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Chapter Two: Youthful Beginnings
Life for me started when I was twelve years old. That’s when I started to feel my tits growing and other funny things happening deep in the pit of my stomach – and deep inside me between my legs. Suddenly I was desperate to grow up. I knew there was something I wanted, but I didn’t know what. I wanted to explore and to understand the nice, strange and funny feelings developing in my body and in my mind. Boys suddenly changed from being irrelevant, funny creatures, becoming really stupid, funny creatures instead, but I wanted them to look at me even although I didn’t want them to touch me. Actually, I was very naďve and, believe it or not, I really didn’t know that them touching me was even part of the agenda. I knew nothing about what was happening to me, to my body, and I simply knew nothing about sex.
I didn’t have a mother to tell me all about these things, you see. I didn’t know it at the time, but she had disappeared not long after I was born, leaving my Daddy to pick up the pieces. He did.
He is a great Daddy. I love him.
He taught me how to look after myself, he taught me confidence, he taught me to make decisions and stick by them. He taught me to be patient with myself and with other people, but also how to identify and avoid people who are trouble, or a pain in the neck.
In short he taught me everything I need to know to cope, to get on, and to be a success in the world.
But in those early days he couldn’t teach me about what was happening in my body. Obviously he could tell me the technical stuff, but didn’t know how to explain my changing feelings, physical and emotional, from a girl’s or a woman’s point of view. How could he?
But he did teach me the big important thing about sex.
Anything you like is good. Anything you don’t like is bad. Some things are good sometimes and bad at other times. Take care, be true to yourself, and try any damn thing you fancy.
He also taught me to be careful, obviously against crazy, dangerous and diseased people, and also the importance of keeping some things to myself. The world is full of dangerous, jealous people; nosey, prying neighbours; fellow students, interfering work colleagues, you know the kind, who will make all kinds of trouble for you if they can. So his lesson was; do whatever the hell you want to, but be cool. Keep your private sex life just that; keep it private from these small-minded, prying bastards.
So he didn’t mind when, at the age of twelve, I used to squat over puddles without knickers on to see if there was any sign of the dark pubic hair I so desperately wanted to have. He reckoned that my interest in my body was my prerogative, and fixed a big mirror on the floor of my bedroom for me to kneel or stand over, to make it easier for me to check on my developing maturity, and so I could do it in private. That way people wouldn’t see, and talk, harassing both of us unnecessarily.
When I was fourteen, he didn’t mind when he found me showing off my body to the boy next door, letting him watch me from his bedroom as I played on my swing, wearing a nothing but the lightest of clothing; a ridiculously loose top which kept “accidentally” falling from my shoulders, displaying my small but developing tits, and a semi-transparent flaring underskirt which billowed up to my waist as I leant back to swing to and fro. After I’d explained that I had an great secrecy deal going with the boy, who I was effectively blackmailing, he complimented me on the set up, and suggested that it would actually be more of a tease to sometimes wear panties on the swing. He also occasionally moved the swing around the garden for me so I could show off different bits of myself from different angles. I especially enjoyed it when I knew my neighbour could see straight down my top even when I was sitting still, and when I was facing the other way; well, doesn’t every girl like to show off her legs and have men looking up her skirt?
As I got older, he freely admitted that he liked it when I occasionally helped him in the garden wearing only a pair of shoes, a pair of gloves, and a silly hat, and he even didn’t mind when, as a crazy nude and nubile sixteen year old, I tried to make a snowman lover in the garden. He just ran a hot shower for me and fixed a steaming cup of chocolate when I finally admitted defeat and came in from the freezing cold. And gave me a knowing smile and a pair of boots next time!
But telling you about showing off for my Daddy or the boy next door is pretty tame stuff. You’re really only interested in how my Daddy and I started performing the filthy, unspeakable and downright dirty, incestuous sex acts we’ve discovered we both enjoy. Morality? Who cares? Who are we hurting? No one! Legality? We’re very careful, and live by his code, and keep it quiet. We very carefully keep things to ourselves.
It all started one sunny afternoon just after he’d bought the summer cottage in the French countryside. It is quite remote and the garden is completely walled. No one can see in.
We were spending the summer there, away from the city. I was seventeen and horny as hell. He was sitting in the shade of a tree, wearing shorts and a loose white shirt and I was sunbathing naked. I was prattling on about school, exams, and the work that needed doing in the new garden. We had talked about maybe moving permanently to this idyllic spot, and I made a joke about whether there would be enough snow in this part of France for me to make a snowman again, but he seemed restless, not really listening and joining in the conversation. He kept glancing at me and then looking away.
Then he suddenly stood up and turned away from me, walking quickly towards the house.
“I’ll be back in a moment”, he said, over his shoulder.
“Get me a cold drink, too, Dad”, I called after him, and I lay back down in the hot sun, and then rolled over onto my front to allow my back and bum to tan a little too. After a few minutes I spread my legs open too, to even up the soft tan colour inside my thighs.
Then the heat became just too much for me and I got up and walked into the kitchen to find my Dad hurriedly trying to pull his shorts and boxers back up over what was obviously a huge and painful erection. I was naked, and in bare feet, so he hadn’t heard me coming into the house.
“Daddy!” I said, quietly.
He blushed very deeply and tried to turn away from me but I stopped him. For the first time ever he couldn’t look me in the eye, and this frightened me a little. My Dad had always been straight with me about everything.
“Daddy,” I said again, “What’s wrong?”
After a pause, he took a deep breath and turned to face me. He was still very red in the face and very embarrassed, but he managed to look straight at me, and say,
“I was masturbating, Baby.”
“But why, Daddy?”
I was a horny little bitch, and I knew that I enjoyed showing off in front of him, wearing very little, or sunbathing naked, but it really had simply never occurred to me that he might find me exciting. I was his little girl, his sweet, and innocent, well maybe not so innocent, daughter; he was my smart, dependable, safe, old Daddy. He was over forty, for God’s sake, and therefore immune from sex for life. But in a flash I realised that I was the reason.
He said,
“You, Baby Girl, are no longer a little Baby Girl, in fact you are now a beautiful young woman, and you’re going to have to start being decently dressed when I’m around. I’m sorry, I know it’s wrong, but looking at you today, I just can’t control it any longer. Looking at you excites me. I can’t have you, you’re my sweet, sweet Baby Girl, and I shouldn’t want you that way. But just today, it’s so hot, and you’re just so naked, so slim, so perfect, so sexy….”
He couldn’t finish.
Heart suddenly pounding, I thought for a moment, then replied,
“Daddy, you’ve always taught me that I should do things I like, and not do things I don’t like. I like being naked, and I love being naked around you. I like it when you look at me. Sure, we’re father and daughter, and lots of folks, and the cops, would say it’s wrong, but what the hell, if we keep it to ourselves, who’s going to know? It’s my fault. Please let me finish what I’ve started. It’s only fair to you.”
It was a really difficult moment right then as I watched my Dad struggle between what he so obviously wanted – me - and doing what the remains of the crumby, puritan morality he still had from his upbringing was telling him was “the right thing”. It was so awful! He’d worked so hard to try to make sure I wasn’t contaminated by the malicious, Puritanical conventions that religion, society, and the law conspire together to foist on us, and he’s succeeded, but he was still mired in its tenacious, evil grip himself.
So, as I said earlier, I’m not so innocent. I took a chance.
“Don’t move,” I instructed him, and shot out of the kitchen to return in seconds wearing my new sandals, my first pair of leather, high-heeled sandals. Years later I still wear them when we’re together, and they’re actually still too high for me to walk in comfortably. There’s only a tiny loop for my big toe, and a thin strap that buckles round my ankle, so it’s like I’m walking on stilts but with bare feet. They make my legs look fabulous, and throw my weight forward, which flattens my already smooth stomach, which in turn accentuates my bum and tits. I look, and feel, as sexy as hell and about ten feet tall in them.
Then I did the sluttiest thing my young mind could think of. Cradling each of my tits in my cupped hands I stroked my stiff nipples with my thumbs as I stood as straight as I could in front of him, spread my legs a little, and asked him,
“How do I look, Daddy? Now I’ve got these shoes do you think I should shave my entire vagina, or just trim it a bit?
And that did it. Freedom, and commonsense, triumphed over the small-minded Puritanism of his upbringing, and he unfastened his waistband and kicked his shorts clear. I lifted his shirt clean over his head as he bent down to pull his boxer shorts down so they too dropped to his ankles before he kicked them clear too. And so, standing side by side, both of us naked except for my new sexy sandals, I grasped my father’s cock in both hands and moved my hands slowly up and down. He shut his eyes and started to breathe heavily.
I turned to face him and moved closer so that my tits pressed against his chest. He could feel them move against his body as I slid my hands up and down his cock. Then I slowed down and continued to wank him with one hand; with the other I caught his hands and moved one of them round to my arse, the other I pushed down between us to the lips of my cunt. I whispered in his ear.
“Abuse me,” and slipped my hand back down to gently cup and squeeze his balls.
My heart was already beating pretty hard, but it started to really pound hard in my chest when I felt him follow my instruction, as one, then two, then three of his fingers gently fingered the lips of my cunt with one hand, and with the other he let one finger slide deep into the crack between my soft, smooth bum cheeks to find my most intimate entrance, my arsehole. He softly circled my rosebud, pausing to tease my sphincter muscles and stroking the very lips of this, my most intimate of private parts, and we stood there, his fingers gently violating my cunt and arse, as I relaxed my grip on his cock, and wanked him between just the fingers and thumb of one hand, and cradled his balls with the other.
He looked me straight in the eyes.
“Let me do it against your belly, Baby Girl. It’ll free your hands.”
So I let go his cock and balls and he simply pressed them against the gentle swell of my soft, smooth stomach, and with my legs a little wider apart, I rhythmically bent and straightened my knees to rub my body up and down against him. Feeling his hardness pressing in to my soft flesh was the most exciting thing I’d ever experienced. We still sometimes do it that way, and it’s still wonderful for both of us.
I stretched round behind him and with fingers of both hands, gently squeezed his arse cheeks, easing them apart. Then, using a finger from each hand, I gently stroked and teased his anus, copying the circling and soft probing movements I could so intoxicatingly feel happening to my own bum hole. Much later we were reminiscing about this first time, and, laughing, Daddy said that he felt that at last, all my expensive piano lessons were paying off!
We stood there for some minutes, fingering each other’s arses, and it felt wonderfully dirty and exciting to stand there in the kitchen, both of us naked, playing with each other’s most forbidden places. At the same time I was moving my whole body up and down against my Daddy’s, masturbating him against my smooth belly as he pushed his fingers round and round the lips of my now dripping cunt. The smell of my sex and the sounds of our quiet groans filled the room. Even in my youthful ignorance I could see that things were coming to a head!
I saw him shut his eyes and he gave a kind of a shudder and pushed his cock even harder, thrusting it against my belly, as though he was trying to push it into me. I looked down, and suddenly there it was; a spray of his sticky, pale fluid squirted from the tip of his cock, all over our stomachs, and as I gazed down in delight at this depraved sight, more and more of it kept appearing. I kept moving myself up and down against him, but he was also really moving now, squeezing forward against me with his whole body, almost lifting me off my feet and causing me to fall over. I kept my legs moving, rubbing myself up and down against him until he took his hand away from my cunt and quickly grabbed both my bum cheeks in his hands and pulled my pelvis hard against his cock and he lifted me up bodily and with a deep grunt spent himself on me, squeezing himself into me as he flooded more and more of his sweet, hot spunk to glisten on to my soft, tanned stomach.
Presently his cock stopped erupting over me, and we both stood still, breathing heavily as our sweat and his spunk mixed and trickled down our bodies. We just stood there, holding each other tight, for ages, not talking, and just breathing. I felt his cock gradually go soft and slip from between our slippery, slimy bodies. We stepped apart and his gaze was fixed on my body where his hot sexual fluid trickled slowly down my abdomen. Without thinking, I put my hands on my hips and posed for him with my legs wide open. His cum slipped freely through my thin pubic hair; remember, I had only just turned seventeen and didn’t really have a properly mature bush at the top of my legs yet, and a few drops dripped down from my cunt lips to the floor.
We both started talking at once, both trying to apologise. I won.
“Daddy, I should apologise. I thought that by being naked I was doing what you wanted, being “true to myself”, and all that, but I realise that I was really just being dirty, I was just enjoying leading you on. I suppose I thought you were kind of immune. I simply never thought that you would find me exciting that way, so what we’ve just done was really my fault, not yours. Sorry. It won’t let it happen again.”
His answer took my breath away.
“Baby Girl, that’s the first sex I’ve had in over sixteen years, since long before your mother ran off. It was wonderful. Thank you.”
He took a deep breath and smiled, and to my surprise and delight, he continued:
“Please, let’s do it again. If you like, anytime we’re together, just the two of us, please lead me on as much as you like.”
And so, dear reader, that was how it all started.
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