I've known Brianna since she was seven, when she became friends with my daughter, Jane. She showed up at the house one Halloween night, a tiny, delicate girl wearing a rubber "Scream" mask and a long black cloak. I smiled down at her as my daughter introduced her. "Daddy, this is Brianna." I held out my hand and the child flicked a switch on the side of the mask. The eyes glowed red and she growled, her high pitched voice sounding incongruous as she did her best imitation of a mad serial killer. I laughed, "Very funny, Brianna." She pulled of the mask, revealing big brown eyes, full rosy lips and the cutest little face I had ever seen. "My name is Bri!" she said, in a petulant voice. I apologized, "Sorry. Very funny, Bri." She grinned up at me. "Much better." she replied. She pulled the mask over her face and grabbed my daughter's hand. I watched as the two girls traipsed down the driveway and out to the street. I followed behind them, watching as little Bri's rear end twitched delightfully with her movements.

It struck me as odd that such a young girl would choose the costume of a crazed killer from a movie far beyond her years of comprehension. When I caught up to them I asked her about it. "Oh, my daddy lets me watch all those scary movies." She looked up at me and giggled, cast a sidelong glance at my daughter who was several feet away and beyond hearing. She waggled her index finger, motioning me closer. I bent low and she whispered, "Sometimes he lets me watch some lovey-dovey movies, too." She giggled again and ran off to catch up with my daughter. I rose from the crouching position, staring at the child in surprise. It would be the first of many times the little charmer would surprise me, both in words and action.

During the intervening years I saw much of Bri. She was at every birthday party, every school function. Her parents rarely made an appearance. Bri was allowed to walk alone the few blocks to the school and to my house. She often showed up at the door unexpectedly, looking to visit and play with my daughter.

I should mention here that I was and am a single father. My wife left very shortly after our daughter's birth, citing boredom with me and our life together. She showed no interest in her child, simply vanishing from our lives.

As the years passed I grew very fond of Bri. Her frequent visits to the house were a constant delight to me. As she grew older I began to notice subtle changes in her behavior towards me. Very often while the three of us watched a movie she would inch close to me on the couch, sometimes taking my hand in hers and holding it tightly. At these moments I allowed myself to indulge in light touches along her wrist and arm, tickling her smooth skin. The child never resisted and, in fact, seemed to enjoy the attention. Jane never seemed to notice or, if she did, never thought of it as anything more than her daddy being nice to her friend.

It was around her eleventh birthday that she began to find more excuses to be near me, often shadowing me as I worked around the house. She was never a bother; in fact I found ways to make her presence useful, giving her little chores to do. It was always a pleasure to see her tramping through the house, carrying a watering can or dragging the vacuum cleaner from room to room. At these times I watched her closely, loving the sight of her tiny, slender form as she lifted her arms to water a high plant or the subtle wiggles of her sweet rear as she pushed the vacuum over the carpets. She often wore little shorts and t-shirts that were loose around the neck. If she bent in a particular way I was rewarded with the sight of her baby breasts, too small for a bra, beneath the billowing collar.

After one of these chore filled afternoons I handed Bri a ten dollar bill as payment for her help. She looked up at me, her soft brown eyes brimming with gratitude. "For me?" she asked, her voice a breathy whisper. I grinned down at her. "Yes." I replied. "For all your good work." She grinned happily, showing bright white teeth. She stepped closer to me and before another word was said she wrapped her thin arms around my waist and hugged me tightly. "Thank you." she said. I was surprised at her ardor and my arms hung loosely at her sides. She nestled her head into my chest. "You're such a nice man." she cooed. "I wish you were my daddy." Her whispered admission caused my heart to pound. I swallowed hard and lifted trembling fingers to her back, holding the child gently. She nestled tighter against me as I began to slowly stroke over her back, feeling the delicate shoulder blades beneath the soft cotton of her t-shirt. "Mmm." She muttered. "That feels nice." I continued the slow soft caress. A long deep sigh escaped my lips.

At that moment my daughter entered the kitchen. She looked at us with concern. "Is Bri alright?" she asked in a worried tone.

I dropped my arms quickly, pushing Bri away from me. I turned to Jane. "Of course, h-honey." I stammered. "She was just thanking me, uh, for paying her to help out." Bri grinned and waved the bill in the air. "Ten bucks!" she exclaimed. Jane let out a wail of protest. "You never pay me for chores!" she cried. In order to calm a possible outburst from my daughter I reached for my wallet and handed her a ten. She snatched it from my fingers. "Thanks, Dad!" Jane turned to Bri. "We can go get ice cream!" Both girls started jumping up and down with excitement, grinning and shrieking. I grinned. "Okay. Go get ice cream. But don't be gone long, okay?" Jane ran out the door. Bri remained where she was for a moment, looking up at me. I noticed, at that moment, how long and full her eyelashes were. She smiled and placed her hand on my chest. "Thank you, again." She said softly. She gave me another quick hug and the next second she was gone, scampering after my daughter.

I stood alone in the kitchen. I could still feel, phantom-like, the child's arms around my waist, and the gentle pressure of her slim body against mine. I leaned against the nearby counter, pondering the situation. If I had been alone with Bri, would she have allowed my wandering hands to continue their sweet journey along her back? Would she have protested if I decided to explore further? These thoughts swam through my mind as I grabbed a beer and wandered into the living room. I sank into my favorite seat, a long wide chaise lounge that faced the TV, the image of Bri's pretty face looking up at me.

I have often thought of the delightful possibility of seducing my daughter's young friend. Many hours of watching her as she played or as she just lay quietly watching a movie had turned my thoughts to myriad scenes that involved her in my bed, her sweetly unformed body lying naked and ready for whatever I chose to do. Of course, I had enough moral convictions to push a lot of my feelings to the side. She was, after all, only a child of eleven, despite her beauty and desirability. I often pondered, also, the very real chance that she would deny my advances, would grow fearful and report my actions to her parents. Despite her mom and dad's seemingly casual approach to parenting, I knew they would not react well to a grown man coming on to their little girl.

I took a sip of beer and my thoughts returned to the scene in the kitchen just moments before. Her young slender body had felt so lovely pressed into mine. My fingers itched as I recalled the delicate shape of her back and I sighed heavily remembering her whispered words, "Mmm, that feels nice." Was it possible that she had enjoyed my gentle caress enough to allow more?

Standing up, I moved to the mantle over the fireplace. I took the framed picture of Jane and Bri from last summer and stared at it. They both wore bathing suits, my daughter in a one piece that covered her slightly pudgy frame and Bri in a very tiny revealing bikini. I traced my finger along the enticing image of the pre-teen girl, resting over the gentle curve of her baby breasts. The breath hitched in my throat, imagining how firm and soft she would be. I let my finger move slowly over her belly and down to the secret spot between her slim thighs. I became aroused as I thought of the delicate folds of her sex, envisioning one of my fingers playing gently over her.

"You like that picture, huh?"

I jumped, startled. I quickly returned the picture to the mantle and turned to face Bri, who had moved silently into the room. She smiled up at me.

"Uh, yeah." I replied, "That was a fun summer." I turned away from her, willing my erection away. I could hear her behind me, moving closer. I half turned towards her. She lifted the picture off the mantle and stared at it.

"My mom didn't want me to wear that bathing suit." she said. "I argued with her until she let me." She grinned. "I usually get my way."

I returned her grin with one of my own. "I'll bet you do."

The child moved closer still and held up the picture. "Did you like the way I looked in it?" she asked.

I swallowed hard before I answered. Her luminous brown eyes had a glint of mischievousness as she stared boldly into mine. "I ... thought you looked very cute." I replied.

She turned the picture and looked at it appraisingly. "Hmmm. Mommy said it showed too much." She turned the picture back to me. "Do you think it shows too much?"

I stared at the photograph, remembering my thoughts during the long afternoon at the pool, recalling the furious bout of masturbation the evening after, the same picture sitting by my bedside. I gazed into her eyes. "I think it shows you off very well, honey."

She giggled. "I didn't have much boobs last summer." She ran her finger over the image, mimicking my actions of moments before. Had she seen? Her finger traced over her chest. "See? Flat, flat, flat." She looked up at me. "They've gotten bigger, though."

The conversation was getting dangerous, especially considering my daughter could walk in at any moment. "Um, wh-where's Jane, by the way?" I stammered.

Bri turned from me and flounced onto the couch, still holding the photograph. "Oh, she decided to go to the park with Faith. We saw her and her mom at the Dairy Queen." She scrunched up her face. "I don't like Faith."

I watched her as she made herself comfortable, stretching her tiny body along the length of the couch. She looked both completely innocent and ultimately desirable.

"You don't like Faith?" I asked. The girl in question was also eleven, a silly child who giggled hysterically at the slightest provocation.

"Nah." She stuck out her pink tongue as if in disgust. "She's really goofy. Always giggling at the boys. She smiled at me. "And those boys always act so goofy around her. Like she's somethin' special."

It was my turn to smile. "Don't you like boys, Bri?"

She lifted one leg to the back of the couch. She wore shorts that day and I was given an enticing view of her soft inner thigh. "Nope." She answered. "Boys my age are just so silly!" She wiggled her foot in the air and her sandal dropped off. She giggled and kicked the other one off. "You like my feet?" she asked.

I laughed. "They're just feet, Bri. Nothing special." Of course, I was lying. The child's feet were indeed very special, small and well shaped, little toes that curled as she flexed. I had a fleeting image of my mouth around them, sucking gently on each toe.

She frowned at my answer. "You gotta see them up close." She lifted her leg and stretched one foot close to her face. She peered at her own little toes. "I think they're the cutest feet in the whole world." She lifted her eyes to mine, a small smile on her face. "Come over here and look."

I hesitated. My thoughts were in a whirl of confusion and indecision. On one hand I wanted desperately to sit with her, feel her young immature body close to mine. On the other hand I knew that she was just playing a game, completely unaware of my desire and lust. I stood looking; I'm very sure, like a big lummox, in the middle of the room.

She looked at me very curiously, her red lips drawn down in a small frown. "I thought you liked me." she said.

I moved a little closer to the couch, almost as if my body was deciding my actions despite the warning bells ringing loudly in my mind. Her frown turned to a grin as I lowered myself to the couch. She stretched her legs over mine, wiggling her toes.

"You do like me a little, don't you?" she asked. Her voice was now a whisper, a whisper that snaked through my addled thoughts.

I turned to look at her. Her eyes were full of worry and concern. I stared at her for a long moment before answering. She held my gaze, waiting.

"I do like you, Bri. Very much." With a heavy sigh I continued. "Probably more than I should."

Her face lit up as she smiled. "I like you, too." She wriggled her toes close to my face, suddenly laughing with delight. "Meet my feet!" she giggled.

I laughed and held one of her dainty feet, shaking it like a hand. "Very nice to meet you, Bri's feet." I chuckled. I marveled at the incredible softness of her young skin beneath my hand. I couldn't help but slide one finger over the arch of her foot, barely brushing over her delicate skin.

The girl sighed and closed her eyes. "My feet like to be touched." she breathed.

Needing no more encouragement I began smoothing my fingers over her foot, gently caressing it, moving slowly from the arch to each little toe. I rubbed the sweet digits, holding them between my fingers and fondling them tenderly.

"Is this nice, Bri?" I asked, in a low voice.

She opened her eyes and smiled sweetly. "It feels great." she answered, She arched up a little, moving herself closer to my wandering hands. "Would you rub the bottoms?" she asked. "I love the way that feels."

When she moved her body to give me better access to the bottom of her foot her heel planted itself directly over my crotch. Needless to say, I was fully erect by this point, and I found I could reach my secret, illicit pleasure with just a slight push upwards. I gently rubbed the bottom of her foot, moving it slightly as I did so over the tip hidden in my pants.

We sat this way for several moments, my hand moving over the bottom of her tiny feet, occasionally rolling her heel over my engorged tip. If she noticed I can't say. She gave no indication that anything untoward was happening. In fact, her eyes were closed the entire time, a soft breathy sigh occasionally escaping her lips.

With trembling fingers I let my free hand move along her leg, stroking her fine soft skin. I could feel a muscle twitch in her calf as I caressed over it but otherwise she didn't move. Very slowly, very carefully my hand traced upwards until it reached the spot just below the leg hole of her shorts. I held it there, not moving, watching her face. She kept her eyes closed, her long full lashes brushing her cheeks, but her lips parted slightly and she uttered a little coo of pleasure.

I slipped one finger under her shorts. The feel of the skin of her tender thigh was exhilarating. I moved the one finger in tiny circles over her inner thigh. She moved a little then, just the slightest bit, lifting her hips almost imperceptivity. One leg dropped to the couch cushion, opening her thighs to my finger. I looked at her, terrified that at any second she'd scream and run. Her face was in repose, however. The only sign she gave of being aware of anything happening was a quickness in her breathing as she bit her bottom lip.

I continued my gentle exploration of the child's legs and thighs. It only took a slight upward drift and I felt the soft cotton of her panties under my finger. She gave a sharp intake of breath, a quick upward movement of her bottom as she felt me touch so very near to her secret place. I introduced another finger and gently placed them directly over the front of her panties.

Bri gave a loud gasp as I began caressing over her cotton covered slit. I was somewhat hindered in my movements by the shorts and panties but I managed, in a somewhat clumsy fashion, to rub over her. I felt no hair at all covering her tiny opening, just the feel of soft cotton over smooth lips. I abandoned the rubbing of her foot and brought my other hand to her legs, running up and down the soft skin as my two fingers played delightfully between her legs.

She responded to my touch, lifting her hips with slow up and down movements. The heel of her foot was still squarely over the bulge in my pants and each time she moved it pressed firmly over my sensitive engorged tip. I gasped as I felt her foot rubbing me. I knew she was completely unaware of the pleasure she brought me, she was too busy concentrating on her own. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and little frown lines appeared on her smooth forehead as I continued to stroke over her virgin sex.

"Oh, that feels so nice." she sighed. "Feels sooo nice."

All the sounds from the street outside seemed to mute and disappear. I no longer heard the twittering of the birds or the quiet hum of car tires on the pavement. The cries and laughter of playing children right outside my door were silenced by the pre-teen's soft murmurs and sighs.

I did hear, at that moment, the sound of the back door slamming shut. "Damn!" I whispered, pulling my hand from between Bri's thighs. I quickly moved her legs off my lap. Bri sat up, arranging her shorts. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. A slight pink flush reddened her cheeks. I grabbed the TV remote off the coffee table and clicked it on. The screen lit up just as my daughter walked into the living room. She was sopping wet, her blond hair dripping water to the carpet. "Whew!" she exclaimed, "I just got to the yard and it started pouring buckets!" She wrung her hair, sluicing more water onto the floor.

I got to my feet. "Jane! Get a towel and dry yourself off! You're getting everything all wet!"

She rolled her eyes. "God, Dad! Don't bite my head off!" She turned and stomped off to the bathroom.

I quickly turned to Bri and sat next to her on the couch. "You can't say anything about what we were doing." I took her hands in mine. "Promise me, please, you won't say a word."

She looked at me with frightened eyes. "I promise I won't. Please don't be mad at me."

I could hear Jane in the bathroom, muttering under her breath and, taking a chance, I drew Bri close to me. She sank into my arms, trembling slightly. "Oh, baby girl, I'm not mad. Not mad at all." I stroked her long dark hair. "We just really need to keep this our secret." I drew back from her and cupped her chin in my hand. "Okay?"

She smiled sweetly. "Okay. I understand."

I returned her smile and lifted her to her feet. We exchanged one more quick hug before Jane returned, running a towel through her hair.

I turned to my daughter. "Hey, kiddo, I'm going to give Bri a ride home."

"Aw, can't she stay?" my daughter whined. "I hardly got a chance to see her."

Bri was pulling on her sandals. "Nah." she said, "I really should get home." She turned to look at me. "You don't mind driving me?"

I detected a little secret smile play on her lips and I grinned. "Of course not. Don't want you getting all wet, do we?"

Both girls giggled and hugged; their usual method of farewell and I led Bri out to the enclosed garage and into my car. I pulled out to the street and drove slowly through the driving rain. We were silent until I parked a few houses away from hers. I let the engine idle with the radio playing softly.

I turned in my seat to face her. "Well ..." I began. She smiled. "Are you ... um ... did you enjoy the afternoon?" I suddenly felt very shy around her. I was, after all, a man old enough to be her father, a man who had just shown her, in actions if not words, exactly how he felt about her. Even in a "normal" relationship the moments after the first intimacy can be fraught with mixed feelings of nervousness and trepidation.

The sweet child gazed into my eyes. "I really liked the way you touched me. It felt good." She reached out and bashfully ran her fingers over the back of my hand. "You think we could do it again sometime?"

I lifted her soft hand to my mouth and brushed my lips over her smooth palm. "I think we could arrange that." I answered. A thought occurred to me. "You know, Jane is going to her grandparent's this weekend. You think you could come over on Saturday?"

She sighed at the touch of my lips on her hand. "I think so. My mom and dad don't care what I do, most times." She shivered a little as I continued to kiss her little fingers.

"Maybe you could tell them Jane invited you for a sleep-over? They won't know she's not there."

She giggled; a high sweet sound that caused my loins to stir. "You mean stay over with you?"

"Why not?"

She considered the idea for a moment. "Okay. Will I sleep with you?"

I smiled. "Only if you want to."

She looked into my eyes. I saw the innocence in hers, and a certain boldness and curiosity. She bent and kissed my hand, tenderly, sweetly. "I think I'd like that."

I dipped my head and took her face in my hands. I kissed her lips. She drew a sharp breath, her fingers tightening around my hand. The first kiss was short, almost a quick brush of lips but it promised so much. I put the car in gear and pulled into her driveway.

"I'll see you Saturday, hon. About noon?"

She said "yes" in a breathless whisper and stepped out of the car. I watched as she ran up the driveway. She turned once and waved and then disappeared into the house.

I drove home, a broad, happy smile on my face.