Virginia Ryder - Little Courtney_s Family Secrets

At night, both of us in our robes, with me sitting behind him on the couch while he lay on the floor in front of the television, I'd quietly masturbate throughout every DVD. But I never allowed myself to have an orgasm. Not one. It'd be way too obvious, if I actually came like that, all panting and squirming and crying out.

That meant I was almost coming many times a night, reaching the shaky brink of one orgasm after another, but somehow managing to stop just before I went off each time. Which was gradually making me crazy.

It was like electric sparks were flying off me! Like straight out of my crotch!

In reality (it turned out), I was unintentionally building myself to a multiple-climax each night when we finally said “goodnight” and headed to our respective bedrooms. In fact, the shockingly intense consummation of my pent-up sexual urges was so great I almost passed out the instant my trembling fingers touched my cunt.

Every time I came, in fact, my heart thumping wildly in my skinny chest, my entire body shaking so hard my dad could probably feel it in the next room, I had to stuff my pillow in my mouth to keep from screaming out loud.

My pussy was literally flowing with wetness, a huge circle of juicy lubrication growing larger and wetter under my squirmy narrow bare ass.

And when I say multiple, I mean multiple: my swollen pink cunt exploded into a series of shuddering orgasms that built on one another, my fingers working so furiously at my throbbing clit that first one hand, and then the other, would just cramp up.

Yet I still massaged my most sensitive spot, my pulsating clitoris, sometimes using just the girly-juice-slickened flat of my palm to keep getting myself off!

I'll bet I came at least ten times in a row every single night-not bad for a girl still in the 3rd grade!

One DVD we watched was about a father fucking his two young daughters. I'm guessing my dad picked that one out on purpose. It got us both really excited. Both girls also took turns blowing their supposed father and doing every imaginable dirty thing possible with him.

“Play that part again, Daddy,” I asked, several times. “I love the good parts!”

I can't remember the name of it, but we ended up watching all the best parts of that particular DVD five or six times.

“Daddy, he's fucking his own daughters!” I said, every time. “He keeps making them come! It's just so wrong…but fun!”

He turned and looked back to me on the couch.

“It's definitely wrong,” he agreed, lying on the floor in front of the TV. He was in his robe, as always, and the tent of his erection was more than obvious. Lately, he'd been trying to hide it less and less. “These amateur-style videos seem much more real than the professional stuff.”

“I love it,” I admitted. “Just one more time, let's watch it again where his cum goes into his youngest daughter's mouth!”

I knew my dad was (finally) secretly jacking off, doing it so slowly under his robe that I supposedly couldn't tell. He'd started doing it the weekend before, clearly pulling on his hard dick under there. Apparently he was just too turned on by the whole 'father and daughter watching porn' scenario to control himself.

On the other hand, he obviously didn't want to just expose himself to his little sweetheart of a kid, even if she was the ultra-slutty-type with a real potty mouth and an obvious willingness to show off her bare cunt.

Of course, I was in my robe, too, always without panties, sitting cross-legged on the couch behind him. Barefoot, I had one heel pressed directly into my crotch and kept subtly rocking back and forth on it. I was also quietly humming to myself, trying to keep my breathing from getting too outright crazy and shaky.

“Please, Daddy, let's see the part where they're both sucking his dick just one more time, I promise…”

“Okay,” my father agreed, backing up the DVD. “But the next video's about a daughter's first gangbang-”

That got my immediate attention.

“Stop! Let's see that one right now!” I laughed. “Like, how many guys fuck her?”

He just shook his head with a laugh.

“Wait and see,” he told me, a familiar phrase, his way of always teaching me the virtue, I guess, of patience. “On the DVD cover, it looks like a father and about ten of his friends…”

“Put it in, put it in,” I cried out to him. My meaning could easily be interpreted in a couple of different ways. “Daddy, put it in right now!”

I did love saying that.

“Sweetie, try to relax,” he said easily, popping out the last DVD and putting in the new one. “They're just movies, so calm down.”

“I'm too excited to calm down,” I informed him. “I'm all sweaty and shaky. And I'm all wet, you know…down there.”

He froze in place a long moment, apparently thinking it over, but then nodded mostly to himself it seemed, instead of me.

“So…” he said, leaning back on one elbow, ignoring my comment. “Let's see what you can learn from this one…”

Right. It was all about my continuing education!

The rocking and the multiple viewings of the incest videos we watched that night, coupled with knowing my dad was pulling on his dick under his robe, kept making me wetter and more crazily excited by the second.

I'd balled up two pairs of my panties and an old tee-shirt and pressed them underneath my crotch-better my underwear get all sticky than my dad's couch get a huge, darkly soaked wet spot.

And again, I barely managed to hold back from having a series of orgasms, or even breathing too hard, but it wasn't easy. I was literally sweaty and shaky, my heartbeat already pounding in my ears.

But, even with all the sneaky little seducing and fantasizing I'd done, and the flagrantly explicit conversations we'd had, I didn't want to seem too weird to my own father. Not yet.

Not unless I was absolutely certain he wanted me to!

So, even with all the crackling sexual tension in the room as we watched so-called fathers fuck their so-called daughters, often joined by uncles, cousins, brothers and even moderately close friends, nothing overtly sexual happened between my dad and me. Not then.

When I finally went to bed alone, it was just the same old feverish masturbation and shaky multiple orgasms.

Talk about frustrating…

At 9-years-old that summer, I was 4'10” and 88 pounds, a skinny rail of a girl with long brown hair and clear dark eyes. I also had a face people said was angelic, and a bookworm-ish, innocent manner that caused everyone to think I was a goody-goody, whatever that really means.

Little did they know.

In the rental car on the long ride from the airport to the motel in Georgia (during my first trip ever to spend time with my father), I blurted out:

“Daddy, I know you…masturbated in front of me when we watched those dirty movies at your place.”

He acted real surprised and embarrassed. Whatever-I was all embarrassed, too, maybe more so. I was cringing at bringing up the subject, but I really wanted to. Still, I wouldn't even look at him. Instead, I stared out the car window as the evening sky grew darker. And my face was getting so red I could feel the heat of it.

“Sweetie, you could tell?”

“I was doing it, too,” I told him. “Masturbating. But I didn't finish until I got into bed, and then I did it all night.”

He nodded calmly as if this was as normal a father and daughter conversation as any other.

“All night?” he finally asked.

“I had a lot of orgasms,” I admitted. “I couldn't stop fingering myself. Like, the more times I came, the more I wanted to. I was afraid you could hear me.”

“That's amazing,” he said. “But you knew I was doing it, too?”