I
worked writing software for a young, dynamic company -- not quite a
startup. It was a pretty interesting job and it paid well. I wasn't
into working 60 hours a week any more. I had been in a true startup and
seen all that hard work vanish instantly. I had gotten to the age of 30
and was now realizing that there was more to life than work and
partying. I hadn't had any very serious relationships. A few months
here, a few months there, a fair number of one-night stands.
Kayla
was the receptionist. She was beautiful, without question. She had
shoulder-length blond hair, wide-set blue eyes, and a perfectly
proportioned face. She was of medium height, with breasts and hips of
medium size. She was also pleasant and personable.
I asked her
out and to my delight she accepted. She was charming and feminine on
our first dinner date, and her beauty continued to mesmerize me. After
the second date she invited me back to her place, but said we should be
quiet because her daughter would be asleep. This was the first I had
heard of young Mandy, age five. I saved my questions for later. Kayla
locked the door once we were in the bedroom. We kissed standing up, and
she started unbuttoning my shirt, while I worked on her blouse. Soon we
were down to our underwear, and I was starting to caress her right
breast through her bra while clutching her butt. She soon broke free,
stripped, and lay down on the bed, and I followed close behind. Her
naked body was perfect too, just as perfect in its nakedness as
clothed. Skin with no blemishes, patch of light brown pubic hair. I
started on some gentle foreplay, a little nipple sucking and stroking
up her thighs, with my hand gliding to a stop between her legs, where I
started massaging gently. She made some sighs and gave a few moans, and
caressed my hard penis a little. I expected quite a bit more of this
until she would be ready, but at that point she nudged me on top of her
and she helped ease my penis inside of her. Her vagina was wet and hot,
and I was in heaven thrusting for a while in this beautiful creature,
considering how to help her climax. She just asked me to go faster and
deeper. She started breathing faster and tensing, and she came
surprisingly quickly. I was happy to let loose and come myself within a
minute. It had been maybe twenty minutes total since we closed the
bedroom door. I rolled off and we lazed in afterglow for maybe half an
hour, but she said I needed to go home because of her daughter. That
seemed fine to me. In retrospect the lovemaking wasn't particularly
exciting, except that it was with a beautiful woman, and at the time
that made all the difference to me.
I asked what the story was
with Mandy. Mrs. Jones from next door came in to give her supper and
put her to bed, and then turned on a nursery monitor in Mandy's room
before leaving. She could come back if needed.
We were lying in
the afterglow after our fourth time in bed when I heard soft crying
outside the door and the handle jiggling. I started to bolt out of bed,
figuring at the very least I needed to be dressed, but Kayla sighed and
stopped me. "Mandy! Go back to bed!" she said in a firm loud voice. The
door handle rattled a little harder and the crying got louder, and
Kayla yelled "Get back to bed or you'll be sorry!" I could hear the
crying die to a whimper as Mandy padded back to bed. "Sorry," she said
to me softly. I was surprised that Kayla had just sent her away, but I
didn't know much about child rearing. I did note that she was not the
kind of woman who would consider her child's every whim more important
than the relationship with her man.
We were going out for dinner
every other night or so, then back to Kayla's apartment to go to bed.
She started dropping hints about marriage, and I was thrilled at the
idea that such a beautiful woman might be mine. I needed to meet Mandy,
of course. So one night instead of our usual habit of meeting at a
restaurant, I arranged to come to her place at 5pm. When Kayla let me
in, Mandy was sitting on the sofa. She was sitting upright, almost at
attention, and she smiled at me -- a fake smile that masked sullenness.
She was as beautiful as her mother, with long blond hair that cascaded
down her back, blue eyes, with a very pretty face.
"Rob, this is my daughter Mandy. Mandy, this is Mr. Decker. Say hi."
"Hello, Mr. Decker" she said, clearly rehearsed, as she looked past me.
"Hello,
Mandy! What a lovely little girl you are!" Mandy suddenly really looked
at me for a second before looking back at the wall.
"Why don't I
read you a story," said Kayla. "Goodnight Moon" was on the coffee
table. I didn't know much about children, but it seemed like a pretty
simple book for a five-year-old, but then I wasn't up on parenting
techniques. Kayla sat sandwiched between Mandy and me. As Kayla read,
Mandy relaxed a little and leaned up against her mother, and I could
feel Kayla stiffen just a little. Mandy begged her to read it again,
and Kayla did, but warned her it was just that one more time, then we
would be going. As we got up Mandy banged her shiny black shoes against
the edge of the sofa a few times. Kayla snapped her fingers and Mandy's
legs were still. Mandy now looked sullen, with no smile to cover it up.
"OK,
be a good girl, and I'll see you in the morning." She bent over to give
Mandy a kiss on the cheek. The last thing I saw as I headed out the
door was Mandy's eyes tearing up.
"Mrs. Jones will be right in to give her supper and put her to bed," she said. "I don't know why she's late today."
Kayla
had explained her basic situation. Her husband Derek had been a star
athlete, especially on the basketball team. They had married a year out
of high school when she got pregnant accidentally, and Derek had left
before Mandy was a year old. Last she knew he was drifting around out
west without steady employment, and she got no support from him. She
and Mandy lived off her income as a receptionist. She had little
contact with her own parents and siblings and spoke of them rarely and
briefly, saying they had disowned her when she married Derek.
Kayla,
Mandy and I went out to dinner at McDonald's, Mandy's favorite. Mandy
was mostly quiet during the meal, but she did occasionally look at me
and gave me the hint of a smile once. Kayla noticed and later said
Mandy liked me. Now that I had met Mandy, there was nothing else
standing in our way. On bended knee I proposed marriage to Kayla, who
happily accepted. I was delighted at the prospect of such a beautiful
wife. The wedding was a small, private affair, as it was Kayla's second
and I had no interest in wedding rigmarole. Mandy looked gorgeous in
her white flower girl dress and even smiled a few times.
We set
up housekeeping together in a comfortable three-bedroom apartment.
Kayla and I had one bedroom, Mandy another, and the third served as my
office and a guest room. Kayla's computer was in our bedroom. I found
out at once what I should have figured out before: relations between
Mandy and Kayla were strained at best. In one respect Kayla was very
attentive. She made sure Mandy had stylish clothes and always headed
off to kindergarten looking immaculate and gorgeous. But Kayla shouted
at Mandy when she disobeyed any of a number of rules, notably leaving
her clothes lying around on the floor. What she expected Mandy to do
was entertain herself, and if it meant watching TV in her room all the
time, Kayla had no problem with that.
Kayla continued to lock
our bedroom door at night, and Mandy occasionally cried outside but was
never admitted. We continued on our pattern of sex just about every
night for a week or two, but then it naturally tapered off some. I was
less pleased when it tapered off to once a week. Kayla increasingly
encouraged me to come as quickly as I wanted, and she moaned and sighed
less.
I found out too late why all the books tell couples to
talk over all the big issues thoroughly before they got married. Kayla
spent her free time doing one thing above all else: using her computer.
She was involved in a couple virtual reality worlds which occupied as
much time as she could give them. She had no interest in doing anything
with Mandy except shopping for clothes, and her one activity with me
was her occasional conjugal duty. She did watch TV in the bedroom
sometimes and I could sit beside her and snuggle up to her, but she
didn't snuggle back. And she did not want me looking over her shoulder
when she was online, nor did she want to discuss what she was doing
there.
Kayla had had no end of male attention due to her looks
and had dated a number of men since her divorce. Several seemed
promising but the relationships had always foundered because of Mandy.
Mandy would scream at them and fight with her mother nonstop. That
would have been highly unpleasant, but not too uncommon when a mother
considers remarriage. I wondered if the men were also put off by how
Kayla treated her daughter. They might have noticed that Kayla touched
Mandy as little as possible and had virtually no books or toys for her.
They probably noticed that Kayla locked the bedroom door and never
admitted or comforted Mandy when she was crying outside. I was startled
to discover that there had never been a Mrs. Jones listening in on a
nursery monitor or coming over to prepare dinner. Mandy had just gotten
herself more cold cereal for supper, I found out later. And as I
thought back on it, I could picture in Kayla's apartment door a
deadbolt that required a key from both sides, and Kayla confessed --
even she was sheepish about this -- that she had locked Mandy in when
we had gone out on our dates.
I knew Kayla was not very happy
with her job as the company receptionist, but I did not know she would
quit it as soon as we got married. We had talked vaguely of having
children together, but now Kayla made it clear it was out of the
question. She served frozen dinners every night, and the same cold
cereals were offered for breakfast every day. Cold cuts, peanut butter
and jelly, and tuna fish were the entire extent of the sandwich
fillings on the lunch menu. I was liberated enough not to assume she
would do all the cooking, but I was working hard all day and she
wasn't. I hoped for a little more variety and creativity.
I
started complaining that this wasn't at all the marriage I had
expected. We had a big fight where a number of facts came out that left
me feeling discouraged. She had bad feelings about her childhood. She
had faked all her orgasms with me, but considerately told me not to
take it personally. Never in her life with any men had she felt any
significant sexual pleasure. And from that day forth she said we could
have sex once a month, no more. The prospect of my beautiful wife's
naked body had been one of my main reasons for marrying her. I was
desperate enough that I looked forward to those few minutes once every
month, even though she was just lying there, maybe absentmindedly
stroking my back or hair.
I asked if she would consider therapy or marriage counseling but she was not open to the idea at all.
Mandy
was shy with me at first, but she kept looking at me to check me out.
She would run away when I looked at her. A few times I caught her
smiling at me.
I tried to make friends with her. I would knock
on her open door and ask if I could come in, and as she said nothing I
did. But if I asked her what she was watching on TV she mumbled
"nothing" and got a clearly unfriendly expression on her face. After a
week I sought some advice on how to try to break the ice with this
child. Jane at the office had school-age children, and I asked her what
she thought I might do. At her suggestion I surveyed Mandy's room to
report what in the way of books, toys, stuffed animals and dolls she
already had. The list was quite short, and it seemed like nothing new
had been added since she was about two. Jane's composure briefly
flickered when I told her that, but she helpfully suggested some gifts
a five-year-old girl might like. When Mandy opened her first present
from me she found the American Girl doll Kirsten. She actually smiled
at me openly for a few seconds. For days when I walked by her room I
saw Kirsten snuggled beside her if she was not the direct object of her
attention.
One day three weeks after the marriage Mandy appeared
in the doorway to my office looking shy. I welcomed her in and she came
and stood beside me. I explained what I was looking at online and asked
if she wanted to see anything for kids, and she shook her head. But she
leaned up against me for a second. I was a little surprised and maybe
she sensed it because she stood up straight again. But a couple minutes
later she leaned up against me again, and this time I welcomed it
calmly and smiled at her. I asked her to tell me about kindergarten,
and she ran off. But as the days went by she stayed longer and said
more. I always encouraged her and waited to hear what she said, content
to tolerate silences and letting her leave whenever she wanted without
comment. Then one day the dam burst, she started talking and there
seemed no end to what she wanted to share. I learned about the boys and
the girls she liked and the ones she didn't and the teacher and the
books and the toys. I learned of her favorites and ones she wished she
could take home. We heard the door to the master bedroom open, and
Mandy stopped instantly and looked scared. That look of fear at the
approach of her own mother haunted me. Kayla walked by and noted Mandy
visiting me without comment.
That night I asked Kayla how she
would feel about going shopping to buy Mandy some books and toys. Kayla
looked a little apologetic, and said that was a great idea. When
Saturday morning came, however, Kayla was wrapped up in something
online and asked if Mandy and I could handle it without her. I bought
Mandy a few hundred dollars worth of books and toys and she was in
heaven playing with them all for days -- including at first the empty
boxes more than their contents. When I sat on the living room sofa to
read her one of the new books we had bought she snuggled up right
beside me. She wanted me to see how her toys worked and play make
believe with her; in fact it seemed she wanted my attention whenever
she could get it. I was delighted to have such a good relationship
developing with Mandy, but after a few weeks I realized I wanted some
chunks of time to myself and a little privacy. But I didn't need to
tell her; somehow she knew when I wanted to be alone.
Kayla was
always up late with her online life, and I needed to get up early for
work. Our sex life was on a strict monthly schedule, and she didn't
like me to snuggle against her. In exasperation I said I would go sleep
on the bed in the guestroom and she said that would be fine. With the
new arrangement she no longer woke me up as she came to bed, and I was
freed from the frustration of sleeping beside a sexy woman and being
unable to touch her, let alone make love to her. It also let me jerk
off at my leisure without worrying about her reaction. She barely
seemed to notice my absence, which made my heart sink further.
We
didn't try to hide our separate sleeping quarters from Mandy. To my
surprise, Kayla locked her bedroom door even when she was sleeping
alone. At first I thought she was mad at me, but there were no other
signs of that. It looked like she didn't want to risk Mandy bothering
her during the night. Mandy later confirmed that before the marriage
Kayla always locked the door even when she was sleeping alone.
I didn't lock or even close my door, however, and a few nights after we started sleeping separately I woke to padding feet.
"Hi Mandy," I whispered, "What's wrong?"
"I had a bad dream," she said.
"Let
me help you back to bed," I said. So I got up and as she held my hand I
walked across the hall. She got in bed, and I held her hand a little
while, and then kissed her on the cheek and said goodnight.
Two
nights later she padded in again, and I settled her again. But she was
back in ten minutes, saying she couldn't sleep. She asked if she could
get into bed with me.
"OK." I know now you're supposed to
discourage kids from crawling into bed with you at that age, but I
didn't know it then. And I also felt a tender ache in my heart that she
had come to trust me so much. So I went back to sleep spooned against
her small form.
I woke a few hours later, before dawn, and carried her back to her own bed, admiring her innocent beauty as she slept.
About
two months after the wedding, I heard a cry from Mandy's room. Moments
later she raced in and hopped into bed beside me, trembling.
"Bad dream?" I asked, stroking the side of her head. She started crying softly, and I kept stroking her.
After
a few minutes she said, "I dreamed mommy was a wolf chasing me and was
going to eat me." I just kept stroking her hair, and she started crying
again. After she had calmed down she said "I love you daddy". Kayla and
I had never encouraged her to use that term, and it warmed my heart
that she chose that word on her own. She fell asleep curled up in front
of me, my arm over her.
I considered divorce. Kayla and I were
far more like roommates than husband and wife. Our marriage amounted to
virtually nothing. The main purpose it seemed to serve for Kayla was a
source of income allowing her not to have to work. She was also
delighted that I was doing so many things with Mandy and freeing her up
for more time on her computer. They had fewer fights and there was less
pressure on her to act like a parent. When Mandy wanted something, she
came to me. Mandy was also happier, and I wondered with some sadness
whether that mattered to Kayla or not.
I could have done without
Kayla, but the idea of abandoning Mandy to Kayla's "care" made me
shudder. I would never leave Kayla as long as Mandy counted on me so
much. I got Kayla to cook some real food for dinner as long as I bought
the ingredients and left her the recipe. She wanted something in
return, though: Now I dealt with Mandy in the mornings. I supervised
her breakfast, brushed her long golden hair, made her lunch and snack,
made sure she was presentable and dropped her off at kindergarten. This
allowed Kayla to sleep in after her late nights online.
Kayla
saw us snuggling together sometimes, and passed by my room on more than
one occasion when Mandy was sleeping in my bed. She didn't seem to mind
as long as Mandy wasn't cramping her style.
The
first clue I got to anything unusual was eight months after the
wedding, in May. One Saturday morning at breakfast I was looking across
at Mandy wondering whether she would rather start her day at the
playground or take a more ambitious expedition to the science museum.
And she said quietly, absentmindedly, "playground". I hadn't said a
word. We hadn't discussed it that morning or the night before.
"Why did you say 'playground'?"
"You asked me what I wanted to do."
"I didn't say a thing."
"Oh."
Then
things seemed to go too smoothly. I was about to tell her to stop
looking at the cereal box and get moving for school, but before I could
speak she just did it. She often told me all about her day when I got
home from work at 6:30. Often I was interested, but sometimes I was in
a bad mood. In earlier months I would sometimes tell her gently I
needed some quiet time, but now she just sensed it without being told.
If she came to my bed when I was truly exhausted, I might come to
enough to see her standing there but then find she had gone back to
bed. Even when she was crying and I was being very solicitous, if my
arm was starting to go to sleep, she would shift her weight so it felt
better.
I found her more often just looking at me, not doing or saying anything.
One
day I was looking over her shoulder as she played with Kirsten and
wondered whether I should get the horse-riding accessories next or the
bed, and she just absentmindedly said "horsies".
This was unmistakable. "Can you read my thoughts?" I asked.
She looked up at me and paused. "Sometimes."
I waited.
"I just noticed it little by little. I didn't think about it much until you asked me about the science museum."
"Can you read any other minds?" She shook her head. "Can you read my mind when I'm at work?" She shook her head.
We
did some experiments that morning. She could only read my thoughts when
I was near her and thinking about her. She couldn't pick a random
number out of my head. When I was sitting at the keyboard she couldn't
tell what I was going to type next. What she could read were things
that I was thinking related to her. She could also read my basic
emotional state.
She knew I wouldn't make fun of her or tell her
she was crazy. That was because she knew me, and for all I knew she
might be able to double check by reading my thoughts. But she
understood that other people would scoff at her if she said she could
read minds. We agreed we would keep quiet about this.
Next a
little dread arose in my stomach as I considered what thoughts of mine
she could pick up that were embarrassing. I led a pretty honest and
honorable life, so there wasn't going to be anything huge.
"Are there things you know that I wouldn't have told you?"
"Probly
lots of little things, but there's one big one: I know you feel really
mad at mommy a lot. But there's something else, like you want to hug
her in a special way or something. And something to do with her
panties."
"Oh." I turned a little pink I guess.
I had
resolved to be honest with her. I should have told her this concerned a
grown-up matter and I would tell her when she was older, but at the
time I confused the need for honesty with the need to tell her
everything.
"You know where babies come from?"
"Mommies' tummies".
"Right. Do you know what the daddy has to do with it?"
She shook her head.
"Well,
babies come partly from their daddies too, and mommies and daddies do
something that puts the babies in mommies' tummies before they grow."
"A daddy puts a little baby in a mommy's tummy?"
"No, not exactly."
Silence. How to put this.
"There's
something that comes from a daddy that is so small you can't see it.
And it gets together with something from a mommy that is also so small
you can't see it. And the baby starts so small you can't see it either.
Then it grows in the mommy's tummy."
"So when you want to hug her like that you want to give mommy a baby? A baby sister?" She smiled at the thought.
Hmmmm. Analogies. We need analogies here.
"No.
But you know how if there's a really good cake with chocolate frosting
on the counter you want to have a piece, even lick the frosting off?
But then you don't really want to because you know you're supposed to
wait until later and also you know mommy and I would get mad at you?"
She nodded. That was clear enough.
"Well, I like the idea of giving mommy a baby kind of like you like the idea of eating the chocolate cake."
"So do you get to give mommy a baby later?"
I
paused. "No, no, I don't get to give mommy a baby later, because mommy
doesn't want me to." Sigh. I decided I could leave out the once a month
eating of chocolate cake, and the desire to act like you would if you
were trying making a baby but not actually trying to make a baby.
"Does it have to do with the daddies' underpants too?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because there's something funny going on in your underpants now."
Indeed,
I had a partial erection at thinking about eating chocolate cake with
Kayla. Or maybe it was partly at talking with Mandy about these things.
I felt naked and embarrassed.
"Yeah. But no more now. Let's talk about it later."
You
know how you can't easily follow a command not to think about an
elephant? Knowing Mandy could read my mind, I was having something of
that problem.
I had always thought Mandy was beautiful, but I
began to notice it more, to look at her more. That much was OK. I
started musing about how that beauty would look grown up. Maybe that
was OK. But it wasn't OK to think about how I would feel when I saw
that grown-up version of her, how I would want her sexually. And I
wasn't supposed to think about how lots of her parts already looked
very much like the parts of women who I did feel like giving babies to.
I
had never had my thoughts extend to these forbidden realms before, but
now they seemed to keep coming to me. Partly it was because they were
the very thoughts I was not supposed to think.
I had just
finished reading Mandy some chapters of a new book she loved while she
sat in my lap. She said "Thank you, Daddy!" and got off. Now we were
going to play make-believe and I got on the floor in preparation for my
part. Mandy was still sitting on her bed in a light dress. She had her
legs together, naturally, and the thought flashed through my mind that
I really should not want to see her thighs. Just then Mandy spread her
legs to give me a view straight up her dress to her panties. I did
sneak a peek before looking away guiltily. Later she was standing
facing away from me and I felt I really shouldn't want to see those
panties again, and Mandy lifted her whole dress just then and wound the
fabric around her arm and put the hem in her mouth, then turned to face
me and smiled before letting the dress drop again. Now I was upset and
confused and I had to leave the room. She could tell and followed me.
"I'm sorry! But you wanted to see, right?"
It was going to be hard to keep secrets from this child, since I never knew how much she could read and how much she couldn't.
"You're supposed to keep covered up with me just like you do in public."
"But you wanted to see."
"It's
a little like the chocolate cake again. I want you to keep covered up
like you're supposed to, but part of me is curious and wants to see."
"But no one's here to see me but you. And you want to!"
With
that she flipped off her dress and pulled her panties down to her
knees, standing right next to me. There was her perfect body. I had
never seen a girl's labia before, at least not since I was really
little. So that's what grew into a woman's pussy.
I casually
reached out my right hand and brushed the back of my index finger down
the outside of her labia for just a second. It wasn't sexual, it was
just curious. But I shouldn't have done it. I quickly withdrew my hand.
She padded up to my bed in the middle of the night. I welcomed her into my arms.
"Daddy?"
"Mmmm?" I said sleepily.
"This afternoon, when I had my clothes off."
"Mmmhmmm", I said, coming awake as this sensitive subject was brought up.
"Did you... did you .... ummm"
I waited.
"Did you feel kind of like giving me a baby?"
"Why, heavens, no! What made you think that?" My heart was racing now, and she could certainly tell I was upset.
"Because down in your underpants..."
I tried to think back. Did I get a little swelling down there between my legs? She had no reason to lie.
"Listen,
Mandy. I'm all confused and it's the middle of the night. I love you
and you haven't done anything wrong, but let's talk about it in the
morning." I gave her a big hug and sent her on her way.
I
thought about doing with her what you do to make a baby. I was
repulsed, but my erection was getting rock hard inside my pajamas. The
thought of her labia came to my mind and refused to go. I got a wad of
Kleenex from the box beside my bed and gave myself about four strokes
and spurted into the wad of Kleenex with an intense orgasm. Untold
millions of those little things that help make babies came out,
wriggling, seeking. I realized I made a little groan, which I hoped no
one would hear. I tossed the Kleenex onto the floor.
I decided I would think about it in the morning and was asleep in seconds.
I
woke to the alarm and set some coffee brewing. When it was time for
Mandy to get up I poked my head in her door and stopped myself from
calling her name when I saw she had a wad of Kleenex in her hand. I
feared I knew where she had gotten them; indeed when I checked there
were no Kleenex on the floor of my room. I felt my privacy invaded once
more. What rules had she broken? There was no house rule about not
picking up Kleenex off the floor. I had told her to go back to bed, and
while she had not stayed in bed all night, she had not woken me or
tried to talk with me about the subject I had said we would discuss in
the morning. Now it was time for the day to begin, so I woke her up and
she clutched the Kleenex to her. What looked like snot around her nose
probably wasn't.
"Why do you have those, Mandy?"
She
looked at me accusingly. "Last night after you sent me away I wanted to
stay with you but you wouldn't let me." Then she started looking
pleased with herself. "So I sat outside your door in the hall for a
little but you didn't just go to sleep. First something happened in
your underpants then I could tell you felt really, really great. You
started snoring and I went in really quiet. I wanted to know what
happened. I found the Kleenex and they smelled kind of like you and at
least I could have a little of you with me. This is the stuff that you
put in mommies to make babies, right?"
Sigh. "Yes, it is. We'll
have to talk this evening, but I want to make sure you know you can't
say anything about any of this to mom or anyone at school, no matter
what. If you do, then I'll be in a lot of trouble and I maybe won't be
able to live here any more. OK?"
That evening, after dinner was done and Kayla glued to her computer for the evening, I sat down with Mandy in her room to talk.
I was quiet for a long time, gathering my nerve. Who knew how much of my private thoughts she was getting anyway.
"You know that feeling you sensed when I look at mom sometimes?"
She nodded.
"Men
get that feeling for lots of women, not just their wives. They keep it
to themselves. They might ask the woman to go out on a date, but they
keep the feeling to themselves until much later, like when they are
married. Even with mom, I wouldn't say anything about that feeling
during the day, and never when you are around, but wait until night.
The important thing is that when you read my mind you're getting
thoughts no one is supposed to know. If we're out somewhere standing by
a nice woman and you say 'Dad, why do you feel like giving that woman a
baby?' that would be very, very bad."
She giggled at the thought. She wasn't that dumb, and she knew I knew it.
"And here's something you ought to know: Women sometimes feel like getting a man to give them a baby.
"And there's a word for that giving-a-baby thing. It's called sex.
"Sometimes
people get confused. Sometimes men feel like sex with high school
girls, though they're too young for them. Some men want to have sex
with other men, and some women with other women, and you can only make
a baby with a man and a woman."
"What about little boys and girls?"
"Girls
and boys don't think much about sex until they go through puberty, it's
called. That's when girls get breasts and boys get deep voice, and so
forth. For girls it's when they are, oh, 12 or so, and for boys it's
more like maybe 14."
Now I paused a long while. "Sometimes men
get confused and they feel like sex with little girls. Even for them,
they don't really want to have sex with them, and if you can't read
their minds you'd never know it." I paused again.
"Like you."
I
felt a surge of shame. "Well, I never felt it until yesterday, but I
guess I am sometimes. So if you read my mind and feel me feeling that,
it's just my body getting confused. It's not what I really want. So
your job is to help me be how I want to be, and not make my confused
body any more confused. So you keep your clothes on and you don't let
me look up you dress and so on. OK?"
"OK."
"And you never, never tell anyone that I think that way inside sometimes."
"Why?"
"A
few of the men who feel confused that way don't keep it to themselves
and they actually have sex with little girls or boys. That is very,
very bad and those men get sent away to jail for a long time.
"Why is it bad?"
"It's
bad because they are doing things that the little girls and boys don't
like and it can give them memories that are really bad when they grow
up."
There was a pause. "Do little boys and girls ever get confused?"
I felt a little surge of fear and excitement, and -- damn it -- she undoubtedly felt it too.
"Yes, I guess they do. If a man asks them to have sex they might think it's OK and so they do it."
"So, could a girl get sent away to jail for a long time too?" she asked, a little afraid.
"No, they never send boys and girls away to jail like that. It's always the man's fault for letting it happen."
There, I got that discussion out of the way. But it lurked. If only she hadn't asked if little girls get confused.
Mandy
was in her room playing with dolls. I stopped in the doorway briefly to
look. Her face looked so happy, so beautiful as she smiled down at the
dolls -- I wanted to kiss it. Mandy looked up at me a moment,
half-smiled, but then stopped smiling and looked down again.
She
was at the breakfast table, eating her cereal. Her neck was so graceful
and innocent, bounded on the one side by the little hairs that rapidly
gave way to her blond hair, full and shiny, combed and neatly braided.
On the other side her neck was bounded by the top of her dress. What a
beautiful child. The kind a father could be so proud of. I did not want
to see the skin as it extended below her dress, down her lovely back,
down her lovely front where the little nipples were. I did not want to
see that. No, I did not. She looked at me.
She was beside me in
the car as I drove her to school. What perfect little knees she had!
Below were her high thick socks. Above the knees just a little of her
thighs were showing. They were so smooth, I ... did not want to see any
more of my wholesome kindergarten girl. She shifted a little so her
dress rode up quite a bit, and there were her perfect thighs, just
another part of a little girl's body, just like any parent might
appreciate. There was a little warmth starting to grow between my legs.
I felt a wave of anger and frustration. Why couldn't I stop thinking
these thoughts? Mandy looked at me and sighed and quickly snapped the
dress back down to cover her knees.
I woke up to the sound of
Mandy walking into my room tentatively. It was gray out and it was not
quite time to get up for the day. I smiled sleepily and raised the
blanket for her to get in and snuggle her back against me as she always
had. It was so sensual to feel her little body, this child of mine, its
warmth, to take in her smell, her hair tickling against my face. I did
not want to move my hands all over her, below her nightgown or kiss her
neck. I did not want her to push her rear end back against me harder.
She pushed her rear end back against me, so the warmth of it started to
heat my penis and the penis started to grow a little. I did not want
her to do that. I wanted her to do that more than anything in the
world. I hated myself. I wanted her to leave to remove the temptation.
She got out of the bed with a big sigh and tromped back to her own
room. The same thing happened two more nights.
I woke in the
middle of the night to the sound of her crying softly in her room. I
waited a minute but she did not come in, so I got up and sat beside her
on her bed. "What is it, sweetie?" I asked, as I stroked her cheek with
my hand.
"I can't come snuggle against you any more," she said.
"You want to touch me but then you get so mad at yourself you make me
go away. I don't mind you want to see me and touch me. I want you to be
happy so you can love me like you used to." She cried more.
"I'm
so sorry," I said. "I don't want to think those thoughts about you, but
I can't seem to help myself. Sometimes I feel like I ought to go away
if I can't love you like a daddy is supposed to."
"Don't leave me!" she wailed.
"Shhh! Your mother..." She quieted instantly.
"I want you to do the things you think about so you can love me again. And I also just want you to be happy!"
"It would be bad for you! And I'd go to jail!"
As
she said, Mandy wanted me to be sexual with her because my fantasies
were getting in the way of my loving her and accepting her without
guilt and torment. But I later realized there was something more. She
said she wanted me to be happy. For some reason, the fact that she
could read my mind and tell when I was feeling great pleasure meant she
desired my pleasure almost like it was her own.
Mandy started showing me her legs sometimes when I couldn't help thinking how much I didn't want her to. I chastised her.
She
started getting moody and uncooperative. And when she did that she knew
just what to do to make me crazy. She hummed a tune and when she found
from my mind that I didn't like it, then she kept humming it. She took
her toys and spread them all over the living room. She wouldn't get out
of bed on time to make it to school. I yelled at her and she yelled
back. Even as I yelled I wanted to touch her between her legs. During
one fight she raised her dress and pulled down her panties, looking at
me defiantly. What if Kayla saw? We both heard the door to Kayla's room
open, and with a look of fright Mandy composed herself again.
Kayla.
Kayla spread her legs to do her wifely duty, and I mounted her. I hated
her, but I still wanted to fuck her, so I did. My property. She waited
until I was done and asked what the story was with Mandy. She had
noticed the yelling and the slammed doors and the messes all over the
house. I said Mandy was going through a phase and we would get through
it.
I
tried to feel OK about wanting to touch her and be sexual with her. It
was just the way I was. I just had to make sure never to act on those
impulses. It made things worse.
Just
being there and letting her soak up my sexual desires was really a form
of sexual abuse itself, I reasoned. The law didn't cover mind-reading,
but it was covered by the spirit of the law.
On sober reflection I thought she was correct that my leaving her alone with her mom would be worse than sexual abuse.
I felt myself to be on a slope. It was getting steeper, it was slippery, and I was losing my footing. A slippery slope.
Maybe if I just looked at her and didn't touch it would be OK, or at least not so bad.
I
appeared at her door, slumped and dejected. She gave me a defiant look,
but then she sensed a change. I locked the door, then sat on her bed.
"You promise not to tell anyone, ever?"
"I swear."
I
thought how I wanted to see her thighs slowly appear. I was going to
try to let myself feel that without feeling ashamed. She stood and with
a smile slowly pulled her dress up so more and more thigh came into
view. She wiggled her hips back and forth because I had wanted that. I
wanted to see her panties, so she kept lifting the dress until the
little bit between her legs came into view, then I had her drop the
dress back down. I wanted to see her hair down, so she promptly undid
her pony tail and shook her head so the beautiful stuff tumbled free.
She slowly unbuttoned her dress from the neck while looking at me. I
saw more and more of her chest appear. And then she let her dress drop
and she was left with nothing but her panties on. For some reason I
wanted her to hang the dress up. Maybe it took Kayla's displeasure out
of the equation. So she promptly did it. She was smiling at me with
excitement. She ever so slowly started sliding her panties down. The
barest hint of her labia appeared, then the very top of her slit, then
more. She smiled. She was doing all that because I had fantasized about
it and she was following my thoughts.
I had a raging hard-on. I
wasn't sure what to do, so I hurried into my room, locked the door,
pulled down my pants and with a few hand strokes ejaculated within
seconds into another wad of Kleenex, trying to relieve the storm of
tension that Mandy's sexual antics had wrought. I could hear her
leaning against the door.
After pulling my pants up I stood
uncertainly. I felt satisfied for the time being. I unlocked the door
and Mandy stumbled in wearing nothing but panties.
"Put some
clothes back on!" I said. With things going in the direction she wanted
she saw no reason to argue. She darted away, reappearing a minute later
in jeans and a T-shirt.
I headed to the bed and motioned her to
follow. I lay down as I would at night and urged her to curl up inside
me as she always used to.
"I'm hoping that I can now love you like I used to, OK?"
She
nodded, and as she lay there I felt at peace, felt like I cared so
deeply for this child I would do anything for her. Sexual thoughts --
well, none at the moment. She fell asleep there. I just lay there
adoring my precious Mandy for a half hour until she woke up. She
smiled, flipped over and gave me a great big hug as we lay on our
sides, a hug we kept for many seconds.
"When I was so close
against the door there, I could tell how great it felt to you when you
took the baby-stuff out of yourself. It even felt a little bit good to
me.
"Can I see some time? I think you want me to see and help you take the stuff out."
To
have no secrets. I looked at her and said "Let me think about it",
which satisfied her for the time being. We got up and resumed our
ordinary afternoon activities.
Private masturbation after seeing
Mandy display herself to me stopped working as a way to keep my
inappropriate thoughts at bay. When she snuggled I adored her, but I
wanted more.
"I told you I might go to jail if anyone found out about what we're doing, right?"
"Yeah, but I would never tell anyone."
"I know, I know. But remember you might get mad at me or think different when you're older." She had no comment.
"It's
not a crime when we just snuggle in bed. When you take your clothes off
and show me your naked body, that is a crime but maybe isn't really
bad. I don't think letting you find the Kleenex with the baby stuff on
it is a bad crime either. But if I touch you, like between your legs,
or let you touch me there, or even if I just show you what I have there
then that's a big crime.
"If you still want to see more, then you have to promise me you will never tell."
She nodded, "I promise."
"I am placing my life in your hands, OK?"
That gave her a little pause, but she nodded again.
"Say it out loud, OK?"
"Ummm. I promise never to tell about any of the stuff we do."
We went off to other activities, then later I found her in her room, and locked the door.
"Do you know any more about how babies get made than the last time we talked?"
She shook her head.
"Have you ever seen inside a boy's underpants?"
"Maybe from far away once. Some bumps."
"Have you ever seen animals having sex?"
She shook her head.
I
had to start pretty far back. "OK. Remember I said the other day that a
little bit from the dad goes into the mom? Well, there's an opening
between a woman's legs where the little bit of the dad goes in -- and
where a baby comes out, later. It's there in you, too."
"Oh! Can you show me?" She pulled off her dress and panties with lightning speed, then spread her legs wide in front of me.
"I've never even seen between a little girl's legs before until I saw you."
"Really?"
"Really. You always keep it covered up, right? And they tell you never to show it to a stranger, right?"
"Huh."
"It's really very beautiful." She smiled.
I
had to get my bearings here. When you go to bed with a woman you rarely
turn a bright light on and examine her pussy like in a science
experiment. But I got it. "Down here is where the poop comes out, and
that's separate. Then I gently rubbed my index finger down each labial
flap a couple times. "These are your labia", I said. "Latin for
'lips'". She smiled.
"Mommy called them my wee wee".
"Now
if you hold them open with your fingers..." She instantly spread them
wide. "If you look carefully you can see right here this little tiny
hole is where the pee comes out."
"I can't see down there."
"Oh.
Well, I can see it, and it's just perfect." She smiled. "And between
the pee hole and the poop hole is this kind of hole called a vagina.
That's where the little bit from the man goes in and where the baby
comes out later." She giggled at my joke. "No, it's true! Your vagina
gets way bigger when you grow up, even bigger when you get pregnant and
it stretches a lot when the baby comes out." I didn't mention that it
is also excruciating.
She was feeling all around her parts. "Oh, so that goopy stuff in the Kleenex, you push it in there?"
"Well,
not quite. Not with fingers. Between a man's legs is a tube called a
penis that is usually limp, but when he is trying to give a woman a
baby it gets long and hard, kind of like a big finger. And he slides
the hard penis up inside the vagina and slides it back and forth
inside, and then after a while the goopy stuff, called semen, shoots
out the very tip of the penis up inside the woman."
She was silent a moment. "Eeewww".
"Yeah,
all kids think that. But the man really wants to put it in there, even
when he doesn't really want to give the woman a baby. And believe it or
not, the woman really wants him to put it there. When the semen shoots
out is just at the moment when the man feels so good, like you've felt
from me."
"But there wasn't any woman around."
"A woman's
vagina when she is ready for sex is smooth and wet, and it is the
feeling on the penis of going back and forth over it that makes the
semen come out. It's called an orgasm. So a man can also pretend there
is a woman around, sort of, by curving his hand so it's kind of like a
vagina." I demonstrated with my finger sliding in and out of a tube I
formed with the other hand.
"And a woman can also feel the same really good feeling when the man's penis is going in and out."
"I could feel as good as you felt?"
"When you're grown up, yes. Whether you could now or not I don't know."
"Why not?"
"I've
asked women what it was like as a girl, but they don't remember or
don't want to talk about it. And I guess most girls don't try to do
that a lot before they grow up. But if you really want, we can do an
experiment later and see if you can really feel good that way or not."
"You would put your penis up in my vagina?"
"No, my penis is way too big to fit in you, but there are ways to make you feel good in the same way."
"Can we try?" she asked with excitement.
"Maybe later, if you're good", I said teasingly.
"OK. Now you've got that part. Would you like to see inside my underpants? I'd like to show you."
"Yes!"
I
pulled my pants off leaving me in my briefs. I lay down on her bed and
slowly pulled them down while she looked on attentively. Although it
had been hard earlier, with all this clinical talk my penis was soft.
When it was all exposed to view she looked fascinated and a little
intimidated.
"You see it's limp now."
"Can I touch?" she asked with awe.
"Sure".
I thrilled as her little hand gently rested against my shaft, then picked it up so gingerly.
"If you want to see how it's limp, you'd better bend it now because it won't be limp for long."
She
bent it carefully. It wasn't really limp any more, but it did bend a
little. As it grew harder her expression got more amazed. She looked at
me as she read my mind about what I wanted her to do. She curled her
little hand around my shaft and started moving up and down. I gently
reached over to cup my hand over her labia as she sat, and she didn't
object. I started moving my hips a little and the pleasure intensified
as she rubbed. Gorgeous Mandy sat next to me, gorgeous innocent face
staring at my penis in rapt attention, blond hair cascading over her
perfect little naked body, my hand cupped between her legs, a hint of
more fun to come.
I was breathing hard. "Keep going, Mandy. It's
about to happen." She went a little harder and then I gave out a big
"Aaaaah!" as the semen spurted onto my chest in three spurts.
"Wow", she said. "And you love the feeling sooo much!"
A little later, "Can I play with the stuff?".
"Sure", I said, with a smile. So she dipped her finger in, lifted a little, let it fall down. She smelled a little.
"Can I taste it?"
"Sure. Some people like the taste, others think it's strange." She took a little, sniffed it, then put some in her mouth.
"Weird, but OK". She squished it between her fingers, and then messed it all around on my chest until it had dried out.
By now my penis had shrunk, and she fondled it a bit more.
"What's that underneath?" she asked.
"That's
where my body makes the little things that make babies. They're called
testicles or balls, and the sac they're in is a scrotum."
"We
said before we could do an experiment to see if you can feel really
good in the same way. You want to do that now?" She undoubtedly got an
image in her mind of my tongue between her legs licking away. But she
shook her head. Maybe seeing a man's organs in operation was enough to
digest for now. I smiled and tousled her hair.
I came by her
room now and then and didn't try too hard to resist my sexual thoughts
towards her, but she ignored me twice. That was fine.
The third
time was close to her bedtime, and she was already in her nightgown.
She invited me in eagerly. Behind the locked door I stroked gently all
over her hair, cheeks and neck, before starting to kiss her on the
lips. She learned quickly, imitating me. Mostly we just moved our lips
together on the surface, though we experimented with tongue thrusts
too. I've always found that French kissing is exciting in theory, but
the real pleasure comes from the ordinary kissing, lips to lips. At my
thought, she slowly lifted her nightgown partway up so I could reach
beneath it. I ran my hands over all her nonsexual parts, her arms and
back. I kissed her ear and the back of her neck, which made her giggle.
I formulated the thought once again of touching her between her legs as
a preliminary to using my tongue. She was feeling sensual and maybe a
little sexual from all our kissing and fondling, and she lay back on
her bed after pulling her panties off. She spread her legs wide. I
grazed my hand up and down her thighs but then focused on her labia,
and it was ever so exciting to spread them just a little and peek
inside, then to rub inside a little, but very gently. But fairly
quickly I moved my head down and started licking all around the area.
She giggled a little. Then I focused on her little clitoris, and she
stopped giggling.
With my hands I was clutching the nightgown
she had pulled up around her waist, running my hands inside all over
her chest and stomach and down to her hips but my hands eventually
settled on her small sleeping nipples. My tongue was focusing on the
little knob. And she responded. She moaned, she sighed. "Oh, Daddy,
daddy... daddy ... ooooo" It took all of five minutes before I felt a
little pulse and Mandy just moaned and sighed .... "Daaaaaadeeeeeeee!".
She wriggled her hips and I knew it was time to stop. As I lifted my
head, though, I stopped to look at her vaginal opening, which was
engorged and open a little and quite moist. I'll be back, I promised it
in my mind.
She brought her panties back up and pulled the
nightgown down and lay with her head against my clothed chest. My penis
had desires, but they were mild and I wanted her to relax and enjoy the
afterglow of her first orgasm for as long as she wanted.
The
next afternoon she wanted to reciprocate. I wasn't all that set on her
giving me oral sex, but she wanted to, and I certainly didn't object.
So as I sat on the edge of the bed my little Mandy was naked on her
knees, working my penis in her mouth. Her mind-reading didn't let her
actually feel the sensations on my penis, but she could fairly rapidly
tell when I was feeling good and when I was feeling great, so she
quickly learned what made me feel great. After my glow was building
dangerously, I warned her that I might shoot the baby stuff into her
mouth, and she popped off me long enough to say she liked that idea. So
with my gorgeous Mandy's face surrounding my penis and wanting what it
had to offer up, I did reach a fabulous climax. She looked surprised at
the surge of fluid in her mouth, but surprised in a happy way. She
gently spit it out into some Kleenex.
The next day in her room
sensing my desires she stripped naked and lay on her back while I
stripped and held myself above her. My penis was big just from watching
her undress and lie there smiling at me. I pointed it between her legs
and poked against the inside of her leg, and against her stomach, and
in her groin to the side of her labia. I gently held it against her
labia and even held it against her vaginal opening. Big penis, small
vagina. I brought out a bottle of lube and explained how it worked. I
got her to lube her small hands and form a little pretend vagina that
ended right at her real opening. It wasn't very long, but it was
enough. I thrust into the tube with little strokes for maybe 30 seconds
before dousing her vaginal opening with some surges of semen as my tip
pressed against it. I felt deeper satisfaction than ever before, with
an element of animal lust fulfilled, and she grinned.
I
continued to give her orgasms with my tongue, though it got so my
fingers were enough too. She could make her hands into a fake vagina
that I fucked, but my fingers could excite her to climax at the same
time.
One day after I had shut the door I had a simple desire. I
just wanted to slide my hard probing penis up under her dress and under
her panties. I didn't care exactly what I rubbed against inside, just
as long as I could thrust and ejaculate in there. She got a little lube
and lubed her labia area and her hand, so when my penis went in it was
sandwiched between the two and I quickly came, very happy.
I
wanted that just about every afternoon, so one day Mandy surprised me
by having prelubricated her whole labial area and inviting me up inside
right away.
I was ejaculating all over the inside of her
panties, over and over. As a little splurge I threw them away each time
and kept Mandy's privates covered with fresh brand-new panties much of
the time.
The
pattern of our lives continued largely unchanged. I roused her in the
morning, supervised her getting dressed and eating breakfast, packed
her lunch, and drove her off to school on my way to work. Kayla picked
her up after school, as cold and distracted as ever. But Mandy had the
afternoon to play. Kayla made a decent dinner according to what I
suggested, but after finishing her food in five minutes she warred with
herself over how long to stay at the table. Waiting for Mandy and me to
finish was a minimal part of being a family, but in maybe three minutes
she couldn't resist the online world that awaited in her bedroom. She
had the foresight to pick out Mandy's outfit for the next day before
she retreated behind her locked door.
On the weekends I took
Mandy to her soccer games. We went to the park and the museum. She had
friends over, but because Kayla was so strange she mostly went to other
kids' houses. And of course we spent parts of the weekend lounging
around the house too. Often in one of our bedrooms. Often with the door
closed.
Mandy
told me she was making a Christmas present for me, and I was curious
what it was. My present to her was going to be flying her and three of
her friends and one of their mothers to Aruba for a few days.
About
one in the morning on Christmas eve Mandy padded into my bedroom,
saying she couldn't sleep. She sensed my interest -- I was almost
always interested when she came to my bed -- and she took some lube in
her hands to form a vaginal tunnel. I mounted her and started on my
little strokes, the tip of my penis poking gently against the softness
of her vaginal opening each time. She whispered in my ear "Press a
little harder". I was always careful not to press too hard, because
occasionally when I had she had winced. So now I tentatively pressed a
little harder, feeling the blunt end of my penis against her hot little
vaginal opening. "Harder", she said. So I did. I hoped this wasn't
masochism, but she gave no sign of discomfort. "Harder!" she said, and
as I did, something amazing and wonderful happened. Her vaginal opening
parted and the tip of my penis started inside. I gasped and looked at
her astonished. "Deeper!" she whispered, and I pressed a little deeper.
Half inch by half inch my penis was disappearing up into her
six-year-old body! She removed her hands that had formed the fake
vaginal tunnel. Now I was in the real one. It was tight but there was
no tearing and it was hot and wet. I was almost delirious with
excitement. Finally my penis stopped going in farther because our pubic
bones met. I started back and forth but couldn't last long with this
amazing development. For the first time I came deep inside my Mandy,
straining as deep as I could, holding nothing back. As I spurted I let
out a cry and so did she. I collapsed beside her, hugging her to me,
burying my nose in her blond hair. "Merry Christmas!" she said when she
caught her breath. "Merry Christmas!" I replied.
She could tell
all along that my fantasy was to actually get inside her, so she had
wondered if she could let my fantasy come true. So after getting
herself excited by massaging her clit, she started the lubricated blunt
end of a pen into herself. When that went in easily she went to a
thicker pen. She could get it in but it felt kind of sore, so she left
it there for a few hours. After a couple days it went in without being
sore. She worked her way up to a highlighting pen, working in greater
depth as well as diameter. Then she started working her way through a
bag of carrots. After a couple sessions of a few hours each her vagina
had adapted to each size.
After a half hour's rest I could feel my interest rising again. On a whim she revved up her best little girl's voice:
"Daddy, Dadddddee, put your peepee in my weewee, Daddy."
I
had a surge of excitement. Did I have a lurking desire for sex with
toddlers? No matter; it was just a fantasy. Mandy sensed my excitement
and decided to continue with this X-rated make-believe.
"Peepee in weewee, Daddy! Peepee in weewee? Wike you wanna make a baby? Pweease? Daddy, pweeease?"
"Tank you, daddy, I wuv you daddy. Peepee, peepee, weewee, weewee."
After
a little, in a singsong voice: "In and out and in and out and in and
out and in! Out and in and out and in and in and out and out and in!"
"Waaaay out, and waaaay in! Waaaay out and waaaay in!"
"I want a
pwesent, daddy. A pwesent. Pweeease? Hide de pwesent, deep deep deep!
Hide de pwesent, deep deep deep! Goopy goo, I wuv you, goopy goo, I wuv
you. Waaaay in, goopy goo!, waaay in, pwesent for me!" Heavy breathing.
"Waaay in, I wuv you! Waaaay in, goopy goo!"
"Mmmmmmmmmm!
Aaaaaaarrrrr!" The monolog was interrupted by her orgasm, requiring
breaking from character. My own orgasm was so intense it briefly felt
like her words were coming from a different planet.
Panted
breaths. "Tank you, daddy. I wuv you!" Panted breaths. "Tank you,
daddy, I wuv you!" Fewer panted breaths. "Tank you, daddy, for de goopy
goo!" "Tank you, daddy, I wuv you!"
"I wuv you ... I wuv you ... I love you daddy, I love you."
"Thank you, daddy." And two big squeezes. One with arms. One with her weewee.