Miranda, Female, 24 (current), 8 (flashbacks)

	- Narrator, daughter of Angela and Dan

	- 5'7, beige skin, 125lbs, curly dark red-brown hair over shoulders

Dr. Martin Green, Male, late-40s

	- Sex therapist

	- 5'8, ruddy beige skin, 150lbs, short brown hair with grey streaks

Angela, Female, early-30s (flashbacks)

	- Mother of Miranda, wife of Dan

	- 5'7, beige skin, 140obs, dark-red brown hair over shoulders

Dan, Male, early-30s (flashbacks)

	- Father of Miranda, husband of Angela

	- 5'11, tanned beige skin, 175lbs, cropped dirty-blonde hair

“Nothing more happened until two days before my ninth birthday, which is in October,” I said, replying to Dr. Green's question about how things progressed sexually with my parents.

“You're saying that two months or so went by between you fellating your father and the next sexual experience you shared?” Dr. Green sounded incredulous. “How is that possible? The way you made it sound last time, it was something you all wanted to do again as soon as you could.”

I shrugged. “It felt that way, and that's what was said, but there were something which stopped cold our new relationship. At least for a while.”

- - -

“Mommy,” I called from the bathroom, hoping she could hear me through the closed door. “Mommy?”

“One moment, Dear,” Mom called back.

I was frightened. All the joy and anticipation of the night before, the one where my father had flooded my mouth as I gave him pleasure, had been washed away by what I saw between my legs. My panties were coated with shiny, bright red blood, more of it coating my privates in a sticky mess. I somewhat understood what was going on thanks to earlier talks with my parents, but that did little to soften the fear I felt looking down between my legs.

The door opened and Mom walked in, stopping short when she immediately saw why I'd called out to her. “Ah, Miranda! You've gotten your period!” She smiled at me, adding, “here, let's get you cleaned up and talk about what this means for you.”

After sliding off my panties and putting them to soak in the hot water running into the sink, she wiped away the bulk of the mess on my vulva and thighs, then ran me a warm bath, talking to me about menstruation and fertility and all the changes I'd experience. I'd heard most of it before, but it really helped to be reassured about it during those moments.

Mom sat with me while I bathed. The warm water was calming and her voice was soft and gentle. She scrubbed my back towards the end, then helped me dry and put on my nightshirt.

And none of it was sexual.

That's where our intimate relationship stopped cold, I think. Mom and I reverted immediately back to nurturer and child, and Dad picked up on that as well. Plus, though I didn't know it at the time, the idea that I was now fertile made Dad incredibly nervous. He knew that if we progressed past blowjobs and touching, he'd be in a position to take my cherry, and, as he told me years later, he knew himself well enough to be certain that he would not wear a condom. He figured that, if he was going to have sex with his own daughter, no barrier would stop him from experiencing those moments completely.

So, for a couple of months, none of us explored further together. It really wasn't a big deal to me. I sort of made my ultimate point by letting Dad squirt his load in my mouth, and I was still not wholly sure of just what acts were sexual and which were expected next. I masturbated frequently, usually thinking about the way Dad's cum tasted or the way his cock pulsed as he came. It got me off quickly every time, but at eight, I wasn't focused on the next step in our play. It was enough, I think, that I'd taken Dad in my mouth, and there was no pressure from either of them to do more.

School was well underway and I was a pretty typical third-grader, I suppose. My grades were pretty good, I had taken to keeping my fingers out of my crotch when others could see me, and like many eight-year olds about to turn nine, I shared all my secrets with my very closest friend. In this case, that was Maggie. And by 'all my secrets' I mean everything but the two I'd sworn to keep.

I talked to Maggie about masturbation, but as I've said before, we never explored together after that one night in Indianapolis. I can't say why. Even as we slept in the same bed on Friday or Saturday nights, we just didn't go there. In some ways, I suppose I regret that, but at that age, even with my budding body and growing sexual awareness, I was still naive and innocent and Maggie was still a couple of years from her first period, so sexual impulses were not yet making their way into her thoughts.

My second period was as messy as the first, hitting me fast and hard in the middle of the night. A trip to see Dr. Schneider a few days later suggested that I had a minor condition which could be easily treated with medication, but she had been hesitant to prescribe it to someone so young due to some of the side effects. While abnormal cycles and unpredictable flow were quite normal during puberty, some test had shown that I had a hormonal imbalance. Birth control pills were one of the treatments, but it was an off-label usage that was controversial for young teens, and I was only eight.

So my parents agreed to bring me back in a few months for a check up. Dr. Schneider assured me I was fine, that what was going on was normal, and that, if treatment was to be done, waiting a few months would not affect anything.

I suppose that added to the stress my parents felt about sexual relationships with me. Neither of them wanted me to end up pregnant, and so, wholly invisible to me, they had decided not to pursue anything further for some time. I was rather blissfully unaware of all this at the time, though there were points in my cycle where I was incredibly horny.

I realized my breasts had begun to bud around this time. They became soft nubs, little more than the size of a thick quarter, but they were obvious when I looked at myself naked in the mirror. Mostly, it was just my nipples which made up the flesh of my buds, and they became very sensitive to my touch. I loved to play with them while staring into the mirror. I even began to connect the sensations in my puffy nips to those between my legs, and often masturbated with one hand on my vulva, the other caressing the soft flesh on my chest.

So, despite my sexual growth, the changes in my body, my parents and I had no more intimate contact until, as I said, two days before my ninth birthday. For all the many reasons this had been so, we more than made up for it that night.

- - -

“Would you like to see a picture?”

Dr. Green looked up from his notepad. “A picture?”

“Of me.”

His eyes narrowed, “What do you mean?”

“I have a lot of pictures of me from that time. Mom had bought me my own Polaroid camera and I took a lot of pictures in the mirror. Here,” I reached into my purse and pulled out a small packet of pictures, thumbing through them to find the one I was after, “this one shows them best.”

Before he could stop me, I rose to my feet and pushed the photograph into his hands. Dr. Green's eyes were stuck looking at the picture of me as I was a week or two before my ninth birthday.

I was completely nude.

In the photo, my dark, moderately curly hair fell over my eyes and down behind my shoulders, my skin beige and still somewhat tanned from the summer. My soft buds were easily visible as I stood slightly sideways to the mirror, my dark-brownish nipples rising up from my chest on small, fleshy nubs. Below, you could just make out the way my pubic hair had grown in between my legs. It was still not bushy, just a thin layer of dark, slightly curly hairs which hid my slit from view. I couldn't remember if I took that specific photo just before or just after I'd masturbated, but I felt certain it was close to such a moment.

I smiled as I watched Dr. Green's mouth work, trying to say something and failing.

“Miranda,” he said finally, thrusting the photo back into my hands and looking anywhere but at the image, “this is child pornography. You understand that, yes?”

I shrugged, “It's just a picture I took of myself when I was eight.”

He shook his head, “yes, but you cannot share that here. Perhaps you can possess it yourself, but showing it to someone else. . . you're putting my life in jeopardy!”

Dr. Green was angry, and I realized he was right. “I'm so, so sorry, Martin. . . I. . . I'll take this out to my car right now.”

He was trembling as I left the room. Whether he was aroused or not by what he'd seen, I didn't really know. His better instincts had kicked in, and after a moment of shock, he'd done the right thing. I don't know if I was testing him in some way, something I'm not proud to admit I do all the time to people, but if so, he passed the test.

I returned a moment later and sat down, having left the packet of photographs in my car. “I'm sorry, I just—”

Dr. Green held up his hand. “It's okay, Miranda, I really did not expect. . . to see that. You understand why I reacted as I did?”

I nodded, “Yes. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. I just thought. . . maybe it would help to see what I looked like before the moments I was about to describe.”

His chin pressed down, his eyes avoiding mine, he slowly said, “You were a very beautiful girl.” Then, Dr. Green picked up his notepad and prompted me to continue.

- - -

Since I was about four, I'd been pretty independent when it came to where I slept at night. Where I'm sure other little kids often shared their parents' bed until they hit puberty, I had been very happy to have my own room and I stayed there almost every night. Oh, sure, occasionally I had crept in to sleep with my parents, but it was a very rare event, and since I'd turned seven, I doubt there were more than one or two nights where I'd done that.

Two nights before my ninth birthday, I'd had a bad dream and woke sweating and scared. I couldn't remember what had so frightened me, but I remained still a moment after pushing away the covers, afraid and nervous. Slowly, I slid my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. My nightshirt slipped down over my naked privates, and I quickly moved out of my room and opened my parent's bedroom down the hall.

They were both sleeping and didn't react to me entering their room. I approached my Dad's side of the bed, calling softly, “Daddy?” When he didn't stir, I spoke a bit louder, “Daddy?”

It was too dark to see his eyes, but I imagine they flickered open at that point, “Princess? What's wrong?” he said in his deep tones.

“I'm scared.”

“Bad dream?” Dad asked.

“Yes. Can I sleep with you tonight?” I pleaded.

“Of course you can.” Dad pulled back the sheets and offered me a spot next to him.

I started to crawl in then asked, “can I sleep between you and Mommy?”

“Uhm. . . sure. Here.” My dad moved closer to the edge of the bed, then hefted me up and over him. I could feel his lovely hairy chest on my legs as he passed me into the space he'd made between him and Mom. The covers were soon over us again.

Mom stirred a bit, “Miranda? Everything alright?”

Dad answered for me. “Bad dream. She's safe now.”

“Mmm. . . okay, good.”

I felt Mom's arm wrap over my body. Perhaps it was that I was higher up the bed than she expected, but her fingers brushed my pubic mound and I let out a low sigh. Mom's hand stopped moving, resting just inside my hip.

Almost as if they'd planned it, Dad's hand found Mom's and held tight together resting on my body, just inches from my privates. Dad turned slowly onto his side, facing me, and I felt his penis come to rest against my thigh.

It was hard and I could feel it throbbing every few seconds. It was the most natural thing in the world to slide my hand down to touch Dad's penis.

He groaned and I felt his body stiffen. Mom raised up slightly to see what was happening, but because this was all under the covers, she could only guess. “Dan. . . are you okay?” she said quietly.

Dad reached behind him and flicked on a small light on the nightstand, then pushed back the covers, still holding Mom's hand near my genitals. Mom's eyes were drawn to where my fingers where slowly moving up and down Dad's cock.

Mom let go of Dad's hand and scooted closer to me, letting her fingers trail over my stomach. I flinched at the tickling sensation, letting out a soft giggle. Mom's hand moved higher to touch my puffy buds. “These are so beautiful, Miranda. . . So beautiful. . . ”

And that's how it started. Well, how it started if you ignore the blow job I'd given Dad a couple of months earlier. Mom's touch was tender and light. I loved the way her fingers tested the firmness of my nubs, sending shivers down my body. Dad's cock pulsed against my skin, and his fingers started to move between my legs, soon teasing my privates in a wonderful manner.

Mom's lips were then on my cheek, her breath hot on my face. I was caught up in the sensations. Mom kissed me on the lips. I didn't really know what to do, but it was like a dance where Mom led me and and I followed. Her mouth opened and mine did the same. She moved slowly, carefully, savoring the warmth of my mouth. I loved the way her tongue felt so wonderful on mine.

Dad's fingers found my vagina and he slid one just an inch or two inside. I gasped at the way it made me feel such a powerful need for him. My hips rose and Dad started to slowly finger my cunny as Mom kissed me and massaged my puffy nips, then moved her lips down to lick my young breasts.

Before I could cum, Dad moved first, sliding down the bed and between my parted thighs. I hated that my hand lost contact with his warm penis, but seconds later, I had forgotten that loss as Dad's tongue danced around my private flesh. I tensed and let Dad bring me pleasure I had never known before.

I came in seconds. I don't even recall what Dad was doing specifically, which parts of my genitals he was licking, but I came hard, crying out into the room as Mom's mouth sucked on my budding nipples.

I don't remember what happened next. I was awash in a hazy afterglow of pleasure and intimate closeness with my parents. I know tongues and lips and fingers still played across my skin. I seem to recall Mom taking Dad's place between my legs and I think I came again.

I do know that Dad's cock was near my lips at some point, and I took him inside my mouth. I tasted that wonderful meaty flesh, the salty precum running freely from its tip. I was back in heaven again, and I never wanted it to go away.

“Miranda,” Mom's voice broke into my trance from somewhere below, “I think your father would love to put it inside you. . . ”

Dad's dick jumped in my mouth and I pulled it out to say, “huh?” I wasn't completely clueless about intercourse. I'd seen Dad fucking Mom and Misuki, and I'd been given very frank and explicit descriptions of that part of sex over the years, but in that moment, I was oblivious, so enraptured with the sensations Mom was giving me down there and the way Dad's erection felt in my mouth that I couldn't really form thoughts.

“Your dad wants to put his penis in your vagina. Do you want that?” Mom asked as her fingers never stopped moving over my flesh.

I think I nodded. I did want that. I wanted to see what it felt like to take my dad there. I knew enough to know Mom loved to do so, and while I'd only fingered myself very shallowly during my many masturbatory moments, I enjoyed the way it felt to be penetrated. I kept nodding until Dad's penis moved away from my mouth and he was soon kneeling between my legs and looking down at the slippery mess on my thighs and genitals.

I heard Dad say, “. . . a pillow, and a towel . . .” but those words were largely meaningless in those moments. The excitement of what was happening had butterflies fluttering in my stomach, happy nerves ready to explode with each touch from my parents. I knew I was about to have my virginity taken, and I was so happy it was my father that I nearly creamed myself waiting for them to get the items Dad requested.

He had me raise myself off the bed while he put a pillow down, then covered it with a towel. This raised my hips up so that he had a better angle for penetration.

Mom slid above my head then under my back, my body resting against hers with my head against her chest, her legs down either side of my abdomen.

Dad knelt again and he rested on his elbows, his hairy stomach touching mine. I suspect now that he was as nervous and excited as I was, but his dick was hard, and here I was, his willing eight-year-old daughter, spread wide open and ready for him to take my virginity.

Mom caressed my cheeks and my neck and my nipples, kissing my head as the heat of Dad's penis pressed against my labia. Dad's body felt huge above mine, his head past where I could see from that angle, and I was pretty sure he was kissing Mom as he slowly started to penetrate me.

I felt pressure down there and a bit of pain. I grunted and Dad froze, holding still. Looking down, I could see that the head of his penis had disappeared inside me. I was fucking my Dad for the first time.

Mom caressed me lovingly, and Dad twisted in such a way that his face neared mine. He kissed me, a very different sort of kiss than Mom's but just as wonderful. “I love you, Princess,” he told me as his hips moved again and the pressure increased in my privates.

I let out a groan and I felt Dad's penis jump in my body. He started to grunt.

I felt stretched, the skin of my vulva barely yielding. I had to hold my breath with each movement, unsure how to respond, how to comprehend the complex sensations. Dad's penis felt huge in my little hole. It was hot, more so than my own fingers had ever been. Each time he pushed his hips down, raw pressure built up between my legs, my thighs barely open enough to let Dad move between them.

I loved the way it felt to have my dad inside me. Over me. His weight pressing down gently. I felt so powerful and vulnerable at once.

Mom's body was behind and below mine, her legs warm against my sides. Her hands caressed my tiny budding breasts, the tender flesh sensitive. As much as puffy nubs allowed, my nipples swelled in her fingers. I could smell her excitement, though I didn't know what those scents meant at the time. I rolled my head to and fro, the back of my head nestled into Mom's cleavage, her soft breasts providing lovely pillows as I writhed and began to breathe faster as my body tingled and felt ethereal and surreal. Dad's penis thrust deeper into my vagina and I gasped each time I felt his length push against my cervix.

Mom's voice above my head told him in a breathless, dreamy whisper, “Let go, Dan. . . let go. . . ” My arms found their way to Dad's shoulders to encourage his thrusts. The look on his face was one of intense pleasure and moderate disbelief at what we were doing. He ground himself against my small body, and I tried to open myself wider and let him make me completely his own.

Dad had only been inside me for thirty seconds at that point, but it was enough. He jerked, causing my vagina to stretch and take him an inch or so deeper. It hurt a little but I was still caught up and not so concerned about the pain. I watched Dad's hairy chest, mostly, my fingers drawing circles around his nipples as a warm wetness started to spread inside me.

Mom and Dad were kissing again, and I realized then what 'let go' meant. Dad was ejaculating inside my vagina. I groaned and felt a bit dizzy at that understanding. I had let Dad cum in my mouth, so I remembered that sensation. Instead, Dad was doing that between my legs, spurting his juices into my tight little hole. I realized that I was letting my father pleasure himself in my body again, and that understanding made me feel so happy that I came as he spurted inside me.

My body forced Dad's cock out before he'd finished, and as I orgasmed, I felt hot, sticky fluids splash onto my stomach twice, three times. Dad was rocking against me, the air tight and hot as I gasped for breath against his chest, my body shuddering in climax while Dad's ejaculation slowed and stopped. His cock came to rest against my waist, leaking semen onto my flesh in slow pulses.

Dad kissed me again, and I felt Mom's body envelop around me tightly. I wrapped my arms around Dad's body and buried my face against him, breathing in his sweat and musk and the briny smell of his semen.

At some point, Dad moved off my body, and to my surprise, Mom kissed me before moving to lick up Dad's cum from my skin. I watched her closely as Dad kissed my cheek and cradled my body to his. Mom moved down, soon lapping against my privates and making me stir again. I wasn't the only one stirring. I saw Dad's penis harden and soon, he was behind Mom.

I started to cum again, my body full of tension and pleasure from Mom licking my cunny. She was groaning into my genitals as Dad humped her. Mom cried out, her chin and lips covered with Dad's semen and my vaginal juices, and I think she came hard, soon licking me again.

I was starting to get sore down there, and Dad pulled away, prompting Mom to lay next to me. I watched as Dad moved over our bodies and positioned himself so that his penis was near both of our heads. Mom tasted him first, and I was so lucky to be close enough to see Dad's dick in Mom's mouth. That is probably my favorite sight in the world.

Mom passed Dad's penis to me and I closed my eyes and opened my mouth. I could taste his warm, salty flesh again and I hummed as he throbbed against my tongue.

It took almost no time for me to feel him swell and start to spurt into my mouth. I wasn't surprised this time and started to swallow immediately. Dad's load was smaller than the first one I'd sucked out of him weeks earlier, but it tasted good, so salty and pungent, and even after he softened and withdrew, I could still taste the remains on my tongue.

Mom kissed me and together we shared Dad's flavorful seed before he settled behind me and wrapped the two of us up in his strong, hairy arms. I don't recall falling asleep, but I'm sure I was as happy as I'd ever been in that moment.

- - -

I didn't miss that Dr. Green's pen was scribbling madly on the notepad, his other hand between his legs rapidly stroking himself through the fabric. When I stopped talking, he remembered his place, moving his hand away from his crotch, and tried to act as if he hadn't been close to orgasming in his pants.

“I woke up,” I added, “to Mom's tongue on my stomach. I think she was licking up the dried cum on my skin, but soon she was making me orgasm again by lapping at my sore, swollen clit.”

If I'd have given him permission right then, I'm certain Dr. Green would have pulled out his cock and jerked off. I actually considered it, but for whatever reason, I said nothing more, waiting for him to recognize that we were already ten minutes past the point where the session should have ended.

“Did you bleed?” he asked me, still caught up in my story.

I shook my head and said, “no, not at all. When I asked Dad about what he remembered about that night, he told me that he knew from my doctor's visits that I didn't have much of a hymen to begin with, and, despite how much I'd felt stretched and full, he was only able penetrate two or three inches inside me.” I smiled remembering how much I loved feeling Dad's cock in my body. “His dick was maybe six or seven inches long, but not thick at all. I think that helped it not hurt so much the first time.”

Dr. Green let out a long held breath and scribbled on his pad.

“I want you to understand, Martin,” I said when he stopped writing and looked up at me with dilated pupils and barely-concealed arousal in his eyes, “that regardless of what other girls have been through, no matter how many of those who had similar experiences came to view their sexual relationships with their parents, I was in love with Dad and Mom, I loved what we did that night and the times that followed, and I have never felt that I was harmed or made anything less than a willing, loving part of the relationship. That might have been the night I lost my cherry to Dad, but I, in no way, consider that a loss I regret. I'm still, to this day, feeling very fortunate that Dad and Mom were the ones to be my first time. Please understand that, Martin.”

He stared at me evenly a moment before nodding slowly. “Okay, Miranda. I accept that.”

“Good,” I replied and grew silent, aware that I, too, had grown erect and was eager to get somewhere more private to masturbate. “I probably should go,” I added finally.

He nodded again, “yes, yes. . . uh, right. I'm making another client wait right now. . . ”

“Next time, I'll tell you how I came to bring pleasure to Mom. That's a key piece still missing.”

Dr. Green shuddered quickly, then said lightly, “I look forward to that, Miranda.”