My
wife fell in love with another man and divorced me. She got custody of
our seven-year-old daughter Kerry, naturally. I didn't get to see her
anywhere near as much as I would have liked. She would have liked to
see me more too, but her mother didn't allow any more than the standard
every-other-weekend that a father gets in this state. But I went to
school events, encouraged her to bring friends over, whatever I could
do to share her life as much as I could. I had a lucrative but not very
demanding job with flexible hours which let me make time for going to
all of Kerry's events.
When Kerry was nine, she had a classmate
named Erin. She wasn't a best friend or anything, but they were
friendly. I met her because they went to each other's parties. I
thought she was cute, but then I find most girls cute, some of the best
scenery on earth.
I was surprised when her father Elliot asked
me out to dinner. We had met at a Parents' night once and chatted
briefly. After pleasantries and sharing the basics of each other's
lives, he began to talk to me about his daughter. She was a gymnast,
and she took it very seriously. She was on the team of a local club,
and practiced for hours every day. Her goal was to be national
champion, and her coaches said she just might have it in her. She was
an only child, and Elliot and his wife were heavily invested in her
success.
Elliot had made an interesting connection. Erin shared
some of the gym gossip with her mother. A 16-year-old had decided to
start sleeping with her boyfriend. A little later the more shocking
news came out that a 13-year-old had started sleeping with a boy who
was a little older. Erin's mother Sonya had in turn shared these
tidbits with Elliot. People were prepared for their gymnastic
performance to slide, but it hadn't. Elliot looked into the records and
found their performance had actually improved a little, and it looked
like it was around the time they started having sex. One possibility
was that the improved performance gave them a self-confidence to try
new and different things in their lives. But Elliot had hired a private
investigator, who had determined that it was one week AFTER they
started sleeping with the boys that their performance started edging
up. Wasn't that the strangest thing? I had to agree it was the
strangest thing, and joked that it was horrifying to think that
competitive gymnasts might start sleeping with boys to get an edge. He
laughed. I was expecting him to continue with his story, but after a
few noticeable silences he went on to other topics.
The steak
was excellent. Then as we were finishing dessert he shifted in his seat
a little. He had told Erin what he had just described to me. He was
just sharing information with her, that was all, he said. I thought
that he may have convinced himself he was just sharing information, but
it was hard to believe that was the whole story. Elliot continued that
Erin was now set on having sex, even though she was nowhere near
puberty. Sonya and Elliot were clear with Erin that she could not start
having sex, but Erin was just as clear that she was going to. She was
going to find a way, and knowing their daughter's determination, they
believed her. It was evident to me that Sonya and Elliot should have
made it clear that she would be finished with gymnastics if she did any
such thing, but they didn't. They really, really wanted Erin to
succeed, and they convinced themselves that they couldn't stop her. So,
Elliot continued, they decided that if she was really so set on it,
they should try to find a boy who was suitable instead of her randomly
trying to find someone. And of course there was this huge obstacle that
she was only a girl, with no sign of sexual development. Boys wouldn't
naturally be interested in her. Or if they were, they wouldn't dare
admit it to themselves or risk anyone else finding out.
I
suddenly felt sick to my stomach, my heart racing. I was afraid I knew
where this was heading. I must not say a word, of course. Not one word.
I wondered if this was a sting operation. Later I decided it was way
too elaborate, but I wasn't so sure at the time.
Elliot fixed me
with a long gaze. It was clear just what I should do. I should change
the conversation back to pleasantries for as brief a time as politeness
required, insist on paying half the check, say it was so nice to get
together with him, and leave. But not a single pleasantry came out of
my mouth. As I well knew, there was a hidden but primal, powerful part
of me that did not want to leave.
What they needed was a man. He
and Sonya had done some research and determined that 10% of men
experienced a notable degree of sexual attraction to pre-pubescent
girls. In today's society, all of them with one wit of sense kept these
feelings of attraction completely to themselves. But Sonya and Elliot
had thought it over and now understood fully that it was not a choice
but a natural inclination, just like being gay, and there was no shame
in feeling it.
They needed to be highly discreet about this, so
they had hired a different set of private investigators recommended by
the first to see if they could find a likely man among those who rubbed
shoulders with the girls in the school, mostly other fathers. They
ruled a lot of them out quickly. Based on prior experience, the
private-investigator-scientists had found that where men looked was the
best clue. They arranged to collect a lot of high-quality video
footage. I tried not to turn pink. Surprisingly, there was not just
one, not two, not three, but four men they found who looked at girls
surreptitiously, and who tended to look at their chests, crotches, and
dress hemlines, especially crotches.
The private investigators
had also determined that there were reasons to avoid three of the men.
Their investigations corroborated Erin's intuition that they were
"sketchy". But that left the fourth man. They had been as thorough as
to determine that this fourth man looked specifically at Erin's crotch
and chest, not just those of some other set of girls. And he was also
divorced and not involved with anyone.
There was a long pause.
"Are
you the FBI?" I asked. I hadn't ordered any child porn, and had done
nothing illegal, nothing to arouse suspicion -- except apparently
glancing at little girl's crotches, which I was quite sure was not a
criminal offense if done with reasonable discretion.
He smiled,
and said they realized full well that they were asking this fourth man
to consider something that was illegal -- a serious crime. They had
some thoughts on that. They were planning to give him, for storage in
escrow, documents signed by both parents and the daughter saying they
had initiated this. And videotape of Erin describing articulately what
she wanted and why. If the man was guilty, both parents would also be
guilty of child trafficking. And though Erin's explanation would have
no legal weight, it might be worth something in terms of leniency.
Another pause. "One more thing," he said. "She likes you."
He had finally gone from "this fourth man" to "you".
"In your brief meetings she's gotten good feelings about you. Think about it," he said.
It was early evening on a winter's night. I gave a soft knock on Erin's door.
"Come
in," she said, so I did, and closed the door behind me. She was
standing by the desk, wearing a sweater, dressed in jeans. I hesitated.
She had short brown hair, blue eyes, an attractive but not gorgeous
face. If I had fantasized about being in this position a month before,
Erin wouldn't have been my first or second choice among Kerry's
friends. But she was plenty attractive. I had discovered long ago in
life that honesty usually served best.
"This is really weird and awkward," I said.
She gave a forced smile. "Tell me about it."
I
went over to her and gave her a friendly non-sexual hug and held it.
"All the papers are signed," I said, "but I have decided you have to
show me every step of the way that this is what you want."
She
pulled away and nodded uncertainly. Then she handed me a piece of paper
and said, "I was going to say all this but I had to write it down
instead". She then went to the bed and sat, slumping and looking down
miserably.
I read: "I really want to do this. I have stretched
my vagina so it can fit your penis, and I lubricated it already. I know
you are doing me a big favor, and if you laugh at me that's OK. And I'm
so scared and nervous I'm going to be in agony until we do it the first
time."
I folded the paper in half and put it on the desk, and
slowly walked over to sit next to her on the bed, and stroked her hair
gently.
"I would never laugh at you." Then I thought about what
would make it easiest for her. "OK," I said. "Tell me if you want to do
anything differently, but here's my plan: I suggest we turn out all the
lights, then you take off all your clothes, get under the covers in
your bed, and face the wall."
She nodded, though I noticed she was a little pale.
I
went over to the desk and turned off the only lamp in the room. The
shades were already down, so it was quite dark. There was an
illuminated clock, and I looked to her for any possible objection
before I unplugged it. I could hear her stripping and getting in the
bed. I also took off all my clothes, and climbed in bed behind her. Her
small warm presence in itself was thrilling. I ran my fingers over her
face, around her short hair, then meandered down her smooth flat chest,
over her hip, down the outside of one thigh, and then gradually up the
inside. I came to a gentle stop where the two legs came together. I
lifted her upper leg a little and she held it up, lifting the sheet and
blanket as she did. I gently stroked labia that were perfectly smooth,
no hair or shaved skin, just the tiniest hairs that are all over a
woman's body.
"You are really sexy", I said.
She gave a soft, ambiguous "HmmMmHm".
My erection was rock-hard. "Are you still sure? If you have second thoughts, we can stop any time."
"No, I really want to do it," she whispered.
OK,
I thought, now I commit the felony. "OK. Let me know if you want me to
stop and I will." So I gently spread her labia and felt alluring
dampness. I touched my penis to the opening.
"OK, here goes," I
said, then pushed. I slid in easily just a little. She giggled. She was
wet inside and my penis felt enfolded, kissed, blessed by an angel. I
went out a tiny bit, then in further, each time a little further. She
was giggling the whole time. I reached the end of her vagina, and while
I had fit only about 3/4 of my penis into her, that was just right for
a girl. I knew the giggling was nervousness, not derision, but still I
wanted some solemnity to what was to me a sacred moment.
"Shhh,"
I said gently, and she quieted. Let's put this girl out of her virginal
misery, I thought. I ran my fingers over her smooth chest as I thrust
gently back and forth, my desire and excitement building to
overwhelming. I kissed the nape of her neck and squeezed her torso
against me just before giving way to my spectacular orgasm, which sent
my mind reeling and made me gasp. But gentleman that I was, I had made
sure not to press into her too far, not to thrust in a frenzy of
strokes. After a few more slow strokes my body relaxed. I pulled out
and fell onto my back behind her, panting. "All done," I said.
"Really?" she asked.
"Yes, why?"
"In the movies daddy showed me it was a lot more than that."
"Well,
you said you'd be dying of nervousness until we did it the first time,
so I did it as quickly and gently as possible. How are you doing?"
"Fine. It felt weird, but it didn't hurt at all."
There was a pause. "Do you feel anxious or ashamed or angry?"
"No, no, it's a huge relief. Thank you so much."
"Well,
then can I hug your back?" I didn't wait for an answer. I spooned up
beside this lovely young girl and draped my arm over her. "That was
really special for me," I said.
After maybe thirty seconds of back hugging she asked, "Can we get up now?"
Maybe
neither of us had thought about this part of it in detail. "OK," I
said, a little disappointed. So I turned on the light and dressed while
she stayed covered in bed. I stroked her cheek once and said goodbye.
I
thought about it more. It was a dream come true, but there was
something a little unsatisfying about it. I wanted more than
barely-touching little fucks in the dark.
Apparently Erin
reported that it had gone OK, and Elliot called me the next day. "We
never talked about the details," he said. "I'd be interested in knowing
how often you're willing to do this. We don't know what aspect of
sleeping with the boys may have caused the performance to increase, but
it certainly might have been more than just brief intercourse." Ah,
maniacally competitive minds and pedophilic minds think alike.
I knocked on Erin's door and went in, smiling. She smiled too. We sat on the bed next to each other.
"We don't know what might help your gymnastics, but acting more like a boyfriend and girlfriend is probably a good idea."
"Yeah, that's what we figured too."
That
still left a great many choices. I decided kissing should wait until
she felt some real romantic attraction, if ever. Was I going to try
disrobing her? That didn't feel right either. Once again I decided
straightforward might work better.
"How about taking all your clothes off?" I started taking mine off.
She
hesitated. She stood facing me and slowly took her clothes off, but as
she had her hands on her panties ready to pull them down, she paused
and looked thoughtful. My hard penis had just come into view. "But I
haven't even started puberty, or grown sexy at all".
I looked her up and down and said with feeling, "I love your body, and I think it's incredibly sexy".
A pause. "So, you're a pervert?"
I
froze, and drew in a deep breath. The question was delivered in a
friendly and curious tone, but it still stung. A tear came to my eye as
I whispered, "Isn't that what you need?"
"I ... I'm sorry", she said.
My erection was falling fast, and she noticed. Looking a little uncomfortable she asked, "What can I do?".
"Take your panties off, for starters."
She made a sort of "doh" expression and quickly took them off.
I thought a moment. "Say 'I really really want you to fuck me.'"
She
was startled a little by the f-word, but after a brief pause said, "I
really really want you to fuck me." But she went on with greater
enthusiasm: "I really really want you to FUCK me!" She wasn't
pretending to be wild with desire, she was just telling me what she
wanted, and that was good enough for me.
"So now move your hands
lightly all over this fine organ here which has to get hard again
before I can do what you really really want".
She knelt down to
touch my penis tentatively, respectfully, and with curiosity, and her
gentle stroking was working pretty well. She then smiled at me, leaned
forward and took the tip of my penis in her mouth. That was surprising,
and from the surprise and the gentle touches of her small warm wet
gymnast's mouth my erection revived fully.
"That feels great" I said, and she stopped.
"I
saw it in those movies" she said. She then lay back on the bed with
legs spread wide, smiled at me, and reached out her arms as if inviting
me for a hug.
That was more like it! I was starting to get a
little sense of her personality, and I was charmed. Her body was fairly
small, perfectly proportioned, and muscular if you looked closely, just
the way a champion gymnast should look. Her skin was light, smooth,
glowing. Her chest was perfectly flat, and I could see now the innocent
labia I had felt the night before. She was perfection. I descended on
her. She spread her labia and I slid in, holding myself up with my
hands. I had felt her once in the dark, but this was far better. She
had welcomed my powerful masculine organ up inside her body, right
between her legs, forming a tube to connect us.
"I'm the luckiest pervert in the whole world," I said.
She smiled.
I
could have come in seconds, but I wanted to luxuriate in the
experience. I pushed insistently up inside her for maybe fifteen
minutes, faster and faster, grunting, more and more urgently, then I
came with a big "Aaaah!" and collapsed on her heavily.
She put
her arms around my back and patted and gave me a squeeze, but not many
seconds later she pushed me aside so she could breathe. "That's more
what I expected."
"So are you all ready for sleeping?"
"Yup",
she said. We got under the covers still naked, and I snuggled up to her
back. I didn't fall asleep right away -- 10 wasn't my normal bed time!
But I treasured my girl beside me, chest rising and falling with each
breath. In the night we switched to our other sides, and I felt her
small but warm presence behind me, and felt her breath gently tickle my
back.
I was rudely awakened by a radio at 5:30. Early gym
practice. She was briefly disoriented to find me sharing her bed. But
she got up showing no sign of discomfort at my seeing her naked. She
proceeded to find the day's clothes and put them on matter-of-factly. I
decided to go back to sleep, and let myself out at 8am when I woke up
again.
The third night I found myself licking her all over, and
when she didn't object licking her labia before I gave her another
little dollop of semen in ecstasy. The fourth night when I went to her
labia I made a point of attending to her little clitoris. She
definitely felt something stirring, and had an expression while my
penis was inside her that wasn't simply the polite approval she had
been giving so far.
I was in heaven making love to my darling
Erin every night, and she was not just lying back to take her medicine.
But she had a different agenda. Eight days after our first sweet little
virginity-taking in the dark, she hit a move she had never hit before,
and by ten she got solid on two others. This experiment was looking
promising.
Her
parents got us a double bed and we became roommates. I should mention
here that I kept hosting my daughter Kerry every other weekend, and she
and my ex-wife never had a hint of the new flame in my life. I never in
my life had a sexual thought towards Kerry. She was my daughter, and
that just felt totally different.
Erin would come back from the
shower with her towel around her and promptly drop it to expose her
nakedness. I took to making the bed, picking up her towel, her
discarded clothes, her dirty underwear -- mmmmmmm. I helped her with
homework. I took to massaging whatever in her poor, overworked body
needed massaging, either before or after sex. She talked about her life
and all the things about her parents that annoyed her. She naturally
talked a great deal about her gymnastics, but I got lost with the
technical details. I stayed away from the gym to keep from blowing her
cover. I got her to concentrate on the essence of the challenges and
the feelings rather than the specifics. During sex she came to watch me
with a thoughtful smile as I was mounted on her, thrusting away. She
squirmed a little too. She gave me a hug when she felt me have a big
satisfying orgasm. She shyly said once that it made her feel special
that her little body could give me such pleasure. One morning I was
already awake, and then she woke up too before the alarm. I turned it
off before the radio went on.
"Would you mind if I ...?" I asked, my hand going over her naked chest.
She gave a sleepy smile and said, "Sure, go ahead."
So
I tentatively entered her from the rear, and thrust a dozen times
before ejaculating at the end of one long deep thrust. She seemed to
like that more than I would have thought. We had sex again as usual
that night.
One Sunday morning I awoke to find her playing with
my penis. She knew me well enough to know that if I objected I would
say something. As she played it got harder. On a whim I asked if she
would like to see what it looked like when I spurted, but this time
without being inside her?
She said sure.
I had her sit
beside me with her legs wide apart -- she was a gymnast, so they went
out completely to the sides -- so I could look at her lovely private
parts just inches away. And I gave myself a hand job. Maybe a minute.
The delay was that I really wanted to be inside her. But once my body
was resigned to the idea of ejaculating into the air, I got right to
the point of no return and said 'Look' just as the semen spurted out.
She
smiled, waiting for my hip thrusts to subside and my hand to stop. She
gave an evil grin and said, "Now we can put it where it goes!", and
taking one fingerful of goop from my chest put it up her vagina. She
held her labia wide open, leaving the rest to me. I had goop on my hand
which I got off with my other hand, and put that inside her. It took
several swipes to get all the goop from my chest and I slid my finger
deep into her vagina with each one. I was getting to know Erin's little
quirks of taste and whim, and I liked her more and more.
One
morning I woke up to find her face close to mine, smiling. She slowly
moved forward and just barely touched lips. I responded, and we shared
a minute of the tiniest, sweetest kisses. That removed my last doubts:
I was in love. From the look of it she was getting pretty attached to
me too.
I got her to try it doggy style, and I was ecstatic to
see her narrow butt presented to me for mating, and I wasted no time
taking her up on the invitation. She thought that was fun for the
novelty, but didn't care for if all that much. She still asked to do it
every week or so because she knew I loved it. She loved riding me, so
we did that a couple times a week. With her gymnastically limber body
she could go into just about any position. But mostly we did it
missionary style, my sweet Erin on her back, legs apart, as she offered
herself up to me, and I took her, possessed her, made her body mine,
filled what was for the moment my vagina with my very own pulsing penis
and filled it in turn with the cream of life, the cream of creation --
the cream of gymnastic success.
She got better in the gym. She
frequently traveled away on day trips for meets, but then she made the
nationals, where she would be away two days. I wished her luck and said
goodbye. She did poorly, and said on her return that she missed me, and
it was unclear how much it was my semen she missed and how much it was
my familiar company. Whichever it was, we thought of a cover for how to
handle this in the future. Ordinarily gymnasts doubled up in hotel
rooms, but she would stay in a suite with her parents, feigning a
medical necessity. I would play the part of a doctor for her, but
unbeknownst to those outside the family I never got around to leaving
her suite at night, of course. We played doctor. My penis so yearned
for her innards it nearly played surgeon.
She was looking for
every edge she could get. We didn't know that semen was the key to the
gymnastic success, but it was certainly the prime suspect. Naturally my
semen would drip out of her after intercourse. Now she started
collecting the drips with her finger and putting them in her mouth,
then on her upper lip, in case breathing in the essence of semen would
help. From the beginning I would often wake up in the middle of the
night desiring her, but controlled myself to let my little angel sleep.
Now she encouraged me to poke her and give her spurts of semen any time
I wanted. I would snuggle up to her from the rear, lift her leg a
little, and slide in. She might not really wake up, but I would give a
series of gentle, quick thrusts and in ecstasy deliver safely up into
her vagina more of the fluid she craved. Or if she was on her back I
would part her sleepy legs and inject her that way. In the week before
the next nationals we were making love once before sleep and once in
the morning, and I was doing it to her in a more one-sided fashion
maybe twice each night. When we got to the city, her father with some
embarrassment gave me a little vial of semen and said it was from him,
and if I thought it could help to have even more... I thanked him, but
flushed it away. Erin was mine alone.
As the nationals began, we
thought maybe an uninterrupted night's sleep would be more important
for her, so we only did it before going to sleep. She did OK that day,
but not great. So the next night I was giving her every drop I had.
Every drip from her vagina went on her upper lip or in her mouth. She
became junior national champion.
She
pulled a hamstring and had to stop training for at least six months.
Her parents thanked me and said they all owed me a tremendous debt of
gratitude. I said goodbye to Erin and moved back to my lonely quarters.
I had known this would happen and worked on framing it as a magical
interlude that was now over -- instead of losing Erin making me feel so
lonely and empty inside.
But Erin didn't adjust so well either.
She didn't feel like doing her physical therapy or schoolwork. Her
parents suggested we could talk on the phone or I could come over for
conversation. That made her miss me even more. She found her way to my
apartment, and I can still see her on my doorstep -- pleading,
vulnerable, gorgeous. I couldn't resist. The minute she came through
the door we headed straight to my bed, throwing clothes off as we went.
She begged me to get myself inside her and ejaculate just as soon as I
could. I happily complied. We rested fifteen minutes and then did it
again, and again after an hour. She thought maybe she could see me on
the sly, but I wasn't willing to go behind her parents' back. So I went
with her to lend her support while she told them she was in love with
me and needed me. They relented more easily than Erin had thought,
though I wasn't so surprised. By analogy, it might be damaging to marry
off your daughter at age nine, but it was inflicting another serious
round of damage to make her get divorced when she was eleven if she
loved her husband.
She no longer needed my sexual attentions for
her own purposes, so any sex that happened now was just out of habit
and for my pleasure. She found that she could tell me she wasn't
interested in sex and I would respect her wishes and not pressure her.
But as soon as she found she had that choice she had me on my back
impaling herself on me and moving up and down in the rhythm I liked
best, watching intently as she gave me a magnificent orgasm.
Later
that year she recovered from her injury and started training again in
earnest. She also started going through puberty. After consultations we
decided an IUD was the best thing, and had the insertion done in the
Bahamas, in a nondescript room in a nondescript medical building. I
adored getting to watch her develop little by little, and cherished the
sex with her body at each delicious moment of development. She
developed a little fine silky pubic hair to rub against my mat, then a
few full-fledged hairs, then more. I watched slowly increasing jiggles
from her breasts as she rode me. Her sexual appetites grew, slowly at
first and then faster. She started hungering for the inherent genital
pleasure of the experience. She had her first orgasm with the patient
loving work of my tongue, and I never thought my adolescent baby could
be as thankful as she was then. Soon she started having orgasms now and
then when we had intercourse, and then could have one almost any time
she wanted. She usually wouldn't bother more than once a day, happy the
other two or three times with the closeness, with making me happy, and
with the magic semen I gave her.
There was just no way I could
sleep with her at the world championships. She desperately wanted to,
but we grown-ups got her to trust our conclusion that we would very
likely be discovered, with disastrous consequences all around. I could
stay in the same hotel and slip her a sample of my fresh semen to mix
with the frozen that I had been stashing away for the occasion. And she
could at various times in the night put some up inside herself with a
plunger, wipe more over her face and in her mouth. She won the gold on
uneven bars, but was disappointed with a bronze in all-around. We
occasionally wondered in later years whether sleeping with me during
those nights would have made the difference.
Later that year she
wrenched her knee, tearing cartilage. Returning to competitive
gymnastics would have been a long road, required a tolerance for pain
and a great deal of hard work. But she no longer had the fierce
competitive drive that she had in the past. She retired from
competitive gymnastics, but she kept me -- for the time being. Her sex
drive reached its peak. She didn't need the semen any more, but she
wanted me pumping her full of it three times a day, and she got it. On
her back. From the rear. As she straddled me. And she was getting
enough gentle rubs, tugs, pushes, licks on her clitoris that now she
was having at least one orgasm every time.
But at the end of
high school she decided we needed to break up, since she was going to
college and needed to enjoy the freedom all the other kids her age had
-- to make new friends, to date, to experiment. I succeeded in hiding
the depth of my devastation. She knew I was disappointed, and she was
very sad too. I tried moving on with my life, but it was hard.
In
the fall of her sophomore year Erin met a boy and they started going
out. She even slept with him a half dozen times. But she realized that
even though she was fond of him and fond him hot and he was ideal by
objective criteria, it was not going anywhere. She missed me too much.
She had had enough freedom. Most girls got to be single and free for
years, and Erin was going to give that up. But then Erin had been
national gymnastics champion, and most girls didn't get to do that.
Most girls didn't have an understanding friend to snuggle with every
night, and didn't get to satisfy all of their sexual urges from the
instant they started having them. And, I blush a little to say, most
girls never got to have a lover like me.
We got secretly
engaged. She came to see me many weekends -- I never went to campus, at
least not as her boyfriend. We were married in a small private ceremony
one year after her college graduation, and have been together since. I
am 30 years her senior. I was ready to retire just as she was finishing
med school, so I stayed home to raise our two sons and two daughters,
and got to experience four-fold the stages of Kerry's childhood I
missed. I was never attracted to any of them, just as I had never been
to Kerry. As to their friends, well, I could tell that the pedophilic
inclinations were still there, but they stayed dormant, and I didn't
even surreptitiously glance at their crotches, or at least not very
often. I had my own Erin, love of my life.