My Little Cheerleader

I was still looking at her. "Hmmm."

"The next two weeks, the coach wants us to try a technique to bring our dances up a notch. Every girl agreed. I agreed, and . . ."

She looked down at the floor, her cheeks were flushed. I loved the outfit she had. The weather was hot and she had on a sort of wrap around halter and a thin fabric sweat pant that was flowing loose around her legs. She was barefoot.

"Well that's alright. We can adapt to whatever . . ."

"I don't think you'll be able to help me with my routines for awhile."

She was genuinely sad. Forlorn. I went over and sat by her.

"What? Did she tell you that, what? Is she. . . she doesn't want anyone else helping you." I was mildly worried. I felt guilty. Did anyone suspect? "Am I steering you wrong?"

"No no, she loves how I move. She calls me a natural. It's been great. Perfect."

"It's not that."

Another pause.

"She wants us girls to do our routines . . . naked." She looked at me. The word sunk in. I flashed on her, could not help it, was picturing her perfectly. The clothes melting away. I knew her body that well. I didn't have to see.

I felt myself growing aroused, my hands trembling. My heart rising into my throat, I felt warm. Just the thought of . . . I didn't move. I remained calm. I tried to be nonchalant, "Oh, yes. Well that would be . . ."

"She says that the focus is then only on the body. That any embarrassment you feel for your body gets dealt with. Dance is the body. . . She said it's how professionals will practice, and so. . . I'm sorry."

She was truly sad. "You can do, help me with everything else. It's not you. I promise."

I held her hand. She looked at the floor. "It was fun dad. I really need you." And under her breath, "This sucks."

I said completely from underwater, I felt like I was swimming up from somewhere deep beneath the house, "Well." I was still holding her hand, "I don't see . . . how that would necessarily stop us. If . . ."

She was looking at me, eyes wide. Startled almost.

How could I make this seem even remotely reasonable.

"We've worked so hard. I think I have helped, and I could maybe keep helping. We should be able to find a way."

"I would be too uncomfortable."

"Well that's that then. But . . . " I pressed on, "You know, that is part of what she is trying to get you through isn't it? She wants your movement to have utter confidence. I understand that. I can help there. It's . . . It's not a big deal . . . not really. It's natural. I think I could . . . don't let my discomfort stop you . . . or yours."

There was silence. Tension. She took her hand away. I wanted to somehow lighten the mood and I said, "Besides, I HAVE seen you naked before you know."

She looked at me, smiled, laughed. Let out a breath. "Ha!"

I was relieved.

"Yeah when I was like seven."

"Not quite. I've seen you SINCE then."

She threw her hair back. I was being playful. She was sitting staring at me like 'since when?'

I pressed on, hoping this would not backfire, "Your not a prude Sara. You sleep naked don't you."

"How do you know that??"

What was I doing.

"And . . . " I continued in a light hearted voice, "When you go to the bathroom at night, how often do you put on a robe?"

Her eyes went wide and she jumped up on her knees, "Oh my God. You . . . "

"By accident, totally by accident. But . . . So . . . there you are. I have ALREADY seen you naked Sara, within the last year."

She had her hand to her mouth. She was laughing. "Oh - my - God! I am so sorry. I thought everyone was asleep." She was shaking her head. Hiding her face in her hands.

"You never told me this before."

"No. Not exactly a topic that one can bring up out of the blue is it. Good morning! I saw you naked last night."

She was laughing again.

"No." She said through her hand.

"No. I just quickly turned back around and got out of there. But you know, when your daughter starts to talk about dancing naked - well, then I guess then . . . it seems to be the time to bring it up. So there you are, I've already seen you."

She was smiling, looking to the side and thinking, nodding her head. Pressing her hands together, tugging her skirt.

"I can't picture how I can do it . . . without you. That's why it was . . . "

"So upsetting. I could tell. I can tell. Well, what do YOU want. Don't think about it. What do you want?"

She bit her lower lip.

"I want you to help me."

***********

It was the moment of truth.

The practice we had decided was necessary, that I could help.

But we also knew we had to be careful, quiet. Her coach couldn't know, my wife - her mother - couldn't know. Nobody could know. How would a father explain coaching his naked daughter. I kept telling myself it was the right thing to do. But my heart, my heart betrayed me - beating as it was with anticipation this warm afternoon.

She walked into the room, locked the door. The tape player was on a table to her right. She was wearing her white robe. Her hair was somewhat disheveled, her cheeks glowed red. She seemed uncomfortable tugging at the tie.

"Ok." I said. "Well, Here we are. We can do this."

She was padding at the far side of the room. I continued, "The beginning, at first will be hardest. Then, this is exactly what you need to get over hon. Discomfort with your body."

I patted the couch. She stepped toward me. "Here. Here, let me brush your hair."

She set down with her back to me.

"Calm you."

"I have never had such butterflies," she whispered out, glancing back at me and away as I stroked her hair down her back softly and slowly. She was shaking her head, she began to laugh.

"Really. It's not a big deal. Don't think about. . . "

"Ha! This is crazy. Oh man oh man oh man!"

"It'll be just fine." I was looking at the small of her back. I knew she was naked under that robe.

I was already hard.

"Yeah, easy for you to say. Your not stripping for your daughter." She said it with a wry smile.

Her voice, the words, my anticipation was giving me a tremble I could not hide.

"I'm nervous too sweet. I am. . . Here, ok then."

She looked back at me.

"Go on. Open your robe. Face away. I'll see you from the back.

She untied the front and pulled it back slowly, I watched it rise over her shoulders and then fall down her back. She pulled her arms from the sleeves and I finished brushing her hair as she set there naked before me.

She said, "Rub my back dad. I think it will make me feel better."

And I did, I began to softly rub her shoulders and down her back, feeling lower and lower down to where she sat, to her hips, wrapping my fingers around her hip bone pressing my thumb in at each side; down the arch of her back to the crack of her ass, below the line of where her skirt would be, below the line of her 'pants.' I stroked her shoulder blades and down her arms.

She sighed and moaned. "I like this you know. I like your massages."

"That's good. This is working."

"I like it too much."

I was silent again, let it go by, and she rose from the sofa her nude form rising from the crumpled robe that lay on the sofa between my legs. Oh, what a glorious sight.

She walked a few steps away and then turned around, her dark little puss flashing into view. Perfectly coifed. She trimmed her pussy. I never would have guessed. That little space between her legs, her pussy pouting down, low beneath her navel. Her breasts were stunning, they were small but lay like tear drops, her nipples were pink and poking out, she was hard. She was flushed and smiling nervously.

"There, the first. This is it! Ha! I'm naked." She was shaking her hands.

I nodded.

"I'm fucking naked . . . in front of my dad." She laughed.

She walked back and forth in the room, pushed the button on the radio. The music started as she was walking away, she turned again and turned it off. The nervous energy flashing from her eyes and hair. She turned and walked back to me, turned again. Pacing.

"Ok, ok, ok, we can do this." She took a breath, caught my eye. "I'm feeling better. Ok."

"I told you." And she continued to pace.

My erection was tenting my pants.

She was pacing and glancing my way. She saw me and covered her arms over her chest, "Your liking this a little too much dad."

I blushed crimson.

"I'm sorry." I covered myself with her robe. "It's just that. . . I'm nervous too. You can't . . I can't control. . . "

She finished, "That!" Pointing her finger, she laughed. "Your mind is second."

She went over and turned on the music again, letting it reach a certain point and then off again.

She became more matter of fact, "I want to start with the harder piece and go to the easier piece in case we need to stop. So here it goes." She pushed it on again.

The music was beginning.

And she began walking to her spot as I could still hear her mumbling, "Ok ok.. . . . "

And the song went to the point of starting and she stopped talking. She threw her arms back behind her hips at the side, and arched her back, then stepping back and forth and in a circling motion a complex series of steps. Marching, knees raised. Her breasts moving freely, her hair fallen around her shoulders in a perfect rythem.

I could feel my cock getting wet, I was dripping, wetting my trousers and there was a small stain forming at the front. I just ignored it. She already knew about my erection. Hell what was I supposed to do, you see a naked woman, someone like this, and you get aroused. I can handle this.

She began kicking her leg into the air, first one then the other and I could see the line of her puss run up through her center, the hairs showing only at the front on her mons. She turned her back to me, and bent forward touching the ground. Her legs parted and her pussy tipping into view hanging between her legs, like a small fruit, the dark hairs framing a cunny that was opening, pink, this wonderful pink line shining. She was WET.

So she was aroused as well. Her cheeks were crimson and she was breathing hard. She turned to me, I rose from my chair.

"That felt really good." Her voice was relaxed, resonant.

"It was, incredible." I heard myself say. I stood up.

She was looking at the stain on my pants. "I bet."

I held my hand over my crotch. "No I mean you have the moves perfectly. Seriously."

"It really feels . . ." She paused, "Free." She was looking down at herself cupping her breasts.

I was adjusting myself as I walked toward her.

Her whole demeanor was changing now. She was becoming comfortable, even playful. Moving freely, becoming comfortable with her body.

"Your kicks are still not quite right." And I turned her back to me by her shoulders. Probably because I did not want her smirking at me anymore. And I wrapped my arms around her waist and asked her to kick for me. I tried to hold her away from me, but as we progressed she was too powerful and I had to hold her more tightly, so as I usually do, I pulled her more closely to myself.

The effect was unmistakable, my cock nestling right into the crack of her ass.

She did not flinch at all, she was focusing now - kicking - her concentration was her great strength. I had my arms around her waist and could feel the downy hairs now of her abdomen, thinking how there was nothing down below, nothing between my hands and her puss.

I was holding her, and against all judgement, was letting my hands drift lower. I wanted to simply touch her fur. To feel just the edge of her puss. My fingers drifted lower, well below her navel, and the course hairs touched my fingers as her body pressed into my cock, I could feel myself cuming. Oh my God! Cuming in my pants.

I could not control the movement and I was bucking my hips slightly, shaking into her as she did her last kicks.

I was light headed and beet red. The energy and air going out of me.

She turned and looked at me. I looked like I had wet myself. I turned away.

She was so comfortable now. "Looks like you're the one who needs to get control of yourself."

I was walking over to the sofa.

"No you don't. Get back here. That was perfect. This is all about confidence."

I came back over to her, "God this is working dad. I never felt the kicks working so good as they just did. Feeling the way my body moves. This is perfect." She pointed at my trousers, "You just behave." She had no idea. No idea that I had just cum all over myself.

She faced me and I held her arms, the snap in front, her bare breasts pressing between her arms, her nipples peaking in and out of view. I was watching her steps, counting for her. Spotting her for the back flips, pressing her into her splits (which were amazing when she was naked!). And after about one half hour of this it felt, it did feel utterly natural - until the music stopped.

I was hard again and she was suddenly my daughter again completely nude and walking toward the sofa.

She slipped on her robe. Her cheeks flushed. I sat by her.

"We can do this." She was happy.

We had a good day.

************

Over the next two weeks I had unfettered access to her body. Those practices continued for the next two weeks. How we found time, created time and kept our secret I will never know. We added a lock to the gym so that there was no way anyone could accidently wander in, even if they had keys.

The sessions were all very similar. We began with my brushing her hair, which she loved, dropping her robe and giving her a massage. She loved my hands on her body and I was gradually over time growing more bold. And she did not seem to mind, though I never overtly touched her sex. But I was rubbing her bare thighs now, and grazing her pubic hairs with my finger tips at the base of her abdomen. I was reaching beneath her arms and stroking the edge of her breasts as her robe lay around her on the sofa, getting ready.

My hands would roam along the lengths of her arms, along her thighs and up through to her hip bone. Her bare skin for me became one of the purest of pleasures, of running my hand along bare flesh where her skirt should be. I drew lines along her collarbone and held her neck as I helped her position herself, stance and poise. And as always she was utterly compliant.

For her part she felt a much greater license to touch me as well. It emerged gradually. I was always clothed, but her hands drifted frequently beneath my shirt. She would lay her hand right on my heart beneath the lower hem as we talked. She liked to tuck her fingers beneath my belt and rest her hand at the base of my spine. When she laughed she would lean into me and put her chin into my shoulders.

While it was obvious how aroused I got during these sessions, I equally knew how aroused she was, because while my hands wandered throughout her body but for her breasts and sex; my eyes had no such limitation. My eyes were free and I could see her perfect slit opening and closing as she danced, shining wet with cum. Her puckered little anus I knew intimately. Her clitoris would stand engorged when she arched her back and held herself up by hands and legs, and flipping one leg then the other to a handstand. Her cheeks flushed. She looked like she were in the throes of orgasm most of the time. But I said nothing. We grew to love everything about our time together, our hermetically sealed little world. Our Paradise.

As the music continued and the routines progressed, our contact gradually and subtly increased. Neither of us admitting to the other, our enmeshed love of what we were doing.

She was exclaiming to me how the coach loved her progress, extolled in her naturalness. "She told me I was drawing from an energy source that was amazing." And she laughed and continued, "Yeah I told her that it was that I practice naked with my dad."

I would feign mock surprise and we would laugh, she stroking my chest beneath my shirt.

It was beautiful. It was good. It was sensual. It was the peak experience of my entire life, at least it was the peak that I knew up to that moment.

But there were other peaks shrouded in the clouds.

*****************

When I slept at night, my dreaming and my imagination was of her naked body. She moved in front of me, and in my dreams I touched her. I touched her where my eyes saw, running my fingers through her pink wetness, her legs opening and teasing me. Dreams of pushing her pussy into my mouth, trembling tasting her, that feeling of passion rising causing me to wake so hot and hard it was painful, and I would spread the dripping wetness from my cock along its length and stroke myself until cum was spraying up my front in the darkness.

My imagination was wanton, while I continued to convince myself that what we did continued to be innocent, under control. But my imagination was beginning to merge with reality. For I was masturbating not to fantasy visions of my nude daughters pussy, but to my memory of what I was seeing each day.

Her lips were so red, watching her lovely smile, her white teeth, as she leaned into me. But in my imagination I could feel her kiss, her tongue pressing wet into my mouth, holding her. And then I was the one naked and she the one looking at me with almond eyes, pressing me back onto the bed and crawling up and down my body our warm skin together and I knew the feel of her skin. As I watched her red lips sucking on me, watching the cum spray into her, drinking me.

Her white teeth and red lips were always with me. I could feel her skin, knew every square inch of her body. I knew the softness of her breasts, the dimples of her nipple, the texture of her pubic hair, the wet warmth under her arms. The smell of her wet pussy, her sweat was a perfume that lingered with me when we parted, it filled the room as she danced now. Her breath, the slipperiness of her sweat at the small of her back, the lines of tendons on her neck. The hard line of her hip bone, the soft swell of her breasts. . .

In the last two days, she was growing more nervous. The practices were exceptional. She was better than I had ever seen her, and it was time. Time for her to practice with her clothes on again, her cheerleaders costume. But the competition was looming and she had anxiety of the crowds, of the judging and I for my part coached her through that as well.

"Hell, we did this. You can do anything."

She looked at me, her head tilted, standing nude before me holding my hand with both of hers.

"This. This was easy."

When she walked into the gym in her cheerleaders outfit, it was the first time I had seen her in the costume in two weeks. I thought I was going to immediately cream myself. I was so hard I could hardly stand it.

Her naked body was arousing. Watching her getting aroused in the dance was amazing. But for me, the moment of seeing this cheerleader standing before me, one that I had seen naked, was more than I could bear. I was walking up into the clouds. My chest split open. How could my life have come to such perfect fruition.

I moved up to her in the practice and put my hands on her with a naturalness born of her nakedness. We had been in the Garden, we had stood in Paradise. But in Paradise there is no sin. But now clothed, that is the Fruit of Sin, and then - it was all drenched in desire.

I touched her tummy, and turned her, slid my hands down the fabric of her skirt out of habit to the base of her pussy mound, but now it meant reaching into her clothes, and she yelped as I reached into her skirt this time. Or I was touching her thighs at the hem and running my fingers up beneath the fabric and holding her hip bone, her dress folded up around my hand. I traced the line of the V of her breast feeling the soft swell along a line that had not been there before. She was watching me, compliant but also confused, wide eyed.