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From: "Nikki@P.U."
Newsgroups: alt.disgusting.stories.my-imagination
Subject: Baby Bambi (Mf, cons, young teen)
Date: Sat, 31 Jul 2004 22:33:44 -0700
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Baby Bambi (Mf, cons, young teen)
By Tiffany
I sympathised with my daughter, Candy. Her father was way too
restrictive with her. She was fifteen, and boys were asking her
on dates. I understood John's point and shared his concerns as
well. Candy wasn't ready to make mature decisions about her
body, sex, and picking what boys were good and which ones were
not. Candy is a sweet kid. We named her right, but she has no
idea how sweet she looks to the opposite sex.
Candy still has a child's frame, but a woman's body has grown on
it. She has full size breasts, a tiny waist, and full hips; the
classic female hour glass, only scaled down. She stands four
foot ten inches, weighs eighty-eight pounds, and measures
thirty-two, sixteen, thirty-one. Those would be respectible
measurements on a full-sized woman like me, but on Candy, they
look positively voluptuous. With her full mane of auburn hair,
big green eyes, and pearly white smile, she has no idea how sexy
she looks.
She's not exactly an airhead, but she's no Rhode's scholar
either. Gullible, naive, easily led, easily influenced, and
overly-trusting do come to mind. She adores male attention and
sucks up compliments like an industrial shop vac. Candy doesn't
know how to play the game, and I can't bring myself to talk about
back seat ball games. I still haven't told her about the birds
and bees. The right guy, saying the right lines, could round the
bases and slide into home with his first time at bat.
She needs a big sister, or a father who doesn't break out in
sweats around her. It's not the sweats so much, it's the
erection he gets that causes the sweats. Candy has noticed his
problem. She likes to snuggle up on his lap in her baby doll
nightie. She took her seat a little too quickly one night and
made John cry out. She lifted up, saying, "Oops, sorry Daddy."
John told her it was a condition he picked up in the Vietnam war.
She scooted off his boner and looked at the bulge in his pants,
saying, "Does it hurt?"
I almost spit out a mouthful of soda when she said that. You see
what I mean about being naive? I was as eager as Candy to hear
John's reply. I sat forward, trying to hold in my smile. John
gave me a harsh look, like, "I hope you're enjoying this, Pam."
Mine said, "Oh, I am, John, I am." He said, "No, Candy, it
doesn't hurt. It just gets stiff for no reason, and it can be
embarrassing at times."
Candy continued staring at the bulge tenting her father's PJ's,
not at all bashful about looking at her father's crotch. She
said, "I'll bet. Sometimes boys get those in class and everybody
laughs. I don't think they were in a war though. Does it hurt
when I sit on it?"
I almost lost my composure. John's face had sweat beads running.
He gave me another dirty look, then said, "No, just don't jump on
it."
Candy lifted her ass, shifted back over his erection, and eased
herself down. She likes to recline on John, and since John was
already lying back in his lounger, her soft buns settled right
over his cock. To make matters worse, John had on thin cotton
boxer shorts, and Candy wore no panties. This was no surprise.
She never wore anything under her nightie, but this was a new
nightie. She picked it out, and her new nightie was short,
sheer, and loose.
His eyes rolled back as she settled again and let her legs fall
outside his. Poor John. Lying still for this had to be sheer
torture for him. He was embarrassed that I was watching. I was
looking into her beaver, but this didn't bother her. I shaved
her crotch for her itsy bitsy bikini. John couldn't see Candy's
shaved beaver from his position, but it sure looked pretty from
mine. What's more, his cock may have been exposed through the
fly, and may have been nestled between her ass cheeks or cunt
lips. I couldn't see that, but it was quite possible. She did
an awful lot of adjusting before settling.
She said, "Boy, it sure feels big. I can feel it throb, and I
can feel the heat. Are you sure it doesn't hurt? I can sit on
the floor and watch TV if you want."
"No, just don't move around too much. It doesn't hurt. Watch
the TV."
John cast me an apologetic, innocent look, but I wasn't looking
with accusing eyes. I didn't blame him one bit. Candy is, like
I said, too sweet to resist. I'm not gay, and I find myself
looking. Unlike John, I sometimes see her stark naked, and she
takes my breath away. I've seen her spread beaver when I trim
her pubic area for her swim suit. The civic pool is her favorite
hangout now that school is out for the summer.
The pool is within easy walking distance, through a good
neighborhood, so we let her walk. John had a fit when he saw the
suit she picked out and I bought. I wasn't too keen on buying
the obscene thing, but a string bikini was the only suit that we
could make fit.
Her tits won't fit in child suits, and adults suits are too long,
or the bottoms won't fit. I bought the bikini to satisfy Candy,
certain John would send it back. Surprisingly, he didn't.
She is damned-near naked in the bikini, and that probably explains
why John accepted the suit. In the summer, she lives in her swim
suit. The suit looks okay except when she parts her legs. The
crotch strap, connecting the front and back triangular patches,
is nothing more than string, the same string that connects the
top tittie patches. That string gets lost in her crack. She is
not the least bit bashful about this, but she hates pubic hair
showing. The thought that a loose pubic hair might poke out
under the thin crotch patch drives her crazy, so I keep her bush
trimmed for her. That's when I sweat.
The last time I gave her a trim, she wanted me to remove all the
hair from between her legs. I told her I'd shave her there, but
it would mean she'd have to have it shaved regularly or the
stubble would irritate her. I told her every other day at least.
That news didn't bother her, and it certainly didn't bother me.
I've seen hundreds of beavers in John's secret stash of girlie
magazines, but I never saw a pussy to rival Candy's. Hers is a
pussy of extraordinary perfection--a pink, puffy, pouch that
yawns open at the slightest parting of her legs.
Her Pussy always looks ready to receive a big cock. I've never
seen her snatch when it wasn't slick, glistening, and showing her
coral pink inner flesh. She has a well-defined clit that looks
like a bald rodent trying to push its way out from her two full
labia lips.
When I begin shaving, and move those parts with my fingers, that
clit actually gets an erection and sticks up at least an inch.
Her thin, shiny, inner lips form a funnel to her pussy hole, and
that hole looks so pure, so clean, you just want to put your
tongue in and swirl around. I've never envied men, but when I
gaze on Candy's cunt hole, I wish I had a stiff cock or a
ten-inch tongue.
John doesn't know I am shaving Candy's cunt. I've never shared
what I've seen with him. The only time he sees her sitting
immodestly--and sitting immodestly is the only way you'd see the
crotch string--is when she's sitting on him. Frankly, I am
embarrassed by my response to my daughter's vagina.
I lust after her body, and I have just recently come to grips
with that. I suffered great guilt over the wicked thoughts I
couldn't seem to stop. I quit fighting the thoughts months ago,
knowing I'd never do anything. My private fantasies were no
one's business but my own. I gave myself free license to
fantasize. Since doing that, I've had some doozies. When the
shaving began, last month, my fantasies went through the roof.
No, I didn't blame John for his wicked thoughts. I know he'd
never act on his either. Oh, he'd cop an innocent feel of tit,
maybe peek where he shouldn't. I've caught him sniffing her
panties and looking inside her nightie as she slept. I never
say anything about these things. I think they're innocent, and I
know John will never molest his daughter. That worry never
crossed my mind.
He fantasizes about her, just as I do. I wish we were open
enough to share our fantasies. Our sex would be greatly enhanced
if we did. As it is, our sex life is almost non-existant. I'd
love to hear his fantasies while he's screwing me, and I know
he'd love mine. I could pretend I was Candy. We look alike. I
can imitate her speech and manners. In the dark, the act would
be easy. I'm just a little taller, that's all. I'm only five
two, just four inches bigger. I'd love playing Candy, seducing
my daddy.
As I watched the innocent way she laid over John, I couldn't help
but think, "Candy, if you only knew half of what I know, you could
fuck him anytime you wanted."
That was a new thought. Oddly, the idea of Candy seducing John
never crossed my mind before. The idea was a big stretch for the
imagination. My fantasies, to be effective as turn-ons, have to
be within the possible. Something absurd, just won't do it for
me. The notion sent delicious tingles through me, and I thought
more along those lines.
John would seccumb if Candy made all the moves on him. His dick
was nestled between her ass cheeks because she took the
initiative. He was putty in her hands. Between her ass cheeks
he was simply a mass of warm jelly. Yes, I'd like that. I
wouldn't even mind sharing John with my sexy daughter. There
were always threesomes. If she seduced John, she might seduce
me. The scenario was possible.
The problem was, Candy couldn't seduce a child molester. The art
was something I couldn't teach. Not that I was all that bashful,
but the best way to learn the art of seduction, was to experience
being seduced. I learned in the back seats of cars, and the
lessons took fast. After you've been talked into spreading your
legs for a hard cock by two or three boys, you kind of get the
idea. You see how they got you that way when you started off
with no intention of serving as some kid's love toy.
When sperm is leaking from your fertile and unprotected pussy,
and you just know there's an egg in your womb receiving one sperm
cell, splitting, and growing. When you think you are royally
fucked, pregnant at sixteen by a jerk, you can't help but say to
yourself, "Why in the hell did I let him shoot his cum in my
twat. I begged him to shoot inside. God, what an idiot I am."
Then you figure out how he did it, and you learn how to guard
against seduction, and how to seduce. Candy could learn like
I did if John would just let her go out on dates.
That's when I made the decision to move from John's position to
support Candy's. I wanted her to start dating, and I didn't care
if she got pregnant. Actually, picturing Candy eight or nine
months pregnant, spreading her legs for a twat shave, was not a
bad picture. I would not mind having a baby around the house,
and she could leave the infant with us to raise if she decided
to. The idea grew stronger and stronger. I saw nothing but
positives coming from getting Candy together with virile young
boys.
There were a string of them asking her out; most were juniors and
seniors, veterans of the art. They were hard-bodied young studs
with stiff cocks, dying to fuck our Candy, dying to squirt their
sperm into her unprotected womb. All any one of them needed was
a few minutes alone with her.
I said, "John, I've been thinking. I dated at fifteen. Why not
let Candy go out on dates?"
John turned a surprised face on me. Tammy sat up fast, hurting
his cock. "Sorry, Dad. Really, Mom? Can I, Dad?"
"No, absolutely not. Pam, why did you bring this up in front of
Candy? If you had a change of heart, we need to discuss it in
private."
"Why not discuss this with her here. She should be in on this
discussion. I think she has a right to date."
Candy said, "I do. All the other girls are dating. They call
me a baby."
"No! Pam, you're making me the bad guy, and I don't like it.
You know very well why I won't permit it. We discussed this.
You agreed. Why, all of a sudden, has anything changed?"
Candy turned from me to him and back, grinding her ass on John's
cock as we volleyed. She saw his grimace and said, "Oh, sorry,
Dad. That hurt your thing, huh?"
John looked to me and said, "See. My thing. You think she's
ready to go on a date with a boy who has a thing."
"Would you have preferred she said, cock?" Candy blushed. "She
knows what your thing is called, John. She was just talking
nice."
Candy said, "Mom's right, Dad. I know all the words they call
it. I just said thing because I can't say bad words."
He said, "You can say penis."
I said, "The point is, she didn't say thing because she didn't
know what it's called or what it's for. Candy, you do know what
a penis is for, don't you?"
Candy blushed and nodded. She said, "We studied that in school.
Everybody knows what they're for besides going to the bathroom."
"There, John. She's not a child anymore, and we can't force her
to remain one. She is sexually mature, and she has to learn how
to manage her sexually mature body. It is her body, after all."
"That's right, Daddy. It is my body."
"I know it's your body, and I know what these boys would like to
do with it. That's why you're not going on a date until you're
sixteen, and maybe not then. If I think you're mature enough at
sixteen, we'll see. You are not dating. This discussion is
closed."
The discussion closed for the moment, but when I got John in the
bedroom, I re-opened it. I pushed hard. I was as adamant as he
was. We ended the discussion with a compromise. She'd date, but
I had to chaperon. I wasn't crazy about the idea, but it was a
start, a foot in the door.
Candy was elated, and only slightly put out that I was going
along. Her first date was a cute kid, a junior who
played drums in the school band. As we drove to his house to
pick him up, I told Candy I didn't like playing the role of
chaperon, and I wanted her to pretend I wasn't there. I asked
her not to speak to me, to pretend I was invisible, a ghost.
When Barry got in and sat between us, I could see he was
uncomfortable with me being there. He didn't know where to put
his hands and sat stiffly, trying to keep his legs from touching
mine or Candy's. I patted his thigh and said, "Hey, relax. I
won't bite." He relaxed a bit.
I gave him the same speech I gave Candy, and he relaxed a bit
more. I could see he was still confused. He needed more
relaxing, so I let my hand rest on his thigh as I drove and
offered more of an explanation.
I said, "I fought hard for Candy to have the right to date. You
two should be alone so you can get better acquainted. I really
do wish you'd pretend I wasn't here. I know what goes on with
teen dates. I was a teenager myself once. I won't say a thing,
no matter what happens on this date." I squeezed his leg, trying
to pass emphasis on the what.
He looked to me as if to say, "Lady, your what and my what are
two totally different whats. I want what your daughter has
between her legs. I want to shove my cock so far up her twat, it
will come out her mouth. That's the what I want. I don't know
what what you're thinking of, but rub my leg a little higher.
That feels good."
I know, that's a lot to convey with a look, but that's what I
picked up. I slid my hand higher, squeezed harder, and said, "Do
whatever you would do if you were alone with Candy. I will
understand completely, and I will honor my pledge to you, that
nothing you two decide to do will ever be brought up by me." I
slid my hand higher, right to the top, squeezed firmly, and
repeated, "No matter what."
This time, his look said, "Lady, you're freaking me o