Dorsai: Jan

After a little fiddling around, we got settled in the den, with each of us at opposite ends of a large couch.

The conversation started out mildly enough – her wanting to verify some of what she'd read on the sites she'd visited: slang terms for anatomical parts, and so on. I think both of us blushed more than once, at first, before we simply hit some kind of 'intimacy overload', and the terms just became more words.

Things started to heat up, though, when she started asking me if I'd ever done any of the things she'd read about: oral sex, anal sex, mutual masturbation, and such. I have to admit that I was a little uncomfortable discussing it with her (mostly because of her age, though a little because of the previous views I'd had of her, as well). I did concede to pretty much most of the stuff she'd read about (which, happily, hadn't been all that much!), and when pressed, provided explanations and details of the acts – though not the time or circumstances. (How do you explain a 19-year-old sailor stationed overseas renting 3 bar girls – all at the same time – for a long weekend? Particularly to your best friends young daughter? Yeah, it was fun (!!), but how do you explain it?) I could tell from the expression(s) on her face as I was talking that she wasn't any too sure about some of what I was saying. But, when she asked even more explicit questions, I answered as honestly and completely as I could.

Finally, there came the questions I least wanted to hear: the ones about*her*, and what she was experiencing. Again, it was the combination of her age and being my best friends daughter that was throwing me off -but I didn't see any choice but to 'soldier on'. After all, it was me that got her started on this stuff, so it was up to me to see it through.

She told me about how she sometimes got a 'funny feeling' between her legs, where her vagina was (it helped that we were using medical-type terms). She told me how sometimes she would 'just start thinking about boys', and her nipples would get hard, and sometimes show through her blouse or shirt. She told me how sometimes, when she was going to start her period, she would start getting a strange 'empty feeling' between her legs, and her vagina would get so wet that it would make her panties damp. She told me how she would sometimes daydream, and wake up to find herself squeezing her thighs together because it felt good where her clitoris was. She told me that she would sometimes wake up in the morning with her hand pressed against her vagina and clitoris, and her pajama bottoms would be soaked with her 'wetness'. After each of these 'revelations', I'd try to reassure her that what she was experiencing was a perfectly normal part of becoming a sexually aware and sexually mature young lady – despite the increase in my arousal (concealed as best I could) at hearing about each of them.

She had one last thing, though, that completely threw me for a loop: "Uncle Dan, I think the thing that bothers me the most is that I don't really know what naked people look like."

"Excuse me? You don't know what the parts are on boys? Didn't you give your brothers baths when they were younger? You can't see what's what on the other girls in your gym class at school, when you take showers?

Didn't those Web sites have diagrams or pictures on them?"

"Yes to all of that – except that it's just not the same."

"In what way?"

"Well, for instance, I kinda know what girls look like down there, but I don't know what*I* look like – not really. I know what boys look like, but I don't think Leo and John are quite the same as a real man – like you, for instance."

I found that I had one blush left in me – fortunately, the lights weren't that bright, so I don't think she noticed.

"So why are you telling me this, then?" Please, God, no, not what I think she's thinking…

"I want you to show me."

Fine, God, be like that. Screw me over. Again.

"Um, show you what? Which one did you want? Not that it matters, since your dad would kill one or both of us in either case." I replied.

"Well, actually, I was hoping I could learn, um, both, if you could. I know that Daddy might not like it, but I really want to know, and it's not like we'd, um, actually, um, do anything, um, you know?" she blurted.

"Jan, I really don't think that would be a good idea. I mean, if you want to find out what YOU look like, you could just use a mirror or something, you know? As for what an older boy looks like, I think you could probably find a volunteer or two that were closer to your age at school."

"I know that I could use a mirror, but it's just not the same – I mean, all I could do would be compare myself to some general drawing, and I'd never know if I was, like, weird or something down there. I mean, you made me feel better about my, um, breasts that time, so I don't understand why you can't do the same thing now – you know, between my legs. And if I ever looked at one of the boys at school, he'd tell*everybody* that I did it, even if he didn't say I did more. You know how much trouble I'd be in if that happened."

Thinking back to when I was that age, I could easily understand her point about the boys at school. As for the other, I found myself in a real quandary: as reluctant as I was to do anything that would piss of her dad or screw up her mind about sex, there was a certain desire (!!) to get another – even better – look at her young body. What the hell was I thinking when I started this? I wasn't stoned, so I must have just been stupid!

Apparently, she could see the conflicting emotions and thoughts on my face, because she demonstrated the good sense to simply sit there, and wait, rather than giving me an excuse to refuse outright.

After a few minutes of serious thought, I was finally able to rationalize my lust with the thought that reassuring her of her normal genital development would have a beneficial effect on her psyche and personality. Yeah, I know – but at least it sounded good.

I finally came out of the trance I was in, and looked at her.

Apparently, she could see the answer on my face, because she brightened up considerably.

"Okay, Trouble, I'll do it – but only on two conditions."

"Do which? And what conditions?"

"Both, if you really insist. The conditions are pretty obvious, I think.

First, you dad will never ever hear about this, from either of us, under any conditions. If he found out, you'd be lucky to leave the house before you turned 50, and I'd be lucky if he killed me quickly. Second, the minute either one of us feels uncomfortable or wants to stop, they say so, and that's the end of it – right then, with no argument or discussion."

"Yeah, I really do want both. I think you're right about the first condition, and I think I'd like the second one, too, so I agree to them."

That said, we sat there for a bit looking at each other before she spoke again.

"Uncle Dan, how do we do this? I mean, do we, um, just strip right here, or what?"

That lead to a little bit of discussion on the details and how we were going to go about it. We finally agreed on doing it there in the den, so that there wouldn't be any kind of sexual overtones, and that she would get ready in her bedroom, and wear her robe back into the den. I would undress in the bathroom (and leave my clothes there, so there wouldn't be any kind of added stimulus), and wear one of her dad's robes. When we met back in the den, she'd started to print out copies of the male and female diagrams that she'd seen, so that she could still use them as references.

That settled, there was only a moment's awkwardness before we split up, each to get ready.

When we met again in the den, Jan was already at the computer, and waiting for the second of the two diagrams she'd selected to print out.