Stephen Jones - Sex With Daddy

But then, one afternoon, when we were both getting ready to take a swim in the pool, Daddy told me that he wanted to explain to me in detail all about sexual intercourse – or fucking. I'm sure that his reason for wanting to instruct me was that we were both standing there, stark naked, having stripped out of our street clothes in preparation for our swim. Every time Daddy saw me without my clothes on, something seemed to happen, and this time was to be no exception – for which I was very pleased.

Without a word, I eagerly skipped to the bed and lay down on it. He told me that he wanted to show me the way most people have their sexual relations. He asked me to spread my legs wide apart and, kneeling between them, he touched the opening of my vagina, first with his fingers and then, as it became hard and erect, with his prick.

I watched as Daddy moved his penis back and forth slightly, letting it come forward and touch me, then pulling it back as he moved his hips backward. Each time he moved like that, he would look closely at my vagina and occasionally touch it with his hands to see just how far his tool was penetrating. He told me that he would only put the head inside because he didn't want to hurt me or break my hymen.

He asked me if what he was doing felt good and I gasped, "Yes," several times, although I wanted him to put more of himself into me. I was burning with desire and almost out of control with this new form of pleasure he was giving me, but it was not enough. I wanted all of him inside me, not just the very head of his penis.

Yet he refused to go any further. We were both breathing heavily and I could feel a difference in his movements just before he pulled away entirely and grabbed the end of his organ the way he had the first time I had put it in my mouth. I was furious at him, but silently so. I waited for him to return from the bathroom before I asked him why he had done such a nasty thing to me.

"I just didn't want to hurt you, kitten," he told me. "I can't get you pregnant. We don't want that!"

My reaction to his statement included pique and hurt and a desire to get even with him for denying me the pleasure I thought should be rightfully mine. I wanted to get back at him. Even if I had tried, I couldn't have done anything about it because I got my period the following day and knew it would be four more days before Daddy would even gratify me orally again.

But then something happened. I noticed when I first started to flow that I was low on napkins and had to get some more, but this time when I went to the store I decided to get tampons instead. I knew why Daddy hadn't entered me although I couldn't quite understand it – not then, anyway.

He was the guilty one, not I, and I sensed that he might be afraid of the evidence left if my hymen were ruptured by him. Because I knew that he still wanted me and that I wanted him – all the way – I determined to rupture my own maidenhead any way I could. The tampons seemed like the easiest way and surely a practical one, too.

But something else happened which gave me a double idea. While I was in the store, I met Sally, one of my girl friends from school who was also shopping there. She was with a girl I didn't know too well – one who lived in our neighborhood but who went to another school because of her religion.

It seems that each of us had gone to the store for some purchase of our own, instead of family groceries, and because we were friendly, we all stayed together as the purchases were made. After we had left the store, the girl from the other school, Eileen, asked us if we wanted to come over to her house for the afternoon. She said she had found some really wild books in her brother's room after he had been drafted and it would be fun to look at them together.

We didn't have anything else to do, so Sally and I followed her to her house. Once she was satisfied that her mother wasn't home, she proceeded – with a lot of hush-hush theatrics – to dig under the mattress on her bed and bring out several cheaply printed comic books.

They weren't ordinary comic books by any means. She said her brother must have bought them in Mexico, that he certainly couldn't have found anything like them here in the United States, They had the usual, well-known comic characters, but they were out and out pornography showing the Lone Ranger as Tonto's homosexual lover and Superman with a super penis.

Frankly, when I first looked at Eileen's books, I was genuinely shocked. Even though Daddy and I had already experienced several mutual acts of oral sexual expression, it had been a beautiful secret with me.

Sex was something tender and emotionally rewarding, as far as I could understand, but these books painted it as lurid and spontaneous. At the same time, there was something of a terrible beauty about it all. I was fascinated by the drawings and by the words like "fuck" and "cunt" and "prick" written so openly on the worn paper.

But my reaction, at least outwardly, had been somewhat priggish. Both Sally and Eileen admonished me, saying they knew very well that I couldn't be that much of an "old stick-in-the-mud." After all, they said, I was a girl just like they were and I must have felt hot and antsy thinking about boys and wondering what they looked like when they had their pants off.

"You know something," Eileen said, "I even saw my brother doing it to himself once. He was lying on the bed and he didn't know I was home. I just peeked in the door and saw him."

"Really!" Sally almost screamed. "What's it like? I mean, how did he do it and all?"

"Oh," Eileen gave us both a very wise look. "It gets real big and long and it sort of stands straight up only it doesn't, not really. It sort of curves a little. And he just sort of played with it for a while. Then he took it in one hand and started to move it up and down. He just did that for a while, then he shot his stuff all over. It was wild!"

Sally giggled and seemed to be having trouble controlling herself for a moment until Eileen said, "Then he looked up and saw me standing at the door. He came right over and told me I'd better not tell Mom about it if I knew what was good for me. Gosh, I wouldn't have told on him. I wanted to ask him to let me see him do it again, but I was too scared. He was real mad. But it sure was exciting."

Sally giggled again. "I'll bet you wanted him to do it to you," she said.

"That's not true! I didn't either," Eileen retorted, "I just… Oh, you wouldn't understand anyway."

All this time, I stood listening to them, dying to tell them that I knew more than they did, but knowing that I mustn't say a word about Daddy and me. I stood there, listening to them with half an ear and watching them with one eye.

I was also leafing through the books that Eileen had and beginning to feel a strange internal sensation as I gazed at the pictures. I can't really say that I was sexually stimulated by the books or their illustrations. But I couldn't help being aware of sex, particularly when Sally and and Eileen began talking more and more directly about sex and boys.

Sally was saying that she had heard a story of Eileen masturbating a boy on a date.

"Sure," Eileen admitted. "I do that if I like them. What's wrong with it? I'm still a virgin, and that's all that matters. Besides, what do you know? I'll bet if you got one of them in your hand, you'd do the same thing yourself."

"I would not?" Sally insisted, her voice lacking the conviction it should have had.

But where Eileen was a doer with only one taboo, Sally was only tabooed by her own shyness, not by society or religion.

I tried to avoid being caught between the two girls because I was afraid I might feel proud enough to tell them that I had not only masturbated a full-grown man but had also sucked his prick!