Virginia Ryder - Little Courtney_s Family Secrets

But I noticed it took him just a little longer each time to pull it closed, especially when I started spreading my knees apart as I stretched out in his lap, the tiny slit of my pussy sometimes making that almost imperceptible but sweet, subtle little wet sound as it opened slightly.

That kind of stuff really works, by the way!

I also started asking a lot of questions about S-E-X.

And I touched myself absently in certain spots, mostly squeezing my crotch through my robe or pajamas, while we talked, so at some level he'd know I was sexually excited by our 'scientific' father-daughter talks.

“But, Daddy,” I asked once, in his lap with my robe partly open, “what does it taste like? Semen, I mean?”

That one flustered him.

“Well, not too good, I imagine,” he answered seriously. “But some girls do seem to like it…”

I gave him a curious little look.

“How does it get in their mouth?” I asked, sincerely, as if I hadn't been the one to ask in the first place. “Do they actually suck the man's penis or something?”

And while I asked, my little hand was absently inside my robe, squeezing myself as if I suddenly had to pee, while I rocked back and forth slightly in his lap. I also kept looking up at him with my big brown innocent eyes (I definitely had the 'innocent little girl' act down).

“Does semen come out of every man's penis?” I apparently had to know. “And every boy's?”

He nodded somberly.

“Yes, sweetie, it does.”

“Even yours?”

“Well…”

But bath time was the most fun.

“Daddy, Daddy!” I'd call out from the tub. “All the bubbles are gone!”

There'd be a long silence from my father on that one.

“Pour some more into the tub,” he'd finally yell back.

“It's all gone.”

“There's another bottle under the sink.”

“I don't want to get out yet,” I let him know. “Can't you get it for me?”

Of course, I'd started masturbating as soon as I'd climbed into the tub, getting my hairless little cunt all oily wet and swollen and excited with anticipation. That way, it'd be harder to miss, even under the water.

“Courtney, you get out and get it.”

This was the part that counted:

“Daddy, please!” I'd almost cry. “I need more bubbles! Please!”

And, believe it or not, after enough back and forth like that, he'd usually give up and come in with his eyes averted, to find me the new bottle of bubble bath-which I'd hidden far back in the cabinet under the sink.

“I can't find the damn stuff,” he'd always say, kneeling there, moving stuff around, knocking stuff over. “Where the hell is it?”

When it seemed like he'd never find it, I'd hop out of the tub naked and push in next to him, dripping on the bathroom rug-I loved being bare-assed next to my own good-looking father. In addition, my tender little-girl pussy had that fresh-scrubbed, engorged with youthful lust and just-fingerfucked-through-two-orgasms look to it.

“It's right here!” I'd gloat, reaching in. “You just had to move some stuff.”

He'd give me a look, keeping his eyes on my own eyes instead of the rest of me, even as I was almost pressed naked against him. “Couldn't you have done that in the first place?” he asked.

“I thought you could just find it,” I laughed, like he was a total idiot. “It was right in there.”

And I'd hand the bottle to him and hop back into the tub with a splash, lying back naked with my skinny knees spread just enough so he could see the slightly-parted but deeply-pink opening of my cunt.

My God, I was just about a preteen nudist in those days. Nothing self-conscious about me at all.

The faucet was down at the other end and I sloshed my bare feet around, splashing a little water over the side.

“Put the bubble bath in!” I'd laugh. “Squirt it in. And more hot water!”

He'd just shake his head, knowing it was hopeless to argue, and squirt a stream of it into the water without even pretending to look away. I was just a little kid, really, and he was my dad, after all. Then he turned on the water and waited until the bubbles foamed up down by my feet but slowly worked their way up to the rest of me.

“Do I have boobs yet?” I always asked. “Can you tell?”

“Courtney!” he'd say sternly, but always ended up laughing. “You're flat as a flounder, and you know it.”

I shrugged my narrow shoulders.

“My nipples get all tingly, though,” I told him. “Look how pointy they are. Squirt the bubble bath on them!”

“No,” he said. “You shouldn't talk like that!”

I gave him my most serious little-girl look. I was almost nine, after all.

“Daddy, you said it was okay to talk about sex,” I told him. And then, confused, “Isn't it okay…?”

“Well…” he said, thoughtfully, as he always seemed to be when discussing such matters with his darling little girl. “But you don't need to…dwell on it so much.”

“But the sex stuff is the most fun,” I blurted. “Talking about it. I can't say anything to mom about it-”

“I guess,” he allowed, knowing her even better than I did, of course. My mother was not a person to talk about sex to. “Fine, so go ahead…”

“It gets even more tingly down here,” I showed him, spreading my bare thighs apart, then using my fingers to open my tiny cunt for him. It was extremely pink in there, like shiny pink. “Between my legs. Squirt it right there, instead…”

“Courtney, damn it!”

After a few more weekends at his place that spring, we ended up talking about sex continually, in gradually more explicit language, me asking endless questions and my father answering as honestly as he could, considering…that I was still just a dopey kid to him.

In any case, it wasn't too far from explicit sex questions and answers to me begging for adult videos (strictly for educational purposes) and getting them, at my dad's. This became the best-kept secret in the world, whenever he was home, a dutiful father and his elementary schoolgirl daughter watching full-color XXX porn.

“Is this the kind of thing they show in your sex-ed classes?” he once asked me, serious as could be. “I know you have videos there…”

“Sort of,” I told him, both of us riveted to Highschool Gangbang, a sensitive DVD about a virginal teen cheerleader ravaged by five teachers, the guidance counselor, two janitors, the school nurse with a strap-on dildo, a parking lot attendant and (this is the part I didn't get) a tall black man in a Porky Pig mask. “But they don't have slow-motion cum-shots that land on the camera lens…”

“Right.”

“God, look how huge that black guy's penis is!” I had to marvel. “His dick! He can't even get it all the way into her pussy!”

“I think it's fake,” my father observed. “A strap-on. It's just too big.”

I laughed at that.

“It'd be too big for me,” I threw in. “Of course, I'm still an innocent little virgin.”

“Right,” he said. “Innocent is exactly the word I was thinking of.”

I gave him a look.

“Better than having me all ignorant and pregnant when I'm a teen,” I pointed out. “This is better.”

He just gave me a look and then shook his head.

“Unless your mother finds out and kills both of us.”

Anyway, that's how far we'd gotten, yet with still a semblance of propriety, a regular father-daughter normalcy. So we just watched and discussed dirty videos in increasingly explicit detail, our weekends together filled with urgent-but willfully repressed-sexual excitement. Without any apparent form of relief.

Willfully repressed sexual excitement when we were actually together, at least.

Whenever he was alone, I knew he was secretly masturbating every chance he'd get, in the bathroom or his bedroom or wherever. And he clearly knew I was doing something to myself as well.