Our Beginning...

I lay back in bed, on one of my many lonely nights, and slipped my fingers betwixt my legs with practiced grace. I wiggle my hips, tugging my old-school kitty-cat print panties down to my knees, then over and around my ankles. The walls in my house are paper thin, but I never moan louder than my feather-soft pillow can muffle. Closing my eyes, I think back to the drive home. Just a few hours ago, I'd been sitting in the passenger side seat of our family Oldsmobile wagon, squirming lightly as my fathers fingers crept up my leg. Back then, I hadn't been paying much attention to his hands, even though they slide preciously close to my underwear.

I'd been remembering a time we'd gone much further.

When he came to my school for a meeting with my teachers, and afterwards he'd shot me a sly smile and pulled me inside an empty classroom. I hadn't expected him to kiss me, but my body exploded with excitement when he did. It was less of a kiss and more of a command to be unresisting to what came next. My surprise; my joy; my fear; my hope, emotion over came me. I couldn't help but smile as he lifted my pleated skirt and asked me to hold it up. I held onto the fabric for dear life, my body trembling as I looked at the door.

I was so sure that we'd be caught. Our time together seemed to stretch on forever. I felt the soft cotton moving down my leg, catching a glance at its whiteness as he lifted my ankles to pull it off. I didn't look at him. I looked at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the paint, and asking myself why. Why that day? I still don't know. I never imagined even for an instant that he'd ever want me, and I most certainly didn't think he'd arouse me so violently.

His tongue was a wet surprise, teasing my silken lips open and running a line of heat between my parting thighs. I held my skirt high, my fingers fidgeting with the light green pleats, as he went on and on, twisting and turning is tongue inside me. My legs eased open and around his head, and I jerked against him. I felt my self spasm; moving in a shuddering circle hard and fast, a blush filled my cheeks and my knees nearly buckled. I stood there for a long time. Pulling my skirt so high, it’s a wonder the clasp didn’t come apart. I chewed gingerly against it, the fabric suffocating my moans as his tongue slowed its movements. His kiss smacked wetly just below my bellybutton, and his warm hands sketched lazy semi-circles along the curve of my back.

I squirmed as he smeared cool wetness across my hot skin, nearly melting into a writhing mess as I felt each one of his finger tips on my body. His other hand brushed back my dark hair, completing me on my blush. It only made me blush harder. He smiled, and told me that I was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen and that between my legs was paradise.

My mouth opened. I licked my pink quivering lips and lost my voice before I could tell him how happy he'd made me. I think he saw that I couldn't speak, because he silenced my efforts with a kiss. Breaking from the kiss only to compliment me again---telling me how juicy I was, how nice it was I shaved so well, and how he wanted to make me cum again and again. As he said this, he plunged a finger into my slit, wigging it deeper than his tongue. The pressure raising goose bumps along my skin.

I wanted to tell him that I wanted him as badly as he did me. I wanted to tell him to unbutton, and unzip, take out his shaft and slide it deep into me. I'd be willing. I'd have fun. I could speak. My tongue felt dry, and I nuzzled against his shoulder, feeling the tug of his fingers inside me. Pushing ever deeper, till I felt the familiar shudder and came against his hand. He kissed my cheek, told me I was a good girl, and said I could finally put down my skirt. That night in bed, I nearly fingered myself to death thinking about him.

I wondered when he'd touch me again. But he edged into reluctance. He favored me with nothing more than glances, ignoring me it seems, driving me into desperation. My skirt line rose, and buttons in my blouse were mysteriously lost. I nearly spilled out of my clothes when I was with him, but it didn't seem to bother him that I was dressing like a slut. Bending over at every possible chance, the line of my skirt would raise over-high, flashing the soft twin cheeks of my butt into view. I’d wiggle slowly to hear him sigh as he looked on. My panties would pinch between my lips. My underwear for moments like that was always old, faded to near transparency, and innocently white as they pulled between the baby pink of parted lips. I smiled at him always then. Brushing by him as he stood stock-still with a crimson blush, his blue eyes watched me tug my skirt back down to a reasonable length as I left the room. Sure, I didn't mind being a slut, but I wanted to be one for him.

At nights it was worse… at least for him. I teased him with my body, clad in clingy baby-T and light cotton underwear that ran down my hips. The first time, I did it, his eyes bulged and saw his whole body tense. I thought he’d take me right there, but he only shivered to himself and kept looking. His breathing deepened as I sat next to him, tossing my slender legs over his lap. I toyed with his hand that night. Giggling through small talk, and watching the myriad looks of shock on his face as I rubbed his finger tips over my tummy. I traced his index finger and mine along the outline of my tear-drop belly-button. We watched the news, and a long midnight movie. I slowly curled into his lap, feeling him bulging underneath me. My breath got hot, and I wished…

His thumb rubbed gently against my skin, lowering itself to the crumpled line of my panties. He brushed against the thin eggshell white fabric, as it curled in-between legs. My light squirms bunched it in thicker lumps against my now tingling slit. His hand splayed out, and I felt the ice of the wedding band, a finger away, I felt the jagged creases of a high school ring. Closing my eyes, I begged the hands of fate to turn my way. Visions of his hand reaching down deeper, pulling my aside the offending fabric shield, and running swiftly through the low downy black hair that spread like a starburst around my glowingly pink slit.

“I think its past your bedtime”. I remember the words clearly. His voice was soft, but it cracked my reverie.

“Okay.” I said back. There was always tomorrow, and the day after that. I had tricks galore.

Then today, weeks after our first time, he touched me again without my asking or teasing. Not as aggressively as before, but the simple brush of his hand against my thigh made me drip. I wanted him so badly, but he didn't go any further. Tonight, I was making up for that. I bit the pillow, groaning between my clenched teeth. The bed squeaked as my body arched and wiggled. Two of my fingers plunged into my slit, hooking just inside and working in and out speedily. As they slurped, I thought of how small my fingers must be if two of mine didn't stretch me as far as one of his did. I ran a third finger down between my opening. My body jerked as my nail grazed over my tender clit. My legs closed in hard, clutching my hand between my thighs. Working slowly, I teased my third finger against my clit, rubbing the knotty bundle of nerves till my legs separated in shivers. The pillow plopped onto the floor, tossed aside by my thrashing. Building to orgasm, I had nothing to keep myself from moaning. Nothing to keep me from calling out to him.

"Daddy...daddy....daddy....daddy!" I groaned, not knowing how hard I was screaming or how softly I was whispering. My attention focused on the building heat and pressure inside me. My fingers thrummed a steady beat inside my swollen lips. , feeling like a tongue of fire wigging inside me. My eyes fluttered and I imagined the door opening behind me. He hearing my call for him, and coming beside my bed, cradling me in his strong arms and holding me as my orgasm ran its course.

I came.

Squirting sticky juices out around my legs, I called for him again. My palm smacking smartly against my tummy, my hand flinching away from the cusp of my lower lips. I held my legs open, imagining him thrusting into me; slamming my writhing body down, wanting to make me cum over him and fill me with his cum as he drove deeper.

I bounced against the bed, “oh daddy…” I moaned, not caring anymore if I was heard. My juices were pudding into a damp splotch on my coral pink sheets, the sappy mess having wormed it way the curve of my butt, seeping slowly from my over-wet slit.

Finally, the shaking subsided and I could see clearly. The door behind me was open, and warm light bathed out over my milky skin. The trim black hair glistened with beads of silver. A shadow broke away from the wall, forming the silhouette of a man. I nibbled on my lower lip, tasting a slurry of sugarplum lip gloss.

"Good girl." he said simply, his eyes unseen but devouring my body all the same. "Good girl, you called for daddy." I smiled.

-------------The Beginning-------------