
Archive name: lesson
Authors name: Fitfully Yours(fitfully_yours@hotmail.com)
Story title:  Mandi's Lesson

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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2011.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Thank you for your consideration.
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Author's Note
If you are not old enough to read stories describing sexual activity, go away.  If you are not allowed, legal or otherwise, to read stories describing sexual activity, get lost.  If you are morally offended about stories concerning consensual sex between an adult and a child, pick a different story.  If you are ignorant enough to think any part of this story is in any way, shape, or form, non-fiction, get lost.  If you think this story is a good thing to do in real life, go kill yourself.

As an author, I appreciate any kind of constructive feedback for my work.  I do not write for profit, so the only payment I get is knowing what my readers think.

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They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I can tell you, my good intentions may not have led me to hell, but it definitely led me somewhere.  I am a normal, everyday guy you might see on your way to work, or at a ball game, or the movies.  In fact, I'm so average, no one really looks twice.  They don't see the former athlete that had won All State High School Wrestling, the husband of a former beauty pageant participant (she never won, but my wife did place fifth or better in six out of ten pageants), the father of two daughters (6 and 11), or a man who has developed a condition where he cannot make love to his wife without first taking a little blue pill.  That's ok, though.  I don't mind being beneath other people's notice; in fact, I'm grateful for it.  As a wrestling star in high school, I surrounded myself with people who I thought were going to help me get where I wanted to go.  Of course, that didn't happen.  Three of my "friends" got arrested for dealing pot, and I would have been there if I hadn't been on a date with Kathy (my wife), I would have been there and been arrested as well.  So for me, unnoticed is a good thing.

Anyway, one Friday, I drove up to the house, looking forward to relaxing in front of the TV, maybe drink a beer or two and see what games were on.  
All that vanished in an instant the moment I opened the door.  I was met by the sound of two females shouting at the top of their lungs - well, to be honest, my wife was shouting; my older daughter, Mandi's voice was more a shriek than yell.  

"I don't care where you got them; you'll go change this instant!"

"I don't have to!"

Oh, shit, I thought, now what?

I turned the corner just in time to catch a wooden spoon that had been flying across the room.  What surprised me was that my wife had thrown it at our daughter.  I calmly walked it over to the sink, dropped it in, and turned to face the combatants.

"Ok, will someone please tell me what's going on here?"

"She's ruining my life," came from our daughter at the same time "I'm sick of her not listening" came from my wife.

"Stop," I said calmly, and their bickering stopped.  "Mandi, go wait in the living room.  Amy, you wait in the breezeway."  I watched as they both slunk in different directions.  I'm not big on discipline; instead, I listen to what my family members, even our younger daughter, Katie, and make my decision based on logic.  I don't always side with my wife, but rarely will she complain my decision, and she hasn't ever made a decision for the family without at least checking with me first.

After letting them settle for a few minutes, I went to the breezeway to talk to Amy.  "First of all, where is Katie?"

"Up in her room."

"Now, tell me what this is all about."

She looked at me like I had just asked how to boil water.  "Are you serious?" she hissed.

Instead of retorting like she obviously expected, I stood there looking at her until she started talking again.

"Don't tell me you approve of how she's dressed!"

That threw me.  "What do you mean?"

"Didn't you see what she's wearing?"

"Can't say that I did, babe.  I was too busy ducking flying spoons."

She managed to look a little embarrassed at that, at the same time starting to cool down.

"So you were trying to get her to change her clothes, right?"  Amy nodded.  "Then let's go and talk to her about it, ok?"

Without waiting for her to reply, I walked out of the room.  As soon as I reached the living room, I understood what Amy was talking about.  My eleven year old daughter was sitting on the couch in a pink and white striped tube top and matching miniskirt.  She must have seen the look on my face, because she immediately started protesting.

"Stop," I said when she paused to catch her breath.  "I haven't told you to do anything yet, have I?" She shook her head.  Now, your mom says you won't go up and change like she asked you to.  Why not?"

"Cause Kevin is taking me to the movies," she said, not quite as forceful as before.

"Who is Kevin?"

"He's a boy from school."

"And how were you supposed to get to the movies?"

"He just got his license last week and he said his parents let him use the car whenever he wants."

"His Drivers License?" my wife screamed.  "Just How Old..." she started before I raised my hand.

"How old is he?" I asked in a calm voice.

"He's sixteen," she stated smugly.  "He works in the library, and I love him and he loves me."  (Amy snorted her laughter here, but didn't say anything.)

"And are you having sex?"

"Daddy!  I don't do sex yet!  That's gross!"

"Keep dressing like that, you'll be raped in no time," my wife muttered.

"Mommy, I know how to defend myself," Mandi stated, and that was the statement that started us down the path paved with good intentions.

"David, wrestle her."

"Huh?"

"Pin her to the ground," Amy said.  "I want you to show her how easily you can overpower her."

I looked at my daughter.  Eleven years old, barely over four feet tall, maybe seventy pounds, against my forty years, six foot six, two hundred or so pounds.  "Amy, you can't be serious."

"I can do it, daddy," Mandi piped up.  

"There are some rules, though," my wife said.  "If you lose against dad, you are grounded, in the house, for a week."

Mandi appeared to think it over.  "Then if I get away, I get to go out with Kevin tonight, in what I'm wearing."

Now it was my wife's turn to think it over.  "Fine," she said.  "David, pin her."

I shrugged my shoulders and stood up, letting Mandi stand up in front of me.  Amy said "go!" and I grabbed Mandi by her shoulders, pushing her backwards without letting her go.  I gently but forcefully guided her down to the floor and held her shoulders to the ground, ignoring the way her lower body twisted around the floor.  

"See," I said, looking down at her.  "You're pinned."

"Daddy, you pinned my shoulders, but I can still fight against rape."

I looked at Amy, and she nodded.  "Pin her all the way, just like you were really raping her."

I shrugged my shoulders and move my lower body over Mandi's.  I wasn't worried about it - after all, I hadn't taken my blue pill.  My weight pushed her legs down and apart, although she did get one good knee up, she missed my genitals all together.  

She struggled to get free, but it was obvious she wasn't going to succeed, and my wife claimed my (and hers, apparently) victory.  In the few seconds before that claim of victory, though, something happened that was both disturbing and amazing - my dick started getting hard.  Not just a little, mind you, but from soft to rock hard in less time than it takes to scream "rape".  It was like it was saying, "Blue pill?  We don't need no stinkin blue pill!"

As soon as my wife said I had won, I popped off my daughter's prone body, thankful I was wearing jeans so Amy couldn't spot my hard on.  I think my daughter noticed it though (although I have to admit it would have been tough for her not to notice), because for a moment she lay there, legs spread and a look of ... of ... well, I'm not sure what.  I think it was disbelief, but at that moment I thought it might be shocked horror, and the next words out of her mouth would be to denounce me as a pervert to my wife.

She didn't say a word, however.  She stood up, walked to her room, and an hour later came downstairs in a pair of pajamas that she was clearly outgrowing.  We went through that night without any more confrontations, not bothering to tell Katie why the furniture was a little out of place, or why Mandi wasn't talking much.  

That week passed without incident, Mandi behaving like an angel.  That's not to say there wasn't a little tension, but compared to the previous Friday, Saturday through Thursday was a peace filled vacation.

Then Friday came around.  Again, I was met by screams of rage and shrieks of frustration.  As I rounded the corner, I realized why my wife was angry; Mandi was wearing a skirt short enough to be seen on a cheerleader, and what looked like the top for a bikini.  A bikini that had fit her perhaps two years ago, and did nothing but accentuate the tiny little breasts that had developed (quite) recently.

I sent them to their own areas again, following my wife into the breezeway.  "You think she hasn't learned her lesson, right?"

"Does it look like it?" she demanded.

"You did say she was grounded for a week, and that week is up," I reminded her.

"She's not leaving this house dressed like that!" she hissed.

"What would you like me to do - wrestle her again?"  That was meant to be a joke, but apparently Amy had lost her sense of humor.

"Yes, I want you to, and this time, try and put a little force into it.  I want her to know we aren't joking around!"

Instead of waiting for me, she stormed out of the breezeway and into the living room.  I followed close behind - when she gets this mad, I have to make sure I stand between her and the kids.  When we reached the living room, Mandi and Katie were sitting next to each other, whispering.  I grabbed Amy's arm before she could snap at the six year old, then calmly said, "Katie, honey?  Can you go upstairs for a little bit? Mommy, Daddy and Mandi have to talk, and there are some things you are a little too young to hear."

"Ok, daddy," she said, skipping up the stairs, around the corner, and into her room, shutting the door behind her like we taught her to do.

"Ok, care to explain yourself?"

"You said I was only grounded for a week, so I should be able to go out today," she said.

"But why are you wearing those clothes?" I asked.

"Cause they're comfy!" she shouted, and I had to hold my hand up to stop her.  "I'm sorry," she muttered.

"Your mom wants the same deal as last week.  If I can pin you, you're grounded for a week, and if you can get away, you can go on your date wearing what you are.  Is that fair?"

"I can beat you this time," Mandi said with confidence, leaping to her feet.  Amy looked pissed off beyond anything I had ever seen, but this had been her idea, after all, so she couldn't complain.  I got to my feet, and the moment I did, Mandi tried darting out of the room.  I barely caught one outstretched arm, and dragged her back to me.  As she stumbled back into me, I felt the little girl try her best to grab at the crotch of my pants, but I twisted away, not wanting my nuts popped.  

I wrapped my arms around her arms and torso, locking my hands in front of her.  I lifted my daughter off the ground and not quite slammed her to the ground (belly-to-back suplex, for all you wrestling fans).  She landed on her stomach, of course, but I flipped her to her back and sat on my haunches over her stomach.  She reached up and tried to scratch me, but I grabbed her hands, and with both her wrists trapped in one of my hands, I pinned her arms above her head.  With my other hand, I reached between her legs and pinched the nerve that runs along the inner thigh, and her leg shot out to the side.  I wedged it in place with my knee, then forced her other leg out with my hand, then other knee, and stopped.

"Keep going," my wife said, as I balanced on hands and knees above the prone body of our eleven year old daughter, her budding breasts stretched to nothing with her arms above her head, her panties showing, and her face flushed with exertion.  

"Are you sure?" I asked, knowing three things that she could not know and still ask me to continue.  First, I had a raging erection.  Second, I was just moments away from cumming.  Third, sometime during the battle, my zipper had come undone, and my hard dick was pressing against my underwear, not quite enough to push through the denim fly, but enough to force it out of my pants at least if I applied any pressure.

"Yes, I'm sure!  I'm not going to listen to any bullshit about how you were in the wrong position or no leverage, or whatever stupid thing she's cooking up in that mind of hers.  I want her to see exactly how easy it is for men to make you do things they want, even if you don't want to."

I shrugged, and then lowered my lower body onto Mandi's, hoping the girl would stay quiet about this as well as she had last week.  As my dick pressed against her, the underwear bulged slightly out of my jeans.  What I didn't expect was her panties giving way slightly.  I felt the shift, and the definite heat of her immature little pussy.  She struggled, (in effect humping herself against me) but didn't give any sign that something wasn't right, and by that point I couldn't have stopped even if she had said "mom, daddy's penis is trying to get in my pussy."

"Are you ready to give up," my wife asked Mandi.

"No," she panted, trying to buck my hips off her.  I used my hips to push her back down, and realized that if we had been naked, her last movement would have looked exactly like a woman in the throes of passion trying to get a man’s entire dick inside her.  With that thought, I lost control, cumming in my underwear.  Almost instantly Mandi's struggles stopped, although her hips still pressed up against me.  There was no way she could miss the pulsating bar of iron trying to press two layers of cloth into her pussy.  Instead of exclaiming her shock, however, she tried freeing her hands (which she almost succeeded doing in my distraction).  My orgasm ended, the pulsating stopped, and Mandi closed her eyes.  "Daddy wins," she whispered.

"Good," Amy said, standing up and walking toward the kitchen.  "Get upstairs and get changed for supper."

I let her up, wanting to talk to her, but too embarrassed to.  I had just molested my daughter, and I didn't know how to talk to her anymore.  Mandi didn't talk either.  She just walked up the stairs and went to her room.  

Twenty minutes later, Katie came down and announced that Mandi had gone to bed, claiming a stomach ache.  "Pissed of she didn't win, more likely," my wife said.  I could only hope that was the case and not because I had done such an inappropriate thing to her.

Mandi seemed to be her old self by Monday, not acting out and not moping around after school.  Instead, she seemed energized despite being grounded, planning her sister's afternoon of crafts and games.  Amy didn't know what to think, shaking her head in wonderment.

"I'm not sure what's going on with her, but she's all yours.  I have to go to the store, so I should be back in an hour."  She grabbed her keys and headed off to do the weekly grocery shopping.

Five minutes after the car pulled out of the drive, Mandi stepped in front of me.  "Daddy, can I ask you a couple questions?"

Dread filling my heart, I slowly nodded.  "Where's your sister?"

"She's up in my room watching a movie."  She settled on the couch next to me.  "Um, about Friday," she began.  I went to interrupt, but she held up her hand.  I don't think anyone had ever gotten away with that with me, but the guilt of what had happened Friday gave her an edge.  "I was talking to a couple of my friends about what happened - no I didn't say anything about you; they think I have a boyfriend.  Anyway, I asked them about boys and sex, and they all had answers, but I think half of what they know isn't right, cause Allison seemed to know things, so I asked her separate, and she said her and her daddy have been having sex since she turned eight, and sometimes it hurts her a lot cause she doesn't really want to do it, but her mommy told her to do what her daddy said, and then she died, and Allison has to do what her daddy says, even sex, and she said ..."

"Whoa, wait a minute," I said, finally interjecting.  "Are you saying Allison Franks, the girl right down the street, is having... being... getting... with her dad?"

Mandi nodded.  "She says that if his thingy gets hard, it hurts a lot unless he finishes, and when he finishes, his thingy leaks stuff out, but only she can help him finish, and only in her privates or in her mouth."  She looked at me like saying those things embarrassed her, but she didn't look embarrassed at all.  "Does it hurt?  I mean, if it gets all hard and you don't finish?"

"Before I answer, you have to promise never to tell anyone about this.  That includes your friends, your mom, everyone, ok?"  Mandi nodded her agreement.  "Ok, first of all, it can hurt a little.  Guys call that blue balls, because their testicles - um, do you know what testicles are?"

Mandi shook her head.  "Ok, testicles are things that hang below a man's penis that holds sperm.  Anyway, if a man get excited and doesn't ... what did you call it, finish?  Ok, fine.  If a man doesn't finish, the testicles can hurt because they made sperm and now it's not being used. Do you understand?"

"I think so.  Allison called it blue balls too, but I thought she was just making it up."

"No, those are real." 

"Oh.  Does yours leak stuff when you finish?"

"Yes, that's what holds the sperm I told you about."

"I wonder if that's what mommy was talking about."

"Huh?"

"Mommy was doing the laundry Saturday, and she was saying how you had stuff in your underpants, and then she went upstairs, and when she came back down, she was laughing and said that they were all there and she couldn't understand why she would think an impotent bastard like him could be cheating.  What is impotent daddy?"

I swallowed.  "It means I have a tough time getting my penis hard."

Mandi looked at me like I was crazy.  "It got hard Friday, didn't it?  And the Friday before?"

"Yes, honey, but I've had some trouble doing that when your mommy and I are trying to have sex."

"Is it true you have to finish inside a girl's privates or mouth?  I think that sounds gross."

"No man has to do that inside a girl.  It sounds like Allison's dad lied to her to get what he wanted.  And it's not gross as long as the person washes well."

"Oh.  Have you ever thought about having sex with me?"

I looked at my eleven year old daughter in all seriousness.  "Before a couple of weeks ago, I had never thought about you as a growing young woman.  Even now, though, I would never, and I mean never force you to do stuff like Allison's dad does to her."

Mandi nodded, then stood up.  "I'm going to go upstairs now.  Good night."  She gave me a peck on the cheek and walked quickly up the stairs.  I heard Katie protest as the movie was turned off, then silence as doors were shut.

Then no problems, no arguments, and no more questions from Mandi for the rest of the week.  Friday, I got home, and no shouting, no arguments - it was peaceful when I walked through the door, and I was hoping it would stay quiet for the rest of the night.  

That didn't quite happen.  Two hours after I got home, after I had changed from my work clothes into a tee shirt and sweats, the kitchen exploded in loud voices.  Apparently, Mandi tried sneaking out, this time in both parts of the bikini with a scarf tied around her waist in a type of makeshift skirt.  

As soon as I walked into the kitchen, Amy pointed at me, then Mandi, then at the living room.  Without a word, we walked through the door.  I was desperately hoping she wouldn't force me to wrestle Mandi, though.  In sweat pants, there was no way I could hide any sort of erection.

My wife turned to me.  "Pin her.  On the ground.  Now.  None of that crap from last week.  Supper will be done in thirty minutes, so if you can't pin her in that time, neither of you will eat.  Got it?"

With that, she turned around and strode from the room.  I looked at my daughter, she looked at me, then she moved like greased lightning.  Directly at me.  

Startled, I returned her hug, and reveled in the feel of her arms going around me.  "We have to wrestle," she whispered.  "If we don't mommy won't let us eat."  I shook my head in confusion.  "Come on, daddy, throw me on the ground like last week.  

I repeated my movements from last week, ending again with me lying between Mandi's legs, her arms pinned above her head.  Amy peeked in the room once while I was trying to get Mandi to spread her legs, but that was the only resistance the eleven year old showed.  As soon as Amy ducked back into the kitchen, Mandi relaxed her legs, and I was once again lying with my hardon running along the crease of her pussy.

"Go ahead and finish daddy, it's ok."

I started pumping my hips, humping my eleven year old daughter into the living room floor.  I was close to cumming, but Mandi stopped me.  "Daddy, don't finish yet.  Mommy will see the stuff in your underpants and wonder about it again."  She pulled her hands, and I let them go.

I thought she was going to try and get up, but instead her hands went between us, and I was amazed to feel her hands pawing at the waistband of my sweats!  "If it's outside your pants, mommy won't know what it is," she explained as she grasped my hard dick and pulled it free from my pants.  

"Ok, now finish," she whispered.  My naked dick could feel the heat baking out of her immature little pussy, and I quickly pressed against her, reveling in the feel of her silky bikini bottoms rubbing the upper surface of my dick.

"Ouch," she whispered.  "That pinched me."

I shifted my hips and started humping, but she instantly started complaining that I was pinching her.  I started lifting myself off her, but Mandi held me down.  "Hold on, let me try something else."

She reached between us again, adjusting the way my dick lay against the thin cloth of her bikini, then sighed in frustration.  "You gotta lift up a little, daddy."

I raised my hips, and she adjusted me again.  The head of my dick felt strange, but she said, "Ok, daddy, now try it," and I could only do what she said.  

I pressed forward, almost desperate for the feeling of her heat against the top of my dick, when two things shattered their way through everything.  First was the hiss of pain from Mandi escaping through her clenched teeth.  Second was the fact that even though her arms were currently wrapped around my chest, her hands surrounded my dick in a vice grip that was both extremely tight and wet.  

Then I realized what that vice actually was.  Here I was, not thirty feet from where my wife was making supper, on top of my eleven year old daughter, with my dick buried to the hilt in her underage little pussy.

I tried to pull out, but with her arms wrapped around my chest, hands locked behind my back, and her feet locked around my ass, all I accomplished was lifting her off the ground, my dick firmly planted inside her.  

"Don't, daddy.  If you stop now, then you hurt me for nothing, and you have pain too.  Please finish.  Finish before mommy comes back in."

I looked her in her eyes, and even though they were filled with pain, I could tell she was serious, so I lowered her back to the floor.  "Ok, baby, if you're sure."

She nodded and loosened her legs a little, and I pulled out until only the head was inside her pussy.  I pushed forward, sinking into her again, thinking she was the tightest woman, well girl, really, that I had ever been with.  

I pulled out again, and then pushed back in, realizing that this beautiful creature beneath me wouldn't have been possible without the dick that was now buried inside her.  I could feel the cum bubbling in my balls, getting ready to fire.

I pulled out, feeling every ridge of muscle on the inside of my baby's pussy, then pressed back in, fucking her eleven year old frame to the floor.  I pressed harder than ever, the familiar feel of orgasm overtaking me, then culminating with jet after jet of semen shooting from the tip of my dick and straight against Mandi's cervix.  

With a final, gasping shudder, I collapsed on top of her, making sure I wasn't smothering her.  After a moment or two I became aware of my surroundings.  Here I was (still) laying on top of my underage daughter, with my still hard dick buried balls deep in her underage pussy, still only thirty feet or so away from my wife who was probably just finishing dinner, and my cum was seeping into my eleven year olds womb.  

I struggled to raise myself off her, and this time she did not fight me.  She simply reached between us again and adjusted her bathing suit bottoms so fast her pussy was covered almost before my dick had fully withdrawn.  I looked down and noticed my dick was bright with our combined sex fluids, and pink with her virginal blood.  What I had done hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry.  I don't know how I could have ..."

"Stop, daddy.  It's ok.  I wanted it, and I did it, not you."

"But I shouldn't have started it in the first place," I moaned, knowing she was going to hate me forever.  "Don't worry, that will never happen again!"  I lifted myself off her and tucked my dick into my pants, still kneeling between her spread legs.

"Daddy, we can do it again - if you want to at least." She looked down at her undeveloped body.  "I know I don't really have boobies yet, and I'm probably no good at sex, but if you want to all you gotta do is tell me and I'll go and get my almost naked clothes and make sure mommy sees me - I don't mind getting in trouble if I do it for you, and ..."

This time I interrupted.  "First of all, I think you're beautiful, so don't even think of putting yourself down.  Second, I have never felt that good,"

"Even with mommy?"

"Even with mommy.  I have never felt anything near that good in my entire life.  I would do that with you every day if I could."

"I think mommy would get suspicious if I got in trouble for clothes every day, though."

"Yeah," I said.  "Not only that, but I doubt you mom would leave us alone that long every day either, don't you?  That's beside the point.  I don't care what your friend said, daddies are not supposed to have sex with their daughters, especially when they are as young as you are."

"So does that mean daddies can have sex with their daughters when they get older?"

"Most people say no, but..."

"Well, you like it, and I like making you feel good, so if I say it's ok, and you really like it, we can do sex whenever you want to, ok?"

I nodded, not able to speak.  My eleven year old daughter had just given me an open invitation to her body whenever I wanted, and no matter how much my mind may rebel against the idea of sex with Mandi; my body was reacting like it had been on a sex strike for the last ten years, tenting the front of my sweats.  Mandi raised herself onto her elbows, looking at my obvious erection.  "Did you want to do sex again, daddy?"

The question almost drove me out of my mind, and in that instant I wanted to fuck her, not just three or four pumps and filling her with cum, but fucking and fucking, hours without end and damn the consequences, but that instant passed as I realized just what the consequences would end up being; divorce, prison time, never seeing my family again, etc.  

I reached for her, and somehow managed to grab for her arms instead of her breast buds, and helped her get to her feet.  "Honey," I said, thinking quick, but hard, "I would, without a doubt, love to do sex with you again, but do you really think we would have time before your mommy comes back in?"  Mandi shook her head.  "Maybe later, ok?"

Mandi nodded.  "But won't you get blue balls or whatever you called it?"

"No, not after what we already did, ok?  Now, go upstairs, clean this really good," I said, gently touching the cloth now covering her little pussy, "and change your clothes for supper, ok?"

I rose up on my knees, and pulled her to me.  My head was at her breasts, and I rested my head against her chest.  I could hear her heart beating fast.

"I love you, daddy," Mandi said, letting go and leaning forward for a kiss.  While it was definitely an innocent kiss, it was also not a "proper" father/daughter kiss.  Her mouth pressed hard against mine for several seconds before she turned and ran upstairs.  Bemused, I watched her run.  It was already difficult to believe I had just had sex with my daughter, but the truth of it was one I would never deny - at least to myself.  And, if we did "do sex" again as Mandi said, I would have (hopefully) reminder after reminder.

To Be Continued

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As I stated at the beginning, this is entirely fiction.  I write fiction, and do not believe fiction should be censored, but neither should it be followed.  If you have an urge to have sex with a child, seek immediate help, or cut off your pecker.  Kids need to be cherished, not ravaged, protected, not exploited.  

As an author, I appreciate any kind of constructive feedback for my work.  I do not write for profit, so the only payment I get is knowing what my readers think.

Fitfully Yours(fitfully_yours@hotmail.com)
