Message-ID: <41994asstr$1050995408@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <200304220230.h3M2UF0f054000@mailserver2.hushmail.com> From: X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 21 Apr 2003 19:30:15 -0700 Subject: {ASSM} Wynter: Daddy's Nurse 02/02 {Hoisington} (Mg rom inc g-soloM g-solo) x-asstr-message-id-hack: 41994 Date: Tue, 22 Apr 2003 03:10:08 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, gill-bates -----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- Hash: SHA1 This story is copyright 2003 by Russell Hoisington. Please do not remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial (free) sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. WYNTER KING: DADDY'S LITTLE NURSE by Russell Hoisington Four of Six Wynter gently removed Richard's pajama bottoms, wiped most of the semen off his penis and scrotum with them, and put them in the washer to soak. She reclined him at a forty-five degree angle and fetched a washcloth, a dispenser of liquid soap, and basin of warm water to finish cleaning him. She wheeled the bedside table into place, put her load on it, and hopped onto the bed beside him. He'd seemed to recognize that she was struggling with something, so he had remained quiet as she sorted her thoughts while soaping his penis. As she began wiping it with the washcloth she found her courage. In a hesitant voice she said, "Daddy, I -- I have a question. If you don't mind." He gave her an exaggerated frown. "After all that, you have only one?" She looked up at the funny look on his face and giggled, releasing her nervous concern that he might object. "Nah. I have a bunch of 'em." "Ah!" he said. "Then that's more like it. What do you want to know? And Wynter, you can ask anything you want. I'll try to answer the best I can." She smiled and turned back to the task in hand. "Tell me if I wash too hard," she said. Then the smile faded. "Daddy, did looking down my top help?" - Richard blinked in surprise. For a moment he wondered how to answer that. Wynter had, of her own volition, just given him a handjob -- and one of the most satisfying handjobs he'd ever had -- because she was concerned for him, for his comfort and need. She had done so not out of prurient interest, of that he was certain, or because she wanted something, but simply because she cared about him. She deserved no less than the most honest answers he could give her, for this and all other questions. "Yes," he said. "Honey, I'm really sorry if that embarrassed you." She shook her head. "No. Not really. But how did it help?" She turned to rinse the cloth in the basin before resuming her task. "It's kind of hard to explain, honey. Different guys get turned on by different things. I'm what other guys call a 'tit man.' I like to look at women's breasts of all shapes and sizes, and especially on the pretty ones like you." - She sat a little straighter and smiled. "So, you liked them?" "Oh, yes. Definitely. Actually, I could see the outlines through your top when you turned on the light. That made me very horny. You know; turned me on. I could barely keep it down. Then I saw one through the sleeve opening and...." His voice trailed off. "Uh, oh." She froze in mid-stroke, afraid to move. "What's wrong? Am I doing it wrong? Does it hurt?" "No, honey, it definitely doesn't hurt. It feels REALLY good when you wash it, and that plus the thought of what your breasts looked like are starting to turn me on again." A look of surprise crossed her face, but she forced it into what she hoped was a grownup expression. "Then I'm doing okay?" "Oh, yes! In fact, if you aren't careful it might get hard again." Her brows arched. "Really?" As he nodded, she smiled brightly and looked at his limp noodle to see if she could see any change in its size. Finding none, she resumed wiping it in silence, rinsed the rag again, and asked in as conversational a tone as she could manage, "What does it feel like when you get -- turned on?" He shrugged. "It's probably the same for me as it is for you." Wynter avoided his eyes. "I don't know what that is," she said in a quiet voice. "Mother didn't tell me." Her father watched her for a moment, his mouth open in surprise. "You don't know?" She shook her head. "Honey, have you ever -- uh, masturbated?" Her voice was almost inaudible. "Mother didn't tell me how to do that, either." "Well, most mothers don't. You haven't learned to do it on you own?" Wynter's eyes were moist as she looked into his and said, "No." Was this something she was supposed to teach herself, but had been such a child that she hadn't done so yet? But she didn't have the first clue as to how to begin. She didn't have a penis-thingy she could grasp the way she did her father's. - Richard guessed her thoughts. "Well, a lot of girls don't," he said, hoping she didn't ask how many since he had no clue to the percentages. "I would guess, based on what your mother and other women have said, that it's probably an empty or itchy feeling up between your legs, especially near the front. A feeling that demands some sort of attention." Her hands stilled. "Is that what that weird feeling is?" she asked. "I've felt it before, but I didn't know what it was. Some times it won't go away for hours." Richard was amazed at what she did and did not know. Surely she had friends who had by now discovered the delights of fingering the furrow. But, of course, Wynter spent much time isolated from them. His and Angie's needs were fulfilled by their jobs and their home. They hadn't consciously considered what Wynter's needs might be. Guilt swept over him, and not the guilt from letting his daughter handjob his joint to orgasm. "Well," he said softly, "now you know what you can do about it." She shrugged. "But I don't know HOW. I wish your hands were loose so you could show me." That did it. The image that rushed into his mind rushed a torrent of blood into his cock. She felt movement in her hand and dropped her eyes to watch his erection sprout. "That has to be the neatest thing I've EVER seen," she said with a trace of awe. She squirmed and added, "Daddy, that feeling is back. Am I getting turned on, too?" The apology for erecting again died in his throat. "Probably. Well, this time you can do something about it." He hoped he didn't sound as eager to watch that happen as he actually was. Then he moaned as her hand encircled his rigid rod and pumped a few cautious strokes. "Didn't I get enough out of you the first time?" Richard explained the difference between sexual excitement and seminal pressure, and how they weren't related. "So it's a reaction to an emotional need, not a physical one. Understand?" "I guess," Wynter said. She no longer made any attempt to avoid looking at her father's -- her patient's -- throbbing penis-thingy. His erection. She gazed at it openly and without embarrassment as her hand moved to show it from several angles. "But how come I feel it -- I guess that's what it is -- since I don't have any emotional need like you do with Mother gone?" Richard shook his head. Wynter had always been brilliant, but sometimes she couldn't see a floodlight shining in her eyes. "Honey, I don't think you understand. Your mind and body are telling you that you DO have an emotional need." As her eyes lifted to stare at him, her hand lifted his pole and started jacking it with slow, gentle strokes. "But I'm not, well, having to do without." Richard laughed gently. "You said you weren't masturbating. If you aren't hiding a boyfriend in your closet and letting him out at night, then you ARE doing without." "DADDY!" She flushed a brilliant scarlet and looked away. "'Daddy?' I thought I was your patient. Honey, your hormones are doing more to your body than just making your breasts grow and turning you into a woman. Well, no, I guess that those feelings are a part of them turning you into a woman. Anyway, they're what's causing the feeling." "Oh." Wynter dropped the subject and began stroking his stiff stick, causing him to abandon the topic as well. The soft moan escaping from his throat made her smile. After several seconds her eyes wandered back to his. A thought struck her. "Would it help if you looked at my, uh -- at me again?" She winced when she realized how childish she must have sounded. Richard discovered he was staring at her top, trying to see through it. He met her eyes. "Honey, not if it makes you uncomfortable." "I already said it didn't," Wynter reminded him, a smile flickering across her lips. And it didn't. In fact, the thought was causing the itch between her legs to intensify. She guessed that must be what it was like when he looked at her boobies. Her breasts, she corrected herself, not wanting to sound like a child. Her TITS. That thought caused the odd itch to surge in intensity. She squeezed her thighs together involuntarily and released his rod long enough to strip her top off over her head and flip her hair back. Richard's eyes feasted on his lovely daughter's half-naked body as she twisted to show herself from several angles. She was long in the torso, the way he was, and slender like her mother, with arms that were skinny like a child's. The interplay of light and shadow made her ribs stand out below the small, wide-spaced hemispheres that looked soft, yet firm at the outer edges of her chest. Darker pink, quarter-sized circles drew his eyes to the small, round nipples that stood out as if inviting lips and fingers to caress, to worship them. Her waist pinched in between her ribcage and her hips. Above the top of her pajama panties, her navel sat at the top of a small mound of -- muscle or baby fat? He wished his hands were free to determine the nature of the filling under the smooth, creamy skin. And what lovely skin! Either she used moisturizer all over her body, or the dry mountain air hadn't begun to affect her the way it had Angie and himself. Her skin glowed with a smooth, translucent softness that made him want to sandpaper his fingertips to make them more sensitive before he stroked them over the surface of her body, her arms, her legs, her face. "Honey, you are absolutely beautiful," he said, unable to keep a tone of awe from his voice. "I mean, I knew you were pretty, but a field of columbines growing in front of a waterfall would pale in comparison." As he expected, she ducked her head and blushed at the comparison to her two favorite things. While she enjoyed compliments, she never knew how to react to them. he told himself. His list was growing. Richard wished desperately that his arms, or at least his hands, were free of the casts and that they were large enough to touch her everywhere at once, the way he wished his eyes could focus on every square inch of her at once. Later he would wonder what she looked like under the pajama panties. At the moment, what he could see was more than enough to fuel his desire for a month. She was a superb blend of innocence and eroticism, the innocence of youthful beauty and the eroticism of blossoming sexuality. he thought. She reached for his dick and began pumping again. he wondered. She froze when he suddenly laughed. "It's okay," he said. "I just thought of something funny, sort of a variation on an old joke." She gave him an uncertain look. He told her what it was and then had to explain it to her. She looked confused but relieved. Apparently she had thought he was laughing at her, and he remembered her emotional roller coaster. "Never mind about the joke," he said. "We'll discuss it later. You're doing just fine, honey. It feels every bit as wonderful as you look." Wynter blushed again and whispered, "Thank you," so quietly that he read it on her lips more than he heard it. Realizing she had slumped in girlish embarrassment, she straighten, thrusting her -- her TITS out for her patient to see. She squeezed her legs together because of that dratted itch as she turned to unblock the view caused by her right arm crossed over her body. The combination caused her thighs to rub THAT place and send a small, pleasant wave throughout her body, but she forgot about it when she realized she was in danger of bumping the suspended cast of her father's left arm. She switched hands. "I'm sorry," she said after a minute. "I have trouble keeping the beat with my left hand. Do you want me to move to the other side of the bed where I can use the right one." The question brought Richard back from teetering on the brink of release. "No, honey, that's not necessary. I know sex has been called The Symphony of Love,' but you don't have to stick to any beat. You can think of it as a syncopated symphony, if that helps." "Okay," she said in a small voice, wondering if her ignorance had made her seem childlike again. Well, one thing was for sure: hunching down every time she made a stupid mistake certainly made her seem so. Again she straightened and thrust her tits -- the word sounded strangely grown up to her and made her itch tingle more - -- forward for him, flipping back the hair that had crept around her shoulders when she hunched like a child. She watched her father's eyes roam about her body, always returning to her tits before wandering down another path. Every time they returned to her tits, the tip of his tongue crept out and swept along his lips. That triggered a forgotten thought which triggered a surge in the odd itching sensation. It was something she'd heard her mother say one night when she couldn't sleep and was about to knock on their bedroom door. "Daddy, would you like to suck my tits?" She hoped her. voice wasn't as soft as it had sounded to her. "Oh, yes, honey!" he said in a gasp. "Oh yes! Oh, fuck! I'm CUMMING!" His penis-thingy swelled and began throbbing in her hand, the way it had when he had shot his semen earlier. Susie Middleton had told her that word. Susie didn't know what it meant, but she said that it was a naughty word that only grownups said to each other, and Wynter had better not use it around them. But Daddy had used it with her, just like she was a grownup. She smiled and swelled with pride just like his penis-thingy had swelled with -- with what? She guessed it was the semen that made it swell up, since it went down after he shot it out. And shoot it out he did! Again she held it to shoot upward, and again it splashed down all hot and wet and thick and sticky over her hand and wrist and his belly and legs. There wasn't as much as before, but she was still surprised at the amount. Even though it was one of the most exciting things she'd ever seen, she worried that the quantity meant she hadn't done it right the first time. Wynter continued to pump her small, slick fist up and down the shrinking tube until he opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Honey, that felt even better than the last time. You can stop now, because it's starting to get too sensitive." Fear crossed her face. "Am I hurting you?" He laughed weakly. "Not at all. It feels really, REALLY good when you keep rubbing after I cum, but after a while my dick gets too sensitive. I have to tell you when that is, and then you can stop before it hurts." He looked sleepy, but there was another, happier, look on his face that she hadn't seen since his accident. Not counting, of course, after the first time he -- he CAME. And he'd called his penis his DICK. She wondered if she should start a notebook of all these new terms and what they meant so that she could use them properly. "Oh, good grief!" he said in an exaggerated, playful voice. "I've really made a mess, and you'd just finished cleaning me up. I must be the most difficult patient you've ever had." "Yep," she agreed with a bright smile that showed her perfect teeth. "I can truthfully say that except for Dragon, I've never had a worse one." - ----------------------------------------------------------------- Five of Six Dragon decided it was time for his early morning trip outside. Wynter let him out while she replaced the cold water in the basin with warm water and rinsed the wash cloth which held most of her father's semen. She put her hair in a ponytail and went back to the kitchen to let Dragon in. He paused at his water bowl, but stopped drinking and tore across the kitchen floor when Wynter disappeared down the hall. She opened her father's bedroom curtains. They watched in silence as the heavy snowflakes tumbled down from the gray sky. After a few moments she returned to his bedside. Since it was warm in the room, and since looking at her tits made her father happy -- and that other word, 'HORNY,' she left her top off, thinking she could put it back on if he said anything negative. She could just pretend she had forgotten all about it. She washed and rinsed his -- his DICK, he'd called it; another word to remember -- and cleaned away the other traces of his semen. This time his dick stayed soft, though she noticed he spent much of the time looking at her tits. Perhaps this time she had done her job correctly. But she couldn't know unless she asked. She didn't replace his pajama bottoms because he said she would have to bathe him after breakfast and would just have to remove them again. She put the wash rag in the bowl, toweled him dry, and sat on the edge of the bed, carefully turning to give him a good view of her boobies -- no, her tits. She looked him in the eye, because that's what grownups would do, though she desperately wanted to look anywhere else. "I have a stupid question." His green eyes were looking directly into her blue-green ones, just like she was another grownup, but the smile that spread across his face was part of the loving gaze that a father gives his daughter. She hoped that fathers gave that same look to grownup daughters because it made a warm, tingly feeling spread throughout her, and she never, ever wanted to stop seeing it. "Honey, there's no such thing as a stupid question." Her face melted into a sorrowful look that made him want to hold her in his arms and comfort her. "Well, this one is 'cause I don't know the answer." Despite himself, he laughed. "Wynter, if you knew the answer, you wouldn't have to ask the question. If you asked anyway, then THAT might qualify as a stupid question." She shrugged. "I just -- I feel so ignorant about things I should already know." He understood. "Really? Do you know how to do an F-seventh augmented fifth chord?" "Sure." "I don't. I don't know how to make any chords on a piano. I don't know an F-seventh augmented fifth from a C-major." Her face brightened and grew animated. "I can show you. Just as soon as you get the casts off, I can ...." "Maybe later," he said, cutting her off gently. "But since I don't know the difference, does that make me ignorant?" "Well, no." "Of course it does. No, let me finish. Being ignorant of something just means nobody has taught you YET." He emphasized the last word to be sure she heard it and understood. "Honey, everybody is ignorant of a whole lot of things, but over time they become less ignorant because they learn new stuff. Look how much you've learned since you woke up yesterday morning." Wynter thought about that, then became angry with herself as she felt her cheeks warming. She sat straighter and thrust her tits forward, hoping they would keep him from seeing that her face was blushing like a child's. His eyes dipped to look at them, but quickly returned to hers. "Wynter, it's not the same thing as being stupid, where people tell you things over and over and over and you still don't remember them. Smart is trying to learn the answers to your questions; stupid is living in ignorance when you don't have to. So don't you EVER be afraid to ask somebody a question because you want to learn something. Especially of me. Okay?" "Okay," she said in a small voice. "I love you, Daddy. Thanks for helping me." "I love you, too, honey. Helping each other is what family and love and all that mushy stuff is about. Now: what's the question? Let's get it answered so we can get on to breakfast!" He gave her a wink and a grin. Her head dipped slightly and a small smile spread across her sweet lips, causing the corners of her eyes to crinkle. The smile faded. "Why did you get, uh -- horny? -- erected that second time. Is it because I didn't to a good enough job the first time, 'n' all the semen I missed made it stiff again?" "We're going to bypass college and go straight to graduate school, eh?" The warm feeling tingled through her whole body again. Whenever her father said that, it was because she had surprised him with a grownup question, not something a child might ask. It really WASN'T a stupid question after all! He made a face. "If you'll scratch the side of my nose where it itches, I guess I'll have to go on a diet long enough to answer all your questions. Uh, you do have more than one question, don't you?" - Breakfast was late because her father had spent over an hour talking with her and answering all of her questions. He didn't try to hurry her, and he didn't duck away from any answers. She couldn't believe how wrong some of her assumptions had been, but he told her that her assumptions made perfect sense based on the knowledge she had at the time. Some people, he'd said, could watch the sun rise in the east all their lives and still assume that it might rise in the west tomorrow, ignoring what they knew. She thought of more questions while she cooked breakfast. He answered those while they ate. She liked the way he talked to her as if she were a grownup, but still managed to tease her just enough to show that he loved her and was trying to make her comfortable. It was like the way he teased Mother. She thought about that while she loaded the dishwasher and then brushed his teeth and shaved him. When she was a nurse and had to train students, or when she was a mother and needed to train her children, she wanted to talk to them just the way her father was talking to her so that they would feel comfortable and would want to learn from her. Then it was time to fetch the bedpan. After all that had happened since she became his nurse, that was less difficult than either anticipated. She put the empty bedpan back in its place, gave him more coffee, and then kissed him before excusing herself to take her shower before his sponge bath. The most difficult part of sponge-bathing him was removing and replacing his armless, one-legged pajamas because of the suspended casts. She took much longer than Mrs. Carter did, but he said that she also caused him much less discomfort. After that praise, her feet didn't touch the floor for hours. Wynter also took extra precautions to insure that she didn't wet the plaster casts and was gentle where the stitches had been removed the day he came home. By the time she was finished it was almost noon. She was buttoning his pajama tops when her mother called from Geneva. She barely had time to tell her mother that she was now the nurse when the cell phone rang. She held the handset to Richard's ear with one hand and answered the cell phone with the other. It was Nurse Carter. "I was worried," Mrs. Carter explained. "I hadn't heard from you, and then when I tried calling on the house phone I got a busy signal." "Mother called. Daddy's talking to her now. We're doing great so far. He says I've been a good nurse. He says I'm a natural!" She thought she heard Mrs. Carter laugh softly. "Well, I've been telling you that, too, haven't I? And that you'd also be a natural at being a doctor, too, if you wanted to go to medical school?" "Yes, ma'am," she admitted, keeping her eyes on the handset she was holding to her father's ear. "But everything's okay here. We had breakfast, 'n' I gave Daddy his pills after I checked all his vital signs, just the way you showed me how to do them, 'n' I wrote everything on the forms. Everything was normal. I just finished his sponge bath. Oh, he's taking ibu... - -- i-bu-pro-fin instead of his pain pills because he wants to save those in case he needs them 'n' you can't get back here yet." She was gushing. She told herself to slow down and speak professionally. "Very good," Mrs. Carter said. "Sheriff White said they should have the road clear late tomorrow afternoon, but I may have to park by the mailbox and walk the rest of the way. Did you have any problems with the bedpan or the urinal, since he's your father?" Wynter liked the crisp, professional tone that Mrs. Carter used. She sounded just like one grownup nurse talking to another. "No, ma'am. But he's not my father, he's my patient." Again she thought she heard a soft laugh, but the cell phone always had some static noise here, and Wynter couldn't be sure. "That's exactly the way to handle it," she said. "You really are a natural." "Actually, it was his idea," she confessed. "Only because he thought of it first. I know you. You'd have realized it yourself if you'd had some time to think about it. Can you interrupt to ask if he needs anything from me?" He didn't. "That's nurse business," he explained. "You have to handle that. I'm just the patient, after all, and you are my professional." Wynter's heart suddenly felt as if it were too big for her chest as the warm tingly feeling spread throughout her body again. "I guess that's all now. No, wait. When you talk to Dr. Taylor, ask him what's the soonest we can get Daddy's fingers out of the casts." She had been afraid that Mrs. Carter would ask why, and she didn't know what she would say in reply, but there was no question. Mrs. Carter must have assumed that there was a good reason, and that was enough for her. - Ellen Carter stared at the phone on her desk, leaned back in her chair, and silently sipped her honeyed tea. Nervous tension slowly seeped away. She was certain that she'd have heard it in Wynter's voice, even over the noisy connection, if there had been any problems. The girl really was "a natural," but she was also a perfectionist, and her voice revealed when things weren't going perfectly. Professions with critical personnel shortages, like nursing, needed people who could do the job quickly and accurately enough for the current situation. Perfectionists, even the naturals, burned out rapidly. Ellen worried about Jack's "problem." She'd had to remove the catheter because he was having frequent erections, and it was causing him additional pain, along with the pain from the semen buildup that stretched the damaged and weakened vas deferens. That would be why he wanted his fingers free. She knew that she was within a day or so of having to find some solution for the problem, even if it meant masturbating him herself. Unfortunately, that was the only solution she could think of. Not that she'd have minded if he wasn't married. He was an attractive man, after all, with a wonderful sense of humor and a way of putting everybody at ease even before he said a word. But she couldn't afford to become involved with another married man the way she had in Pennsylvania. She liked where she was and the people around her. She didn't want to be forced into moving again. - "We'll talk about it when you get back," her father was saying as she turned the cell phone off. Her eyes jumped back and forth between the phone she was holding to her father's ear and the one she was trying to place in the charger on the night stand. "But start thinking about where." After a moment of listening, he said, "I love you and miss you, too. Here's Wynter." Her mother sounded pleased with the job she had done as the new nurse, and the warm tingly feeling spread again. Wynter gave her some of the highlights of her nursing activities, omitting any reference to certain new skills she had learned, updated Dragon's situation, reported that she had finally memorized that piano sonata, and told her what Mrs. Carter had said about the roads. She noticed that it sounded more like a conversation between grownups than their usual mother-daughter exchange. "Well, darling, I'm counting on you to keep Daddy safe and comfortable for me while you're in charge," her mother said. "If I'm lucky, I might get to come home a day or two early, and I hope so, because I really miss both of you. I found a perfect present for you yesterday, and I'll bring it, too. The silly meeting's running after dark again, and it's about to resume. I have to go. I love you." "I love you, too. Daddy and Dragon and I miss you. Bye." She hung up the phone, determined that this time the tear wouldn't trickle down her right cheek the way it had the last two times she'd spoken to her mother. Richard recognized the struggle within her. "Wynter," he said to distract her, "let's not bother with the pajama bottoms. They're too difficult to put on because of the cast, and the covers keep me warm enough anyway." She glanced to the sheet that was pulled up to his waist, happy for the distraction. "Are you sure?" "I didn't want them in the first place. They were your mother's idea, and, stupid me, I never thought to tell Ellen that I'd be happier in a hospital gown after your mother left. Besides, it's plenty warm in here. You seem to be comfortable enough without a top." He watched her eyes drop and widen. After her shower, she had donned frilly yellow pajama panties, but had left the top in the drawer. She'd been so busy that she actually had forgotten she was nude from the waist up. He was trying to forget that himself, which wasn't easy with her standing just a foot from his shoulder and him reclined at an angle that put her sweet, firm breasts at his eye level. Those beautiful, fresh young orbs, pushing their way out from her juvenile chest like new spring growth, were a mixture of child and adult that he found maddeningly enticing. And that very thought was about to awaken the Beast. "Oh. Uh, do you want me to go put my top back on?" she asked in a hesitant voice. he wanted to shout. Instead he kept his voice steady and said, "It's up to you. If you're more comfortable with it on, I understand." "Not really," she said, with a casual air that convinced him she meant it. "You said you were a 'tit man.' Well, there aren't any other tits around for you to look at. Or do you only like to look at tits when you're, uh, horny? Is that the right word?" "That's the word, though when you're in polite society instead of here alone with me, the word is 'excited' or 'aroused.'" Wynter nodded. She felt no embarrassment or unintended reprimand at his words. He had covered that aspect of the names and nicknames of sexual objects and activities in their talk earlier that morning. He wasn't correcting her; he was only "reinforcing the lesson," the way he had said all of her teachers would do in nursing school. "And as for when I enjoy looking at titties, honey I like looking at them anytime, even when I'm not horny or excited or aroused." The way he emphasized those last words and his facial expressions when he spoke them caused her to laugh. In a softer voice he added, "Sometimes just looking at them can make me horny when I'm not." Wynter's eyes shifted to his crotch, half expecting to see the sheet move. That odd, itchy sensation down THERE suddenly returned. When she looked back to his face, his eyes were on her chest and the tip of his tongue was disappearing back into his mouth. She remembered. "Daddy, when I was -- uh, jacking you off? - -- that last time, you said you'd like to suck on them, but then you -- uh, came? Do you still want to?" Richard struggled with both the physical Beast that he could feel beginning to swell and with the emotional Beast that desired his lovely pre-teen daughter. He knew that the answer had to be a resounding "No!" "More than anything else in this world," he heard himself saying, even though he wasn't finished arguing with himself. His argument might have been more successful if he had conducted it while looking at her face instead of her delicious young pink sweater-fruits. The battle between reason and desire, he suddenly realized, was unconventional warfare, and desire always fights dirty. Wynter stroked his face with her left hand and smiled. "I guess you know you'll have to talk me through it," she said, liking the way she managed to avoid sounding childish. "Huh uh!" he grunted. "Remember what I said earlier. As long as it doesn't hurt, there's no 'wrong' way. Honey, part of the fun of sex is learning about not only your partner but yourself, too. You experiment together, rather than following a script, to discover what pleases both people the most." Wynter had remembered that and was pleased with herself for having done so. "Oh, I knew THAT part," she said in her most grownup tone. "I meant you'd have to talk me through it because of your casts, 'n' the ropes 'n' things." "Oh. Well, let's see here...." Within two minutes they had the bed adjusted to an angle that placed his head where Wynter could comfortably lean forward, brace her hands on the other edge of the mattress, and have her small, pink nipples hover just above his face. The look on his face as he looked at the soft little mound in front of his nose made her heart swell with joy because she knew she was making her father -- her patient -- no, THIS was for her father -- happy. It also made the odd, itchy sensation explode down THERE. The itch grew even more worse when she saw the sheet stir with movement because his dick was hardening. She wished she could help him with that immediately, but the suspended arm casts were in the way. She would have to wait until after he was through sucking her tits. <"Sucking her tits."> She liked the grownup sound of that, but she wondered what it would feel like for her. Her nipples were sensitive, though not as sensitive as when she was about to have her "friend visit." No! That wasn't what grownups called it! Like her father had said, when she was about to have her period. She hoped that her father's sucking on her tits wouldn't be painful or even uncomfortable, but if it made him happy, she'd suffer through it as long as she could. His voice interrupted her thoughts. "Honey, you can still change your mind if you want to." She DIDN'T want to, and the sound of his voice said he didn't want her to, either. She twisted slightly at the waist, rubbing the tiny knob of her left nipple across the tip of his nose. She had just invented a new version of her special kiss for him! He let out a moan that she now recognized as desire. HORNINESS. The itch down THERE became harder to ignore, and she squeezed her sleek, slender thighs together to try strangling it. - Richard was surprised by the coolness of the hard, pink nipple that brushed across his nose. Desire flooded through him in a torrent that almost washed away his guilt over what he was about to do. He was glad that Wynter still wanted him to do this because he wasn't sure she could have stopped him if she had changed her mind. Well, that was stupid. All she had to do to stop him was stand up straight. But she didn't. And if he guessed correctly, she was as horny as he was, though she clearly didn't know what to do about it without his help. That thought triggered an onslaught of forbidden ideas that made him gasp and made his cock hard as iron as it pulled upright, tenting the sheet, and then continued on until it was aimed at his head. Despite himself, he wondered how many of those ideas he would be able to try with his daughter before Angie returned. He also wondered how he would explain them to Angie. She had correctly assumed from one of his answers that his pain had been relieved by a handjob. She had incorrectly assumed that Ellen had provided the relief, which Ellen would have done if Richard had asked her, and he was on the verge of asking for that very favor. It was why he had wanted Ellen as his nurse: he had suspected that Murphy's Law might separate him from Angie for a few days. Angie didn't mind his using Ellen for relief because she understood the sharp pain that stabbed through his groin if the built-up semen wasn't released. She also knew that release through a wet dream was rarely effective for more than a few hours. She would understand that a handjob from Ellen was simply a medical procedure. However, Angie was certain to be pissed that he'd used their own daughter. She'd get over it when she understood that Ellen was trapped in town, that he was in discomfort and Wynter knew it, and that it was Wynter's idea. Angie knew how determined Wynter would be once she realized that her father was in discomfort, if not pain, and that she might be able to help him somehow. Angie would also be pissed that he hadn't done more to discourage their daughter, but she'd eventually calm down enough to understand there was little he could do about it. She would.... The tiny hard berry of his daughter's nipple brushed across his lips, and they automatically parted to enfold it. The little pink cone and some of the surrounding velvety white pad eased into his mouth as he applied gentle suction with his tongue, stroking it from her left to right because she was leaning over him from the side. His nose drank in the faint, heady aroma of her freshly-scrubbed skin beneath the subtle bouquet of perfumed soap. He could imagine no sweeter aroma -- except, perhaps, that of her virginal young cunt. He wondered if he would find a way to test his theory. As if from a vast distance he heard the gasp of her sudden intake of breath that pushed her sweet, sweet young breast gently downward toward the suction. He'd have traded ownership of all the world for a mouth atop his head to suck the breast pressed there. He'd have traded twice that much to have his hands free. He wanted to hold his daughter, to squeeze her, to caress every part of her slender, nubile body at once. He wanted to run his fingers gently over every inch of her. He wanted to run his tongue over every inch of her. God help him he wanted, to the very core of his being, to fuck her. His hips began an autonomous primeval thrusting, rubbing the underside of his steely cock against the roughness of the sheet. If he hadn't already cum twice that morning, it would have been enough to get him off. For a moment he was almost angry, but then he was grateful. He didn't want the sheet to get him off, he wanted his daughter's gentle young hand to relieve him. Again. - Wynter was startled when her father's mouth swept around her nipple, taking it and part of her underlying tit into his mouth. Immediately afterward the wet roughness of his tongue pushed against her tender flesh and pulled across, suctioning a wonderful hollow feeling that ran from the tip of her breast -- her tit -- through her supple body to -- THERE, where the itch was. The feeling both relieved the itch and made it grow stronger. That effect THERE made her gasp, and she gently leaned into him. As her father alternated between sucking and licking, the hollow feeling throbbed. This, she knew, was being horny, and now she really understood why it was so necessary for her to give her father the relief he needed. But what about her own need? she told herself, She closed her eyes and bathed in the fascinating new sensation her father was giving her through her nipple. It flowed through her body, warm and exciting, like the feeling she got when she was treated like a grownup, but even better. Eventually she opened her eyes, and realized she was moaning softly. When had she started that? It was what her father did when she jacked him off. She really WAS horny! That's what that feeling was down THERE. Movement to her left. She looked. Her father's hard dick was outlined against the sheet, and he was slowly moving it up and down the sheet using his hips. She wondered if that's how FUCKING was done. Wait a minute. She was also thrusting her hips. They were slowly moving, just as her father's were, and she was squeezing her thighs together as she pulled back. It felt really good down THERE, near the front, where her -- her -- what was that "c"-word? -- was located. Her father was also moaning -- whimpering, really. It was in time with the rhythm of his rubbing against the sheet rather than sucking and kissing and licking her breast. "Daddy?" "Wha?" he asked without releasing her from his mouth. "Would you like me to jack you off now?" A low moan escaped from her throat as he again sucked and licked his mouthful before grunting a yes. As she lifted, he said, "But first I want to kiss and suck the other one, too, for just a second." As she moved her right breast into place he said, "Wynter, you have the sweetest titties I've ever seen. They are every bit as wonderful as the rest of you. Oh, honey, I love you so very much." "I love you, too," she said as she eased the nipple down to his mouth. She meant it with all her heart. Five minutes later she watched less than a tablespoon of cum dribble down his upright cock and over her hand. "Better?" she asked when he opened his eyes. "You bet!" His voice was exhausted but happy. "How are you doing?" She stopped stroking and let her father's dick grow soft in her hand. It wasn't as much fun as feeling it grow hard, but still it felt nice, too. "I think maybe I'm horny." "Well," he said with a yawn, "if you aren't, you did a superb job of acting like you were." "I did?" His head fell over to his shoulder, as if he hadn't the strength to keep it upright on the pillow, and he smiled at her with sleepy eyes. "Yep. It was fun watching you masturbate -- what little I could see with your chest in my face. Not that I'm complaining about the view, you understand." A look of surprise exploded across her face. "Masturbate? Me? How?" She was so surprised that the questions blurted out before she could think of a grownup way to ask them. He looked as if he were trying not to laugh, but he did, though it came out as a strangled chuckle. A flush spread against her will. It was the first time she'd blushed in over an hour. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't laughing at your question. It was the look on your face, and I shouldn't have laughed at that, either. It's something all parents do at different times, and you'll do the same with your kids someday. You'll feel bad about it afterward, just like I do now, but you'll do it. If it makes you feel better, I'll tell you a secret: you'll do it because you love them so much that you can't control it. No, that doesn't make sense, but it's true. I didn't believe Grandpa King any more than you believe me right now. You won't understand until it happens." "Daddy," she said, her eyes wide with horror, "I didn't say...." "No, you didn't SAY it, honey, but you THOUGHT it. You forget that I used to be a kid, too. I'm not so old and senile that I've forgotten those days, you know. Now: let's answer that question and then you can clean me up. "I think it's called thigh masturbation,' where the woman squeezes her legs tight against her clitoris..." "...and releases, over and over. Supposedly some women can get off while seated in a crowded room and nobody will notice. Unless she starts screaming with joy, of course." Wynter laughed, her eyes sparkling with both humor and understanding. And with joy of a different sort: her father was once again talking to her like she was a grownup. His eyes flicked to her hand still wrapped around his soft dick and the wet love goo, as he had once called it in their talk, covering both. "If you'll clean us both up, then I'll talk you through getting yourself off with your hands. It's much easier that way." "Okay." She had whispered again, like a kid. She gave him a big smile with lots of even, white teeth to let him know how she really felt. He smiled back at her, and she rose from her seat on the edge of the bed. She held her cum-slimed hand out for him to see. "There wasn't much at all this time," she said. "Well," he said, trying to look apologetic and making her giggle, "that's the third time in just one morning. I haven't done that in -- oh, I guess since before you were born. But I'll certainly make more, and you'll have to help with that, too." "Good!" she said. That had sounded like an excited child, but she didn't care. She was playing, just like he was. She bent to kiss him, first on his nose and then on his lips, holding her ponytail in her right hand while her left hand hovered aside, carefully not smearing his semen everywhere. She thought she felt his tongue gently caress her lips just before she straightened and turned for the bathroom. She wasn't certain, but it sure did leave a tingly, horny feeling THERE. In her "clitoris." Then she remembered. Susie Middleton, who had also called it a "clitty," had told her about "French kissing." As usual, Susie knew the term but not the reason for its name. Maybe it was how people in France kissed. It didn't sound very good, but apparently grownups really liked it and did it a lot, so she supposed she'd have to learn how to do it. She was about to stick her hand under the running water when she noticed that the aroma of his semen -- his "cum" -- was making her horny clitty throb more. She brought her hand to her nose and sniffed. It was odd, but not unpleasant. She sniffed twice more before realizing she was doing thigh masturbation again, just like she'd been doing when Daddy was sucking her titties. Well, she was about to learn a much better way than thigh masturbation! She washed her hand and filled the rinse bowl with warm water, putting it, the liquid soap, and a wash cloth on the tray. Lost in thought, she almost tripped over Dragon as she left the bathroom. - ----------------------------------------------------------------- Six of Six Exhausted by his third cum of the morning, her father had dozed off while waiting for Wynter to return with the wash cloth and warm water. She put the tray on the roll-away table and stood beside the bed, watching him for almost a minute. He lay there at a forty-five degree angle with his green eyes closed and his head tilted down toward his left shoulder. His arms and right leg in their suspended casts looked terribly uncomfortable, and she supposed they were, but he never complained about them to her. The hem of his pajama top was pushed halfway to his rib cage, and his exposed, semen-coated dick hung over the left side of his scrotum -- his NUTS, or his BALLS, he had called them -- the way his head drooped to his shoulder. His left foot and ankle were under the rumpled pile of the sheet. His dark hair was in desperate need of a trim and shampooing, but he was still the handsomest man in the whole world to her. With as much gentleness as she could manage, she washed away the cum, dried him, and pulled the sheet into place. At the last second she leaned forward, holding her long blonde ponytail to keep it from tickling him, and placed a gentle kiss on his limp dick. Her father never moved, but she almost jumped out of her skin when the horny feeling exploded THERE between her legs as her lips touched his limp flesh. The horny itch was more intense than ever while she rinsed out the wash rag and cleaned the washbowl in the bathroom sink. She wondered if "thigh masturbation" would help, and realized she was already doing it. It was helping -- some. She hung the wash cloth to dry, pushed the bowl to the back of the vanity top, and then braced both hands on the front of the sink. She began thrusting her hips and squeezing her slender legs together, really hard. It still helped some, but she knew she could do it easier with her hands. Her father had said so. She wished he hadn't fallen asleep before he could tell her how. She immediately took that wish back. That wasn't fair to him. He was, after all, badly hurt, and she was being selfish. She should have wished instead that he hadn't had the accident in the first place. Okay, she would just have to teach herself. Or try to teach herself until he woke up. He had said that some girls taught themselves, so maybe she could, too. Where? Her room? He might wake up and need her, and it was her responsibility to be there with him if he needed her. Okay, then: his room. But what if she made too much noise and disturbed him while he was getting his rest? He really did need to rest so his body could heal. Mrs. Carter had explained that part of healing to her. And he had said something about "screaming with joy." Would she do that and wake him up? Maybe she should just wait. But the -- the HORNY feeling was so strong! she decided as she entered his recovery room, Now where? Her sleeping bag or the chair? Her sleeping bag, she decided, would be best because she didn't know what would happen when she did it. She might pass out or fall over or something strange. She didn't know if that was possible, but a nurse was supposed to be prepared for anything. She slid off her frilly yellow pajama panties and carefully spread them in the seat of the chair. Her white cotton panties joined them, and then she lay down on top of her sleeping bag, spreading her legs so that her knees were at the sides of the bag. Dragon watched briefly from where he had sprawled at his door guard station, then lowered his head. Wynter felt strange lying there naked on the floor. It would have felt strange to her even if her sleeping father and Dragon weren't in the room with her. she decided. After all, she had already been half-naked in the room with her father awake, and she'd seen -- she'd handled -- his sex stuff. And she'd been eager to let him teach her how to masturbate with her hands. What did she think she was going to do -- sit in her room and listen to him over the intercom? She arranged her pillow and a fold of the sleeping bag to raise her head. She looked down the long, white distance between her titties and across the slight rise of her tummy to the small fluff of blonde hair on the bulge right there at the beginning of her VAGINAL REGION. Her SPLIT. What else was it Susie had called it? She had forgotten to ask her father what adults called it, but she was too horny to care now. She idly wondered if her father would like looking at her down THERE, too, and felt the horny sensation grow stronger. She ran the fingertips of both hands through the fine hair that looked like corn silk where it grew just above the point of her split and down the fat little pads on either side of it. That felt nice and made the horny feeling stronger, but it didn't give the relief that thigh masturbation had. Her fingertips pressed down on the fat little pads and slid downward. That felt better, and it helped a little more. She slid her fingers back to the beginning and then pushed them toward each other, squeezing her clitoris -- her clitty -- between them. Her clitty was hard. Her father had said it was like a tiny version of his dick, and it sort of felt like it. Her fingertips met and squeezed her hard little clitty between them. She gasped at the wave of pleasure that radiated outward from it like heat from a candle. It was like the warm feeling when she was praised for acting like a grownup, but lots more intense. She pulled her fingers back and then pushed them together again. And again. And again. She began to understand why her father liked having her stroke his dick so much -- it felt so good that she didn't have words to describe the sensation. She was making the horny feeling grow stronger, yet she was also relieving it at the same time. That seemed odd, but she could worry about the reason for that later. Or she could ask her father. He would know, and he wouldn't think it was a dumb question, either. That noise -- she was making a squishing noise when she squeezed and a smacking noise when her fingers pulled back. She hadn't urinated -- PEED, the grownups would say. Then she remembered: had her period started early? She slid a fingertip into her split and down to her vaginal opening. CUNNY was what Susie had called it, and no, Susie didn't know why it was called that, either. As her fingertip slid along her clitty the wonderful feeling seemed to grow ten times better. Her eyes made big circles and she gasped, but she had to check her cunny. She didn't want to get blood all over her sleeping bag if her period had started, and as much liquid as she found between the two flaps inside her split and at the entrance of her cunny, she just knew that this was her strongest period yet. She steeled herself before removing her finger, reminding herself that nurses couldn't be squirmy about the sight of blood, and then lifted it to where she could see... ...that it was covered in a clear liquid, not blood, that felt something like her father's cum, but slicker. It must be her "natural lubrication" that he had mentioned when she asked him about the mechanics of sex, sort of like the natural lubrication that oozed out of his dick after he got hard but before he came. She jumped up and rushed to the bathroom for a towel to place under her butt to keep from staining the sleeping bag. Then her fingers moved back to her split. She slid one finger between the two flaps and noticed that they seemed not just thicker but also longer, too. Normally they were even with her split, but now they seemed to stick out a little bit past the edge of it. She slid the finger along her clitty again. This time the wave of pleasure was like heat from a fireplace. After a little experimentation she discovered the most comfortable way to rub her clitty that gave her the most pleasure. Strange: it wasn't the same as the way she rubbed her father's dick. But he had said there were different ways to do it. After a while it became uncomfortable, but she could dip her finger in the slippery wet pool of natural lubrication and then go back to rubbing. Strange how the horny feeling got better, yet got stronger and more demanding at the same time. Strange, but fun because it felt really GOOD! She began to understand her father's reactions as she jacked him off. She must be experiencing the same feelings. But what made him cum, and how did THAT feel when he did it? Without conscious thought on her part, her fingertip dipped for more lubrication and resumed rubbing along the side of the tiny hard stick of her clitty. It felt really intense when she rubbed the tip of it, but she could take only a few seconds of that before it became uncomfortable, even with lubrication. But along the side and bottom like this -- that must be what her father felt when she rubbed the sides and bottom of his dick. The feeling got stronger whenever she thought of her father's dick. Her mind replayed the times she had jerked him off, and her whole cunny felt like a giant spring was being tightened inside it. She remembered the feel of his dick in her hand, the sight of the cum shooting upward, it's hot wetness as it splashed down around and over her hand, how slick his dick was when she began sliding her hand along his shaft instead of working the loose skin up and down it. The spring grew tighter and her clitty seemed to swell. She thought of the kiss she placed on the dick of her sleeping father. The overwound spring exploded in a thousand pieces, each one surfing through her body on a wave of super-wonderful pleasure that she never dreamed even existed, let alone could be felt by anyone, especially by young Wynter King. She felt her cunny spasm like a charley horse in her leg, except that in her cunny it felt GOOD! Her clitty was the center of the universe, and wave after wave after wave of pure, absolute, wonderful pleasure was pulsing out from it, and she never ever wanted it to stop. ÄÄÄ Richard awoke, though his eyes remained closed against the light. The twist in his neck was becoming painful. He twisted his head to the right and stretched it to relieve the kink that was developing. He should have Wynter lower the head of the bed so he could sleep comfortably, but she wasn't in the room. If she had been, she'd have jumped to his side when he moved. Perhaps she was preparing lunch. His stomach said it was time.... Soft, faint whimpers reached through his drowsiness and slapped his mental face into full consciousness. There was no mistaking what they were. His eyes opened. The noon sun was almost poking through the clouds despite the heavy, wet flakes that were still cascading from the clouds. He turned his head back to the left and raised his head as much as he could. Because of the bed and his left arm cast, he could see just Wynter's head, shoulders, and the very upper part of her chest where she lay on her sleeping bag. The swell of her growing breasts was hidden by the arm cast, and there was no way he could move enough to see around it. Her sweet sweater-meat excited him more than any other pair of knockers he had ever seen, large or small. He wasn't certain whether that was because of the forbidden aspect of his family relationship to her, the forbidden aspect of her pre-teen age, or just because they were so goddamned cute. All of the above, perhaps. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her lips were drawn back in a grimace. Her right shoulder was moving, responding to the movement of her hand which he knew was buried in her young furrow - -- he could hear the liquid, slurping sounds of her fingers moving in her wet flesh. She was panting like Dragon on a warm day, with an occasional moan or grunt slipping softly from her throat like a prisoner seeking freedom. Richard suffered from mixed emotions. He had anticipated having her sitting in the chair beside him where he could watch her fingers discover the pleasures to be found in the honey-drenched valley at the bottom of her delicious naked body, where he could watch the expressions on her beautiful young face as she felt each new thrill that her fingers could coax from the slippery wet toys she had owned for eleven years but had never played with. He was also happy that she had discovered the joys on masturbation on her own. Children should make that discovery themselves. He'd been half her age when he discovered that he could have more fun with the Beast than with the entire contents of his toy chest. If she weren't so damned isolated during parts of the year, then perhaps she'd have heard about the act from some little friends who had already discovered that a finger in the right spot beat a Barbie doll hands down. He again was shamed by his guilt over the disadvantages Wynter had experienced because he and Angie had wanted to indulge themselves with this isolated house. But that would be corrected soon enough. He'd told Angie that they would be moving when he was able to resume a normal life and to think about where she wanted to move. She hadn't understood why, and she didn't have time to stay on the phone to talk, but she knew that he was serious; she knew he had already decided for Wynter's sake, and that nothing she could say would change his mind. Not that she would try to change it once she understood. His attention was jerked back to the present by the strained groan coming from below the foot of the bed. His daughter's dark red face was now turned toward him. Her blonde eyebrows had been pulled together by the grimace distorting her fragile beauty. In the quiet of the room he could just hear the squishy sounds that indicated how rapidly her fingers were now moving in her juicy young twat. A soft, "Ah!" was repeated and then stretched into a long "Eeee!" sound as her head thrashed back to her left. And then she came. If his hands had been free, Richard would have been trying to beat the Beast back to life, but it was as dead as last Tuesday's road kill. But then he'd have been distracted from the spectacle barely visible to him. He thought words were mixed in with the soft grunts, groans, and gasps that his young daughter voiced as her first ever orgasm rippled throughout her, but they weren't clear enough for him to be certain. She slowly wound down, and her "aaah"s of pleasure devolved into happy giggles that made him ache to hold her while she was still a child and told him that her childhood would end far too soon to suit him. Her shoulders showed him the progress as tension left her body. Soon the vowel sounds ceased, but she continued to pant for air. Her head lolled back to her right, but her eyes remained closed for several more seconds. Dragon had arisen when she started whimpering. He stood by her head and sniffed. Deciding she was apparently okay, he lay down by the top of her sleeping bag, just in case he were needed for an emergency. He put his chin on his forepaws and watched her. When Wynter's eyes opened, they were looking directly into Richard's. They went wide and she gasped. He had anticipated it. "I see we left the classroom and went to the lab exercise," he said with a huge, heartfelt smile. "We did good!" The moment's hesitation on her face vanished in a smile all white toothed and coral lipped and beautiful. "The classroom was closed," she explained, pleased with how grown-up she sounded, "but I didn't want to get farther behind on my lessons." "I liked that last chord. Was that an F-seventh augmented fifth?" To his surprise she didn't laugh. Instead, her face jumped to the panicky expression she wore when she decided she had made a mistake. She bolted upright and scooted back so that he could see her face. He told himself to concentrate on that and ignore those heavenly young titty mounds for a moment or two. "Oh, Daddy, I didn't mean to make noise and wake you up!" "But you didn't, honey. A neck spasm woke me up, otherwise I'd have slept right through it." Well, that might not be exactly truthful because her orgasm itself was a little loud, but perhaps he might have slept through that, too. He was exhausted, after all. But her face returned to normal, then to mother hen's look of concern. "You have a neck cramp? Do you want me to rub it?" She rose quickly to her feet. His eyes locked on the small blonde thatch. The hair next to her slit gleamed wetly. Peripheral vision noticed that her head dipped as she froze in place and looked down. "Oh." Her head came back up, but his eyes wouldn't -- couldn't -- rise to meet hers. The Beast stirred, and she smiled. "Do you like looking at me like this, too?" she asked in true innocence. Richard's mind raced to find the right thing to say, but his mouth opened and blurted, "That has to be the cutest little pussy that was ever created. It never occurred to stupid me that you were growing hair on it." Wynter felt the warm glow spread through her. <"Pussy."> Another word for her to remember. "I'm glad you like it," she said with a shy smile, forcing her head to stay up so that she could look him in the eye like a grownup. His eyes however were still locked on her split. Her pussy. "But Daddy, what about your neck?" "Huh? Oh. It's okay now." She wanted to get closer to him, but then he wouldn't be able to see her pussy, and he really seemed to be enjoying looking at it, the way he liked looking at her tits. Her mind raced for a solution. "Daddy, do you want me to sit on the edge of the bed so you can see my pussy better?" "Yes," he whispered. She was surprised because her father suddenly sounded like a kid, and looked like one, too, the way he stared with wide eyes. She perched on the edge of the bed with her left foot on the mattress, then flopped her leg over his left leg, but not bumping the right one in the cast. She had just enough room to hook her heel onto the edge of the mattress and spread her legs for him to see her pussy. When she did so, the horny ache in her clitty returned to life. "Guess what?" she said in an excited voice. "I think I came!" Her father's eyes roamed over her pussy. It was all wet with her natural lubrication smeared over the half-inch long, fine blonde hair around her split, and she wanted to go wash and dry it for him, but he seemed to enjoy looking at it anyway. "Honey, I know you did." "Really?" Her wide-eyed smile faded into a look of satisfaction. "It was AWESOME! Thank you for telling me that I could do that. I never knew it would feel so -- so -- awesome!" "It was my pleasure. Yours, too, I see," he added in an exaggerated voice. They laughed together, and then he spoke quietly, as if embarrassed. "Honey, next time you need to get off, maybe -- maybe you could sit where I could watch?" If he had tried to hide the hopeful tone in his voice, he had failed miserably. "Sure," she said. "I just wish your hands were free so that you could do me the way I do you. If -- if you'd like to, I mean." She watched his eyes change to the way they looked when he was trying to decide something hard. He was quiet for many long seconds, not moving except for his eyes. She guessed that whatever it was, it must be something very important, so she remained seated there with her legs spread and the itchy, horny feeling growing stronger. She was thinking about rubbing her clitty with her fingers when he finally spoke. "Wynter," he finally said in a quiet voice, "have you ever heard of oral sex?" 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