”

She handed it to me and I took it out of its case, then installed the batteries.

“The one you have is a broken vibrator. It’s only useful as a dildo, since it’s broken. This one is working, and it’s waterproof.”

I turned it on and it began buzzing. I held it against her bare arm.

“Can you think of any use for a working one?” I asked with a smile.

I knew it wouldn’t take any time at all for her to figure out a use for it.

“Oh, thank you daddy,” she said, giving me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

After dinner, she sat on my lap, playing with her vibrator, turning the dial to various speeds.

“I can’t wait to try it out,” she said.

“I bet you can’t.”

“Do you want to watch?”

“No, you go ahead.”

“Please, daddy. Show me how to use it.”

“I’m sure you can figure it out better than me. You’ll have to experiment to see what speed and pressure and location works best for you.”

She went into her room, and came back with her dildo and lubricant. She sat back in my lap and put her feet up next to mine on the ottoman, as I put my arm around her shoulder to support her. As usual, she had politely listened to my instructions, then proceeded to do what she wanted. She wanted a spectator, and it appeared she would have one.

Leaning back against my chest, the scent of her hair filled my head. Looking down, I had a perfect view of her spectacular body. Her tiny tits, topped with her pink, hard nipples. Her slim, flat tummy. Just the faintest wisp of blond peach fuzz covering her pussy lips.

“The new ones bigger than the other one,” she said.

“Um Hmm. I’ll be glad to get you different sizes, if you want. I don’t want you going into the adult store. Just tell me if it’s too big.”

“It’s soft too. Yet firm. Just like you,” she said, laughing. “You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, it’s a gel product. It’s supposed to be more life-like.”

She lubricated it and began moving it up and down her slit. She turned it on; the vibrations startled her at first. She turned it down and continued rubbing it up and down the length of her slit. When her outer lips began to enlarge and part, she pressed the tip against her opening and gently pushed. It was thicker than her other one, which she had grown accustomed to, and didn’t fit as easily. She made little grunting noises each time it slipped in a little further. She turned the speed up and continued working it in.

Her knees were bent and she spread them as far as she could, draping them over my legs. My dick had gotten rock hard and was sticking straight up between her legs, just below her crotch. She bumped against my dick as she tried to get the vibrator deeper and deeper in her little, virgin pussy.

“My God, had her mother been this needy, and I was just too stupid to recognize it?” I thought.

My mind drifted to those early days. I had always been so horny, so urgently needy. Had I missed seeing Chris as a sensual creature that just needed some understanding, some patience, some love? I always thought of her as cold and hard. But when I remembered the days before we were married, she was probably much like Christie is now. What happened to that girl? Was she living with me all along, and I was too wrapped up in my own schedule and my own needs to give her what she wanted? She looked exactly like Christie, when I first met her.

I looked at Christie, imagining her mother at nineteen, rubbing her clit as I pumped in and out of her. Her vibrator was almost all the way buried in her pussy, buzzing at top speed. Most women live their entire lives without experiencing the pleasure of having their G-spot stimulated. Christie didn’t even know what a G-spot was, but her new vibrator filled her so completely, it was buzzing directly on it. The sensations were unlike anything she had ever felt.

“Touch me, daddy, touch me,” she sobbed. “Please, touch me.”

I put my hands on her breasts, rubbing up and down, feeling the stiff nipples bend. I took each nipple between a thumb and forefinger, and gently stretched them. I pulled them out; they were impossibly long and stiff. She was sobbing and panting. Sensations flooded her from her nipples and her pussy, washing in wave after wave, mingling together, confusing her mind. She couldn’t tell where the pleasure was, her entire body sang with her waves of pleasure.

She was shaking, her butt wiggling with her impending orgasm. She touched her clit, and immediately began convulsing. She cried out, she panted, she sobbed, she moaned. Liquid oozed from her cunt, ejaculate, as her G-spot orgasm released fluid from her urethra. I continued pulling and stretching her nipples, in awe at what I was seeing. Her entire body was flushed. Each contraction of her pussy pushed a few drops of ejaculate out.

I let go of one of her breasts and touched myself. I knew it was wrong to touch myself in front of my daughter, no matter how indiscrete she was, but I was powerless to think clearly. Leaning back in my chair, my stiff dick was poking out between her legs, pointing toward her chest. I closed my eyes as I touched it, the lightest of touches. It felt so fucking good. My mind drifted away as I touched it again. My balls and dick convulsed in spasms and a thick stream of cum shot onto my little girl’s crotch and belly. Long, thick streams of cum covered her. Some ran down my dick and covered my scrotum, dripping onto my chair.

The relief was indescribably wonderful. I lay with my eyes closed, unable to move or think. She was panting and shuddering. She finally switched off the vibrator, but left it in. She began crying.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

She didn’t answer for a long time.

“I think I peed,” she finally said.

“No you didn’t, that’s like when I squirt. Smell it, it’s different than pee.”

“I know you squirted,” she said, smiling, as she rubbed my cum on her belly.