WYNTER
by
Russell Hoisington
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This three-part story is an erotic fantasy. The characters and the
situation are purely imaginary, and this story is NOT intended to be
a guide for actual behavior. Any similarities between this story and
actual people, or actual events that you should be ashamed of, are
purely coincidental. If it is illegal in your part of the world to
access and read erotic fiction, or if you are underage, then stop
reading now.
Story codes and a brief description of this story are posted in the
-00 file on this site.
This story is copyright 2003 and 2005 by Russell Hoisington. Please
do not remove the author information or make any changes to this
story. You may post freely to non-commercial (free) sites, or in the
"free" area of commercial sites. That does NOT mean that they are in
the public domain, nor does it mean that I give permission for you to
use them in spam advertising. I reserve the right to determine what
is "spam advertising" by MY definition, not yours or anyone else's.
Thank you for your consideration.
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This is a 2005 revised version of the story with several errors
corrected and with a new chapter added to PART THREE: MOTHER'S
LITTLE HELPER.
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Acknowledgments
My sincerest thanks to Denny Wheeler for editing this revision.
This story is dedicated to Uncle Sky. His support and encouragement
kept me writing stories when I was about to stop and also turned a
simple short story into Part One of this novel. If you enjoy the
stories of her subsequent adventures, then you should thank him for
their existence. Please see his text stories at
https://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/uncle_sky/ (text) or
https://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/uncle_sky/www/ (hmtl)
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WYNTER
PART ONE:
DADDY'S LITTLE NURSE
One
Wynter held the telephone handset away from her ear and gently
rested her other hand on the left arm cast of the man on the hospital
bed. The worried frown under her blonde bangs marred the otherwise
flawless skin of her pretty, oval face. "Daddy, it's Nurse Carter.
She got to the drug store, but then an avalanche blocked the road,
n' she can't get back. The sheriff says it may be two days before
the road is plowed 'cause there's a bunch of avalanches n' it's
still snowing. Do you want me to hold the phone to your ear so you
can talk to her?"
Richard King grunted an ironic laugh. He almost had to
threaten Kevin Taylor to release him from the hospital early so that
he could finish recuperating from the latest accident at home, and
Kevin finally gave in only because the leg cast was below the knee.
At home he could again convert a spare bedroom into a recovery room
where he'd be more comfortable, he could pass the time by helping
Angie home school eleven-year-old Wynter, and things would be more
convenient for everybody. Just hire a nurse fortunately Ellen Carter
happened to be available to help Angie take care of him and things
would be perfect.
Three days later that was last Thursday Angie's company sent
her to Geneva for three weeks on one day's notice, and, yes, we're
sorry about your husband's condition, but it's Europe or the door,
and you can take all the time you want to think it over as long as
you don't go over five seconds.
Next there was the freak spring snowstorm which to that moment
had dropped eighteen inches of heavy, wet snow, and had an estimated
three feet to go though it could be more if the conditions changed,
and the Weather Channel said they might. Thanks to Kevin Taylor's
pathetic handwriting, the pharmacist had refilled the pain medication
prescription with a laxative. Nobody noticed until Ellen had started
preparing tomorrow's medicine doses from the open bottles and was one
pain pill short, sending her to town in near-blizzard conditions,
racing on treacherous mountain roads to get there and back with the
proper medicine before the roads closed. Only she didn't make it
back.
_But,_ he admitted, _at least she wasn't caught in the
avalanche._
Better yet, she had discovered the laxatives _before_ he took
any of them. Obviously things _could_ have been worse. He looked at
the casts on both arms and his right lower leg and foot and shook his
head, though not in response to the question, even if that was his
answer.
"No. Just ask her if she can get home. If not, tell her I'll
pay for a motel room for her." Wynter checked and reported that the
roads in town were still reasonably good, a term that meant natives
could drive on them with reasonable safety, but they would be
guaranteed suicide for Texans and Californians. Richard nodded.
"Tell her to go home and let us know when she's on her way back. You
can call her there when we have questions. You wanted to be a nurse
someday well, someday has arrived, honey. You are now Daddy's new
nurse."
When Wynter started to protest, Richard gently cut her off.
"Honey, there's nobody else here except Dragon, and I don't think
he'll be much help."
Dragon, sprawled in the bedroom doorway like eighty pounds of
spilled coal, lifted his head and thumped his tail when he heard his
name. His tail stopped when he heard the tone in Wynter's voice as
she relayed her father's instructions. He slowly rose, twisting his
head about while watching her. He slowly padded over to her side and
looked up at her face as she hung up the phone and began whimpering.
He then rubbed his head against her hip. She jumped when his cold,
wet nose grazed her bare leg at the hem of her yellow knit shorts.
Wynter placed her right hand on her father's left arm cast,
carefully avoiding the daisies and tulips she had drawn with felt-tip
pens. Her left rose to grasp the long blonde ponytail which draped
over her left shoulder and hung to the top of the small breast that
he subconsciously knew was budding in a training bra within the
loose, shapeless white top. Tears seeped from her large, bright,
blue-green eyes. "Daddy, I don't know what to do! Nurse Carter and
I have talked, and I still want to do it when I'm grown up, but I
can't be a nurse _now_! I'll mess it up and you might be _hurt!_"
Richard laughed softly and shook his head. Wynter was an
incurable perfectionist who, while tolerant of other people's errors,
couldn't endure any mistakes of her own. She was also far smarter
and more capable than she gave herself credit, but emotionally she
had become very sensitive. She would go to pieces over nothing if
she wasn't handled properly. He assumed it was caused by the
hormonal struggles of puberty. Little girl and young woman often
struggled within her, and too many times, despite Wynter's own
wishes, the little girl won. This was one of those times.
"Honey, I really don't think I'd be hurt any worse than I
already am. My little truck got hit by that big diesel pickup and
knocked down the hillside, but that did only this much damage to me.
You're smaller than a one-and-a-half-ton pickup by _at least_ a ton,"
he said with wide eyes and an exaggerated grin.
Her even, white teeth peeked through as a smile forced itself
onto her sweet, coral lips, but her the rest of her angelic face
remained uncertain.
Richard's voice became gentle and soothing. "Honey, you nursed
Dragon back to health practically by yourself. I promise you I won't
be as much trouble as he was."
Wynter had found the abandoned, almost dead Labrador retriever
puppy down the hill in the ditch near their mailbox on the County
Road. Both Richard and Angie wanted to put the pathetic animal out
of his misery. They were surprised that Wynter, who couldn't stand
to see anyone or anything suffer, insisted that he would recover.
Although the vet had agreed with Richard and Angie, he gave Wynter
pain medication for the puppy, some liquid vitamins, and some oral
antibiotics to supplement several injections. To her parents
surprise their mother-hen daughter had the puppy on his feet in two
days, though he dragged his tail for another week, thus inspiring his
name.
"But...."
Richard smiled at her. "Honey, I can tell you what's wrong
with me. Dragon couldn't do that, yet you brought him back from the
brink of death. I'm nowhere near there. I promise."
"But what if I make a mistake?" she asked in a pleading whine.
Richard winked. "Then we'll know you're human and not some
pretty blonde sprite your mother found under a cabbage leaf, won't
we? Of course, _I_ already _know_ that because _I_ had to deliver
you," he said with eyes wide and an exaggerated complaint in his
voice. "And do you see an obstetrician's license on any of these
walls? Or a medical degree of any kind? Heck no! But I delivered
you anyway because your mother and I were snowed in _just like this_
and you _insisted_ on being born two weeks early. I don't know
nothin' about birthin' no babies!' at that time was as true for me as
I can't be a nurse now' is for you."
His voice softened and he turned on the charming smile that
usually helped calm her down. "But I did what I had to do because I
didn't have any choice. And you certainly turned out okay. I will,
too, because you already know more about nursing than I knew about
delivering babies." He glanced at her long, slender-fingered hand.
"I'm in good hands."
She smiled again, though the uncertainly remained in her eyes,
and leaned down to give him a gentle daughter-type kiss with her
soft, warm lips. "I'll try my hardest." Her tone told Richard she
was trying to sound like an adult, but the little girl was still
winning the battle.
"I already know that, honey. _You'll_ do fine. _I'm_ the one
who's always been accident prone. If one of _us_ has to be in charge
of me, I'm much better off if it's you." Which was true. Richard
had scars on top of scars over much of his trim, athletic body. It
was a miracle that none marred the ruggedly handsome features of his
square-jawed face. People seeing him in swimming trunks usually
mistook him for a rodeo performer or stock car racer instead of a
geologic engineer.
Her bright laugh suddenly faded, her eyes went wide, and a
strange look crossed her face not horror, not revulsion, but
something else; something Richard couldn't define. But he knew well
the look of near-panic that immediately replaced it.
"Oh, _no!_"
"What's wrong, honey?"
Wynter's round cheeks and even her long, slender arms turned
bright crimson. The flush spread up her face and disappeared under
her bangs. "A couple of days? And she said she'd had to remove the
catheter this morning...."
"Oh." Richard understood, though he knew Ellen hadn't told
Wynter _why_ she'd had to remove the catheter. "Well, bedpan and
urinal duty is part of becoming a nurse. You'll have had practice
when you get to nursing school."
"But I can't You're my _father_! I can't....."
"No. Listen to me, Wynter! No. In that case, I'm _not_ your
father. I'm just Mister King, your _patient_. Okay? Or maybe think
of it as babysitting, but without diapers to make an even bigger mess
of things. Honey, I can't make it to the toilet for another couple
of weeks, and when I can, I'll probably fall off and hurt myself all
over again. I can't hold it until Ellen can get back, or I'll
explode! Try explaining _that_ to your mother when she returns sees
the condition of this room!"
The red glow hadn't abated, despite the gentle laugh the
comments drew. She remained head down and eyes locked on the flowers
on his cast. Richard knew she hadn't seen either of her parents nude
since she was very young. She probably couldn't grasp the concept
that her parents not only had genitals and a sexual relationship,
they had an extremely active sex life or did have except when one or
the other was away on business. He doubted she ever thought about
sex until floods of hormones began racing through her bloodstream,
triggering new feelings, new growth, and sudden awareness of her own
femininity and latent sexuality. He wondered if, even now, she
thought of herself as a sexual being. He was convinced that the
answer was an unqualified "No."
Thanks to Angie, Wynter knew about the academic side of sex but
she was ignorant from the practical aspect. Richard was convinced
that the only dick she had seen after her second birthday was when
she helped her Aunt Diane change baby Christopher's diaper last
summer.
All of her friends were girls, as were the other children in
Angie's circle of home schooling parents that sometimes met for group
lessons. She knew a few boys casually but never spent any time with
them. She spent almost no time with the girls, giving her little
chance to learn from other kids' gossip. Most of her life had been
spent with just Angie and himself. She knew far more about
interacting with adults than with her peers.
Richard thought about that and was sad for her. She might be
academically prepared for college in a few years, but she would have
a difficult time with the social aspects, especially if she retained
her trim, willowy figure and her beautiful, delicate facial features.
Boys would be asking her out before she'd finished registration, and
she would be lost.
"Listen," he said softly. She raised an eyebrow. He waited
until her eyes lifted to meet his. "It will be a little awkward for
both of us, but we'll manage because we have to, you as the
professional nurse and me as the professional patient. Okay?"
She nodded and gave him a weak smile.
Richard relaxed back into his pillows and wiggled his shoulders
to adjust them. "Now what's for supper?"
~ ~ ~
Salisbury steak was on the menu, and she had just begun
preparing it when Nurse Carter called. Mother had done a wonderful
job of passing her considerable kitchen skills on to Wynter. Still,
even if Wynter could cook no better than Aunt Diane, the results
would still have been an improvement over the hospital's food, which
her father had described as being what the airlines rejected for
being "below even their pathetic standards."
Wynter checked to see that the intercom was active, turned the
television volume up for her father, and retreated to the kitchen.
Dragon followed, the constant shadow that rarely left her presence
except for his "doggie trips" outside.
He had to make a doggie trip near the end of cooking. He sat
in front of the utility room door and yipped once. She opened the
door for him. The door from the utility room to the back side of the
sprawling ranch house had an insulated, magnetically sealed doggie
door. That door led to a sheltered area for Dragon that was
protected from all but blowing snow and to the generator shed. If
they lost power Wynter knew how to start the generator, which ran off
the house's main propane supply.
When Dragon returned to the utility room he again yipped once.
Wynter opened the door and let him back in. "All better now,
Dragon?" He wagged his tail in reply, content that she had shown
interest in him, then curled up on the braided rug by the door.
She dished servings into the plates, put them on a tray along
with silverware, and removed two glasses from a cabinet. She turned
to the refrigerator for the milk and froze.
Dragon was sitting up, his long, reddish tongue bathing an even
redder, swollen penis-thingy which was sticking from its pocket under
his tummy. She didn't know if he was washing it, scratching an
annoying itch, or masturbating. Mother had told her the last term
and what it meant, but it wasn't something Wynter had ever done.
Lately, though, she'd occasionally experienced an odd itchy sensation
down _there_, but it eventually went away on its own in due time.
She flushed almost as red as the long, hard _thing_ that Dragon was
licking, uncertain whether to stop him, as she once did, or not.
While she was trying to decide, the odd, itchy sensation returned.
She was so upset that she almost forgot to get a bent straw for
her father's milk.
Two
Richard washed down his six o'clock pills with a sip of milk
and then complained that Wynter had overcooked them and they were
tough. He was appropriately apologetic when she replied, "Smarty-
pantses get sent to their rooms without supper." She accepted his
apology with a big smile and kissed the end of his nose and lips, a
special ritual between them that was almost as old as she was.
They talked about her music lessons, Ellen Carter, and nursing
school as she alternated feeding bites to him and to herself. It was
a chore she had assigned herself upon his return from the hospital,
and neither Angie nor Ellen had tried to change her mind. She was
quite good at it, though in her own fussy way she always used
separate forks and even separate knives, despite her father's
assurances that they wouldn't give each other cooties. When they
were finished, Richard complimented her on both her culinary skill
and her skill at feeding him. She dropped her head and focused on
the empty plates, embarrassed by the praise, but pleased as well.
She put the utensils in the dishwasher before they watched a
half-hour nature program on _The Discovery Channel_, and then Richard
said he wanted to be entertained. He was willing to listen to her
play the piano down the hall, but she refused, saying the acoustics
would distort the music. Instead, she reluctantly fetched her flute.
Richard smiled to himself; his plan had worked.
Wynter normally practiced her flute lessons softly and with her
door closed or, in the summer, down the hill where she sat on the big
flat rock and dangled her feet in the creek. The only way her
parents usually heard her play was when they'd sneak next to her door
and quietly listen. She was embarrassed that she wasn't as
proficient on the flute as she was on the piano. It was bad enough
that she had to hear her own errors, which usually produced a strong,
"_Drat!_" that also could just be heard through the closed door. She
didn't want others hearing them as well. Thus she was predictably
upset when, at the end of a half hour, she had made five errors,
though none were major.
"That's the problem with listening to recorded music instead of
live performances," Richard said. "The engineers cut and paste,
editing out the errors on the music they sell. I'm sure that when
they were eleven years old Jean-Luc Ponty, James Galway, and Ian
Anderson made just as many mistakes, and they still make some. You
just don't know because you haven't heard them live."
"Jean-Pierre Rampal," she corrected with a sudden laugh that
chased away her growing frown. "Jean-Luc Ponty plays the violin."
"See! Speaking of making mistakes. Anyway, I'll bet Ponty
made them, too."
He had deliberately switched the names, and he knew that she
knew it, but the laugh had preempted her funk. He hoped it would
make the next thing easier.
"Wynter...."
The smile vanished, she stiffened, and the blush returned with
a vengeance. Something in his tone had tipped her off, despite his
attempt to sound normal. The speech he'd been silently rehearsing
for the past five minutes evaporated.
"I'm sorry, honey, but I've waited as long as I can. The
urinal should be under the foot of the bed."
He guided her through putting a flat, firm pillow below his
butt to raise him slightly and then had her raise the upper part of
the bed until he was sitting almost upright. She had to pause twice
to adjust the suspension of his arm casts, but because she was such a
perfectionist he experienced less discomfort than when Ellen did it.
Slowly, gently, but with some sense of urgency because he had
waited until he thought his bladder was about to explode, he talked
her through removing the limp three inches from his pajamas,
uncovering the head of his uncircumcised spigot, inserting it into
the neck of the urinal, and then holding everything steady with the
tips of her long, gentle fingers while he voided his urine. He spoke
not as a father to his daughter, but as an instructor to a student.
The professional tone appeared to ease a little of her anxiety.
A soft groan of relief vibrated in his throat as the hydraulic
pressure eased. For a moment he had thought she would go looking for
rubber gloves, and he knew he couldn't wait for her to put them on,
even if they'd been beside him on the bed. When his piss tank was
half-empty he was able to resume thinking. It was as if the top of
his bladder had been squeezed against his brain, paralyzing his mind.
Without looking directly at her he was able to observe that she
was carefully avoiding looking at him, yet her eyes were being
involuntarily drawn to the unusual fleshy object in her right hand.
She'd immediately look away, but her eyes would creep back on their
own. His sympathy grew as the pain from his distended bladder
shrank. Her prim and proper side was fighting with her curiosity on
a fluid battlefield.
He almost laughed at the unintended pun, but that would have
been disastrous for Wynter's fragile he almost thought the word
"grip," but then he would have laughed. He forced himself to wonder
if "id," "ego," or "superego" was correct. He should have paid more
attention to his college professor in that elective psychology class,
but he took that only to pay more attention to Mickey Adams and her
round, firm, high, B-cup...
_NO! Change the subject!_
He began pondering what to say to Wynter after his piss break.
It didn't really take his mind off his dick, but it helped keep him
from thinking about what he wanted somebody anybody! to do with it.
Richard didn't want to draw unwarranted attention to what she had, of
necessity, done, but he also didn't want to say nothing to her.
That, in itself, would draw immediate attention because he always
praised her actions. He also didn't want to treat the incident as if
it weren't "normal" nursing duties like feeding him. The
teacher/student tone had helped earlier, and he used it again when he
was finished.
"Men have extra valves and angles that women don't have, and it
causes a small amount of urine to remain trapped inside the penis."
His eyes remained steady on hers. "It eventually leaks out, causing
a sanitation and odor problem for both the patient and anyone else in
the vicinity. Move your thumb next to the body on top and one or two
fingers across from the thumb at the bottom." He paused while she
did so, her eyes dropping to watch what she was doing. "Now squeeze
gently and push it out the end."
He waited while she slowly pulled forward. "That was a little
bit too gentle. Do it again, but squeeze harder. You won't break
it."
He almost repeated the last instruction, but, to his horror,
realized that her light grip was more like a gentle caress to the
increasingly horny Beast, and that his body was about to react
normally to _that_ stimulation. Instead, he said, "Okay, put the
urinal down and put everything away."
She kept his organ lightly gripped in the fingers of her right
hand while her left put the urinal on the roll away table. She used
her left hand to hold the fly open while she replaced his slowly
swelling syphon tube. Richard saw her eyes suddenly widen and
incorrectly assumed that she had noticed that it was beginning to
swell. What had actually surprised her, keeping her from noticing
the slow expansion, was the scar tissue she saw and its location.
Both exhaled in almost-silent relief when she pulled the sheet
up to his waist. Richard decided to say nothing about the boner
throbbing in his pajamas. He hoped it wouldn't be noticeable through
the sheet. It shouldn't be while he was sitting up.
"That was very professional and well done, Nurse King. Ellen
couldn't have done a better job." He hoped that was the right thing
to say, and it appeared to be no worse than anything else, though she
remained a bright red. "Go empty that first, before some accident-
prone patient finds a way to knock it over, and then you can readjust
that patient's bed."
She gave him an embarrassed nod, but she did meet his eyes, and
then took the urinal to the hall bathroom. Dragon, of course,
followed her, leaving him alone in the room with his thoughts.
What was he to do next time? He couldn't tell her not to strip
the last of the piss out of his dick, not after the explanation he'd
just given her for doing so. What if it exploded into a throbbing,
blue-steel diamond cutter right in her warm, soft, gentle hand,
before she could put it away? What if she had actually noticed that
it was about to do so this time and had recognized it for what it
was? What if, what if, what if? There were a hundred questions, and
he could sit up all night without resolving any of them.
He would just have to manage the best he could. He should
ensure that she understood she was supposed to squeeze harder. Make
her understand that his dick was tough as a garden hose, not weak as
overcooked spaghetti, before she stripped it. Most of all, maintain
the detached, professional patient/nurse relationship that so far was
working with Ellen.
But, by damn, her little hand had felt so _good!_
Three of Six
Richard surrendered, realizing he wasn't about to win. Wynter
refused to sleep in her own bed, even though her room was directly
across the hall. "What if you need me, and I don't hear you. I
don't want to explain that to Mother." That was her one and final
argument to end the "discussion." She briefly disappeared into her
room with her four-legged shadow following, of course closed the
door, and emerged after a few minutes cocooned in a shapeless, cream-
colored, long-sleeved flannel robe that reached to mid-calf. She had
her sleeping bag under one arm and an air mattress and pillows under
the other.
Ellen had slept in the guest room next to Wynter's and depended
on the intercom to bring her if Richard needed her. Wynter, of
course, worried that the electricity might go out, and the intercom
would cease working.
When her bed was ready she gave Richard his pills. He had her
replace the pain pill with ibuprofin, rationing the stronger
medication for when he might desperately need it. Then she brought
out the urinal again. Somehow he managed to avoid erecting in her
soft little hand when again failed to squeeze the monster hard
enough, though it sprang up in his pajamas as she was carrying the
urinal out the door. Not only was he hornier than a priest at a
convention of altar boys, his "problem" was growing more painful.
Richard would have given almost anything to have his fingers,
if not a whole hand, free at that moment, but Kevin Taylor had
insisted that his fingers and hands remain immobilized for another
week to insure that he didn't permanently lose any of their function
or range of motion. Could he think of an excuse for her to put the
pillow in his lap, where he could hump it after she went to sleep?
No, and besides, how would he explain the mess the next day?
After she had replaced the urinal, removed the pillow, and
lowered his bed to his satisfaction, she disappeared to brush her
teeth and free her hair from its ponytail. When she was convinced
that there was nothing left for her to do for him, she kissed him
goodnight after a quick kiss on his nose and lips. The fresh
spearmint smell of her breath reminded him of how funky his own
breath must be. He found himself wishing his own breath was as fresh
for her because he didn't want to offend her. However, it was late,
and in the morning she would brush his teeth after breakfast, as
usual. In her mother hen mode she reminded him to awaken her if he
needed anything, then turned out the light.
Richard was barely able to see her slip out of her robe and
into her sleeping bag. She was just gray, shapeless movement in the
dark rather than discernable features. For an instant he wished he
could see what she looked like in her pajamas, but quickly put that
idea out of his head. He attributed the thought to extreme
unrelieved horniness aggravated by the gentle touch of her sweet lips
to his.
He heard, rather than saw, Dragon sniff her to see if something
was wrong since she was in the floor instead of her bed, then curl
beside her and heave a massive sigh. _Lucky dog!_ screamed across
his mind unbidden.
He was still worrying about how the morning would go when he
drifted off.
~ ~ ~
It was a little after six when he called to her. He'd been
awake for several minutes, waiting for the erection left over from
his erotic dream to subside, but it was also a piss-hardon and was
slow in deflating. A little light was coming through the curtains,
but the room was not as brightly lit as it would have been if not for
the snowstorm.
She was slow to awaken enough to understand that he needed her.
When that sank in she became wide awake.
"I'm sorry, honey. I waited as long as I could, but I need the
urinal. Quickly."
She sprang up, startling Dragon, who prowled the room and then
the hallway looking for danger, then sat watching her when he found
none. In her haste she hadn't bothered reaching for her robe.
Richard rarely saw her in her pajamas. Because the occupied rooms in
the house in general and his recovery room in particular were kept
warm, she was comfortable in a loose, pink babydoll that he'd never
seen before, unless maybe he'd seen it in the laundry basket, but not
on her. It was thin but opaque and had roomy armholes and a scooped
neckline. She hadn't quite grown into it yet.
She stood between him and the lamp, and when she switched on
the light the opaque babydoll became translucent, outlining the slim
body it covered. She turned and went to the foot of the bed to
retrieve the urinal. Her pajamas regained their opacity with her
first step, but the picture had been imprinted in his memory as if he
were a camera.
He fought to clear his mind of the image of the narrowing of
the waist above her hipbones and the ripple of her rib cage. Most of
all he struggled to clear the image of the small mound capped by a
smaller cone thrusting proudly outward from her chest. By the time
she had him upright, with the pillow under his ass and his arms
suspended, he had the Beast under control.
She used the index finger and thumb of each hand to daintily
separate his fly, then pulled out his organ with two fingers and the
thumb of her right hand. She held it that way while she picked up
the urinal from beside him and mated the spigot to the receptacle.
She was blushing, but not as brightly as before. This time she spent
only half as much time looking away from his dick. For some perverse
reason, Richard found that exciting, and he had to again fight the
urges of the Beast.
He reminded her to squeeze harder this time when she stripped
the last of the urine from his penis. But Wynter had realized that
her previous efforts had been less than adequate. Instead of
squeezing it between thumb and fingers, she wrapped her index finger
and thumb around it, squeezed, and pulled. Twice. While doing so,
she leaned forward.
All his efforts to fight the Beast failed with his view through
the arm opening: a firm, white mound less than half the size of a
baseball and the sweet pink nipple thrusting out from its center.
His dick felt the strokes that almost duplicated Angie's when she
masturbated him. His cock hardened with an explosive speed that he'd
not experienced since high school.
"_Oh my god!_" Wynter cried.
Until that moment Richard had never heard Wynter say anything
stronger than "Drat," and her outburst stunned him. He was more
stunned by the realization that his daughter was standing there with
a urinal of piss in one hand and his throbbing cock rocket in her
other. She hadn't released her grip on either, and was staring wide-
eyed at the six-plus inches of the latter. Her lower jaw and lip
were trembling.
"_Daddy?_" The brittle tone of panic permeated her voice.
Richard's face flushed as crimson as hers. "Oh, honey, I I am
so so _sorry_ that it happened," he stammered.
"_Did I do something wrong?_"
"No, honey, you didn't do anything wrong. Did uh did your
mother explain men's uh erections to you?"
"Sort of. You mean that's all this is?" She held it without
movement in her soft, warm hand and continued to stare at it.
In other circumstances Richard might have taken offense at his
magnificent boner being referred to as "that's all?" by any female,
but he was still too distressed to think about that. The heat of her
touch was maddening and exciting, but Wynter was a juvenile and she
was his daughter. He tried to will the Beast into submission, but
the warmth of her touch and the lingering vision of her budding young
breast were stronger than his will.
"Honey, it's something that just happens sometimes when we have
no control over it. It's a a reflex. Like a yawn that you can't
control."
Her blonde eyebrows drew together and her mother hen worries
began to assert themselves, overriding her panic. "Does it hurt?"
Richard still couldn't tame the savage Beast, but he gained
some control over his own embarrassment. After all, he was the one
who had said she shouldn't be embarrassed while being his nurse. It
would be hypocritical to tell Wynter not to be embarrassed, yet for
him to do so himself. Richard hated fewer things more than
hypocrites. He might as well use the opportunity to answer questions
Angie couldn't in an adult-to-adult manner. _She's not my daughter;
she's my student_. "No. Well, it's not a pain-type hurt, anyway.
It's more like I don't know. Hunger? That's really not a good
example, but it's the best I can think of."
"What should I do now?" she asked in a soft voice tinged with
uncontrollable concern, if not worry. Fortunately the panic had left
her voice.
"Well, first put the urinal down before you spill anything, and
then put it away like you did before. It will go back down
eventually."
"It will?" she asked, still in the soft voice. Suddenly she
seemed embarrassed by what she had asked, though her face was already
red, and turned to put the urinal on the stand. Her warm little hand
never released its grip on his turgid cock, and the turning of her
body caused her hand to tug slightly. The sensation was better than
any handjob he'd ever had, even the unforgettable one from Betsy
Richards in the tenth grade.
_Not if you keep that up_, he thought, but aloud he tried to
ease her worries with a joke. "What goes up must come down."
Wynter gave him an odd, undefinable look, then turned her
attention to his fly and the erect Beast in her right hand. Her left
tried to pry the opening wider.
Richard was wearing the one set of pajamas with the small fly
obviously designed by either some short-dicked loser or somebody too
old to get it up now and she had to struggle. When he jerked
involuntarily, and a wince of pain flashed across his face, she saw
it and froze.
"_You said it didn't hurt!_" Her tone was a damning accusation.
"It didn't. It doesn't. Normally. It's just that.... Well
it's a long story and, uh well, I guess you're old enough to know.
You might need to know some day when you're married." He didn't even
want to think the phrase, "When you begin dating."
A flash of fear passed over her delicate features. "I will?"
"Honey, I said you _might_. Do you see all that scar tissue
where my penis and scrotum meet?"
She nodded. "I saw it the first time I... uh the first time."
Her eyes dropped to look again, but flicked back to his face almost
immediately.
"Skiing accident when you were about a year old," he said. "In
addition to breaking my leg, I broke the ski, and the jagged edge
jabbed me there. I gave myself a vasectomy that's an operation that
keeps men from making babies any more without benefit of an
anesthetic or a doctor. The emergency room doctor said that I was
lucky that I could still... uh that your mother and I could still
make love because I'd almost severed a nerve that helps cause the
erection. But that's the reason you don't have any brothers or
sisters."
Wynter said nothing, but she was awestruck at the idea that her
father was actually talking to her as if she were another grownup.
Meanwhile, her grip on his penis-thingy no, just _penis_, what a
grownup would call it remained firm, unintentionally causing it to
remain firm, too.
"As a result of the damage, plus what the doctor had to do to
keep me from bleeding to death, I well I have sort of a permanent
problem now. The doctor says it sometimes happens to men who have
had vasectomies, too, so if your future husband has one some day,
then he might have the same problem."
Wynter wondered why on earth her future husband would want to
have a vasectomy "some day," but said nothing to keep from destroying
the magical feeling of being treated like an grownup.
"A vasectomy keeps a man's sperm cells from being released in
his semen, but semen is made up of liquids from several different
glands. They keep producing the liquids all the time, and eventually
the pressure causes discomfort, especially if there's some damage
left over from an accident or operation. I guess it's sort of like
the discomfort your mother feels just before her period, when other
fluids accumulate in her tissues. Maybe it happens to you, too."
Wynter flushed slightly with embarrassment as she lowered her
eyes and nodded, and then flushed again in anger with herself. Here
was her father talking to her like she was a grownup, and she was
reacting like a child!
Her eyes had landed on his erect penis in her hand. She was
still holding it! Should she release it? Her father hadn't said
anything about it, so perhaps if she did release her grip she would
appear to be acting like a child again.
Besides, it had a well a nice _feel_ about it, all warm and,
oddly enough, both hard and soft at the same time. It was a pleasant
sensation and....
Maybe it was because the comment about the discomfort of her
period caused her to think about _there_, but she suddenly realized
that the odd itchy feeling had returned. She tried to ignore it and
looked back into her father's loving green eyes.
"So it's a monthly problem for you, too?" she asked, hoping she
sounded grownup.
Richard chuckled. "I wish. It gets uncomfortable after about
five days."
"Oh my goodness! Every _five days_?" She thought that sounded
very grownup and was pleased with herself for not blushing.
"Well, not exactly. Five days or so after it starts building
up again."
She looked puzzled at him for a few seconds, but then her eyes
widened as she realized what he meant. "Oh. And since Mother isn't
here...." She didn't finish the sentence, hoping that would keep her
from blushing again. Then she frowned. "But when she goes out of
town for a week or two, you hurt while she's gone?"
Mother hen had returned. Wynter hated the thought that her
father had to suffer whenever her mother was away. She hated for
anyone to suffer, but especially someone she knew and most especially
somebody she loved.
"Uh, not exactly." It was Richard's turn to try suppressing
the red face. He also fought to suppress the urge to hump his aching
dick in her fist. His daughter's hand was warm and snug around the
middle of his shaft, and the tension in her outstretched arm caused
it to move slightly, sending tiny waves of pleasure pulsing outward
through his body. He could just imagine what it would feel like if
she were to tighten her fist around it and pound her arm up-and-down.
Which, of course, was why his erection was refusing to subside.
"When it gets too uncomfortable, I can relieve the pressure myself.
Or could when my hands and arms were free."
"Daddy, Mother won't be back for two more weeks, and you'll be
in those casts for another week. I don't want you to hurt until
then!" Her eyes seemed to flick involuntarily to his cock and they
back to his eyes before she asked in a low voice, "What what can I do
to help you get better?" The young woman lost the inner struggle to
the little girl then, and her gaze shifted aside, locking on the
corner of his pillow so that she didn't have to meet his eyes, even
though she was furious at herself for doing so.
Richard licked his suddenly dry lips. "Honey, there's nothing
you can do now. I'll just have to wait. The pain pills help some."
"Some? Just some? But you're almost out of pain pills. Does
the ibu... ibu...."
"It helps a little. Honey, please put it away before I change
my mind."
Wynter grasped what that statement implied. "If if you can
change your mind, then then there _is_ something I can do! To help,"
she stammered, angry with herself because she couldn't control her
blushing like a child. "If if you could make it better with your
hand, then uh, I I I can do it with mine. For you. To help you.
Just tell me how."
Each refusal Richard made was more difficult than the previous,
both because he knew she was seriously trying to help him and because
he wanted the relief as much as a junkie wanted heroin. He smiled to
keep his words he didn't want to say from sounding like a rebuke.
"Honey, you can't. I'm your father."
"_NO!_" The intensity of her refusal surprised them both.
"You're _not_ my father, you're my _patient_! You said so yourself."
The picture of how Dragon's tongue licked his hard, red penis-thingy
floated before her. The odd itchy sensation also reappeared, but she
was practiced at ignoring that.
She gently released his erect member, lowering it to his
abdomen rather than letting it snap back. Although he knew that she
had done the correct thing, Richard wasn't sure whether he was
grateful or disappointed. Then he gasped. Wynter had started
stroking along it the way Dragon's tongue moved. She lightly pressed
her fingertips against the hot meat near the head, gently stroked
downward to his balls, and then lifted her hand to repeat the process.
When he squeezed his eyes shut and moaned with pleasure, she
misinterpreted the sound and stopped. Her blonde brows came together
and she started at his tightly-squeezed eyes. "Am I doing it wrong?
Did I _hurt_ you?" she asked, worry roughing the edges of her words
and tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. "It seems to be
getting bigger. Is it _s'posed_ to do that?"
He focused on her sweet young face, not wanting to encourage
her to continue, but, in absolute honesty, not wanting her to stop,
either. For the first time in his life, Richard King really did
understand the saying, "A hard dick has no conscience."
"No, honey, it felt really _good_. There is no wrong' way to
do it," he said, trying to encourage her without encouraging her,
"unless it's something that's painful. I've never felt it done like
that before, but that doesn't mean it's bad. One of the nice things
about sex is that people can always find something new that feels
good."
"What feels best?" Wynter asked, still frowning. The thrill
caused by his talking to her like she was a grownup was cancelled by
the thought that she wasn't using the best possible treatment for her
father's her patient's need. She kept her fingers pressed against
his penis-thingy his _penis_, she corrected herself again and
wondered whether she should pick it up. It occasionally throbbed
against her fingertips, and each time it did, she felt that odd,
itchy sensation intensify down _there_, where she also seemed to be
growing wetter. But she didn't need to go potty _that_ bad yet. She
wondered if her "friend had come to visit" early, but if so, she
wasn't flowing rapidly. She could spare some time to care for her
patient before she had to go find a pad for herself.
~ ~ ~
_"What feels best?"_ Richard almost groaned at her question.
_Best_ was the way Angie could deep throat him while purring. When
he was really horny, as horny as he was now, she could have him
creaming her tonsils in thirty seconds, unless she chose to prolong
the act. She could play his skin flute the way Wynter could play her
metal one. But he couldn't tell Wynter that. Besides, her question
had actually been the best way to handjob him. He was rather partial
to the warm massage oil that Angie used for stroking her right hand
on his throbbing boner while.... Well, he couldn't tell Wynter
_that_, either.
Richard capitulated to his desire. He talked her through the
steps of picking it up, wrapping her hand around it at the right
spot, and jacking his joint without ripping off his foreskin on the
down stroke. When she had mastered the procedure, he leaned his head
back into his pillow, closed his eyes, and sighed. He knew he'd give
himself hell after he'd shot his wad and reason returned, but he was
going to enjoy every moment of his handjob while it happened.
He let his subconscious argue over whether to prolong the
pleasure or seek immediate release and let his daughter put the Beast
away. Thanks to her musical training, Wynter was able to maintain a
constant rhythm as her hand glided up and down his staff, coaxing a
symphony of pleasure waves from his organ and into his body. After a
minute she stopped and he sensed her body moving. He opened his eyes
and gasped in surprise, delight, and overwhelming desire as the
strokes resumed.
~ ~ ~
Wynter had carefully followed her father's instructions,
adjusting the tightness of her grip and the length of her stroke
until he was satisfied and lay back in his pillow. A few seconds
after he closed his eyes, she lowered hers to watch what she was
doing to his penis. She fought the urge to look away by telling
herself that a grownup woman, a real nurse, wouldn't look away, and
besides, she needed to look or she might pull too far down.
At first she was glad he had his eyes closed and couldn't see
her red face. The red faded and she was quickly spellbound by the
way the foreskin partially covered, then uncovered the larger,
purple, mushroom head in time with her stroke. The knob appeared to
swell slightly with her upstroke. The network of veins along the
shaft gave it a lumpy texture that could be seen but not felt. She
frowned slightly as she concentrated on the way that the shaft felt
as her hand moved along it. The odd itchy sensation intensified.
The cast holding her father's arm, suspended in front of her,
was in her way just enough that she was worried about nudging it and
causing him pain. She stopped stroking but retained her grip on the
thingy the penis while she moved a little further toward the foot of
the bed. She had to bend forward to keep her grip on her father's
erection. She braced a hip against the side of the bed and rested
some of her weight on her left arm atop the mattress. As she resumed
stroking his penis-thingy, she heard him gasp and looked toward his
face as the erection seemed to swell bigger in her hand.
She looked toward his face and saw his eyes staring... where?
Her father was looking down the neck of her top! It sagged enough to
leave her growing young boobies displayed despite the hair streaming
over her shoulders. She flushed in embarrassment and looked back to
his eyes, but continued to stroke him as the odd itchy sensation
seemed to consume her lower body.
"I'm going to cum," he said, and she wondered if she understood
him.
His eyes lifted to her red face, and he realized he'd been
caught gaping at those small, sweet titties that had crowded
everything else from his consciousness. "Oh, honey," he said, "I'm
sorry I was staring at you."
Then, as if having their own independent mind, his eyes dropped
to feast on her tender young boobies again. "Don't stop rubbing
until it's over," he begged. "Oh my god, that feels _wonderful!_" he
said before his words were replaced by a low, guttural rumble and his
body stiffened.
"Okay," she said softly in response to his request, pleased by
his subsequent comment. She wasn't sure of what to expect, but, like
a grownup, she would manage if it would help her father her patient,
she corrected herself find relief.
Her gaze flicked back and forth between Richard's eyes and his
hard penis. Even as his body tensed, to the point that his hips were
rising, thrusting his throbbing pole higher, his eyes remained fixed
down her neckline and on her boobies. Somehow, that was helping him,
so she hunched her shoulders forward to drop the neckline lower. Her
odd itch became maddeningly intense, and she squeezed her thighs
together, causing a new sensation that was much more pleasant than
the itch.
The stiff penis swelled in her hand. She looked down and saw
the skin of the head stretched so tightly that it was shining. A
thick, clear drop had formed at the opening, and it was displaced by
another pushing upward. Shaken by her hand, it began trickling
erratically down the tube. "My god, you're so _sexy!_" her father
gasped in barely recognizable words before an animal growl forced its
way out of his throat. Again she squeezed her thighs together to
combat the distracting itch. And then it happened.
She held his throbbing penis upright and continued to stroke
with the same rhythm. It pulsed in her hand. And again. And again.
It kept pulsing as thick white liquid shot out the tip, hung in mid-
air near eye level, and then dropped down the same path to splash on
the penis head and her still-pumping fist. A second shot rose almost
as high and also splashed down. The third was half the height of the
first. The fourth rose only a couple of inches. Another two or
three rose slightly and flowed down over her slimy hand to puddle
with the rest soaking into the front of his pajamas. Her slick hand,
coated with the hot, gooey stuff, began sliding on the rigid pole,
and he gasped with more pleasure. Wynter smiled. She was being a
good nurse and helping her patient.
The aroma of his semen reached her nose, and the itchy
sensation exploded anew. She squeezed her thighs together again and
wished the dratted distraction would go away.
He finally said she could stop. She was surprised to discover
that she didn't _want_ to stop, but he was the patient. Her hand
slowed for two more strokes and then stilled. She kept his slimy
penis-thingy in her grip and looked at his eyes, which were
struggling up from her neckline. "That's awesome!" she said, then
realized she'd sounded her age again.
Richard gave her an embarrassed smile. "Actually," he replied,
"that's exactly what I was about to say. I feel a whole lot better
now."
She tried to sound grownup as she asked the question foremost
in her mind. "Daddy, uh will I you know, have to to do this often
when I'm a nurse?"
Four
Wynter gently removed Richard's pajama bottoms, wiped most of
the semen off his penis and scrotum with them, and put them in the
washer to soak. She reclined him at a forty-five degree angle and
fetched a washcloth, a dispenser of liquid soap, and basin of warm
water to finish cleaning him. She wheeled the bedside table into
place, put her load on it, and hopped onto the bed beside him. He'd
seemed to recognize that she was struggling with something, so he had
remained quiet while she sorted her thoughts while soaping his penis.
As she began wiping it with the washcloth she found her courage. In
a hesitant voice she said, "Daddy, I I have a question. If you don't
mind."
He gave her an exaggerated frown. "After all that, you have
only one?"
She looked up at the funny frown on his face and giggled,
releasing her nervous concern that he might object. "Nah. I have a
bunch of em."
"Ah!" he said. "Then that's more like it. What do you want to
know? And Wynter, you can ask anything you want. I'll try to answer
the best I can."
She smiled and turned back to the task in hand. "Tell me if I
wash too hard," she said. Then the smile faded. "Daddy, did looking
down my top help?"
~ ~ ~
Richard blinked in surprise. For a moment he wondered how to
answer that. Wynter had, of her own volition, just given him a
handjob and one of the most satisfying handjobs he'd ever had because
she was concerned for him, for his comfort and need. She had done so
not out of prurient interest, of that he was certain, or because she
wanted something, but simply because she cared about him. She
deserved no less than the most honest answers he could give her, for
this and all other questions.
"Yes," he said. "Honey, I'm really sorry if that embarrassed
you."
She shook her head. "No. Not really. But how did it help?"
She turned to rinse the cloth in the basin before resuming her task.
"It's kind of hard to explain, honey. Different guys get
turned on by different things. I'm what other guys call a tit man.'
I like to look at women's breasts of all shapes and sizes, and
especially on the pretty ones like you."
~ ~ ~
"Women's." Not "girls'." She sat a little straighter and
smiled. "So, you liked them?"
"Oh, yes. Definitely. Actually, I could see the outlines
through your top when you turned on the light. That made me very
horny. You know; turned me on. I could barely keep it down. Then I
saw one through the sleeve opening and...." His voice trailed off.
"Uh, oh."
She froze in mid-stroke, afraid to move. "What's wrong? Am I
doing it wrong? Does it hurt?"
"No, honey, it definitely doesn't hurt. It feels _really_ good
when you wash me, and that plus the thought of what your breasts
looked like are starting to turn me on again."
A look of surprise crossed her face, but she forced it into
what she hoped was a grownup expression. "Then I'm doing okay?"
"Oh, yes! In fact, if you aren't careful it might get hard
again."
Her brows arched. "Really?" As he nodded, she smiled brightly
and looked at his limp noodle to see if she could see any change in
its size. Finding none, she resumed wiping it in silence, rinsed the
rag again, and asked in as conversational a tone as she could manage,
"What does it feel like when you get turned on?"
He shrugged. "It's probably the same for me as it is for you."
Wynter avoided his eyes. "I don't know what that is," she said
in a quiet voice. "Mother didn't tell me."
Her father watched her for a moment, his mouth open in
surprise. "You don't know?" She shook her head. "Honey, have you
ever uh, masturbated?"
Her voice was almost inaudible. "Mother didn't tell me how to
do that, either."
"Well, most mothers don't. You haven't learned to do it on you
own?"
Wynter's eyes were moist as she looked into his and said, "No."
Was this something she was supposed to teach herself, but had been
such a child that she hadn't done so yet? But she didn't have the
first clue as to how to begin. She didn't have a penis-thingy she
could grasp the way she did her father's.
~ ~ ~
Richard guessed her thoughts. "Well, a lot of girls don't," he
said, hoping she didn't ask how many since he had no clue to the
percentages. "I would guess, based on what your mother and other
women have said, that it's probably an empty or itchy feeling up
between your legs, especially near the front. A feeling that demands
some sort of attention."
Her hands stilled. "Is that what that weird feeling is?" she
asked. "I've felt it before, but I didn't know what it was. Some
times it won't go away for hours."
Richard was amazed at what she did and did not know. Surely
she had friends who had by now discovered the delights of fingering
the furrow. But, of course, Wynter spent much time isolated from
them. His and Angie's needs were fulfilled by their jobs and their
home. They hadn't consciously considered what Wynter's needs might
be. Guilt swept over him, and not the guilt from letting his
daughter handjob his joint to orgasm. "Well," he said softly, "now
you know what you can do about it."
She shrugged. "But I don't know _how_. I wish your hands were
loose so you could show me."
That did it. The image that rushed into his mind rushed a
torrent of blood into his cock.
She felt movement in her hand and dropped her eyes to watch his
erection sprout. "That has to be the neatest thing I've _ever_
seen," she said with a trace of awe. She squirmed and added, "Daddy,
that feeling is back. Am I getting turned on, too?"
The apology for erecting again died in his throat. "Probably.
Well, this time you can do something about it." He hoped he didn't
sound as eager to watch that happen as he actually was. Then he
moaned as her hand encircled his rigid rod and pumped a few cautious
strokes.
"Didn't I get enough out of you the first time?"
Richard explained the difference between sexual excitement and
seminal pressure, and how they weren't related. "So it's a reaction
to an emotional need, not a physical one. Understand?"
"I guess," Wynter said. She no longer made any attempt to
avoid looking at her father's her patient's throbbing penis-thingy.
His erection. She gazed at it openly and without embarrassment as
her hand moved to show it from several angles. "But how come I feel
it I guess that's what it is since I don't have any emotional need
like you do with Mother gone?"
Richard shook his head. Wynter had always been brilliant, but
sometimes she couldn't see a floodlight shining in her eyes. "Honey,
I don't think you understand. Your mind and body are telling you
that you _do_ have an emotional need."
As her eyes lifted to stare at him, her hand lifted his pole
and started jacking it with slow, gentle strokes. "But I'm not,
well, having to do without."
Richard laughed gently. "You said you weren't masturbating. If
you aren't hiding a boyfriend in your closet and letting him out at
night, then you _are_ doing without."
"_DADDY!_" She flushed a brilliant scarlet and looked away.
" Daddy?' I thought I was your patient. Honey, your hormones
are doing more to your body than just making your breasts grow and
turning you into a woman. Well, no, I guess that those feelings are
a part of them turning you into a woman. Anyway, they're what's
causing the feeling."
"Oh." Wynter dropped the subject and began stroking his stiff
stick, causing him to abandon the topic as well. The soft moan
escaping from his throat made her smile. After several seconds her
eyes wandered back to his. A thought struck her. "Would it help if
you looked at my, uh at me again?" She winced when she realized how
childish she must have sounded.
Richard discovered he was staring at her top, trying to see
through it. He met her eyes. "Honey, not if it makes you
uncomfortable."
"I already said it didn't," Wynter reminded him, a smile
flickering across her lips. And it didn't. In fact, the thought was
causing the itch between her legs to intensify. She guessed that
must be what it was like when he looked at her boobies. Her breasts,
she corrected herself, not wanting to sound like a child.
Her _tits_. That thought caused the odd itch to surge in
intensity. She squeezed her thighs together involuntarily and
released his rod long enough to strip her top off over her head and
flip her hair back.
Richard's eyes feasted on his lovely daughter's half-naked body
as she twisted to show herself from several angles. She was long in
the torso, the way he was, and slender like her mother, with arms
that were skinny like a child's. The interplay of light and shadow
made her ribs stand out below the small, wide-spaced hemispheres that
looked soft yet firm at the outer edges of her chest. Darker pink,
quarter-sized circles drew his eyes to the small, round nipples that
stood out as if inviting lips and fingers to caress, to worship them.
Her waist pinched in between her ribcage and her hips. Above
the top of her pajama panties, her navel sat at the top of a small
mound of muscle or baby fat? He wished his hands were free to
determine the nature of the filling under the smooth, creamy skin.
And what lovely skin! Either she used moisturizer all over her body,
or the dry mountain air hadn't begun to affect her the way it had
Angie and himself. Her skin glowed with a smooth, translucent
softness that made him want to sandpaper his fingertips to make them
more sensitive before he stroked them over the surface of her body,
her arms, her legs, her face.
"Honey, you are absolutely beautiful," he said, unable to keep
a tone of awe from his voice. "I mean, I knew you were pretty, but a
field of columbines growing in front of a waterfall would pale in
comparison."
As he expected, she ducked her head and blushed at the
comparison to her two favorite things. While she enjoyed
compliments, she never knew how to react to them. _Something else to
discuss with Angie_, he told himself. His list was growing.
Richard wished desperately that his arms, or at least his
hands, were free of the casts and that they were large enough to
touch her everywhere at once, the way he wished his eyes could focus
on every square inch of her at once. Later he would wonder what she
looked like under the pajama panties. At the moment, what he could
see was more than enough to fuel his desire for a month. She was a
superb blend of innocence and eroticism, the innocence of youthful
beauty and the eroticism of blossoming sexuality. _If I'm to be
struck blind in his life, let it be now so that this would be the
last sight, locked forever in my mind_, he thought.
She reached for his dick and began pumping again. _I wonder if
somebody else masturbating me would make me go blind_, he wondered.
She froze when he suddenly laughed. "It's okay," he said. "I just
thought of something funny, sort of a variation on an old joke." She
gave him an uncertain look. He told her what it was and then had to
explain it to her.
She looked confused but relieved. Apparently she had thought
he was laughing at her, and he remembered her emotional roller
coaster. "Never mind about the joke," he said. "We'll discuss it
later. You're doing just fine, honey. It feels every bit as
wonderful as you look."
Wynter blushed again and whispered, "Thank you," so quietly
that he read it on her lips more than he heard it. Realizing she had
slumped in girlish embarrassment, she straighten, thrusting her her
_tits_ out for her patient to see. She squeezed her legs together
because of that dratted itch as she turned to unblock the view caused
by her right arm crossed over her body. The combination caused her
thighs to rub _that place_ and send a small, pleasant wave throughout
her body, but she forgot about it when she realized she was in danger
of bumping the suspended cast of her father's left arm.
She switched hands. "I'm sorry," she said after a minute. "I
have trouble keeping the beat with my left hand. Do you want me to
move to the other side of the bed where I can use the right one."
The question brought Richard back from teetering on the brink
of release. "No, honey, that's not necessary. I know sex has been
called The Symphony of Love,' but you don't have to stick to any
beat. You can think of it as a syncopated symphony, if that helps."
"Okay," she said in a small voice, wondering if her ignorance
had made her seem childlike again. Well, one thing was for sure:
hunching down every time she made a stupid mistake certainly made her
seem so.
Again she straightened and thrust her tits the word sounded
strangely grown up to her and made her itch tingle more forward for
him, flipping back the hair that had crept around her shoulders when
she hunched like a child. She watched her father's eyes roam about
her body, always returning to her tits before wandering down another
path. Every time they returned to her tits, the tip of his tongue
crept out and swept along his lips. That triggered a forgotten
thought which triggered a surge in the odd itching sensation. It was
something she'd heard her mother say one night when she couldn't
sleep and was about to knock on their bedroom door. "Daddy, would
you like to suck my tits?"
"Oh, yes, honey!" he said in a gasp. "Oh yes! Oh, fuck! I'm
_cumming!_" His penis-thingy swelled and began throbbing in her
hand, the way it had when he had shot his semen earlier.
_Fuck?_ Suzie Middleton had told her that word. Suzie didn't
know what it meant, but she said that it was a naughty word that only
grownups said to each other, and Wynter had better not use it around
them. But Daddy had used it with her, just like she was a grownup.
She smiled and swelled with pride just like his penis-thingy had
swelled with with what? She guessed it was the semen that made it
swell up, since it went down after he shot it out.
And shoot it out he did! Again she held it to shoot upward,
and again it splashed down all hot and wet and thick and sticky over
her hand and wrist and his belly and legs. There wasn't as much as
before, but she was still surprised at the amount. Even though it
was one of the most exciting things she'd ever seen, she worried that
the quantity meant she hadn't done it right the first time.
Wynter continued to pump her small, slick fist up and down the
shrinking tube until he opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Honey,
that felt even better than the last time. You can stop now, because
it's starting to get too sensitive."
Fear crossed her face. "Am I hurting you?"
He laughed weakly. "Not at all. It feels really, _really_ good
when you keep rubbing after I cum, but after a while my dick gets too
sensitive. I have to tell you when that is, and then you can stop
before it hurts." He looked sleepy, but there was another, happier,
look on his face that she hadn't seen since his accident. Not
counting, of course, after the first time he he _came_. And he'd
called his penis his _dick_. She wondered if she should start a
notebook of all these new terms and what they meant so that she could
use them properly.
"Oh, good grief!" he said in an exaggerated, playful voice.
"I've really made a mess, and you'd just finished cleaning me up. I
must be the most difficult patient you've ever had."
"Yep," she agreed with a bright smile that showed her perfect
teeth. "I can truthfully say that except for Dragon, I've never had
a worse one."
Five
Dragon decided it was time for his early morning trip outside.
Wynter let him out while she replaced the cold water in the basin
with warm water and rinsed the wash cloth which held most of her
father's semen. She put her hair in a ponytail and went back to the
kitchen to let Dragon in. He paused at his water bowl, but stopped
drinking and tore across the kitchen floor when Wynter disappeared
down the hall.
She opened her father's bedroom curtains. They watched in
silence as the heavy snowflakes tumbled down from the gray sky. After
a few moments she returned to his bedside. Since it was warm in the
room, and since looking at her tits made her father happy and that
other word, _horny_ she left her top off, thinking she could put it
back on if he said anything negative. She could just pretend she had
forgotten about it.
She washed and rinsed his his _dick_, he'd called it; another
word to remember and cleaned away the other traces of his semen.
This time his dick stayed soft, though she noticed he spent much of
the time looking at her tits. Perhaps this time she had done her job
correctly. But she couldn't know unless she asked.
She didn't replace his pajama bottoms because he said she would
have to bathe him after breakfast and would just have to remove them
again. She put the wash rag in the bowl, toweled him dry, and sat on
the edge of the bed, carefully turning to give him a good view of her
boobies no, her _tits_.
She looked him in the eye, because that's what grownups would
do, though she desperately wanted to look anywhere else. "I have a
stupid question."
His green eyes were looking directly into her blue-green ones,
just like she was another grownup, but the smile that spread across
his face was part of the loving gaze that a father gives his
daughter. She hoped that fathers gave that same look to grownup
daughters because it made a warm, tingly feeling spread throughout
her, and she never wanted to stop seeing it.
"Honey, there's no such thing as a stupid question."
Her face melted into a sorrowful look that made him want to
hold her in his arms and comfort her. "Well, this one is 'cause I
don't know the answer."
Despite himself, he laughed. "Wynter, if you knew the answer,
you wouldn't have to ask the question. If you asked anyway, then
_that_ might qualify as a stupid question."
She shrugged. "I just I feel so ignorant about things I should
already know."
He understood. "Really? Do you know how to do an F-seventh
augmented fifth chord?"
"Sure."
"I don't. I don't know how to make any chords on a piano. I
don't know an F-seventh augmented fifth from a C-major."
Her face brightened and grew animated. "I can show you. Just
as soon as you get the casts off, I can ...."
Maybe later," he said, cutting her off gently. "But since I
don't know the difference, does that make me ignorant?"
"Well, no."
"Of course it does. No, let me finish. Being ignorant of
something just means nobody has taught you _yet_." He emphasized the
last word to be sure she heard it and understood. "Honey, everybody
is ignorant of a whole lot of things, but over time they become less
ignorant because they learn new stuff. Look how much you've learned
since you woke up yesterday morning."
Wynter thought about that, then became angry with herself as
she felt her cheeks warming. She sat straighter and thrust her tits
forward, hoping they would keep him from seeing that her face was
blushing like a child's. His eyes dipped to look at them, but
quickly returned to hers.
"Wynter, it's not the same thing as being stupid, where people
tell you things over and over and over and you still don't remember
them. Smart is trying to learn the answers to your questions; stupid
is living in ignorance when you don't have to. So don't you _ever_ be
afraid to ask somebody a question because you want to learn
something. Especially of me. Okay?"
"Okay," she said in a small voice. "I love you, Daddy. Thanks
for helping me."
"I love you, too, honey. Helping each other is what family and
love and all that mushy stuff is about. Now: what's the question?
Let's get it answered so we can get on to breakfast!" He gave her a
wink and a grin.
Her head dipped slightly and a small smile spread across her
sweet lips, causing the corners of her eyes to crinkle. The smile
faded. "Why did you get, uh horny? erected that second time. Is it
because I didn't to a good enough job the first time, n' all the
semen I missed made it stiff again?"
"We're going to bypass college and go straight to graduate
school, eh?"
The warm feeling tingled through her whole body again. Whenever
her father said that, it was because she had surprised him with a
grownup question, not something a child might ask. It really
_wasn't_ a stupid question after all!
He made a face. "If you'll scratch the side of my nose where
it itches, I guess I'll have to go on a diet long enough to answer
all your questions. Uh, you do have more than one question, don't
you?"
~ ~ ~
Breakfast was late because her father had spent over an hour
talking with her and answering all of her questions. He didn't try
to hurry her, and he didn't duck away from any answers. She couldn't
believe how wrong some of her assumptions had been, but he told her
that her assumptions made perfect sense based on the knowledge she
had at the time. Some people, he'd said, could watch the sun rise in
the east all their lives and still assume that it might rise in the
west tomorrow, ignoring what they knew.
She thought of more questions while she cooked breakfast. He
answered those while they ate. She liked the way he talked to her as
if she were a grownup, but still managed to tease her just enough to
show that he loved her and was trying to make her comfortable. It
was like the way he teased Mother. She thought about that while she
loaded the dishwasher and then brushed his teeth and shaved him.
When she was a nurse and had to train students, or when she was a
mother and wanted to train her children, she wanted to talk to them
just the way her father was talking to her so that they would feel
comfortable and would want to learn from her.
Then it was time to fetch the bedpan. After all that had
happened since she became his nurse, that was less difficult than
either anticipated. She put the empty bedpan back in its place, gave
him more coffee, and then kissed him before excusing herself to take
her shower before his sponge bath.
The most difficult part of sponge-bathing him was removing and
replacing his armless, one-legged pajamas because of the suspended
casts. She took much longer than Nurse Carter did, but he said that
she also caused him much less discomfort. After that praise, her
feet didn't touch the floor for hours. Wynter also took extra
precautions to insure that she didn't wet the plaster casts and was
gentle where the stitches had been removed the day he came home. By
the time she was finished it was almost noon.
She was buttoning his pajama tops when her mother called from
Geneva. She barely had time to tell her mother that she was now the
nurse when the cell phone rang. She held the handset to Richard's
ear with one hand and answered the cell phone with the other. It was
Nurse Carter.
"I was worried," Nurse Carter explained. "I hadn't heard from
you, and then when I tried calling on the house phone I got a busy
signal."
"Mother called. Daddy's talking to her now. We're doing great
so far. He says I've been a good nurse. He says I'm a natural!"
She thought she heard Nurse Carter laugh softly. "Well, I've
been telling you that, too, haven't I? And that you'd also be a
natural at being a doctor, too, if you wanted to go to medical
school?"
"Yes, ma'am," she admitted, keeping her eyes on the handset she
was holding to her father's ear. "But everything's okay here. We
had breakfast, n' I gave Daddy his pills after I checked all his
vital signs, just the way you showed me how to do them, n' I wrote
everything on the forms. Everything was normal. I just finished his
sponge bath. Oh, he's taking ibu... i-bu-pro-fin instead of his pain
pills because he wants to save those in case he needs them n' you
can't get back here yet." She was gushing. She told herself to slow
down and speak professionally.
"Very good," Nurse Carter said. "Sheriff White said they
should have the road clear late tomorrow afternoon, but I may have to
park by the mailbox and walk the rest of the way. Did you have any
problems with the bedpan or the urinal, since he's your father?"
Wynter liked the crisp, professional tone that Nurse Carter
used. She sounded just like one grownup nurse talking to another.
"No, ma'am. But he's not my father, he's my patient."
Again she thought she heard a soft laugh, but the cell phone
always had some static noise here, and Wynter couldn't be sure.
"That's exactly the way to handle it," she said. "You really are a
natural."
"Actually, it was his idea," she confessed.
"Only because he thought of it first. I know you. You'd have
realized it yourself if you'd had some time to think about it. Can
you interrupt to ask if he needs anything from me?"
He didn't. "That's nurse business," he explained. "You have
to handle that. I'm just the patient, after all, and you are my
professional."
Wynter's heart suddenly felt as if it were too big for her
chest as the warm tingly feeling spread throughout her body again.
"I guess that's all now. No, wait. When you talk to Dr. Taylor, ask
him what's the soonest we can get Daddy's fingers out of the casts."
She had been afraid that Nurse Carter would ask why, and she
didn't know what she would say in reply, but there was no question.
Nurse Carter must have assumed that there was a good reason, and that
was enough for her.
~ ~ ~
Ellen Carter stared at the phone on her desk, leaned back in
her chair, and silently sipped her honeyed tea. Nervous tension
slowly seeped away. She was certain that she'd have heard it in
Wynter's voice, even over the noisy connection, if there had been any
problems. The girl really was "a natural," but she was also a
perfectionist, and her voice revealed when things weren't going
perfectly. Professions with critical personnel shortages, like
nursing, needed people who could do the job quickly and accurately
enough for the current situation. Perfectionists, even the naturals,
burned out rapidly.
Ellen worried about Jack's "problem." She'd had to remove the
catheter because he was having frequent erections, and it was causing
him additional pain, along with the pain from the semen buildup that
stretched the damaged and weakened vas deferens. That would be why he
wanted his fingers free.
She knew that she was within a day or so of having to find some
solution for the problem, even if it meant masturbating him herself.
Unfortunately, that was the only solution she could think of. Not
that she'd have minded if he wasn't married he was an attractive man,
after all, with a wonderful sense of humor and a way of putting
everybody at ease even before he said a word. But she couldn't afford
to become involved with another married man the way she had in
Pennsylvania. She liked where she was and the people around her.
She didn't want to be forced into moving again.
~ ~ ~
"We'll talk about it when you get back," her father was saying
as she turned the cell phone off. Her eyes jumped back and forth
between the phone she was holding to her father's ear and the one she
was trying to place in the charger on the night stand. "But start
thinking about where." After a moment of listening, he said, "I love
you and miss you, too. Here's Wynter."
Her mother sounded pleased with the job she had done as the new
nurse, and the warm tingly feeling spread again. Wynter gave her
some of the highlights of her nursing activities, omitting any
reference to certain new skills she had learned, updated Dragon's
situation, reported that she had finally memorized that piano sonata,
and told her what Nurse Carter had said about the roads. She noticed
that it sounded more like a conversation between grownups than their
usual mother-daughter exchange.
"Well, darling, I'm counting on you to keep Daddy safe and
comfortable for me while you're in charge," her mother said. "If I'm
lucky, I might get to come home a day or two early, and I hope so,
because I really miss both of you. I found a perfect present for you
yesterday, and I'll bring it, too. The silly meeting's running after
dark again, and it's about to resume. I have to go. I love you."
"I love you, too. Daddy and Dragon and I miss you. Bye." She
hung up the phone, determined that this time the tear wouldn't
trickle down her right cheek the way it had the last two times she'd
spoken to her mother.
Richard recognized the struggle within her. "Wynter," he said
to distract her, "let's not bother with the pajama bottoms. They're
too difficult to put on because of the cast, and the covers keep me
warm enough anyway."
She glanced to the sheet that was pulled up to his waist, happy
for the distraction. "Are you sure?"
"I didn't want them in the first place. They were your
mother's idea, and, stupid me, I never thought to tell Ellen that I'd
be happier in a hospital gown after your mother left. Besides, it's
plenty warm in here. You seem to be comfortable enough without a
top."
He watched her eyes drop and widen. After her shower, she had
donned frilly yellow pajama panties, but had left the top in the
drawer. She'd been so busy that she actually had forgotten she was
nude from the waist up. He was trying to forget that himself, which
wasn't easy with her standing just a foot from his shoulder and him
reclined at an angle that put her sweet, firm breasts at his eye
level. Those beautiful, fresh young orbs, pushing their way out from
her juvenile chest like new spring growth, were a mixture of child
and adult that he found maddeningly enticing. And that very thought
was about to awaken the Beast.
"Oh. Uh, do you want me to go put my top back on?" she asked
in a hesitant voice.
_No way in hell!_ he wanted to shout. Instead he kept his
voice steady and said, "It's up to you. If you're more comfortable
with it on, I understand."
"Not really," she said, with a casual air that convinced him
she meant it. "You said you were a tit man.' Well, there aren't
any other tits around for you to look at. Or do you only like to
look at tits when you're, uh, horny? Is that the right word?"
"That's the word, though when you're in polite society instead
of here alone with me, the word is excited' or aroused.'"
Wynter nodded. She felt no embarrassment or unintended
reprimand at his words. He had covered that aspect of the names and
nicknames of sexual objects and activities in their talk earlier that
morning. He wasn't correcting her; he was only "reinforcing the
lesson," the way he had said all of her teachers would do in nursing
school.
"And as for when I enjoy looking at titties, honey I like
looking at them anytime, even when I'm not horny or excited or
aroused." The way he emphasized those last words and his facial
expressions when he spoke them caused her to laugh. In a softer
voice he added, "Sometimes just looking at them can make me horny
when I'm not."
Wynter's eyes shifted to his crotch, half expecting to see the
sheet move. That odd, itchy sensation down _there_ suddenly
returned. When she looked back to his face, his eyes were on her
chest and the tip of his tongue was disappearing back into his mouth.
She remembered. "Daddy, when I was uh, jacking you off? that
last time, you said you'd like to suck on them, but then you uh,
came? Do you still want to?"
Richard struggled with both the physical Beast that he could
feel beginning to swell and with the emotional Beast that desired his
lovely pre-teen daughter. He knew that the answer had to be a
resounding "No!" _It's the only possible, permissible answer. It
isn't morally right. She's my daughter. She's only eleven years
old. She's innocent. She has the most exciting body I have ever
seen in my life. _No! Bad argument!_ She's illegal jailbait that
could land my ass in a sling for years. She's...._
"More than anything else in this world," he heard himself
saying, even though he wasn't finished arguing with himself. His
argument might have been more successful if he had conducted it while
looking at her face instead of her delicious young pink sweater-
fruits. The battle between reason and desire, he suddenly realized,
was unconventional warfare, and desire always fights dirty.
Wynter stroked his face with her left hand and smiled. "I
guess you know you'll have to talk me through it," she said, liking
the way she managed to avoid sounding childish.
"Huh uh!" he grunted. "Remember what I said earlier. As long
as it doesn't hurt, there's no wrong' way. Honey, part of the fun
of sex is learning about not only your partner but yourself, too.
You experiment together, rather than following a script, to discover
what pleases both people the most."
Wynter had remembered that and was pleased with herself for
having done so. "Oh, I knew _that_ part," she said in her most
grownup tone. "I meant you'd have to talk me through it because of
your casts, n' the ropes n' things."
"Oh. Well, let's see here...." Within two minutes they had
the bed adjusted to an angle that placed his head where Wynter could
comfortably lean forward, brace her hands on the other edge of the
mattress, and have her small, pink nipples hover just above his face.
The look on his face as he looked at the soft little mound in front
of his nose made her heart swell with joy because she knew she was
making her father her patient no, _this_ was for her father happy.
It also made the odd, itchy sensation explode down _there_.
The itch grew even more worse when she saw the sheet stir with
movement because his dick was hardening. She wished she could help
him with that immediately, but the suspended arm casts were in the
way. She would have to wait until after he was through sucking her
tits.
_Sucking her tits._ She liked the grownup sound of that, but
she wondered what it would feel like for her. Her nipples were
sensitive, though not as sensitive as when she was about to have her
"friend visit." No! That wasn't what grownups called it. Like her
father had said, when she was about to have her period.
She hoped that her father's sucking on her tits wouldn't be
painful or even uncomfortable, but if it made him happy, she'd suffer
through it as long as she could.
His voice interrupted her thoughts. "Honey, you can still
change your mind if you want to."
She _didn't_ want to, and the sound of his voice said he didn't
want her to, either. She twisted slightly at the waist, rubbing the
tiny knob of her left nipple across the tip of his nose before
touching it to his lips. She had just invented a new version of her
special kiss for him! He let out a moan that she now recognized as
desire. _Horniness_. The itch down _there_ became harder to ignore,
and she squeezed her sleek, slender thighs together trying to try
strangle it.
~ ~ ~
Richard was surprised by the coolness of the hard, pink nipple
that brushed across his nose. Desire flooded through him in a
torrent that almost washed away his guilt over what he was about to
do. He was glad that Wynter still wanted him to do this because he
wasn't sure she could have stopped him if she had changed her mind.
_Well, that was stupid_, he realized. All she had to do to
stop him was stand up straight. But she didn't. And if he guessed
correctly, she was as horny as he was, though she clearly didn't know
what to do about it without his help. That thought triggered an
onslaught of forbidden ideas that made him gasp and made his cock
hard as iron as it pulled upright, tenting the sheet, and then
continued on until it was aimed at his head. Despite himself, he
wondered how many of those ideas he would be able to try with his
daughter before Angie returned.
He also wondered how he would explain them to Angie. She had
correctly assumed from one of his answers that his pain had been
relieved by a handjob. She had incorrectly assumed that Ellen had
provided the relief, which Ellen would have done if Richard had asked
her, and he was on the verge of asking for that very favor. It was
why he had wanted Ellen as his nurse: he had suspected that Murphy's
Law might separate him from Angie for a few days. Angie didn't mind
his using Ellen for relief because she understood the sharp pain that
stabbed through his groin if the built-up semen wasn't released. She
also knew that release through a wet dream was rarely effective for
more than a few hours. She would understand that a handjob from
Ellen was simply a medical procedure.
However, Angie was certain to be pissed that he'd used his own
daughter. She'd get over it when she understood that Ellen was
trapped in town, that he was in discomfort and Wynter knew it, and
that it was Wynter's idea. Angie knew how determined Wynter would be
once she realized that her father was in discomfort, if not pain, and
that she might be able to help him somehow.
Angie would also be pissed that he hadn't done more to
discourage their daughter, but she'd eventually calm down enough to
understand there was little he could do about it. She would....
The tiny hard berry of his daughter's nipple pressed against
his lips, and they automatically parted to enfold it. The little pink
cone and some of the surrounding velvety white pad eased into his
mouth as he applied gentle suction with his tongue, stroking it from
her left to right because she was leaning over him from the side.
His nose drank in the faint, heady aroma of her freshly-
scrubbed skin beneath the subtle bouquet of perfumed soap. He could
imagine no sweeter aroma except, perhaps, that of her virginal young
cunt. He wondered if he would find a way to test his theory. As if
from a vast distance he heard the gasp of her sudden intake of breath
that pushed her sweet, sweet young breast gently downward toward the
suction.
He'd have traded ownership of all the world for a mouth atop
his head to suck the breast pressed there. He'd have traded twice
that much to have his hands free. He wanted to hold his daughter, to
squeeze her, to caress every part of her slender, nubile body at
once. He wanted to run his fingers gently over every inch of her.
He wanted to run his tongue over every inch of her.
God help him he wanted, to the very core of his being, to fuck
her.
His hips began an autonomous primeval thrusting, rubbing the
underside of his steely cock against the roughness of the sheet. If
he hadn't already cum twice that morning, it would have been enough
to get him off. For a moment he was almost angry, but then he was
grateful. He didn't want the sheet to get him off, he wanted his
daughter's gentle young hand to relieve him. Again.
~ ~ ~
Wynter was startled when her father's mouth swept around her
nipple, taking it and part of her underlying tit into his mouth.
Immediately afterward the wet roughness of his tongue pushed against
her tender flesh and pulled across, suctioning a wonderful hollow
feeling that ran from the tip of her breast her tit through her
supple body to _there_, where the itch was. The feeling both
relieved the itch and made it grow stronger. That effect _there_
made her gasp, and she gently leaned into him.
As her father alternated between sucking and licking, the
hollow feeling throbbed. This, she knew, was being horny, and now
she really understood why it was so necessary for her to give her
father the relief he needed. But what about her own need?
_Later_, she told herself, _after I take care of Daddy. The
patient's needs come first. I'll ask him after that._
She closed her eyes and bathed in the fascinating new sensation
her father was giving her through her nipple. It flowed through her
body, warm and exciting, like the feeling she got when she was
treated like a grownup, but even better. Eventually she opened her
eyes, and realized she was moaning softly. When had she started
that? It was what her father did when she jacked him off. She
really _was_ horny! That's what that feeling was down _there_.
Movement to her left. She looked. Her father's hard dick was
outlined against the sheet, and he was slowly moving it up and down
the sheet using his hips. She wondered if that's how _fucking_ was
done.
Wait a minute. She was also thrusting her hips. They were
slowly moving, just as her father's were, and she was squeezing her
thighs together as she pulled back. It felt really good down
_there_, near the front, where her her what was that "c"-word? was
located.
Her father was also moaning whimpering, really. It was in time
with the rhythm of his rubbing against the sheet rather than sucking
and kissing and licking her breast.
"Daddy?"
"Wha?" he asked without releasing her from his mouth.
"Would you like me to jack you off now?"
A low moan escaped from her throat as he again sucked and
licked his mouthful before grunting a yes. As she lifted, he said,
"But first I want to kiss and suck the other one, too, for just a
second."
As she moved her right breast into place he said, "Wynter, you
have the sweetest titties I've ever seen. They are every bit as
wonderful as the rest of you. Oh, honey, I love you so very much."
"I love you, too," she said as she eased the nipple down to his
mouth. She meant it with all her heart.
Five minutes later she watched less than a tablespoon of cum
dribble down his upright cock and over her hand. "Better?" she asked
when he opened his eyes.
"You bet!" His voice was exhausted but happy. "How are you
doing?"
She stopped stroking and let her father's dick grow soft in her
hand. It wasn't as much fun as feeling it grow hard, but still it
felt nice, too. "I think maybe I'm horny."
"Well," he said with a yawn, "if you aren't, you did a superb
job of acting like you were."
"I did?"
His head fell over to his shoulder, as if he hadn't the
strength to keep it upright on the pillow, and he smiled at her with
sleepy eyes. "Yep. It was fun watching you masturbate what little I
could see with your chest in my face. Not that I'm complaining about
the view, you understand."
A look of surprise exploded across her face. "Masturbate? Me?
How?" She was so surprised that the questions blurted out before she
could think of a grownup way to ask them.
He looked as if he were trying not to laugh, but he did, though
it came out as a strangled chuckle. A flush spread against her will.
_Drat!_ It was the first time she'd blushed in over an hour.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't laughing at your question. It
was the look on your face, and I shouldn't have laughed at that,
either. It's something all parents do at different times, and you'll
do the same with your kids someday. You'll feel bad about it
afterward, just like I do now, but you'll do it. If it makes you
feel better, I'll tell you a secret: you'll do it because you love
them so much that you can't control it. No, that doesn't make sense,
but it's true. I didn't believe Grandpa King any more than you
believe me right now. You won't understand until it happens."
"Daddy," she said, her eyes wide with horror, "I didn't say...."
"No, you didn't _say_ it, honey, but you _thought_ it. You
forget that I used to be a kid, too. I'm not so old and senile that
I've forgotten those days, you know. Now: let's answer that question
and then you can clean me up.
"I think it's called thigh masturbation,' where the woman
squeezes her legs tight against her clitoris..."
_That was the word!_
"...and releases, over and over. Supposedly some women can get
off while seated in a crowded room and nobody will notice. Unless she
starts screaming with joy, of course."
Wynter laughed, her eyes sparkling with both humor and
understanding. And with joy of a different sort: her father was
once again talking to her like she was a grownup.
His eyes flicked to her hand still wrapped around his soft dick
and the wet love goo, as he had once called it in their talk,
covering both. "If you'll clean us both up, then I'll talk you
through getting yourself off with your hands. It's much easier that
way."
"Okay." _Drat!_ She had whispered again, like a kid. She
gave him a big smile with lots of even, white teeth to let him know
how she really felt. He smiled back at her, and she rose from her
seat on the edge of the bed. She held her cum-slimed hand out for
him to see. "There wasn't much at all this time," she said.
"Well," he said, trying to look apologetic and making her
giggle, "that's the third time in just one morning. I haven't done
that in oh, I guess since before you were born. But I'll certainly
make more, and you'll have to help with that, too."
"Good!" she said. That had sounded like an excited child, but
she didn't care. She was playing, just like he was. She bent to
kiss him, first on his nose and then on his lips, holding her
ponytail in her right hand while her left hand hovered aside,
carefully not smearing his semen everywhere.
She thought she felt his tongue gently caress her lips just
before she straightened and turned for the bathroom. She wasn't
certain, but it sure did leave a tingly, horny feeling _there_. In
her "clitoris." Then she remembered. Suzie Middleton, who had also
called it a "clitty," had told her about "French kissing." As usual,
Suzie knew the term but not the reason for its name. Maybe it was
how people in France kissed. It didn't sound very good, but
apparently grownups really liked it and did it a lot, so she supposed
she'd have to learn how to do it.
She was about to stick her hand under the running water when
she noticed that the aroma of his semen his "cum" was making her
horny clitty throb more. She brought her hand to her nose and
sniffed. It was odd, but not unpleasant. She sniffed twice more
before realizing she was doing thigh masturbation again, just like
she'd been doing when Daddy was sucking her titties. Well, she was
about to learn a much better way than thigh masturbation!
She washed her hand and filled the rinse bowl with warm water,
putting it, the liquid soap, and a wash cloth on the tray.
Lost in thought, she almost tripped over Dragon as she left the
bathroom.
Six
Exhausted by his third cum of the morning, her father had dozed
off while waiting for Wynter to return with the wash cloth and warm
water. She put the tray on the roll-away table and stood beside the
bed, watching him for almost a minute.
He lay there at a forty-five degree angle with his green eyes
closed and his head tilted down toward his left shoulder. His arms
and right leg in their suspended casts looked terribly uncomfortable,
and she supposed they were, but he never complained about them to
her. The hem of his pajama top was pushed halfway to his rib cage,
and his exposed, semen-coated dick hung over the left side of his
scrotum his _nuts_, or his _balls_, he had called them the way his
head drooped to his shoulder. His left foot and ankle were under the
rumpled pile of the sheet.
His dark hair was in desperate need of a trim and shampooing,
but he was still the handsomest man in the whole world to her. With
as much gentleness as she could manage, she washed away the cum,
dried him, and pulled the sheet into place. At the last second she
leaned forward, holding her long blonde ponytail to keep it from
tickling him, and placed a gentle kiss on his limp dick. Her father
never moved, but she almost jumped out of her skin when the horny
feeling exploded _there_ between her legs as her lips touched his
limp flesh.
The horny itch was more intense than ever while she rinsed out
the wash rag and cleaned the washbowl in the bathroom sink. She
wondered if "thigh masturbation" would help, and realized she was
already doing it. It was helping some.
She hung the wash cloth to dry, pushed the bowl to the back of
the vanity top, and then braced both hands on the front of the sink.
She began thrusting her hips and squeezing her slender legs together,
really hard. It still helped some, but she knew she could do it
easier with her hands. Her father had said so.
She wished he hadn't fallen asleep before he could tell her how.
_No!_ She immediately took that wish back. That wasn't fair
to him. He was, after all, badly hurt, and she was being selfish.
She should have wished instead that he hadn't had the accident in the
first place.
Okay, she would just have to teach herself. Or try to teach
herself until he woke up. He had said that some girls taught
themselves, so maybe she could, too.
Where? Her room? He might wake up and need her, and it was
her responsibility to be there with him if he needed her. Okay,
then: his room. But what if she made too much noise and disturbed
him while he was getting his rest? He really did need to rest so his
body could heal. Nurse Carter had explained that part of healing to
her. And he had said something about "screaming with joy." Would
she do that and wake him up? Maybe she should just wait.
But the the _horny_ feeling was so strong!
_Okay_, she decided as she entered his recovery room, _I'll
just experiment. If I can't be quiet, then I'll stop until he wakes
up_.
Now where? Her sleeping bag or the chair? Her sleeping bag,
she decided, would be best because she didn't know what would happen
when she did it. She might pass out or fall over or something
strange. She didn't know if that was possible, but a nurse was
supposed to be prepared for anything.
She slid off her frilly yellow pajama panties and carefully
spread them in the seat of the chair. Her white cotton panties
joined them, and then she lay down on top of her sleeping bag,
spreading her legs so that her knees were at the sides of the bag.
Dragon watched briefly from where he had sprawled at his door guard
station, then lowered his head.
Wynter felt strange lying there naked on the floor. It would
have felt strange to her even if her sleeping father and Dragon
weren't in the room with her. _No, that was being childish_, she
decided. After all, she had already been half-naked in the room with
her father awake, and she'd seen she'd handled his sex stuff. And
she'd been eager to let him teach her how to masturbate with her
hands. What did she think she was going to do sit in her room and
listen to him over the intercom?
She arranged her pillow and a fold of the sleeping bag to raise
her head. She looked down the long, white distance between her
titties and across the slight rise of her tummy to the small fluff of
blonde hair on the bulge right there at the beginning of her _vaginal
region_. Her _split_. What else was it Suzie had called it? She
had forgotten to ask her father what adults called it, but she was
too horny to care now. She idly wondered if her father would like
looking at her down _there_, too, and felt the horny sensation grow
stronger.
She ran the fingertips of both hands through the fine hair that
looked like corn silk where it grew just above the point of her split
and down the fat little pads on either side of it. That felt nice and
made the horny feeling stronger, but it didn't give the relief that
thigh masturbation had.
Her fingertips pressed down on the fat little pads and slid
downward. That felt better, and it helped a little more. She slid
her fingers back to the beginning and then pushed them toward each
other, squeezing her clitoris her _clitty_ between them. Her clitty
was hard. Her father had said it was like a tiny version of his
dick, and it sort of felt like it. Her fingertips met and squeezed
her hard little clitty between them.
She gasped at the wave of pleasure that radiated outward from
it like heat from a candle. It was like the warm feeling when she
was praised for acting like a grownup, but lots more intense.
She pulled her fingers back and then pushed them together
again. And again. And again. She began to understand why her
father liked having her stroke his dick so much it felt so good that
she didn't have words to describe the sensation. She was making the
horny feeling grow stronger, yet she was also relieving it at the
same time. That seemed odd, but she could worry about the reason for
that later. Or she could ask her father. He would know, and he
wouldn't think it was a dumb question, either.
That noise she was making a squishing noise when she squeezed
and a smacking noise when her fingers pulled back. She hadn't
urinated _peed_, the grownups would say. Then she remembered: had
her period started early? _Drat!_
She slid a fingertip into her split and down to her vaginal
opening. _Cunny_ was what Suzie had called it, and no, Suzie didn't
know why it was called that, either. As her fingertip slid along her
clitty the wonderful feeling seemed to grow ten times better. Her
eyes made big circles and she gasped, but she had to check her cunny.
She didn't want to get blood all over her sleeping bag if her period
had started, and as much liquid as she found between the two flaps
inside her split and at the entrance of her cunny, she just knew that
this was her strongest period yet.
She steeled herself before removing her finger, reminding
herself that nurses couldn't be squirmy about the sight of blood, and
then lifted it to where she could see...
...that it was covered in a clear liquid, not blood, that felt
something like her father's cum, but slicker. It must be her
"natural lubrication" that he had mentioned when she asked him about
the mechanics of sex, sort of like the natural lubrication that oozed
out of his dick after he got hard but before he came. She jumped up
and rushed to the bathroom for a towel to place under her butt to
keep from staining the sleeping bag. Then her fingers moved back to
her split.
She slid one finger between the two flaps and noticed that they
seemed not just thicker but also longer, too. Normally they were
even with her split, but now they seemed to stick out a little bit
past the edge of it. She slid the finger along her clitty again.
This time the wave of pleasure was like heat from a fireplace.
After a little experimentation she discovered the most
comfortable way to rub her clitty that gave her the most pleasure.
Strange: it wasn't the same as the way she rubbed her father's dick.
But he had said there were different ways to do it. After a while it
became uncomfortable, but she could dip her finger in the slippery
wet pool of natural lubrication and then go back to rubbing. Strange
how the horny feeling got better, yet got stronger and more demanding
at the same time. Strange, but fun because it felt really _good!_
She began to understand her father's reactions as she jacked
him off. She must be experiencing the same feelings. But what made
him cum, and how did _that_ feel when he did it?
Without conscious thought on her part, her fingertip dipped for
more lubrication and resumed rubbing along the side of the tiny hard
stick of her clitty. It felt really intense when she rubbed the tip
of it, but she could take only a few seconds of that before it became
uncomfortable, even with lubrication. But along the side and bottom
like this that must be what her father felt when she rubbed the sides
and bottom of his dick.
The feeling got stronger whenever she thought of her father's
dick. Her mind replayed the times she had jerked him off, and her
whole cunny felt like a giant spring was being tightened inside it.
She remembered the feel of his dick in her hand, the sight of the cum
shooting upward, it's hot wetness as it splashed down around and over
her hand, how slick his dick was when she began sliding her hand
along his shaft instead of working the loose skin up and down it.
The spring grew tighter and her clitty seemed to swell.
She thought of the kiss she placed on the dick of her sleeping
father.
The overwound spring exploded in a thousand pieces, each one
surfing through her body on a wave of super-wonderful pleasure that
she never dreamed even existed, let alone could be felt by anyone,
especially by young Wynter King. She felt her cunny spasm like a
charley horse in her leg, except that in her cunny it felt _good!_
Her clitty was the center of the universe, and wave after wave after
wave of pure, absolute, wonderful pleasure was pulsing out from it,
and she never ever wanted it to stop.
~ ~ ~
Richard awoke, though his eyes remained closed against the
light. The twist in his neck was becoming painful. He twisted his
head to the right and stretched it to relieve the kink that was
developing. He should have Wynter lower the head of the bed so he
could sleep comfortably, but she wasn't in the room. If she had
been, she'd have jumped to his side when he moved. Perhaps she was
preparing lunch. His stomach said it was time....
Soft, faint whimpers reached through his drowsiness and slapped
his mental face into full consciousness. There was no mistaking what
they were. His eyes opened. The noon sun was almost poking through
the clouds despite the heavy, wet flakes that were still cascading
from the clouds. He turned his head back to the left and raised his
head as much as he could.
Because of the bed and his left arm cast, he could see just
Wynter's head, shoulders, and the very upper part of her chest where
she lay on her sleeping bag. The swell of her growing breasts was
hidden by the arm cast, and there was no way he could move enough to
see around it. _Damn_. Her sweet sweater-meat excited him more than
any other pair of knockers he had ever seen, large or small. He
wasn't certain whether that was because of the forbidden aspect of
his family relationship to her, the forbidden aspect of her pre-teen
age, or just because they were so goddamned cute. All of the above,
perhaps.
Her eyes were squeezed shut and her lips were drawn back in a
grimace. Her right shoulder was moving, responding to the movement
of her hand which he knew was buried in her young furrow he could
hear the liquid, slurping sounds of her fingers moving in her wet
flesh. She was panting like Dragon on a warm day, with an occasional
moan or grunt slipping softly from her throat like an escaped
prisoner seeking freedom.
Richard suffered from mixed emotions. He had anticipated
having her sitting in the chair beside him where he could watch her
fingers discover the pleasures to be found in the honey-drenched
valley at the bottom of her delicious naked body, where he could
watch the expressions on her beautiful young face as she felt each
new thrill that her fingers could coax from the slippery wet toys she
had owned for eleven years but had never played with.
He was also happy that she had discovered the joys of
masturbation on her own. Children should make that discovery
themselves. He'd been half her age when he discovered that he could
have more fun with the Beast than with the entire contents of his toy
chest. If she weren't so damned isolated during parts of the year,
then perhaps she'd have heard about the act from some little friends
who had already discovered that a finger in the right spot beat a
Barbie doll hands down.
He again was shamed by his guilt over the disadvantages Wynter
had experienced because he and Angie had wanted to indulge themselves
with this isolated house. But that would be corrected soon enough.
He'd told Angie that they would be moving when he was able to resume
a normal life and to think about where she wanted to move. She
hadn't understood why, and she didn't have time to stay on the phone
to talk, but she knew that he was serious; she knew he had already
decided for Wynter's sake, and that nothing she could say would
change his mind. Not that she would try to change it once she
understood.
His attention was jerked back to the present by the strained
groan coming from below the foot of the bed. His daughter's dark red
face was now turned toward him. Her blonde eyebrows had been pulled
together by the grimace distorting her fragile beauty. In the quiet
of the room he could just hear the squishy sounds that indicated how
rapidly her fingers were now moving in her juicy young twat. A soft,
"Ah!" was repeated and then stretched into a long "Eeee!" sound as
her head thrashed back to her left.
And then she came.
If his hands had been free, Richard would have been trying to
beat the Beast back to life, but it was as dead as last Tuesday's
road kill. But then he'd have been distracted from the spectacle
barely visible to him.
He thought words were mixed in with the soft grunts, groans,
and gasps that his young daughter voiced as her first ever orgasm
rippled throughout her, but they weren't clear enough for him to be
certain.
She slowly wound down, and her "aaah"s of pleasure devolved
into happy giggles that made him ache to hold her while she was still
a child and told him that her childhood would end far too soon to
suit him.
Her shoulders showed him the progress as tension left her body.
Soon the vowel sounds ceased, but she continued to pant for air. Her
head lolled back to her right, but her eyes remained closed for
several more seconds.
Dragon had arisen when she started whimpering. He stood by her
head and sniffed. Deciding she was apparently okay, he lay down by
the top of her sleeping bag, just in case he were needed for an
emergency. He put his chin on his forepaws and watched her.
When Wynter's eyes opened, they were looking directly into
Richard's. They went wide and she gasped.
He had anticipated it. "I see we left the classroom and went
to the lab exercise," he said with a huge, heartfelt smile. "We did
good!"
The moment's hesitation on her glowing face vanished in a smile
all white toothed and coral lipped and beautiful. "The classroom was
closed," she explained, pleased with how grown-up she sounded, "but I
didn't want to get farther behind on my lessons."
"I liked that last chord. Was that an F-seventh augmented
fifth?"
To his surprise she didn't laugh. Instead, her face jumped to
the panicky expression she wore when she decided she had made a
mistake. _Now what have I said?_
She bolted upright and scooted back so that he could see her
face. He told himself to concentrate on that and ignore those
heavenly young titty mounds for a moment or two. "Oh, Daddy, I
didn't mean to make noise and wake you up!"
"But you didn't, honey. A neck spasm woke me up, otherwise I'd
have slept right through it." Well, that might not be exactly
truthful because her orgasm itself was a little loud, but perhaps he
might have slept through that, too. He was exhausted, after all.
But her face returned to normal, then to mother hen's look of concern.
"You have a neck cramp? Do you want me to rub it?" She rose
quickly to her feet.
His eyes locked on the small blonde thatch. The hair next to
her slit gleamed wetly. Peripheral vision noticed that her head
dipped as she froze in place and looked down.
"Oh." Her head came back up, but his eyes wouldn't couldn't
rise to meet hers. The Beast stirred, and she smiled. "Do you like
looking at me like this, too?" she asked in true innocence.
Richard's mind raced to find the right thing to say, but his
mouth opened and blurted, "That has to be the cutest little pussy
that was ever created. It never occurred to stupid me that you were
growing hair on it."
Wynter felt the warm glow spread through her. "_Pussy_."
Another word for her to remember. "I'm glad you like it," she said
with a shy smile, forcing her head to stay up so that she could look
him in the eye like a grownup. His eyes however were still locked on
her split. Her pussy. "But Daddy, what about your neck?"
"Huh? Oh. It's okay now."
She wanted to get closer to him, but then he wouldn't be able
to see her pussy, and he really seemed to be enjoying looking at it,
the way he liked looking at her tits. Her mind raced for a solution.
"Daddy, do you want me to sit on the edge of the bed so you can see
my pussy better?"
"Yes," he whispered. She was surprised because her father
suddenly sounded like a kid, and looked like one, too, the way he
stared with wide eyes.
She perched on the edge of the bed with her left foot on the
mattress, then flopped the leg over his left leg, but not bumping the
right one in the cast. She had just enough room to hook her heel
onto the edge of the mattress and spread her legs for him to see her
pussy. When she did so, the horny ache in her clitty returned to
life.
"Guess what?" she said in an excited voice. "I think I came!"
Her father's eyes roamed over her pussy. It was all wet with
her natural lubrication smeared over the half-inch long, fine blonde
hair around her split, and she wanted to go wash and dry it for him,
but he seemed to enjoy looking at it anyway. "Honey, I know you did."
"Really?" Her wide-eyed smile faded into a look of
satisfaction. "It was_ awesome_! Thank you for telling me that I
could do that. I never knew it would feel so so awesome!"
"It was my pleasure. Yours, too, I see," he added in an
exaggerated voice. They laughed together, and then he spoke quietly,
as if embarrassed. "Honey, next time you need to get off, maybe
maybe you could sit where I could watch?" If he had tried to hide
the hopeful tone in his voice, he had failed miserably.
"Sure," she said. "I just wish your hands were free so that
you could do me the way I do you. If if you'd like to, I mean."
She watched his eyes change to the way they looked when he was
trying to decide something hard. He was quiet for many long seconds,
not moving except for his eyes. She guessed that whatever it was, it
must be something very important, so she remained seated there with
her legs spread and the itchy horny feeling growing stronger. She
was thinking about rubbing her clitty with her fingers when he
finally spoke.
"Wynter," he finally said in a quiet voice, "have you ever
heard of oral sex?"
CONTINUED IN PART TWO: DADDY'S LITTLE STUDENT
Copyright 2003, 2005 Russell Hoisington
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