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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Wynter King: Daddy's Little Student 1/2 {Hoisington} (Mg rom ped inc solo oral toys 1st cons)
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Date: Sat, 25 Feb 2012 20:10:06 -0500
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                               WYNTER
                       by Russell Hoisington

    ************************************************************

This is an erotic fantasy.  The characters and the situation are
purely imaginary, and this story is NOT intended to be a guide
for actual behavior.  Any similarities between this story and
actual people, or actual events that you should be ashamed of,
are purely coincidental.  If it is illegal in your part of the
world to access and read erotic fiction, or if you are underage,
or if you don't like sex stories, then stop now.

This story is copyright 2003 and 2005 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.  That does NOT
mean that they are in the public domain, nor does it mean that I
give permission for you to use them in spam advertising.  I
reserve the right to determine what is "spam advertising" by MY
definition, not yours or anyone else's.

Thank you for your consideration.

    ************************************************************

This is a 2005 revised version of the story with errors corrected
and with a new chapter added to PART THREE:  MOTHER'S LITTLE
HELPER.

                               WYNTER
                              PART TWO:
                       DADDY'S LITTLE STUDENT

                             One of Ten

      Wynter stood at the kitchen stove wearing fuzzy house shoes,
a green gingham apron, and a frown.  Her left hand grasped the
long blonde ponytail hanging over her shoulder, and her right
held a large cooking spoon.  She had left her pajama top off
after her shower because she'd discovered her father liked
looking at her boobies, or her tits, as grownups called them.
She'd removed the bottoms to teach herself how to masturbate.
Her father was going to talk her through it, but he had fallen
asleep.  He woke up with a neck cramp just before she _came_--she
thought that was a funny name for it and decided to ask her
father why it was called that--and she didn't have time to put
the bottoms back on.  Because of that, she discovered he liked
looking at her vaginal region--her _pussy_ as grownups called
it--and left them off just for him.

      Her mind was racing everywhere, making it difficult for her
to concentrate on making lunch.  Daddy had done little more than
define _oral sex_ before he drifted back to sleep.  Wynter knew
he needed the rest to recover from his injuries, and she
understood that men used up a whole lot of energy during _sexual
activity_ and needed to rest afterward.  She worried that too
much sexual activity would take away energy he needed to recover
from his injuries.  She had said that, and he had replied,
"Honey, it gives me a reason to heal faster," before dozing off
again.  She was still thinking about that.

      He'd looked so very uncomfortable at that forty-five degree
angle, and that was what had given him a neck cramp and caused
him to wake up when she was masturbating.  _Getting herself off_,
as grownups called it.  All these new terms.  After lunch, while
he was sleeping, she'd have to start a notebook of them to help
her use them properly now that she was no longer a child--she was
eleven years old now, and had started mens...--menst...--having
her _periods_.

      She had forced herself to think only about what she was
doing as she slowly adjusted the bed until it was flat, cranking
it down a bit and then adjusting the suspension of his casts,
over and over until it was done.  Nurse Carter would be so very
pleased with her for not waking him up once in the process.  Both
Daddy and Nurse Carter had told her she was a natural at being a
nurse, and she could hardly wait until she could go to nursing
school.  Nurse Carter had even said she'd make a fine doctor,
too.  Wynter got warm tingles throughout her whole entire body
whenever they complimented her on her nursing skills

      It was while she was fixing lunch that she'd realized that
Nurse Carter would return tomorrow afternoon, if the plows got
the road clear of the snow from the avalanche.  With Nurse Carter
back, Wynter would no longer be able to relieve her father's
distress when his semen, his _cum_, built up too much pressure in
the damaged--what were they called?  The tubes where he's been
injured when she was just a baby--vast difference?  That couldn't
be right, could it?  She'd have to ask him to spell the right
name for her so she could put it in the notebook.  She understood
now that she couldn't tell Nurse Carter that she had given Daddy
_handjobs_.  And Mother would be back before Nurse Carter left,
and she'd be the one to relieve Daddy's aching testicles, his
_nuts_, after that.

      _Drat!_

      Eight seconds later the tidal wave of panic struck.  Nurse
Carter had removed his catheter because he was having too many
erections, or _hardons_, and the catheter was hurting.  She'd
been his nurse before.  She knew about the damaged tubes between
his _nuts_ and his _dick_ and how it got too painful for him
after four or five days with no relief.  If he didn't complain
about the pressure, she'd wonder why.  If he did, and she gave
him a handjob for relief, she'd see that he didn't have enough
cum built up to cause pain.  When he came an hour ago, it was
just a trickle.

      If Wynter did _oral sex_ with her father, he'd probably
_shoot his wad_ again after she came, and he'd have even less cum
when Nurse Carter returned.  Perhaps she shouldn't do any oral
sex because of that.  Besides, it didn't sound very good when he
described it.  But he'd said, "Honey, it's wonderful, and I
really love doing it.  You will too because it feels so very
nice."

      _Maybe_, she thought.  It sure didn't sound very appetizing.

      But he really did want to touch her pussy, and oral sex was
the only way he could because his hands were in those casts.
Daddy loved her so much that he wanted to make her cum because
she'd made him cum because she loved him.  She wondered how that
sentence would look diagrammed, and then her thoughts raced to
when she was cleaning him up afterward.  He'd fallen asleep, and
just like a grownup nurse, she'd cleaned up her patient without
awakening him, except at the last second she'd put a gentle kiss
of love on his dick.  She doubted nurses did that to ordinary
patients.

      Thinking about that kiss was what had triggered her first
orgasm.

      And what triggered that sharp feeling of _horniness_ that
had suddenly returned to her vaginal region.  No, to her _pussy_,
she corrected herself.  Well, she certainly knew what to do about
that now!  Her fingers were reaching under the apron that
protected her slender nude body from cooking spatters, just
brushing against the thin carpet of cornsilk blonde hair on her
pussy when she realized what she was doing.

      She couldn't touch her pussy and then touch food!  It was
unsanitary!

      But--Daddy wanted to put his tongue in _there_.

      And he'd said that they'd _both_ love it!

      A yip from the door to the utility room announced that
Dragon was finished with his doggie business and wanted back
inside.  She let the Labrador retriever in and leaned over to
speak to him.  She was rewarded with a tongue in the face.

      She laughed and wished she could pet him, but it would be
unsanitary to pet a dog and touch food.  She went back to the
stove, deep in thought.

      If Daddy put his tongue _there_, would it help him with his
next orgasm, his next _cum_, the way kissing his dick while he
slept had helped her to have her first one?  Dragon didn't mind
using his tongue on himself to masturbate.  Of course, Dragon
liked to eat what Daddy called "rabbit raisins" in the garden, so
maybe that wasn't a very good analogy.  A better one instead
might be....

      "Oh, _YUCK!_"

      She whirled to the sink and began scrubbing her face with
dishwashing soap.  The chicken soup almost boiled over before she
was finished.

                              Two of Ten

      Wynter put the tray on the table and rolled it to the bed.
She stood silently, looking at her sleeping father lying there
with his arms and one leg suspended in casts and a sheet covering
his athletic body.  His ruggedly handsome face didn't have any of
the scars that covered much of his arms and legs and body, but
even if it did, she would still love him just as much.  If she
could have just one wish granted, it would be that he stopped
having so many accidents that hurt himself.

      The soup was too hot to eat, so she would just let him sleep
a little longer because he needed his rest to heal.  She might as
well use the wait to incline the top of the bed again.  At
forty-five degrees she gently awakened him, rather than let his
head suddenly roll and jerk him awake.  A warm feeling raced
through her naked body when his loving green eyes opened and
looked directly into her large blue-green ones as he smiled.  Her
first orgasm felt really, _really_ good, but it wasn't nearly as
good as the feeling she got from seeing him smile at her.

      "Patients need their rest to heal, but they also need their
nutrition so that the body has the stuff it needs to heal
better," she said, holding her long blonde ponytail to keep it
out of his face as she  leaned forward to give him a special
nose-and-lips kiss.

      "Quoting Nurse Carter?" he asked.

      "No," she said, giggling.  "Nurse King."

      "Ah!  Well, I trust whatever she says.  She's my favorite
nurse, you know."

      Her head dropped and her eyes fastened onto his left arm
cast, but she whispered, "Thank you."  She felt the heat of her
blush.  She was angry with herself for suddenly acting like a
child again, but she didn't know what to _do_ when he
complimented her, even though she loved hearing it.  She knew he
meant it, and that made it even more difficult.  If he were just
playing and teasing, it wouldn't bother her and she'd tease back.
But he _meant_ it.  Why hadn't Mother told her what to do?
Because Mother thought she was still a child?  She could wait
until Mother returned, but that would be another two weeks.
Well, she would just ask Nurse Carter tomorrow.  Nurse Carter
would understand if she were asked in just the right way.

      "Chicken?"

      Her head jerked up and she frowned at him.  "What?"

      "Chicken?"  He nodded toward the table.  "The soup?  It
smells like chicken."

      Now she was mad at herself for thinking her father, who
loved her with all his heart, had called her a name.  "Oh."  She
turned and pointed at each item as she said, "Home made chicken
with vegetables soup and a chicken salad sandwich.  Carrot
sticks.  Apple juice and milk."

      "No hospital food?" he asked with sad, puppy dog eyes and a
downturned mouth.

      "I'm sorry, Daddy," she said in her most serious expression.
"With all the snow I just couldn't find any road kill."

      Her father sighed heavily.  "And I was hoping for some
diesel-flavored chipmunk."

      They broke up in laughter.  Wynter grabbed her pony tail and
leaned forward to kiss him again.  She saw his eyes look at her
tits and slowed to give him a longer view of them.  When they
kissed, she felt his tongue brush across her lips, sort of like
it had first brushed her nipples when he'd sucked on her tits
earlier that morning.

      _Now what?_  She didn't want to pull back.  That would be
childish.  Should she lick her father's lips in return?  The
thought made the horny feeling in her split--in her _pussy_, she
corrected herself, wondering why she couldn't remember to use all
these new terms the way a grownup would--tingle.  The thought
wasn't objectionable.  But was it what he expected?  She could
ask, but then she'd have to stop kissing him to do so.  That
wouldn't be fair to him because of his needs.  Would it?  Or
would it be less fair to keep kissing him in a way that wasn't
what he expected or needed?

      Being a grownup, Wynter suddenly realized, was a lot more
work than it had seemed to her when she was just a child.

      She gently pushed her tongue tip out and brushed it against
her father's lips.  She was about to pull it back in when his
rushed out and rubbed across hers.  _Drat!_  She had been too
slow and his tongue had touched hers instead of her lips like he
meant to do.  She pulled it back into her mouth to give her
father free access to her lips.

      His tongue followed hers into her mouth!  _Yuck!_  What had
she done wrong that had caused her father's tongue to
accidentally enter her mouth?

      Wait a minute!  He didn't pull it back out.  Instead he was
rubbing her tongue with his.  It couldn't be an accident.  He had
to know the difference between her tongue and her lips.  He was
doing it on purpose!  And it wasn't really all that unpleasant.
In fact, it wasn't unpleasant at all.  And the horny feeling in
her pussy was getting stronger!

      And then it was gone, and she felt his head draw back as far
as the pillow and mattress would let him.  It was over.

      "I think I took you by surprise," he said, looking deep into
her blue-green eyes with a worried face.  "I'm sorry.  I thought
you knew about French kissing by the way you responded."

      _Drat!_  She had disappointed her father because she was
ignorant of stuff she should have known.  She felt puddles
growing along her lower eyelids.  "I'm sorry, Daddy.  Mother
didn't tell me about that kind of kissing, and I didn't know what
to do.  Suzie Middleton mentioned it once, but she said you just
licked lips, and she didn't know if both people did it or just
one.  I just guessed, and I guess I guessed wrong."

      "Oh, no, honey.  Not at all!  Kissing is like sex in that
there's _not_ really a wrong way to do it.  Well, unless you bite
hard!  Part of the fun of both kissing and sex is learning what
each one likes best and sharing.  And I'll tell you a little
secret about us guys if you want me to."

      She looked deep into his eyes to see if he was being
serious.  He was!  And he wanted to share a secret with her?
Then he really, truly must not be upset.  She nodded, afraid her
voice would break if she spoke.

      "A lot of guys look at it as being a badge of honor to be
the first one to do stuff with a girl.  Like being the first to
kiss her or to French kiss her.  I'm one of them.  I know that no
matter how old you get and how many guys you kiss, none of them
can ever be the first one to know the thrill of feeling your
sweet little tongue against theirs.  Only I have that honor, and
that makes me feel wonderful."

      With her free hand she wiped her eyes and got another warm
and tingly feeling all over from the way he was looking at her.
It was a look that shouted how much he loved her.  It was a look
that wrapped around her and bear-hugged her the way his arms
couldn't.

      "Raise the bed the rest of the way and let's eat," he said.
" I'll answer your questions.  I know you have plenty."

      Did she ever.

                               ~ ~ ~

      By the time they'd finished lunch it was mid-afternoon.  She
knew more about kissing now, and was eager to do her lessons in
"the laboratory exercise," as her father always called practicing
new stuff.  He had told her that it was his problem to explain to
Nurse Carter why he was no longer feeling pain from "the
discomfort of semen buildup."  He didn't say how he'd do it, but
he said it was taken care of and for her not to worry.

      She wheeled the table aside and sat on the side of the bed,
her body turned to where he could look at her tits and her pussy
because that made him happy.  Yes, he really did want to do oral
sex with her, but not if the idea made her uncomfortable or
upset.  He would eat her pussy only if she really wanted it, not
if she were agreeing because she thought it was what he wanted.

      He didn't see any way they could continue with sexual
activities once Nurse Carter returned.  And especially after
Mother returned from Europe.  That meant this was her _only_
chance to learn from him.

      "But, Daddy, you need your rest to recover.  If you use up
all your energy for me, it will take you longer to heal.  I'm
your nurse!  I can't make you take longer to heal just for me."

      She couldn't identify the look he gave her.  "Wynter," he
said in a gentle voice, "you're not making this easy."

      She felt the heat of the blush spreading up her face.  She
was trying to be a good nurse and she had childishly done
something wrong.  But what?  Her eyes dropped to stare at his arm
cast and she couldn't make them return to his eyes.  "I'm sorry.
Daddy, I'm just trying to be a good nurse for you.  I'm not doing
a good job of explaining it.  Nurse Carter will be back tomorrow.
Maybe she can explain it to you better."  She felt her voice
crack with the last sentence.

      "Honey, I'm the one who's not doing a good job of
explaining.  I understand what you are saying, but you don't
understand _me_.  You don't understand what rules are all about.
What I'm trying to say is that sometimes it's okay to go against
the rules."

      She frowned, thinking about that.

      "Honey, I really would love it if you'd look me in the eye
right now."

      _Drat_.  She lifted her eyes to his.  When she made eye
contact, he broke out in a big smile.  "Thanks.  I just wanted to
feel like you loved me."

      "Daddy, I _do_ love you!  That's why...."

      "Yes, honey, I _know_ it in my head."  He gave her his big
warm smile that always made her feel better.  "But when you look
at me instead of my cast or the bed rail or the floor or the
table, I can also _feel_ it in...."  He winced suddenly, and
Wynter flew into mother hen mode.

      "Daddy?  Are you okay?"

      "Yeah," he said in a gasp.  "Remind me not to try to tap my
heart while I'm in these casts.  What I'm trying to say--hmmm.
Okay, let's try it this way.  The first couple of nights after
you found Dragon and he was almost dead, you were up almost all
night taking care of him, right?"

      "Uh huh."  She realized how childish that sounded and grew
angry with herself again.  _Why_ couldn't she sound like a
grownup?

      "You were a growing girl and needed your rest to grow
properly, but you spent most of two nights awake taking care of
Dragon's needs."  By the way he repeated it she realized he was
"reinforcing the lesson" the way her teachers would do in nursing
school, but she didn't know what the lesson was.  "By taking care
of Dragon's needs, you spent the energy you needed to grow."

      "Yes, but I made up for it after he started getting better."

      "Aha!" he said, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.  "You
made up for it later."

      More "reinforcing the lesson."  He said nothing else.  She
thought about it.  "You're saying that you can make up for it
later, too?"

      He shrugged as best he could.  "What else am I going to do
when they plow the road and Ellen makes it back here?  Wear
myself out by going dancing with her?"

      She laughed then, and that made him laugh.  Wynter liked to
hear her father's rich, hearty laugh.  It made her feel that the
world was a happy place.

      "But even if I couldn't make up for it later," he continued,
"I wouldn't care.  If it took me another day, or even two or
three days more, I wouldn't care because I was doing something
for you.  Honey, you're going to learn that as a grownup, you
always find yourself having to make choices.  Sometimes there's
no best choice.  Heck, sometimes there's not even a good choice.
That's called the 'lesser of two evils' decision.  But that's
_not_ what this one is for me."

      She stared into his deep eyes, thinking about that.

      "When you're a parent, just like when you were caring for
Dragon, you'll sometimes choose to do not what is best for you at
the moment.  It might not even be what's best for your child at
that moment, but what's best in the long run.  Do you
understand?"

      She scrunched her eyebrows in thought for a moment.  "Like
that time I was really sick and had a high temperature?  I was
freezing and wanted Mother to cover me up, but she put me in the
bathtub and poured water on me to get my fever down?"

      Her father made an embarrassed face.  "Well, that's a much
better example than mine about you wanting candy before
suppertime.  I sure am lucky you're the brains in the family."

      She laughed again and squeezed his leg to her hip in a hug.
"You said Dragon was the brains in the family!"

      "Well, that was last summer.  You got smarter since then."
He looked at his casts.  "Apparently I didn't."

      "_Daddy!_  It wasn't your fault that drunk hit you."

      "No, but if I hadn't been trying to change the CD, I might
have been able to duck, or at least keep from being rolled down
the hillside.  You remember this when you start driving."

      "I will, Daddy," she said in the most solemn, grownup manner
she could use.  She slid off the bed and moved to where his arm
cast wouldn't be in the way when she kissed him.

      She suddenly realized that his eyes hadn't moved to her tits
or her pussy once.  He'd kept them on hers the whole time,
despite how much he said he loved looking at them!  Did he not
like it any more?  Or did he keep his eyes on hers because that
was what was best in the long run?  It had to be the latter.  She
got that warm, tingly feeling all over again when she realized
that he was _showing_ her how much he loved her with his actions.
The moment their lips met, her tongue rushed forward. She was
going to show him that she loved him just as much as he loved
her.  And that was a _lot!_

                             Three of Ten

      When Wynter returned with the empty urinal, he was already
asleep again.  She was glad that she'd put the bed down first,
rather than leaving him sitting upright while she cleaned the
container.  She hadn't even masturbated him after he was finished
urinating.   Or _peeing_, as the grownups said among themselves.
She put the urinal in its storage location and noted the time and
volume on his records for Nurse Carter.

      She had her own record keeping to perform now.  She'd fetch
a new notebook, one of the thin ones the size of a hardback book,
and write down all those new grownup terms she'd learned.  Just
as soon as she finished with her patient.  She rechecked the
suspended casts.  If her father had moved, they might be pulling
his shoulders uncomfortably.  She guessed "uncomfortably" was a
relative term since they couldn't be comfortable under any
circumstances.  He'd wanted a pain pill with his last meds.  He
had been taking i-bu-pro-fen--Wynter wondered why she always had
trouble saying that word.  He had been saving the remaining few
pain pills in case he needed some and Nurse Carter was still
trapped in town by the avalanche.  Nurse Carter was trapped there
because the pharmacist had mis-read Doctor Taylor's yucky
handwriting and had filled his pain prescription with a laxative,
and she had rushed to town in the blizzard to get more pain
pills.

      When Wynter was satisfied, she held her ponytail out of the
way as she leaned over to gently kiss him.  She slid her tongue
forward just enough to touch it to his lips, and he sighed
gently.  "I love you, Daddy," she whispered as she pulled back
and looked down his body.

      She saw the slight bulge in the sheet where his penis--his
_dick_--was.  She moved around the cast and stood beside his
legs, gently lifting the sheet away to look at that ruddy three
inches of his body that made her father feel so good when she
_jacked him off_.  She thought about that term and remembered her
father using a car jack once.  The hand movement was sort of the
same, so she supposed that was where the term came from.  She
decided to put that observation in her "Sexual Words" notebook
when she started it.

      She again felt the impulse to kiss his dick and took her
ponytail in her left hand.  The tingly feeling sprang to life
down _there_ in her pussy, especially in her clitty, as she bent
forward with her coral lips puckered.  A wave of incredibly
strong _horniness_ washed over her when her lips touched his
dick, just as had happened before.

      A thought struck her as she was straightening.  She bent
forward and kissed his dick again, this time sliding her wet
tongue between her lips to caress the top side of it during the
kiss.  The first wave of horniness was like a candle compared to
the bonfire that exploded between her legs.  She needed one hand
to keep her ponytail from tickling her father and awakening him,
and the other to support her weight as she leaned forward on
rubbery knees, but she could achieve a little bit of relief with
_thigh masturbation_.  She squeezed her firm, slender thighs
together against her aching clitty and twisted and humped her
lower body.  It didn't feel nearly as good as her fingers in her
split--her pussy, she corrected herself again--but it helped give
some relief.

      His dick started to swell slightly and she stopped, rising
to look at his face to see if she was awakening him before his
body said he'd had enough rest.  He hadn't moved, except for his
dick.  She used her nose to point it up his stomach, where she
could kiss the nerves on the bottom side, right where he'd told
her it felt best when she rubbed him with her hand.  When she
did, it grew a little more, until it wasn't hard yet, but it
wasn't soft any more, either.

      On impulse, probably because she was thinking about her
father performing oral sex on her, she opened her mouth and let
half the head slide in.  The bonfire in her clitty became a
forest fire.  A moan exploded from her.  She suddenly grew scared
that she would awaken him too soon if she continued, though she
really didn't want to stop yet.

      But she was being childish in thinking about her needs
instead of her patient's.  She reluctantly removed her mouth and
gave him a soft, gentle kiss on the nerve spot.  She wondered if
it had a medical name and if grownups had another name for it.

      With his sheet back in place she again checked his casts and
eased across the hall to her room to find an unused notebook.
Dragon moved the five feet from one door to the other.

      She sat in her chair at her desk, which she'd moved to the
wall by the door.  By leaning forward just a little she could see
through the facing doors and observe her sleeping father.  Her
patient, she corrected herself.  She was Daddy's nurse.  The last
time she'd masturbated him--given him a _hand job_--she'd done it
for her father, but the first two times were for her patient.  He
was asleep now, and he was her patient again.

      But he'd said that after he slept a little bit, he'd become
her teacher and she'd be Daddy's student while he taught her
about oral sex.  She thought about having her father's dick in
her mouth and the forest fire blazed to life.  There was a
lingering salty taste, probably from the tiny amount of urine, or
_pee_, remaining on his dick or in the--the--that "u" word.
_Urethra_.  It sounded yucky to think about, but actually it
wasn't bad.

      She wondered if she'd taste salty to her father when he
stuck his tongue in her pussy, even though she carefully wiped
and blotted in the bathroom.  And she scrubbed her split really,
really good when she bathed, too.  Well, there was just one way
to find out.

      She was surprised to discover that her fingers were already
in her split, massaging the tiny hard stick of her clitoris.
She'd even dragged some of her natural lubrication from her
vaginal opening to her clitty while she was rubbing it.  It was
only the second time she had used her fingers to masturbate and
already her body was acting without conscious thought on her
part.

      She'd better ask her father if that was okay when he woke
up.  She thought so, but there was so much about sex stuff that
he hadn't told her.  Grownups sure had to keep track of a lot of
information.

      She moved a finger to her vaginal opening--her _cunny_, she
corrected herself.  Or was it?  She stared at the open notebook,
its pages still unmarked except for the heading on the first
page, "Sex Terminology."  She liked the way that sounded
grownup--much more so than "Sex Words."  Was her cunny just her
vaginal opening or all of the area inside her split?  Where did
her pussy quit and her cunny begin?  She grabbed a throwaway
notepad and scribbled her questions onto it so that she wouldn't
forget to ask her father.  That way she wouldn't have to make
corrections in the notebook.

      She was having trouble holding the pen while she wrote.
Halfway through the first question she realized that her fingers
were wet with her natural lubrication, and it was really slick.
She chastised herself--another grownup-sounding word that she
liked--for not paying more attention to what she was doing.  A
patient's life depended on his nurse paying strict attention to
the smallest details.

      She set the pen down and brought her fingertips to her nose.
It didn't smell like urine, but it did smell like her split.  It
was a clean smell and not unpleasant.  She hoped that her father
wouldn't be disappointed or upset by it, though she had no idea
what he expected.  She worried that it was different from other
women's and that he wouldn't like it, but she couldn't think of
any way to find out except for her father to tell her.  And then
it would be too late.

      She eased the tip of her tongue out and lightly touched the
natural lubrication on her fingers.  She pulled her tongue back
in at the instant she knew it had touched the liquid.  She really
didn't taste anything.  She tasted again, leaving her tongue in
contact for almost half a second.  Strange, but not unpleasant.

      After a third try she coated her finger with more of the
natural lubrication in her split and put the finger in her mouth.
She couldn't define the flavor, but she decided that it didn't
taste bad to her.  Of course, she still didn't know how it would
taste to her father when he _ate her pussy_.  She resumed
worrying about that as she used a tissue to wipe her fingers
clean and picked up the pen.  As she began writing, her left hand
moved to her pussy and a finger worked its way into her split to
stroke her hard little clitty.

      She tried really, really hard to keep from making noise that
would awaken her father when she came.

                             Four of Ten

      Richard King slowly awoke from a dream about looking at
flowers while walking down a mountain trail with Wynter.  He
couldn't remember any more than that, but he remembered that he
was enjoying the moment.  Maybe he'd ask her if she wanted to go
for a walk with him, down to the flat rock by the creek where she
practiced her flute lessons.  They'd pick wildflowers--flowers
were growing now, weren't they?

      He opened his eyes.  Past the ropes suspending his right arm
cast he saw the late spring blizzard was winding down to
scattered flakes, with the sun trying to break through the
clouds.  The real world crept back into his mind with all the
subtlety of a dynamite charge.

      He rolled his head to the left, expecting to see Wynter
sitting in the padded chair.  When she wasn't there, he tried to
lift his head high enough to see if she was in her sleeping bag
near the foot of his bed.  Movement beyond he door caught his
eye.  It was Dragon, getting up to turn a circle and lie down
again in her doorway.  The dog never left her side willingly,
except to make his "doggie trips" outside.  He always positioned
himself in a doorway so that she couldn't leave a single-exit
room without going past him, waking him if he were asleep.  In a
room with multiple exits, he would sometimes move from one to the
other at intervals.

      Beyond Dragon he saw her desk's new location and her slender
arms atop it.  She was writing in one of her notebooks.  Half of
a shelf in her bookcase was filled with her notebooks of various
sizes, each dedicated to a different topic ranging from
recipes--she was already as good a cook as her mother--to medical
conditions and treatments to wildlife to notes about piano and
flute techniques.  The latter two were in separate books, of
course.

      She even had at least one large notebook with unlined pages
where she made sketches, though she was unaware that her parents
knew about that.  Angie had found it open on her desk one day,
but looked only at the open page.  It showed a sketch of Dragon
with a waterfall in the background.  Angie had told him about it,
saying that Wynter had shown talent in the sketch, but she didn't
know if it was a recent sketch or one that was a few years old.
Richard wished he could have seen it, but Wynter had returned it
to the shelf by the time he'd returned home.  By that time, Angie
was exceptionally enraged with herself for having looked at the
drawing, but she'd been so surprised that she hadn't had time to
think until it was too late.

      They treated Wynter's notebooks the same as they'd treat her
diary if she kept one--personal.  In effect, they were a diary,
just one in multiple volumes.  After twenty years Angie was still
furious over the time her older sister, Diana, had picked the
lock on her diary and read her most personal thoughts.  She felt
betrayed by her sister and swore that she'd never make Wynter
feel the same way.  Richard willingly agreed to treat Wynter's
notebooks the same, though he couldn't shake the feeling that if
he'd refused to do so, Angie would have shot him with the .38
Special she carried when hiking in the mountain forests.  The
only thing that had more importance to her than that betrayal was
Wynter and himself.

      Wynter's desk had sides that kept him from seeing her long
slender legs, firmly muscled and covered in creamy soft, pale
skin that had lost virtually all of last summer's tan.  They were
just beginning to show the signs of the sculpturing they would
have when she finished the transition from girl to woman.  And
that transition was well underway with her two small, wide-spaced
hemispheres that were so soft and yet so firm at the edges of a
ribcage that stood out in ripples like a washboard.  The narrow
waist that was pinching in above the soft flare of her hips.  The
wonderful, sexy little butt that had started rounding and filling
out, looking more woman-like than child-like now.  And the
prominent little mound with its thin covering of half-inch blonde
hair that started above the point of her sweet little slit and
was spreading in a thin line down the soft-looking pillows of her
outer lips.

      He silently laughed at himself for being an idiot.  He had
known she was growing titties--not only were the bulges visible
under her tighter blouses, but there were training bras in the
laundry that certainly didn't belong to Angie.  But it had never
occurred to him that she was also growing a mat of pussy hair on
that cute little cunt.  Cute was the operative word.  Richard had
never seen a prettier pecker playpen in his life.  If he could
sit down and draw up plans for his dream twat, he'd have Wynter's
on paper when he was done.

      The most exciting moment in his life to date had been
sucking on those incredibly exciting little titties.  And now,
unless she'd changed her mind, which he doubted, he was going to
have that little honeybox pressed down on his face.  If he could
keep her there until Ellen Carter was able to return from town,
it wouldn't be long enough.  If her could keep her there until
Angie returned from Europe, it wouldn't be long enough.  If he
could keep her there until the universe ended, it wouldn't be
long enough.

      Movement against the sheet told him that the Beast was
stirring, growing hard at the thought.  He wondered if he could
get her to suck his dick of her own accord--he desperately wanted
her to suck him, but he wanted her to do so because _she_ wanted
to do it, not because he wanted her to do so.  He emitted a
hybrid sound between a sigh and a moan that she didn't hear.  But
Dragon did.

      The dog's front half shot up from the floor, and he looked
over his shoulder at Richard.  That caused Wynter to lean forward
and look into his room.  Her mother hen face appeared in an
instant and she sprang from her chair.

      "Daddy, are you okay?  What's wrong?  Do you need something?
Are you in pain?  Do you need a pill or just some water?"  The
questions began before she was out of her room.

      Richard tried desperately not to laugh.  The hormones
surging through her body made her even more sensitive than usual
to what she perceived as criticism, and even on her best days,
she was a perfectionist with a determination that could be almost
infuriating.

      "Honey, I'm fine.  I woke up was all.  I'm tired of
sleeping.  I guess Dragon heard me yawn or something."

      She was at his left shoulder, looking down at him over the
rise of those sweet, adorable young breasts with their creamy
smooth texture and the small pink cones rising from them.  He
couldn't believe the strength of the desire that his own
daughter's sprouting little sweater stuffers generated within
him.  He couldn't see her sweet little pussy now, but those
adorable titties were so wonderful that he didn't care.

      "Actually," he said, "I could use a sip of water.  And a
kiss, if you don't mind.  I'm sure my breath is worse than
Dragon's right now, so if you don't want to kiss me yet, you
don't have to."

      She put her fists on the gentle flare of her hips and stared
down, trying to look stern.  "Any woman who didn't want to kiss
you would have to be crazy.  And I'm _not_ crazy!  Dragon says
so."

      "Well, your mother's not crazy, either, and some mornings
she doesn't want to kiss me."

      "Maybe she just doesn't love you as much as I do."

      Before Richard could reply she realized what she had said.
Her standard look of panic swept over her face, and words rushed
out in a jumble.  "Oh, Daddy, I'm sorry I said that!  I was just
teasing.  I didn't mean that Mother doesn't love you.  I didn't
mean to...."

      "Honey, it's okay.  Don't worry.  I know exactly what you
meant.  Okay?"  He wished his arms were free to encircle and
comfort her.  "Besides, maybe you _do_ love me more than she
does.  There's no way anybody can prove whether you're right or
wrong about that.  But the important thing is that you both love
me more than enough."

      The panicked look faded to puzzlement.  "More than enough?"

      "Sure.  You love me enough to make me feel warm and comfy
and good all over, but you also love me more than that.  I take
the more part and store it in here," he said, looking down at his
chest, "in my heart and that way I can still feel warm and comfy
and good all over when I'm not around you.  Like I have to do now
while your mother is overseas, and like I have to do when I go to
work."

      He said nothing while she thought about it for a moment, and
then was rewarded by slender arms flying around his neck and her
sweet coral lips lowering to kiss him.  "I have the nicest father
in the whole wide world," she said.  "And the nicest patient."
It was a father/daughter kiss, with no tongue action, but Richard
didn't mind in the least.  It was the sweetest kiss imaginable.

      She flew back as if shocked.  "Oh, _drat!_  I forgot about
your water!"

      "No, you didn't."

      "Yes I did!  You asked for water and I...."

      "And you gave me what I needed the most first, and now
you're about to give me my water.  Just like a responsible adult
would do.  And what a good nurse would do."

      She apparently realized he was serious because she blushed
and her eyes dropped away from his.  She poured half a glass of
cold water from the insulated pitcher and put a bent straw in it.
"I should raise the bed," she said.

      "Wait about that until after we talk.  I can drink it lying
down."

      After she put the empty glass back on the stand he had her
sit beside him on the bed.  His eyes swept over as much of her
body as he could see from his prone position.  "Honey, do you
still want me to eat your pussy?"

      He watched mother hen fight with personal desire behind her
eyes.  She slowly nodded.  "But only if it's not...."

      "Stop," he said, but with a gentle smile to ease the moment.
He knew the routine that should keep her from feeling rebuked.
"Recess is over.  Class is now is session.  I will call the roll
of students.  Wynter?"

      "Here."  Her head was down, but her eyes were on his and she
was smiling.  It had worked.

      "Good.  Everybody's present," he announced, while she
giggled as usual.  He tried to ignore the patterns her sweet
nipples traced when her ribcage quivered.  "Today's lesson is on
relationships between women and men.  I'll grant you that your
mother is better qualified to teach this from your perspective,
but I've been appointed substitute teacher for the day.  Any
objections?"

      "None," she said with a bright smile and a shake of her
head.  "You're better qualified than Mother to teach me from your
perspective."

      "Well, you know that, and I know that, but let's keep that
our secret and not tell your mother.  Okay?"

      "Okay," she said with another giggle.  There were times that
her mother insisted she knew more about men than her father did.
Richard, of course, didn't even pretend to understand _anything_
about women.

      Richard again wished his arms were free.  It was difficult
lecturing without the ability to make gestures.  His father said
that the fault came from his mother's Italian blood.  "For a
relationship to work, the two people have to learn to be honest
with each other and to respect the other's opinions or wishes.
Let's pull a random hypothetical scenario out of thin air."

      Wynter giggled again, knowing what was coming.

      "Let's say you are a nurse with a patient you love, and he
loves you.  He offers to eat your pussy, but he's concerned that
you might not want him to.  Let's say he's afraid that if you say
yes, it's because you're doing what you think he wants and not
what you want.  Let's say you want him to eat your pussy, but
you're afraid that if he does so, it's not what's best for him.
Or maybe you don't want him to, but you're afraid that if you say
so, you will hurt his feelings.  Or maybe you want him to, but
you're afraid that he really doesn't want to.  Or he really
doesn't want to, but he's offering because he thinks that's what
you want.  Or--hmmmm."

      He scrunched up his face and studied the ceiling as if in
deep thought.  "I think that's everything."  He shrugged.  "Well,
it's close enough.  Now, here's the key:  you _have_ to be
totally honest with each other.  You can't answer based upon what
you think the other person wants, and you can't be upset with
what the other person says.  Am I going too fast for you?"

      She shook her head, causing her blonde ponytail to lash
about.  "Those rattling marbles sounded like a negative
response," he said, causing another round of giggles.  Richard
knew from vast experience that as long as he could keep Wynter
laughing, she'd accept the message without feeling she was being
chastised.

      "A relationship, especially with someone you love, can't
work if you aren't sure whether the other partner is fibbing
about what he or she wants.  The first time you're not sure, it
causes a teensy little crack that you can't even see.  Every time
after that the crack gets a little wider until it's as big as the
vacant space between your Aunt Diane's ears."

      "Daddy!"  She tried to look stern, but it was hard to do
when she was doubled over in laughter.

      "Now, here's the important part of the lesson."  He waited
for her to stop laughing and give him her full attention.  It was
her cue that this was where she should pay complete attention.
"The crack in the relationship can grow only so wide until the
relationship breaks apart.  Understand?"

      He waited.  No matter how obvious one of his lessons was,
Wynter always thought about what he had said to see if she could
find either hidden meanings or flaws in his logic.  After a
moment she nodded.  "You're saying you shouldn't offer unless
it's what you really want, and I shouldn't accept unless it's
what I really want, or else we'd risk our relationship."

      "Well, it's not about us.  It's purely a hypothetical
scenario.  It could be about you and your future husband.  Or
maybe between you and some boy you meet in college."

      Wynter looked puzzled.  "Why would some boy I met in college
want to eat my pussy?"

      Richard sighed.  Angie was in for some interesting
mother-daughter conversations when she returned.  "Let's save
that for another class because it takes us too far off this
lesson's topic."

      "Okay."  It was obvious that she was mentally filing the
question for later resurrection, undoubtedly _before_ Angie
returned.  "What if one person wants to and the other doesn't and
they say so?"

      "Oh, good question!  We've been paying attention."  That
sideways compliment caused Wynter to duck her head, but this time
she kept her eyes on his and she smiled.  Richard was amazed that
this lesson was going so smoothly.  His little girl really was
growing up.  The change in just the short interval between the
time Ellen Carter called to say she'd been stranded in town and
now bordered on incredible.  Angie was going to accuse him of
switching daughters while she was gone.  _Well_, he thought, _she
should have realized that Wynter was growing up and done a better
job of talking to and preparing her_.  A moment later he
retracted that thought.  He hadn't even realized it himself.

      "The answer to that question is:  'It depends.'"  He waited
for the frown and then continued.  "There's no one fixed answer,
honey.  It all depends on the situation.  Sometimes one side will
give in, and sometimes the other will.  I guess the answer is
based on needs, though usually the "No" will be the deciding
answer."

      "Then, uh...."  Her face scrunched while she tried to think
of a way to word her question.

      "I'm your teacher and you're my student," he reminded her,
knowing what the question was.  "It's okay to ask anything."

      "Then you and Mother...."  She turned red and didn't finish
the sentence.  Her expression changed, and he realized she was
now angry with herself for blushing.

      "We love each other and we do what's best for both of us.
Sometimes it's what she wants, sometimes it's what I want.
Usually a 'No' answer is followed by, 'But tomorrow...,' or 'In a
couple of hours...,' or something like that."

      Wynter sighed.  "Why do grownups always have to make things
so complicated?"

      "To make our kids think we're smarter than they are," he
said as she reached for the edge of the sheet and pulled it down,
exposing the flaccid Beast.

      "Okay," she said as she took it in her warm, soft hand and
began gently pumping it back to life.  "If you think it's not too
early."  When he questioned that she replied, "Well, I
masturbated after you went to sleep, and I came again.  I'd like
for you to eat my pussy if you think I've rested long enough that
I can cum again."

      Something else Angie obviously hadn't told her.  "Honey,
women aren't like men.  We have to rest between orgasms, but
women can have one after another for as long as they can stand
it."

      Mother hen's face reappeared and turned to a look of horror.
"That's not _fair!_"

                             Five of Ten

      For a while, Richard thought he would need a physician and a
consulting engineer to work out a position that wasn't
uncomfortable for either of them and that didn't put him in risk
of greater injury if she should slip.  The latter was mostly
Wynter's concern because she was very aware of her father's
accident-prone nature.  Fortunately for Richard, his daughter had
more sense than he did, and for that he was thankful.  He was in
far too big a hurry to taste that wonderful juvenile pussy and
would have gone with the first position where she could rub her
sweet little cunt on his face.  He could just picture Ellen
Carter showing up to find him with two dislocated shoulders and a
bad case of pussy breath.

      He was going to have enough trouble explaining--somehow--why
he no longer suffered pain from seminal build-up.

      They found the right combination of slight elevation of the
head of the bed plus an additional pillow that allowed her to
kneel on either side of his body with that firm, round little
butt toward his face--he made a mental note to nibble on it to
check its firmness--and her feet under his elevated arms and
shoulders.  From there she could push her little love box back to
his face, as she was now doing.  That position had an additional
advantage:  it put her face near the Beast, should she decide to
return the favor.  But later:  he didn't want her to be
distracted while she enjoyed her first cunnilingus session.

      "Daddy, after I masturbated, my pussy was just a big mess
from my natural lubrication," she said, "so I washed and dried it
for you.  If I didn't do it good enough, I can go wash it again."

      Richard inhaled the intoxicating aroma of faint soap, clean
cunt, and young skin from mere inches away.  The Beast began
showing renewed interest.  "Honey, as long as your pussy is kept
normally clean, it's just fine.  If you don't wash for a couple
of days and it gets all funky, then that's different, but fresh
pussy juice has some kind of chemicals--pher... phera... whatever
they are--that attract men and make us interested."

      "You mean 'pheromones,' like bug traps use?" she asked,
looking down between her small, round breasts and between those
long, slim thighs to the lower part of his face.

      Richard's eyes where roaming over the almost flawless thighs
and buttocks, the soft, fat little pillows of her outer labia,
the thin line of the inner lips just visible within her slit, and
the short cornsilk hair growing on her prominent mound and
trailing back thinly along either side of her sweet-smelling
slit.  When he had time, he'd be amazed again at what Wynter did
and did not know.

      "That's the word," he said.  "Honey, it smells just
wonderful and looks--well, it looks good enough to eat, and I
can't wait any longer to taste you.  Are you ready?"

      She was.  He guided her back and rubbed his nose over her
butt cheeks, down along her thighs, and up them to the already
dampening pinkness within her little slit.  The tip of his nose
toyed with the little button of her clit.  It swelled and
stiffened before he moved his nose into the wetness that was
collecting at the tiny opening of her love tunnel.  He noted that
the entrance wasn't restricted by a hymen, as he had expected.
She was an active, athletic girl and could have ruptured it any
number of times and ways over the past several years, but he was
sure he knew how she lost it.

      He eased the tip of his nose into the tight, wet tube and
inhaled what she would probably refer to now as her "natural
pheromones."  He nose-fucked her twice before sliding his
juice-slickened snout up to the tight pucker of her little butt
hole.  That, too, had been scrubbed fresh and clean, he noticed,
as his tongue licked the downy pillows of her outer lips.  He
placed several kisses on her thighs, ass, and pussy before
repeating the lick.  Then he slowly licked his was into her slit
and alternated between probing the entrance to her love mine and
the hard little stick of her twat trigger.

      Maybe he was alive, maybe he was dead; whichever it was,
Richard King was in Heaven.

                               ~ ~ ~

      Wynter felt _nervous anxiety_ as she knelt over father's
body with her pussy almost touching his face.  She was so afraid
that he'd be disappointed with her pussy once he tasted it.  She
shivered when his nose rubbed lightly over her behind--her _butt_
or _ass_, as grownups called it--and then down her legs, and then
up between them.  The horny feeling in her clitty started
growing, and when his nose brushed that little hard stick of
flesh, the feeling seemed to consume her whole lower body.  If
Daddy didn't like her pussy, she'd have to _get herself off_ with
her fingers, and she'd do it while sitting in the chair so he
could watch.  Unless, of course, he was so disappointed with her
that he didn't want to watch, either.  In that case, she'd have
to wait until he went to sleep.

      She thought she'd die from either horniness or happiness,
she wasn't sure which, when his nose slid into the tight, wet
opening of her burning cunny.  There was a not-unpleasant feeling
of coldness when he inhaled and air rushed across her _inner
lips_.  Or whatever they were called.  And then she felt her
father's nose push up inside of her, and again, and again, and
she heard his sigh of pleasure.  She knew that was what is was
because it sounded just like her own.  And with that, she knew he
was pleased, and that she could stop worrying.  If there was
something he didn't like, it had been overcome by her natural
pheromones.

      His nose slid out of her opening, and she felt a mixture of
both disappointment with its absence and anticipation at what
might be next.  It probed her anus.  Her _butt hole_, if grownups
called people's the same as Daddy had called Dragon's.  She
needed to remember to ask him about that.  She was suddenly
thankful that she'd had the foresight to wash _everything_ down
_there_ very thoroughly when she took her shower.

      And then she stopped thinking when she felt his tongue
caress the fat little pads on either side of her split.  Her jump
in horniness left no room for thought.  She felt a dozen kisses
on her cunny, her butt, her legs, seeming to all land at once.
Another lick along her split tightened the clock spring in her
cunny another notch.  And another.  And another.  He was slowly
licking his way into her split, and Wynter thought she would die
of pleasure overdose before she could cum again.  His tongue in
her pussy felt as much better than French kissing as French
kissing felt better than regular kissing.

      His tongue stroked along the length of her clitty, to
include the exposed head.  It didn't feel uncomfortable the way
her finger did, even when she coated her finger with her natural
lubrication--her _pussy juice_, said the correcting thought that
seemed to come from another world.

      She shivered with delight when his exploring tongue reached
her cunny opening, expecting him to repeat the lick.  Instead, it
snaked inward until it was insider her cunny, making her gasp in
surprise.  It pulled back and thrust in again, several times,
causing her to wonder if _fucking_ felt that good, too.

      What was that noise?  It was her, moaning every time his hot
tongue pushed up into her tight cunny hole.  She held her breath,
but the moaning continued.  It was her father, and they had been
moaning together, except, she vaguely realized, they were
off-key.  She thought that she should make an effort to get on
key with him, but his tongue had pulled out of her cunny and
returned for another lick up the length of her hard little
clitty, and she lost all control of her next moan, and the ones
that followed as he switched between licking her aching clitty
and probing up her burning cunny hole.

      When she was masturbating that afternoon for her second time
ever, she had wondered if oral sex would feel as good as
masturbation.  The answer was clearly, "No."  It felt a _lot_
better!

      She knelt there, with her face above his hard dick, moaning
in discordant harmony, feeling the spring in her cunny grow
tighter and tighter and tighter as she enjoyed his mixture of
furious licking and kissing and sucking on everything he could
reach between her legs.  She almost came when he sucked her
clitty between his lips and began flipping it with his tongue.
He had stopped at exactly the wrong moment and resumed shoving
his tongue into her cunny hole.

      Her eyes were closed!  She opened them and saw that she was
resting her upper body on her forearms, just above his lower
abdominal area.  His large, hard dick was an inch away, moving as
her father humped empty air, the dark hair around it moving with
the air panting out of her lungs.  She lowered her head and
kissed the nerve bundle just below the head and heard him gasp.
She licked the underside from the tip of the head back to his
_nuts_, and he moaned and humped harder.  She repeated the
movement, and he began licking the length of her clitty, in time
with her licking his dick.  His body began tensing under hers,
and his dick began to swell even larger.

      She brought her mouth back to the tip and opened wide to
take the head in.  The tight spring in her cunny overwound and
exploded in a thousand shards, each one riding its own wave of
pleasure through her body.

      She wasn't sure who came first.

                                ~ ~ ~

      Wynter was lying face down on her father's torso, her face
next to the end of his dick and her cunny in his face.  She was
gasping for air, and he was shaking like an earthquake under her
as his body also gasped for air.  She felt his hot breath on her
very upper legs and her pussy, and he seemed to be softly
moaning.  It was a happy-sounding moan, not one of pain or
discomfort.  She started giggling and couldn't stop.  She was
that happy.  She slowly pulled her feet out from under his
extended arms, rose on hands and knees, and turned her head to
look at him.

      She felt something thick and wet at the corner of her mouth
and wiped it away when she was balanced and able to lift a hand.
It was his semen--his _cum_.  Then she remembered that she'd been
sucking on his dick when he came.  She touched her tongue to it,
decided she liked it, and with a twist of her finger, wiped it
onto her tongue and swallowed it.  She turned about, careful not
to bump his arm casts or his leg cast, and looked at him while
still on all fours above him.  He looked even happier than he had
after her last handjob; happier than after she let him suck her
tits.  His face was smeared with her natural lubrication--her
_pussy juice_, she reminded herself--making it seem to glow.

      He gave her that warm, loving smile that in turn made her
glow all inside, and he gasped, "Honey... I hope... you had... as
much fun... as I had."  If he hadn't been a man, she'd have sworn
that he giggled before he said, "That's the best time... I've
ever had... in my entire life."

      She carefully eased up over his whole body and lowered
herself, watching for signs that she was causing him discomfort,
until she was stretched out atop him, with his dick between her
thighs and her arms trying to wrap around his body under his
arms.  He couldn't hug her, so she hugged for both of them.

      "I love you, Daddy," she said, squeezing her arms tighter
about him.

      "I love you, too, Wynter."  His voice said he meant it, and
that made her body tingle all over.

      They lay there in silence for a few moments, enjoying the
warm closeness of each other. Before long he spoke again.
"Honey, would you do me a favor?'

      She raised upright, Mother Hen rushing to her face, though a
little slower than usual.  "What do you need?  I'll do it for
you?"

      He gave her a strange look--almost a disappointed one.  "You
were doing it until you raised up," he said, getting back his
breath.  He panted for a second and then said, "I wanted you to
stay right were you were and to keep holding me for a while."

      "Oh.  Sure!  Tell me if I put pressure on your casts."  She
eased back down, watching his face for signs of pain.  When she
was down, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her chin
against his chest instead of her cheek.  She smiled as she looked
at his face.  She couldn't believe how happy he looked.

      "Honey," he asked, sounding almost a little nervous, "if
it's not too much trouble and it's not uncomfortable for you,
would you mind holding me while I go to sleep?  I'm barely able
to stay awake, despite the fact that I'm so happy that I don't
want to go to sleep."

      "It's no trouble, Daddy.  But you have my natural--I mean,
my pussy juice smeared all over your face.  Don't you want me to
clean you up first?"

      "Huh uh," he grunted.  "Not unless it bothers you."

      "Not really," she said, turning her head and squeezing him
tightly, not caring that the pajama top button was hard against
her cheekbone.  "I guess my natural pheromones work on you, huh?"

      He made an odd laugh that sounded echoy through the ear
against his chest.  "I guess they do, honey.  I'm sorry I can't
stay awake.  Women always complain that men want to go to sleep
right after their orgasms.  Maybe I have a legitimate excuse,
though?"

      "You're hurt, and you need to rest to recover," she said,
keeping her face tight against his chest as she continued to hug
him.  "You have a reason, not an excuse."  She thought that
sounded like a grown-up response and was very pleased with
herself.

                               ~ ~ ~

      Richard awoke to a pressure on his body.  He opened his eyes
and saw blonde hair just below his chin.  His face seemed tight,
and he remembered.  He licked the dried pussy juice and saliva
mix from his lips.  My god, she still tasted wonderful.  She was
asleep, breathing slowly and evenly.

      He was uncomfortable, but he was always uncomfortable with
his arms and one leg hanging there, pulling slightly against
their joints.  But he was being held in a warm, comforting
embrace.  She was no longer squeezing, but her arms were still
warm around him.  He wished he'd had her remove his pajama top
first so that he could feel her silky-smooth skin against his.
Of course, she might have found all his scars to be
uncomfortable, he admitted.

      He had felt wonderful when Angie squat-fucked him before she
left, but that was nothing compared to how his eleven-year-old
daughter had made him feel by humping her juicy little twat in
his face and sucking on the Beast.  He hadn't expected the blow
job, and he didn't have a chance to warn her that he was cumming.
He was surprised that she said nothing about him cumming in her
mouth.  Not that she'd had much opportunity to say anything, but
if she'd been upset, he was certain that she would have said
something, wouldn't she?  But she was Wynter.

      She had wiped some seepage from the corner of her mouth and
swallowed it when she arose afterward.  He hadn't planned to
bring up the idea of oral sex on himself at that time and was
more than pleased that she'd done it of her own volition.

      The memory made the Beast twitch once.  He thought the
bastard was dead after the strength of his last orgasm.  He
wondered where his body had found enough cum to shoot into his
daughter's sweet, coral-lipped mouth and its rows of perfect
white teeth.  Perhaps he hadn't actually shot into her mouth
after all, and what she wiped from her lips was his entire load,
expended outside her mouth.  But he was sure he remembered her
lips encircling the head and her tongue rubbing rings around it
as the Beast opened fire.

      He lay there for a long while, memorizing every detail of
the moment.  He was wondering if there were any way he could keep
her there that night as he finally drifted back to sleep.

(Continued in Chapter Six)

Copyright 2003, 2005 Russell Hoisington

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Russell Hoisington
State of Confusion

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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