Copyright © 2001,   Clayton.  ALL Rights Reserved


Story_codes: Mggg

Story_intro: Daddy finds a video of his little girl's first slumber party.



Clayton's Children - Moving Pictures     By Clayton

Copyright (c) Clayton 2001.

Disclaimer:
   This is a work of pure fiction.  No illegal activity
   described herein was carried out, this document details
   fantasies that took place late at night when I was alone
   in bed. I firmly believe that no fifteen minutes of
   pleasure is worth the innocence of a child.  Besides, I
   derive much pleasure from the company of children, playing
   with them or simply watching them at play, I am not going
   to risk this for any momentarily heightened sense of
   pleasure.

   If you are under the age of eighteen the law says I've got
   to tell you to go away, so, "Go away!"  Common sense says
   you're going to ignore me, so don't blame me if you go
   blind, your parents find you in possession of this document
   or your cum causes your space bar to stop working.

   If this type of material is illegal in your city, state,
   country, then see above, substituting "law enforcement
   agency" in place of "parents".

   If you're a member of the moral minority, religious right,
   or any other such control group then read on, my aim is to
   offend you as much as possible.  People like you who would
   force others to fit your narrow minded little world views
   are a blight upon the landscape.  My personal philosophy is
   that of "Rational Anarchy" ie. anyone should feel free to
   do and think as they please such that their actions do not
   adversely impact on the lives of others.


   __   _
  /  ) //          _/_
 /    // __.  ,  , /  ______
(__/ </_(_/|_/(_/_<__(_) / /_,
               /
              '

<clayton@nym.alias.net>


Clayton's Children - Moving Pictures Part 1


	"Daddy?"  My little girl's voice interrupts my attempts to get the characters in my 
current novel to behave and follow the plot I've mapped out for them.

	"Yes honey?" I say, turning my chair to face the door.

	"Can I borrow the video camera so I can tape my party?" she pleads winsomely. "I promise 
I'll be real careful with it."

	"Well, I don't know." I reply, "It's very expensive.  Maybe I should tape it for you."

	"But you promised me no boys." she says, "And you've let me use it before,"

	"That was different, I was with you then."

	"But I'm older now." she argues, "I promise we'll be real, real careful."

	"O.K. Honey." I say relenting.  Rising from my seat, I get the camera in its case out of 
the cupboard and quickly run through the do's and don'ts before handing it over to her.

	With a squealed "Thank you." and a bubble gum flavoured kiss, she starts to scamper off, 
and then abruptly slows to a sedate walk as she remembers her burden.

	Smiling to myself, I watch her leave my office.  Tonight was the night of my little 
girl's first official slumber party.  She'd turned eight two days earlier, and I'd finally 
agreed, after two weeks of begging that she could have her three best friends sleep over for the 
entire weekend in lieu of a party.  Two hours earlier, three mother's had deposited three little 
girls on my doorstep, and with mocking references to my bravery they'd departed for a kid free 
weekend of ski slopes and ski instructors named Lars and Sven.

	I too questioned my sanity in allowing the weekend long sleepover.  On her own Cindy 
often proved to be more than a handful for me.  One little girl multiplied by four had the 
potential to be very interesting in same sense as the Arabic curse, 'May you live in interesting 
times.' Still, I felt that I had them more or less committed to reasonably good behaviour, with 
my threat to camp in their midst for the remainder of the weekend if they let themselves get too 
far out of control.

	Listening to the distant sounds of their childish Hollywood aspirations, I turn back to 
my computer and immerse myself in dragging my recalcitrant novel back on track.

				***

	I don't know what time their party broke up during the night, because after my daughter's 
departure with the camera, my muse smiled upon me and I was only peripherally aware of the 
occasional squeals, shrieks and peals of laughter coming from the other end of the house as I 
pounded out nearly fifteen thousand words of prose over the next eight hours or so.  When 
exhaustion finally drove me to seek my bed, there was only silence and when I looked in on them, 
they were fast asleep cocooned in their sleeping bags.

	When I finally awaken late the next morning, I'm greeted by a continuation of the same 
silence and when I make my way to the kitchen for a badly needed caffeine hit, I discover a note 
telling me that they have gone down to the beach to collect shells and that they would be back in 
time for lunch.

	I guess there's still a bit of naughty little boy left in me, because instead of 
returning to the parts of the house not ruled off limits to my male presence, I tiptoe into their 
inner sanctum feeling much the same guilty thrill I'd felt as a small boy when I'd ventured into 
the girls toilets at school on a dare.  The room more commonly known as the rumpus room, 
currently bears a strong resemblance to the girl's wear department of a chain store, *after* 
being struck by a cyclone.  What appears to be at least twenty complete changes of clothing is 
strewn in piles about the room.  Just as it had been when I'd looked in a few hours earlier, all 
of the furniture is pushed back against the walls, leaving a large cleared area in the middle of 
the room.  Two blue, a red and a green sleeping bag, are screwed up in balls on the sofa and 
nearby are four collapsed bags with various items of intimate apparel spilling out of them.

	Near the TV, is a small table and on top of it is my camera connected by cables to the 
back of the television.  Immediately, I start wondering what images of childhood innocence might 
be on the tape inside it.

	The first thing that I discover is that they have completely drained both battery packs, 
but it doesn't take me long to connect up the AC adapter.  I also plug in the charger and put the 
spare pack on charge as well.  I then settle back with the detachable remote and my cup of coffee 
for a voyeuristic peek at an epochal event in my little girl's childhood.

	The beginning of the tape is much as anyone might expect.  Three giggling little girls 
clowning around before the camera: assuming exaggeratedly sexy poses, pushing and shoving each 
other; and singing along and dancing to a raucous selection of popular CD's.

	I'm not exactly pleased to discover that possession of the camera is fairly evenly shared 
amongst all four girls.  However, they all seem to handle it reasonably competently and as they 
say: 'The proof is in the pudding.' and the camera had obviously survived the evening unscathed.

	After about five minutes of general tomfoolery their activity changes to a fashion show.  
With the girls one by one parading down the middle of the room in the various outfits now strewn 
around me.  My little girl Zoe leads the parade, dressed in a short pleated wrap around skirt and 
a simple white t-shirt.

	Tiny seven and a half year of Mary follows her, wearing one of Zoe's old 'Sunday best' 
outfits from two years ago, a pink and white confection of frills and lace, lacking only a huge 
lollipop to complete her ensemble.

	Then Sally, or Stretch as her friends have taken to calling her since a recent growth 
spurt left her towering over the tallest of the other three, Zoe, by more than half a head, and 
head and shoulders over Mary.  Her outfit is a floor length black sheath dress, with enormous 
flowing sleeves.  Her long black hair and winter pallor makes her a dead ringer for a young 
Morticia Addams.

	The last girl, Samantha, self-consciously walks towards the camera wearing a pair of 
tight white shorts and a tight purple crop top that leaves her slightly bulging midriff bare.  
Much to my surprise I see that the little girl, barely three months older than my own little one, 
is sporting a well developed pair of boobs, easily large enough to each fill an eggcup.  Much of 
their prominence is I suspect due to her somewhat plump figure, but I can't help but imagine that 
some of it is real.

	More outfits follow, many of them totally unsuited to the season: little sundresses; 
short skirts; t-shirts and thin blouses; shorts and the like, and where their attire is more 
suited to the cold weather, it tends towards skin tight.  All in all a slightly naughty display 
of preteen pulchritude which has me smiling with paternal indulgence, even as I make a mental 
note to pay more attention to what my little girl is wearing when she next leaves the house.

	Gradually the outfits get a little tighter and more revealing.  Sally it turns out also 
has the beginnings of a tiny set of boobs, and given her utter lack of fat anywhere else on her 
body, there is no doubting that they are the real thing.  With a fatherly sigh, I wonder at the 
speed with which little girls seem to develop these days.

	At around their third or fourth change of clothing, the first bathing suit appears, and I 
realise that they had planned their little fashion parade as an integral part of their weekend.  
Again my little birthday girl is first, wearing last year's bather's.  I notice that they are 
starting to get a little tight on her, showing off the shape of her little cunny mound with just 
a little too much definition to be quite decent.  I add another mental note to buy her a 
replacement when the warmer weather rolls around.

	Mary's suit still fits her well enough, though it is of a surprisingly mature cut for 
such a little girl.  It is a one piece, pure white in colour, with leg openings that rise to 
where her waist would be if she had one at the sides, and with a deeply plunging neckline.

	Sally's suit is a fairly modest and unremarkable green and blue bikini, though something 
strikes me as odd.  The top is a very much like a crop top the bottom edge crossing her chest and 
passing under her arms only a little above the bottom of her breastbone, and the bottoms cut 
across her tummy just a few centimetres below the slit of her belly button.  However, it does fit 
her tightly enough to reveal a very prominent cunny mound that bulges well forward of the flat 
plane of her tummy and I suddenly realise what it was that I found odd about her suit.  With the 
waistband as high as it is, there are several centimetres of fabric covering her tummy above her 
jutting mons, and that causes it to be accentuated far more than if she'd been wearing a briefer 
suit that cut across her body at hip level.  And the broad expanses of stretch fabric covering 
her chest have much the same effect, making it very clear that a pair of tiny boobies have begun 
to sprout underneath.  If she'd been older I would have thought it deliberate, but given her age 
I just assumed her mother had made a poor choice, even as I mentally thanked her for that poor 
choice.

	Yes, I am one of those much maligned individuals that society calls paedophiles, and I 
accept that appellation, though not in the pejorative sense that they intend.  I love my little 
girl, both as a father, and as an admirer of her sexy little just eight year old body, just as I 
am drawn to the innocent appeal of her young friends like a moth towards a flame.  However, I 
have never so much as laid an inappropriate finger on any child, I but admired their small bodies 
from a distance, always wishing, but never seeking to fulfill those wishes.

	Samantha's suit proves to be entirely unremarkable, but to my eyes it is still 
delightfully sexy.  It is made of rather heavy fabric and cut in the style called boy leg, the 
bottoms like tight shorts that cover her from just below her navel to a few centimetres below her 
crotch.  The top is like Sally's but more so, covering her chest from the hollow at the base of 
her throat to the bottom of her ribs, leaving just a few centimetres of bare skin exposed around 
her middle and it fits her snuggly enough to all but flatten her baby fat boobs.

	From bathing suits they return to everyday clothing, but they are far more aggressive in 
their presentation, twirling and lifting their skirts high enough to reveal flashes of pink, 
white and yellow beneath.  Sally struts towards the camera in a skirt so short that it barely 
covers her pink knickers, and occasionally it fails to do so.  I hear my daughter's naughty 
giggle, and the viewpoint of the camera drops to below the level of the bottom of Sally's skirt, 
and zooms in to capture a tight shot of her well filled pink knickers. "I can see right up your 
skirt." I hear my daughter naughtily announce.

	Instead of being embarrassed as she might have been in mixed company, Sally just laughs 
and lifts the front of her skirt to show off the entire bulging front of her knickers. "Can you 
see them better now?" she asks naughtily.  She then turns her back to the camera and bends over 
to look back between knees, the hem of her skirt rising so high as to reveal almost all of her 
skinny rump.  "How about this?" she giggles.

	Suddenly the picture on the screen jounces and whirls as Zoe stands, and moves towards 
her friend.  I hear a short shriek from Sally and when the picture stabilizes I see that my 
naughty daughter has given her friend a wedgie.  Now most of the back of Sally's knickers are 
hidden inside her butt crack and her bony backside fills most of the screen before me.  What 
isn't bony is the thick sausage like bulge of her cunny lips that protrudes between the tops of 
her skinny thighs.

	"Jeez, your cunny really sticks out." Samantha giggles from off camera with an edge of 
nervousness.

	"You're telling me." I chuckle to myself as I adjust my rapidly hardening member to a 
more comfortable position.

	Giggling Sally stands up and the view cuts to Samantha in a daffodil yellow pleated wrap 
around skirt over a pair of day-glo green pedal pushers.  However it would appear that the skirt 
belongs to little Mary, as there is so little overlap that the green of her bike shorts 
repeatedly flashes through.  On top she is wearing a tiny bikini top that last graced my 
daughter's torso some two years ago.  I wonder how on Earth she had managed to get it tied around 
her body.  A moment later the secret is revealed when she turns and I see the glint of a safety 
pin joining the two ends of the strap across her back.

	Like Sally she bends at the waist causing the back of her skirt to lift up over her 
bottom.  However, very much unlike Sally's bottom, Sam's is very full and round.  Her pedal 
pushers have also ridden deep into her butt crack, forcing her buns apart and showing them off in 
stark relief.  From the lack of lines beneath the fabric it is obvious that nothing lies beneath 
her shorts but a deliciously plump little girl.

	I'm somewhat surprised to discover though, that given the amount of body fat elsewhere on 
her body, her cunny is all but invisible when viewed from behind like this, with only the 
faintest hint of a depression in the fabric continuing below the very obvious crease between her 
buttocks.

	As Sam straightens, a hand which I presume to be Sally's appears, and I hear the sound of 
ripping velcro as she whips the skirt from around Sam's hips.  Sam whirls with a laughing shriek 
and two cute little rolls of tummy fat come into view above the tight waistband of her bike 
shorts which cuts across her belly just below her navel.  And starting just a few centimetres 
below the waistband, I discover the reason for her lack of rearward facing cunny.  Almost all of 
it is right out in front.  It doesn't bulge outwards like Sally's, but more or less follows the 
lines of her tummy.  However, running down the middle is a deep and very well defined crease that 
begins at about the same height as her hips.  Less prominent, but still well defined are a pair 
of matching creases that angle inwards from the same height, all three creases coming together 
and joining with the line where her thighs are pressed together giving a strong impression of the 
peace symbol of the flower power era without its surrounding circle.

	Sally pushes in beside her friend and again lifts the front of her skirt to show off her 
bulging cunny mound. "Mine might stick out," she says, "but yours isn't exactly tiny."

	"I know." Sam says sounding rueful, "That's why my mum makes me wear those dorky bathers 
and undies.  I can't even wear a proper one piece because the lining doesn't come up far enough."

	"Yeah, your mum is so twentieth century." Sally says, "My mum's pretty cool.  She even 
helped me pick out my bathers so I could really show off my cunny.  And the top's just as good 
now that I'm getting boobs."

	"Well, well, well." I muse quietly, so it wasn't a poor choice after all, but a 
deliberate one.

	"Come on." Sally says. "Let's see how you look in my bathers."

	The screen flickers, and restabilizes on Sam now in Sally's suit.  Of course it's 
somewhat too small for her thicker frame, and a fairly large roll of fat billows over the 
waistband, but at the same time the tightness of the fabric ensures that her cunny is well 
displayed.  Very well displayed.  I ease my hand into the waistband of my sweats and slowly 
stroke my throbbing meat.

	"That top looks pretty dorky." I hear Sam say in a slightly strained voice. "Take it 
off."

	"No way!" Sam squeaks.

	"Aw come on." Sally giggles, again sounding a little funny, "No one's gonna see except 
us.  I think you'll look cool topless and you're the only one that's got something to show off."

	"You have too." Sam says.

	"Only if I'm wearing something." Sally says, "Otherwise you can hardly see them.  Mum 
reckons they don't even count as bee stings yet.  Come on Sam, show us your tits."

	"Yeah show us your tits." my daughter says, her giggling making the picture shake.

	"Show us your tits.  Show us your tits." Sally, Zoe and Mary chant in unison.

	"Oh all right." Sam giggles embarrassedly and turns her back to the camera.  Struggling a 
little, she reaches behind her back and releases the safety pin holding her top in place and she 
pulls the top over her head and throws it aside.

	"Show us your tits.  Show us your tits." her friends continue to chant.

	With her flush extending well below her shoulders, Sam turns back to face the camera, her 
hands cupped protectively over her young titty mounds.  As her friends continue to chant, she 
quickly lifts the fingers of one hand revealing a fleeting glimpse of a little pink capped cone 
and then as she covers herself on that side, she uncovers the other for a brief moment.  Back and 
forth she flashes one tiny titty and then the other and then she flashes them in unison several 
times before finally dropping her hands away.

	Finally, I can get a proper look at them and I have to readjust my earlier estimation 
that they were only baby fat boobs.  For sure, a fair amount of their prominence is due to baby 
fat, but by no means all.  Her areolae, whilst still childishly pink, are a good three 
centimetres across and have a slightly rounded profile in addition to the conical mounds rising 
beneath them.  The nipples centered in them have also expanded proportionately to about half of 
their full adult size.

	"Come on Sally." Sam says. "It's your turn to strut your stuff."

	The moment Sally appears on screen, the reason for the strain in her voice becomes 
painfully evident.  Somehow or other, she has managed to shoehorn her long lanky body into Mary's 
little white bathing suit, and the result is a sight to behold.  The shoulder straps cut deep 
into the minimal amount of flesh above her collarbones and her hard little titties have met their 
match beneath the suit's super tight fabric, with only the tiniest of bumps to indicate the 
location of her nipples.  I can count every one of her ribs beneath the strained cloth and at the 
side the leg openings rise well above the level of her waist.

	But what really draws my eyes is her oversized cunny.  Even beneath the overstrained 
cloth of Mary's suit it manages to jut out defiantly, though even it can not entirely resist the 
forces upon it.  Stretched as it is, about half of the suit's crotch has forced its way into 
Sally's cunny slit, pushing the lips apart and leaving a broad strip of flushed pink labia 
visible on either side.  As I continue to take in the details of her eight and a half year old 
cunny, I realise that a semi-cylindrical ridge fills much of the top half of the wide gap between 
her half crushed cunny lips. "God!" I breath, "Is that a clit or a bloody cock."

	"Jeez, this bloody thing's cutting me in half." Sally complains forcing a finger beneath 
the suit's gusset and tugging on it in a basically futile attempt to relieve some of the strain.  
All that she achieves is to cause the rest of the cloth to bunch up in her slit.  For a few 
moments, the flesh of her labia is stark white where the suit has pressed on them, but they 
quickly darken as her blood makes its way back to the surface.

	"Shit, it's no good." she says removing her finger.  Her hands struggle to work the 
straps over the points of her shoulders and down her arms.  When she has worked her arms free, 
she pauses to vigorously rub her little titties. "God my tits are itchy." she cries.  A few 
moments later, she takes her hands away and resumes peeling the too tight suit from her body.

	Her newly budded titties are perhaps a fraction smaller than Sam's, but due to her 
colouration, are far darker and are already the colour of milk chocolate, despite her youth.

	Suddenly she pauses with the suit bunched up around her waist and looks up into the 
camera. "Are you going to point that thing somewhere else?" she ask acerbicly.

	"Nope." My daughter giggles. "Would you?"

	"Probably not." Sally admits with a grin and pushes the suit down her legs to the floor.

	Straightening, she put her hands on her hips and thrusts her cunny towards the camera.  
Faint red lines bisect each of her cunny lips, showing where the legbands of the suit had pressed 
into them.  Even though they appear to have returned to their normal shape, there is still a 
significant gap between her labia where they are forced apart by the thick ridge of her 
incredible clit.

	"God is that your magic button?" I hear Zoe ask in awed tones as she zooms in until her 
friend's cunny fills the screen.

	"My clit you mean?" Sally asks, her fingers appearing to peel her cunny lips apart to 
better show it off to the camera.  And with her fingers in the picture, I'm able to see that her 
clitoral ridge is very nearly as thick as her little finger and almost as long as the first two 
joints.

	"Is that what it's called?" Zoe asks, "How come I've never seen it before?"

	"Actually the proper name is clitoris." Sally says, "Clit's just for short" She giggles. 
"and it's definitely magic.  And you've never seen it before, because I don't usually have 
something two sizes too small rubbing on it and making it big.  But this is nothing, you should 
see it when it gets really riled up."

	"How come it's magic." Mary asks, the back of her head suddenly filling the screen as she 
leans in to take a look.

	The camera draws back to encompass all three girls.

	"Because it is." Sally says, "Don't you ever touch your cunny?"

	"Only when I wash it and stuff." Mary admits, "Mummy says it's dirty."

	"That's rich coming from a world champion rug muncher like her." Sally says.

	"What?"

	'WHAT!!!!?' my thought echo's Mary's, though in my case it's incredulity rather than 
confusion.  Suddenly I wonder if Lars and Sven figured much at all in their mothers' weekend 
plans.

	"Uh, never mind." Sally says hastily, "Anyway she's wrong.  It's only dirty if you let it 
get dirty, same as anyplace else.  Come on I'll show you."

	Sally leads the way over to the couch and shoves clothing and bags aside to clear a space 
for her to sit.  However, she does not sit in any approved ladylike fashion.  She sits with her 
bum almost on the edge of the cushion and reclines with her shoulders against the back of her 
couch just above where it meets the cushions.  She them lifts her feet so that her heels are 
almost touching her bottom on either side, presenting her cunny in almost the lewdest fashion 
possible.  A moment later she disposes of the 'almost'.

	Reaching between her ankles and her bum, she uses her fingers to pull her cunny wide 
open, revealing the somewhat diminished, but still remarkable length of her clitoral ridge, two 
thin inner lips, and a wide, dark hole that has obviously played host to more than her finger.

	Recklessly, I push my sweats down my legs to expose my cock and slowly pump my fist up 
and down its length as I feast my eyes on the mouthwatering image filling my TV screen.

	"Damn." Sally suddenly says, "I don't have enough hands.  Sam, will you help me?"

	"Me?" Sam asks, "What do you want me to do?"

	"Just hold one side so I can point." Sally replies.

	"Uh, I'm not sure I want to." Sam mumbles uncomfortably.

	"Sheesh!  It's not like I'm not asking you to lick it or anything." Sally says 
exasperatedly.

	"I'll do it." my little girl volunteers, "Here Sam, you hold the camera."

	The view jiggles as the camera changes hands, and a moment later my little girl crouches 
on the floor in front of Sally's left foot. "Show me where to hold it" she asks.

	"Just like I'm doing." Sally replies, taking away her left hand.  A trifle hesitantly 
Zoe's takes it's place, but her grip is so tentative, that Sally's fat cunny lip barely moves as 
Zoe pulls her fingers back. "Sheesh, it's not going to bite you." Sally says grabbing her wrist 
and pushing, "Get a proper grip."

	"It's all wet." Mary says distastefully, "Is it pee?"

	"Nah." Sally laughs, "That's cunny juice.  It makes everything slippery so a bloke can 
stick his cock in there when he fucks you."

	"Have you done that already?" Zoe asks incredulously. "Your hole's heaps bigger than 
mine."

	"Not yet." Sally says, "But I've been practicing."  She suddenly grins broadly, "Maybe 
I'll crawl in bed with your dad later and give the real thing a try."

	"WHAT!!!!?" I explode, letting go of my prick which suddenly threatens to go off like a 
roman candle.

	"YOU WOULDN'T!" my little girl cries out.

	"Only because he's so straight." Sally says, "If I was sure he'd go for it and not kick 
up a stink, I'd be in like a shot." She giggles, "Maybe that should be the other way around.  
He'd be in me like a shot."

	Obviously, I'd been more successful than I'd dared hope in concealing my predilections.  
Shit, if she only knew.  I dreamed of girls as willing and eager as Sally appeared to be,  
However dreams were one thing, reality was another.  Tonight I would be locking my door.

	"Maybe you'd be surprised." my little girl says, "He looks at my undies all the time when 
it's just me and him."  Oops, obviously I hadn't been as careful there.

	"Really?" Sally asks, "Maybe I will pay him that visit after all."

	"Not without me you won't." Zoe declares.  I'll definitely be locking my door tonight, 
and every night from now on.

	"Now that idea has possibilities." Sally giggles, "But I think we'd better concentrate on 
showing Mary what's what.  Now open up my cunny again."

	"Wow, it's a lot smaller now." Sam mumbles.

	"My clit?" Sally asks, and goes on without waiting for an answer, "Don't worry, it'll 
soon wake up when I give it a tickle.  First though I'd better give you the thrupenny tour."

	"What's that?" Sam asks.

	"Something mummy reckons gran used to say, though not about this." Sally finishes with a 
giggle.

	"Now the whole thing is usually called a cunny, or fanny, or pussy, but the real name is 
vulva.  And these bits me and Zoe have got hold of are called labia majora, which is just a fancy 
way of saying big lips.  I've already told you this thing here in the middle at the front is 
called a clitoris or clit."

	"I don't think I've got one." Mary says.

	"How would you know if you've never looked." Sally teases. "Don't worry, it's there.  All 
girls have got one.  It's just that they come in all different sizes and I'm a sort of Sally 
Holmes when it comes to clits."

	"interesting." I grin at the joke which obviously passes right over everyone else's 
heads.

	"Actually, this isn't really my clit, that's sort of inside and I can't show it to you 
just yet.  These here are my labia minora or little lips, or if you want to be crude piss flaps, 
though mine really aren't big enough yet to do much flapping.  And here-"

	"Hang on," Sam interrupts, "How come you know so much stuff?"

	"Mum told me." The 'of course' is silent, but nonetheless very audible, "She's a cunny 
doctor remember.  She spends half her day looking where you're looking at me.  She figured since 
I was gonna overhear stuff anyway, she might as well tell me everything to begin with.  But don't 
tell anyone I told you O.K., 'specially your mum Mary.  A lot of grownups are pretty stupid about 
this sort of stuff."

	"Now where was I?  Oh yeah, in here somewhere is my urethra in cunny doctor talk.  
Everyone else calls it a pee hole or piss hole and mum does too when she's not doing doctor 
stuff.  Can you see it?  Sometimes it's pretty hard to find if I'm not peeing, and I don't think 
your dad would appreciate that here would he Zoe?"

	"I'm not sure I would either, considering where I'm sitting." Zoe giggles. "I think I can 
see it.  Is it that little bump with a slit in it?"

	"Yeah that's it." Sally says, "Last bit now." She curls all but her middle finger into a 
fist and slides that inside herself with a happy little sigh, "This hole here is where the cock 
goes in and the baby comes out."

	"Ouch, that's gotta hurt." Sam giggles.

	"Well the coming out part always hurts, but the going in part mostly only hurts the first 
time." Sally says, "And I already took care of that by busting my cherry with my finger."

	"What's that?" Mary asks leaning in to peer at where Sally slowly slides her finger in 
and out of her vagina.

	"A bit of skin that blocks your hole to keep crap out when you're a baby." Sally 
explains, "After that it's just a bloody nuisance Mum reckons.  But some women have real weird 
ideas about keeping theirs until they get married and guys do too, because that way they know 
they were the first to fuck her.  But Mum reckons that's just a load of macho crap.  Why should a 
girl let some clumsy bloke hurt her just so he can brag about fucking a virgin it to his mates.  
She reckons it might be different if the guy knows what he's doing, but there's not many guys who 
do, 'specially younger guys.  I reckon your dad might know how, considering all those books he 
writes."

	"Huh?"

	'Oh shit!'

	"Oops." Sally giggles, "I guess you didn't know your dad writes dirty stories as well as 
kids books.  Except they don't call them that.  They're true life romances." She simpers. "Mum 
reckons for a bloke he's a pretty convincing woman."

	"Huh?'

	"He doesn't use his own name dummy." Sally says, "Only women write true life romances.  
Except mum reckons a lot are really written by men pretending to be women.  Like your dad."

	"Why?"

	"Well, it's sorta got to do with that stupid virgin stuff I just told you about." Sally 
explains, "A lotta girls dream about having some dumb Prince Charming for their first fuck and 
when they end up with a shove it in and wipe it off sorta guy like they usually do, they end up 
reading books about how it should have been.  And they're not going to read a story about that if 
they know it was written by a man, because how can he possibly know what it's like."

	"Then how can a man write a story like that?"

	"That's easy." Sally grins, "Because he doesn't *have* to know what it's like.  He just 
writes a lot of gooey bullshit around the sorta stuff a blokes got to do if he's going do it 
right.  Sort of rub here, kiss and suck and lick there, do it gentle, go slow, go fast and bam, 
fireworks.  Then he wraps it all up in a boy meets girl story that's a bit different from the 
last one and voila, another true life romance confession."

	The little shit sure has me (and every other writer of the genre)  pegged to a T.  
However, I do wonder where she picked up so many trade secrets (not that they're really secrets) 
and more importantly, how did she know *I* wrote stories like that.  As far as I knew, since my 
wife's death, only my publisher knew who Patty Dent really was and I'd like to keep it that way, 
because if it became too widely known, have to reestablish myself under a new name and until I 
rebuilt my body of loyal readers, my royalty cheques would be a lot slimmer.

	"How come you know all of this stuff about my dad and you don't?" Zoe asks.

	"Your mum told my mum." Sally replies, "And she told me when she was telling me about sex 
and cunnies and stuff.  And I guess, your dad didn't want you trying to read his stuff." She 
grins, "They're *real* steamy.  Totally bullshit according to Mum, but really juicy anyway."

	"Have you read any of my dad's books?"

	"You know I have." Sally grins teasingly, "Remember you gave me a whole signed set for my 
birthday."

	"His other books." My little girl growls her infuriation.

	"Yeah I've read most of them too." Sally giggles, "The juicy bits anyway.  They're sorta 
fun to read when I play with my cunny sometimes."

	Oh shit.  My cock lurches at the thought of a little eight year old girl using my books 
for whack off material.  Not that they're anything else, but I'd always imagined my readers to be 
at least in their teens.  And if this ever got out, I could kiss goodbye to a few more royalty 
cheques.

	"Now don't tell anyone." Sally cautions the other girls, which has me breathing a little 
easier. "If people found out they'd stop buying *all* of his books."

	"Can I read the ones you've got?"  Zoe asks.

	"Me too." Sam and Mary declare simultaneously.

	"I guess." Sally replies, "But you'd have to be real careful.  Little girls like us 
aren't supposed to read things like that.  This thing I'm playing with here is just supposed to 
be for peeing with."

	Oh shit! This was exactly the sort of thing I wanted to avoid.  I was always extremely 
careful to keep anything to do with my 'other' line of business, locked away on heavily encrypted 
virtual disks, where curious little eyes couldn't see them.  I wish I didn't have to write them 
at all, but kids books just didn't pay the bills.

	"It didn't matter when Sarah was still with us,  My authoring was a nice supplement to 
her income, but not critical.  And when I'd keyed my first 'confession' on a bet from her and had 
it accepted, we just had a good giggle and upgraded our holiday.  After that I pounded out a few 
more and we used the money to knock a big hole in the mortgage.  But since her death, they were 
what put food on the table.

	Every now and then I had a shot at something more mainstream, but if the truth is to be 
told, I just didn't have the ability to turn out the sort of fully fleshed adult novel that sold 
well.  I was good at writing for kids, but unless I managed to come up with the next 'Harry 
Potter' it just wasn't enough.  And if I had to be a hack writer for the adult market to make 
ends meet, I'd do it in an area where I could get away with the least amount of work possible so 
I could devote my time to what I actually enjoyed, even if the cash return was dismal.

	"Wow!  Look at it grow." My daughter's excited cry pulls my attention back to the screen.

	Still centered in the screen is Sally's cunny with the backs of Mary's and Zoe's heads 
visible to either side, while Sally's face looks down the length of her body.  From one side, 
Sally is slowly sliding two glistening fingers of her left hand in and out of her cunny hole, 
whilst the thumb and forefinger of the other hand work her clitoral sheath back and forth like 
small cock.  In just a few moments it has grown to the size it had been when she'd first stripped 
off and as I watch incredulously, it continues to thicken until it is very nearly as thick as the 
forefinger manipulating it.  And now as she draws the fleshy hood upwards, a shiny pink bulb the 
size of a small grape appears at the tip.

	"There that's my clit." Sally says pulling a finger out of her vagina to anoint the 
distended pink dome with her slimy juices. "Oh Shit!" she gasps at her touch. "It's real 
sensitive and feels real good when I touch it."

	She slides her fingers back into the slimy depths of her pre-pubescent fuck hole and 
within moments a third finger joins the two fingers already plunging in and out with a clearly 
audible slurping noise.  At the same time she continues to roll her prepuce back and forth over 
the gleaming clit.  Every few strokes, she pulls her prepuce back hard to completely expose her 
clit and she slides her fingers out of her vagina to smear more of her juices over the gleaming 
pink bulb.  The whole while, she lets out little obscenity filled cries of pleasure.

	As I watch, I slowly stroke my cock, holding myself right on the verge of what promises 
to be a massive orgasm.  And faster than I would have thought possible, Sally works herself 
towards her own peak, her cries becoming shriller, more incoherent and more obscenity laden with 
every passing second.  Now her fingers don't just smear her juices over her massively swollen 
clit.  They pinch it and rub furiously for whole seconds at a time.

	And with a final long drawn out cry of "MAAAAAAMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaa!" she pushes 
her heels into the cushions and lifts her bottom from the couch, as she reaches her climax.

	Frantically, I pound away at my prick, my eyes glued to the screen as she hangs there in 
mid air, her hips jouncing madly as she tortures her gigantic clit.  Suddenly to my astonishment, 
a stream of liquid shoots out from beneath her frenzied fingers.  A second later another follows, 
and then a third.

	"Oh shit!" I cry out as my own climax hits me with the force of a runaway freight train.  
Boiling ejaculate sears from my prick, as I join the ejaculating girl child on the screen, 
screaming out my release, as jet after burning jet of molten lava shoots from my aching member, 
splattering across my face, chest and stomach.

	Long after my balls are drained of all they have to give, muscles deep within my loins 
continue to pulse, pumping furiously, though there is nothing left to pump.  Finally I collapse, 
my semen cooling on my body as I continue to stare almost mindlessly at the television screen.

	For some time there is silence.  Sally has subsided back to the couch, her cunny slime 
smeared left hand on the cushion in front of her arse, her right resting on her stomach, the 
fingers curled loosely over her gleaming, swollen cunny.

	"What happened?" Zoe finally asks, half fearfully.

	For several seconds longer, Sally lies unresponsive.  Eventually, she works her mouth for 
a few seconds to moisten it.  "That my friends was the big O." she says breathlessly, "Le petite 
morte; a rip roaring climax, an orgasm; I just came my tits off.  It's the best fucking feeling 
in the world."

	Just them a small noise from behind me catches my attention, and I turn to find myself 
face to face with all four girls standing just inside the doorway. "Oh shit!" I cry, jerking at 
my sweats in a frantic attempt to cover my now shriveled manhood.

	

	End of Part 1.