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WYNTER
by Russell Hoisington
Part One: Daddy’s Little Nurse
Chapter 1
Wynter held the telephone handset away from her ear and gently rested her other hand on the left arm cast of the man on the hospital bed. The worried frown under her blonde bangs marred the otherwise flawless skin of her pretty, oval face. “Daddy, it’s Nurse Carter. She got to the drug store, but then an avalanche blocked the road, and she can’t get back. The sheriff says it may be two days before the road is plowed ‘cause there’s a bunch of avalanches and it’s still snowing. Do you want me to hold the phone to your ear so you can talk to her?”
Richard King grunted an ironic laugh. He’d almost had to threaten Kevin Taylor to release him from the hospital early so that he could finish recuperating from the latest accident at home, and Kevin finally gave in only because the leg cast was below the knee. At home he could again convert a spare bedroom into a recovery room where he’d be more comfortable, he could pass the time by helping Angie home-school eleven-year-old Wynter, and things would be more convenient for everybody. Just hire a nurse—fortunately Ellen Carter happened to be available—to help Angie take care of him and things would be perfect.
Three days later—that was last Thursday—Angie’s company sent her to Geneva for three weeks on one day’s notice, and, yes, we’re sorry about your husband’s condition, but it’s Europe or the door, and you can take all the time you want to think it over as long as you don’t go over five seconds.
Next there was the freak spring snowstorm which to that moment had dropped eighteen inches of heavy, wet snow, and had an estimated three feet to go—though it could be more if the conditions changed, and the Weather Channel said they might. Thanks to Kevin Taylor’s pathetic handwriting, the pharmacist had refilled the pain medication prescription with a laxative. Nobody noticed until Ellen had started preparing tomorrow’s medicine doses from the open bottles and was one pain pill short, sending her to town in near-blizzard conditions, racing on treacherous mountain roads to get there and back with the proper medicine before the roads closed. Only she didn’t make it back.
But, he admitted, at least she wasn’t caught in the avalanche.
Better yet, she had discovered the laxatives before he took any of them. Obviously things could have been worse. He looked at the casts on both arms and his right lower leg and foot and shook his head, though not in response to the question, even if that was his answer.
“No. Just ask her if she can get home. If not, tell her I’ll pay for a motel room for her.” Wynter checked and reported that the roads in town were still reasonably good, a term that meant natives could drive on them with reasonable safety, but they would be guaranteed suicide for Texans and Californians. Richard nodded. “Tell her to go home and let us know when she’s on her way back. You can call her there when we have questions. You wanted to be a nurse someday—well, someday has arrived, honey. You are now Daddy’s new nurse.”
When Wynter started to protest, Richard gently cut her off. “Honey, there’s nobody else here except Dragon, and I don’t think he’ll be much help.”
Dragon, sprawled in the bedroom doorway like eighty pounds of spilled coal, lifted his head and thumped his tail when he heard his name. His tail stopped when he heard the tone in Wynter’s voice as she relayed her father’s instructions. He slowly rose, twisting his head about while watching her. He slowly padded over to her side, looked up at her face, and began whimpering as she hung up the phone. He then rubbed his head against her hip. She jumped when his cold, wet nose grazed her bare leg at the hem of her yellow knit shorts.
Wynter placed her right hand on her father’s left arm cast, carefully avoiding the daisies and tulips she had drawn with felt-tip pens. Her left rose to grasp the long blonde ponytail which draped over her left shoulder and hung to the top of the small breast that he subconsciously knew was budding in a training bra within the loose, shapeless white top. Tears seeped from her large, bright, blue-green eyes. “Daddy, I don’t know what to do! Nurse Carter and I have talked, and I still want to do it when I’m grown up, but I can’t be a nurse now! I’ll mess it up and you might be hurt!”
Richard laughed softly and shook his head. Wynter was an incurable perfectionist who, while tolerant of other people’s errors, couldn’t endure any mistakes of her own. She was also far smarter and more capable than she gave herself credit for, but emotionally she had become very sensitive. She would go to pieces over nothing if she wasn’t handled properly. He assumed it was caused by the hormonal struggles of puberty. Little girl and young woman often struggled within her, and too many times, despite Wynter’s own wishes, the little girl won. This was one of those times.
“Honey, I really don’t think I’d be hurt any worse than I already am. My little truck got hit by that big diesel pickup and knocked down the hillside, but that did only this much damage to me. You’re smaller than a one-and-a-half-ton pickup by at least a ton,” he said with wide eyes and an exaggerated grin.
Her even, white teeth peeked through as a smile forced itself onto her sweet, coral lips, but her the rest of her angelic face remained uncertain.
Richard’s voice became gentle and soothing. “Honey, you nursed Dragon back to health practically by yourself. I promise you I won’t be as much trouble as he was.”
Wynter had found the abandoned, almost dead Labrador retriever puppy down the hill in the ditch near their mailbox on the County Road. Both Richard and Angie wanted to put the pathetic animal out of his misery. They were surprised that Wynter, who couldn’t stand to see anyone or anything suffer, insisted that he would recover. Although the vet had agreed with Richard and Angie, he gave Wynter pain medication for the puppy, some liquid vitamins, and some oral antibiotics to supplement several injections. To her parents’ surprise their mother-hen daughter had the puppy on his feet in two days, though he dragged his tail for another week, thus inspiring his name.
“But….”
Richard smiled at her. “Honey, I can tell you what’s wrong with me. Dragon couldn’t do that, yet you brought him back from the brink of death. I’m nowhere near there. I promise.”
“But what if I make a mistake?” she asked in a pleading whine.
Richard winked. “Then we’ll know you’re human and not some pretty blonde sprite your mother found under a cabbage leaf, won’t we? Of course, I already know that because I had to deliver you,” he said with eyes wide and an exaggerated complaint in his voice. “And do you see an obstetrician’s license on any of these walls? Or a medical degree of any kind? Heck no! But I delivered you anyway because your mother and I were snowed in just like this and you insisted on being born two weeks early. ‘I don’t know nothin’ about birthin’ no babies!’ at that time was as true for me as ‘I can’t be a nurse now’ is for you.”
His voice softened and he turned on the charming smile that usually helped calm her down. “But I did what I had to do because I didn’t have any choice. And you certainly turned out okay. I will, too, because you already know more about nursing than I knew about delivering babies.” He glanced at her long, slender-fingered hand. “I’m in good hands.”
She smiled again, though the uncertainly remained in her eyes, and leaned down to give him a gentle daughter-type kiss with her soft, warm lips. “I’ll try my hardest.” Her tone told Richard she was trying to sound like an adult, but the little girl was still winning the battle.
“I already know that, honey. You’ll do fine. I’m the one who’s always been accident-prone. If one of us has to be in charge of me, I’m much better off if it’s you.” Which was true. Richard had scars on top of scars over much of his trim, athletic body. It was a miracle that none marred the ruggedly handsome features of his square-jawed face. People seeing him in swimming trunks usually mistook him for a rodeo performer or stock car racer instead of a geologic engineer.
Her bright laugh suddenly faded, her eyes went wide, and a strange look crossed her face—not horror, not revulsion, but something else; something Richard couldn’t define. But he knew well the look of near-panic that immediately replaced it.
“Oh, no!”
“What’s wrong, honey?”
Wynter’s round cheeks and even her long, slender arms turned bright crimson. The flush spread up her face and disappeared under her bangs. “A couple of days? And she said she’d had to remove the catheter this morning….”
“Oh.” Richard understood, though he knew Ellen hadn’t told Wynter why she’d had to remove the catheter. “Well, bedpan and urinal duty is part of becoming a nurse. You’ll have had practice when you get to nursing school.”
“But—I can’t—You’re my father! I can’t…..”
“No. Listen to me, Wynter! No. In that case, I’m not your father. I’m just Mister King, your patient. Okay? Or maybe think of it as babysitting, but without diapers to make an even bigger mess of things. Honey, I can’t make it to the toilet for another couple of weeks, and when I can, I’ll probably fall off and hurt myself all over again. I can’t hold it until Ellen can get back, or I’ll explode! Try explaining that to your mother when she returns and sees the condition of this room!”
The red glow hadn’t abated, despite the gentle laugh the comments drew. She remained head down and eyes locked on the flowers on his cast. Richard knew she hadn’t seen either of her parents nude since she was very young. She probably couldn’t grasp the concept that her parents not only had genitals and a sexual relationship, they had an extremely active sex life—or did have except when one or the other was away on business. He doubted she ever thought about sex until floods of hormones began racing through her bloodstream, triggering new feelings, new growth, and sudden awareness of her own femininity and latent sexuality. He wondered if, even now, she thought of herself as a sexual being. He was convinced that the answer was an unqualified “No.”
Thanks to Angie, Wynter knew about the academic side of sex but she was ignorant from the practical aspect. Richard was convinced that the only dick she had seen after her second birthday was when she helped her Aunt Diane change baby Christopher’s diaper last summer.
All of her friends were girls, as were the other children in Angie’s circle of home schooling parents that sometimes met for group lessons. She knew a few boys casually but never spent any time with them. She spent almost no time with the girls, giving her little chance to learn from other kids’ gossip. Most of her life had been spent with just Angie and himself. She knew far more about interacting with adults than with her peers.
Richard thought about that and was sad for her. She might be academically prepared for college in a few years, but she would have a difficult time with the social aspects, especially if she retained her trim, willowy figure and her beautiful, delicate facial features. Boys would be asking her out before she’d finished registration, and she would be lost.
“Listen,” he said softly. She raised an eyebrow. He waited until her eyes lifted to meet his. “It will be a little awkward for both of us, but we’ll manage because we have to, you as the professional nurse and me as the professional patient. Okay?”
She nodded and gave him a weak smile.
Richard relaxed back into his pillows and wiggled his shoulders to adjust them. “Now—what’s for supper?”
———————————
Salisbury steak was on the menu, and she had just begun preparing it when Nurse Carter called. Mother Angie had done a wonderful job of passing her considerable kitchen skills on to Wynter. Still, even if Wynter could cook no better than Aunt Diane, the results would still have been an improvement over the hospital’s food, which her father had described as being what the airlines rejected for being “below even their pathetic standards.”
Wynter checked to see that the intercom was active, turned the television volume up for her father, and retreated to the kitchen. Dragon followed, the constant shadow that rarely left her presence except for his “doggie trips” outside.
He had to make a doggie trip near the end of cooking. He sat in front of the utility room door and yipped once. She opened the door for him. The door from the utility room to the back side of the sprawling ranch house had an insulated, magnetically sealed doggie door. That door led to a sheltered area for Dragon that was protected from all but blowing snow and to the generator shed. If they lost power Wynter knew how to start the generator, which ran off the house’s main propane supply.
When Dragon returned to the utility room he again yipped once. Wynter opened the door and let him back in. “All better now, Dragon?” He wagged his tail in reply, content that she had shown interest in him, then curled up on the braided rug by the door.
She dished servings onto the plates, put them on a tray along with silverware, and removed two glasses from a cabinet. She turned to the refrigerator for the milk and froze.
Dragon was sitting up, his long, reddish tongue bathing an even redder, swollen penis-thingy which was sticking from its pocket under his tummy. She didn’t know if he was washing it, scratching an annoying itch, or masturbating. Mother had told her the last term and what it meant, but it wasn’t something Wynter had ever done. Lately, though, she’d occasionally experienced an odd itchy sensation down_ there_, but it eventually went away on its own in due time. She flushed almost as red as the long, hard thing that Dragon was licking, uncertain whether to stop him, as she once did, or not. While she was trying to decide, the odd, itchy sensation returned.
She was so upset that she almost forgot to get a bent straw for her father’s milk.
Chapter 2
Richard washed down his six o’clock pills with a sip of milk and then complained that Wynter had overcooked them and they were tough. He was appropriately apologetic when she replied, “Smarty-pantses get sent to their rooms without supper.” She accepted his apology with a big smile and kissed the end of his nose and lips, a special ritual between them that was almost as old as she was.
They talked about her music lessons, Ellen Carter, and nursing school as she alternated feeding bites to him and to herself. It was a chore she had assigned herself upon his return from the hospital, and neither Angie nor Ellen had tried to change her mind. She was quite good at it, though in her own fussy way she always used separate forks and even separate knives, despite her father’s assurances that they wouldn’t give each other cooties. When they were finished, Richard complimented her on both her culinary skill and her skill at feeding him. She dropped her head and focused on the empty plates, embarrassed by the praise, but pleased as well.
She put the utensils in the dishwasher before they watched a half-hour nature program on The Discovery Channel, and then Richard said he wanted to be entertained. He was willing to listen to her play the piano down the hall, but she refused, saying the acoustics would distort the music. Instead, she reluctantly fetched her flute. Richard smiled to himself; his plan had worked.
Wynter normally practiced her flute lessons softly and with her door closed or, in the summer, down the hill where she sat on the big flat rock and dangled her feet in the creek. The only way her parents usually heard her play was when they’d sneak next to her door and quietly listen. She was embarrassed that she wasn’t as proficient on the flute as she was on the piano. It was bad enough that she had to hear her own errors, which usually produced a strong, ”Drat!“ that also could just be heard through the closed door. She didn’t want others hearing them as well. Thus she was predictably upset when, at the end of a half hour, she had made five errors, though none were major.
“That’s the problem with listening to recorded music instead of live performances,” Richard said. “The engineers cut and paste, editing out the errors on the music they sell. I’m sure that when they were eleven years old Jean-Luc Ponty, James Galway, and Ian Anderson made just as many mistakes, and they still make some. You just don’t know because you haven’t heard them live.”
“Jean-Pierre Rampal,” she corrected with a sudden laugh that chased away her growing frown. “Jean-Luc Ponty plays the violin.”
“See! Speaking of making mistakes. Anyway, I’ll bet Ponty made them, too.”
He had deliberately switched the names, and he knew that she knew it, but the laugh had preempted her funk. He hoped it would make the next thing easier.
“Wynter….”
The smile vanished, she stiffened, and the blush returned with a vengeance. Something in his tone had tipped her off, despite his attempt to sound normal. The speech he’d been silently rehearsing for the past five minutes evaporated.
“I’m sorry, honey, but I’ve waited as long as I can. The urinal should be under the foot of the bed.”
He guided her through putting a flat, firm pillow below his butt to raise him slightly and then had her raise the upper part of the bed until he was sitting almost upright. She had to pause twice to adjust the suspension of his arm casts, but because she was such a perfectionist he experienced less discomfort than when Ellen did it.
Slowly, gently, but with some sense of urgency because he had waited until he thought his bladder was about to explode, he talked her through removing the limp three inches from his pajamas, uncovering the head of his uncircumcised spigot, inserting it into the neck of the urinal, and then holding everything steady with the tips of her long, gentle fingers while he voided his urine. He spoke not as a father to his daughter, but as an instructor to a student. The professional tone appeared to ease a little of her anxiety.
A soft groan of relief vibrated in his throat as the hydraulic pressure eased. For a moment he had thought she would go looking for rubber gloves, and he knew he couldn’t wait for her to put them on, even if they’d been beside him on the bed. When his piss tank was half-empty he was able to resume thinking. It was as if the top of his bladder had been squeezed against his brain, paralyzing his mind.
Without looking directly at her he was able to observe that she was carefully avoiding looking at him, yet her eyes were being involuntarily drawn to the unusual fleshy object in her right hand. She’d immediately look away, but her eyes would creep back on their own. His sympathy grew as the pain from his distended bladder shrank. Her prim and proper side was fighting with her curiosity on a fluid battlefield.
He almost laughed at the unintended pun, but that would have been disastrous for Wynter’s fragile—he almost thought the word “grip,” but then he would have laughed. He forced himself to wonder if “id,” “ego,” or “superego” was correct. He should have paid more attention to his college professor in that elective psychology class, but he took that only to pay more attention to Mickey Adams and her round, firm, high, B-cup…
NO! Change the subject!
He began pondering what to say to Wynter after his piss break. It didn’t really take his mind off his dick, but it helped keep him from thinking about what he wanted somebody—anybody!—to do with it. Richard didn’t want to draw unwarranted attention to what she had, of necessity, done, but he also didn’t want to say nothing to her. That, in itself, would draw immediate attention because he always praised her actions. He also didn’t want to treat the incident as if it weren’t “normal” nursing duties like feeding him. The teacher/student tone had helped earlier, and he used it again when he was finished.
“Men have extra valves and angles that women don’t have, and it causes a small amount of urine to remain trapped inside the penis.” His eyes remained steady on hers. “It eventually leaks out, causing a sanitation and odor problem for both the patient and anyone else in the vicinity. Move your thumb next to the body on top and one or two fingers across from the thumb at the bottom.” He paused while she did so, her eyes dropping to watch what she was doing. “Now squeeze gently and push it out the end.”
He waited while she slowly pulled forward. “That was a little bit too gentle. Do it again, but squeeze harder. You won’t break it.”
He almost repeated the last instruction, but, to his horror, realized that her light grip was more like a gentle caress to the increasingly horny Beast, and that his body was about to react normally to that stimulation. Instead, he said, “Okay, put the urinal down and put everything away.”
She kept his organ lightly gripped in the fingers of her right hand while her left put the urinal on the roll away table. She used her left hand to hold the fly open while she replaced his slowly swelling syphon tube. Richard saw her eyes suddenly widen and incorrectly assumed that she had noticed that it was beginning to swell. What had actually surprised her, keeping her from noticing the slow expansion, was the scar tissue she saw and its location.
Both exhaled in almost-silent relief when she pulled the sheet up to his waist. Richard decided to say nothing about the boner throbbing in his pajamas. He hoped it wouldn’t be noticeable through the sheet. It shouldn’t be while he was sitting up.
“That was very professional and well done, Nurse King. Ellen couldn’t have done a better job.” He hoped that was the right thing to say, and it appeared to be no worse than anything else, though she remained a bright red. “Go empty that first, before some accident-prone patient finds a way to knock it over, and then you can readjust that patient’s bed.”
She gave him an embarrassed nod, but she did meet his eyes, and then took the urinal to the hall bathroom. Dragon, of course, followed her, leaving him alone in the room with his thoughts.
What was he to do next time? He couldn’t tell her not to strip the last of the piss out of his dick, not after the explanation he’d just given her for doing so. What if it exploded into a throbbing, blue-steel diamond cutter right in her warm, soft, gentle hand, before she could put it away? What if she had actually noticed that it was about to do so this time and had recognized it for what it was? What if, what if, what if? There were a hundred questions, and he could sit up all night without resolving any of them.
He would just have to manage the best he could. He should ensure that she understood she was supposed to squeeze harder. Make her understand that his dick was tough as a garden hose, not weak as overcooked spaghetti, before she stripped it. Most of all, maintain the detached, professional patient/nurse relationship that—so far—was working with Ellen.
But, by damn, her little hand had felt so good!
Chapter 3
Richard surrendered, realizing he wasn’t about to win. Wynter refused to sleep in her own bed, even though her room was directly across the hall. “What if you need me, and I don’t hear you? I don’t want to explain that to Mother.” That was her one and final argument to end the “discussion.” She briefly disappeared into her room—with her four-legged shadow following, of course—closed the door, and emerged after a few minutes cocooned in a shapeless, cream-colored, long-sleeved flannel robe that reached to mid-calf. She had her sleeping bag under one arm and an air mattress and pillows under the other.
Ellen had slept in the guest room next to Wynter’s and depended on the intercom to bring her if Richard needed her. Wynter, of course, worried that the electricity might go out, and the intercom would cease working.
When her bed was ready she gave Richard his pills. He had her replace the pain pill with ibuprofen, rationing the stronger medication for when he might desperately need it. Then she brought out the urinal again. Somehow he managed to avoid erecting in her soft little hand when she again failed to squeeze the monster hard enough, though it sprang up in his pajamas as she was carrying the urinal out the door. Not only was he hornier than a priest at a convention of altar boys, his “problem” was growing more painful.
Richard would have given almost anything to have his fingers, if not a whole hand, free at that moment, but Kevin Taylor had insisted that his fingers and hands remain immobilized for another week to insure that he didn’t permanently lose any of their function or range of motion. Could he think of an excuse for her to put the pillow in his lap, where he could hump it after she went to sleep?
No, and besides, how would he explain the mess the next day?
After she had replaced the urinal, removed the pillow, and lowered his bed to his satisfaction, she disappeared to brush her teeth and free her hair from its ponytail. When she was convinced that there was nothing left for her to do for him, she kissed him goodnight after a quick kiss on his nose and lips. The fresh spearmint smell of her breath reminded him of how funky his own breath must be. He found himself wishing his own breath was as fresh for her because he didn’t want to offend her. However, it was late, and in the morning she would brush his teeth after breakfast, as usual. In her mother hen mode she reminded him to awaken her if he needed anything, then turned out the light.
Richard was barely able to see her slip out of her robe and into her sleeping bag. She was just gray, shapeless movement in the dark rather than discernible features. For an instant he wished he could see what she looked like in her pajamas, but quickly put that idea out of his head. He attributed the thought to extreme unrelieved horniness aggravated by the gentle touch of her sweet lips to his.
He heard, rather than saw, Dragon sniff her to see if something was wrong since she was on the floor instead of her bed, then curl beside her and heave a massive sigh. Lucky dog! screamed across his mind unbidden.
He was still worrying about how the morning would go when he drifted off.
———————————
It was a little after six when he called to her. He’d been awake for several minutes, waiting for the erection left over from his erotic dream to subside, but it was also a piss-hard-on and was slow in deflating. A little light was coming through the curtains, but the room was not as brightly lit as it would have been if not for the snowstorm.
She was slow to awaken enough to understand that he needed her. When that sank in she became wide awake.
“I’m sorry, honey. I waited as long as I could, but I need the urinal. Quickly.”
She sprang up, startling Dragon, who prowled the room and then the hallway looking for danger, then sat watching her when he found none. In her haste she hadn’t bothered reaching for her robe. Richard rarely saw her in her pajamas. Because the occupied rooms in the house in general and his recovery room in particular were kept warm, she was comfortable in a loose, pink babydoll that he’d never seen before, unless maybe he’d seen it in the laundry basket, but not on her. It was thin but opaque and had roomy armholes and a scooped neckline. She hadn’t quite grown into it yet.
She stood between him and the lamp, and when she switched on the light the opaque babydoll became translucent, outlining the slim body it covered. She turned and went to the foot of the bed to retrieve the urinal. Her pajamas regained their opacity with her first step, but the picture had been imprinted in his memory as if he were a camera.
He fought to clear his mind of the image of the narrowing of the waist above her hipbones and the ripple of her rib cage. Most of all he struggled to clear the image of the small mound capped by a smaller cone thrusting proudly outward from her chest. By the time she had him upright, with the pillow under his ass and his arms suspended, he had the Beast under control.
She used the index finger and thumb of each hand to daintily separate his fly, then pulled out his organ with two fingers and the thumb of her right hand. She held it that way while she picked up the urinal from beside him and mated the spigot to the receptacle. She was blushing, but not as brightly as before. This time she spent only half as much time looking away from his dick. For some perverse reason, Richard found that exciting, and he had to again fight the urges of the Beast.
He reminded her to squeeze harder this time when she stripped the last of the urine from his penis. But Wynter had realized that her previous efforts had been less than adequate. Instead of squeezing it between thumb and fingers, she wrapped her index finger and thumb around it, squeezed, and pulled. Twice. While doing so, she leaned forward.
All his efforts to fight the Beast failed with his view through the arm opening: a firm, white mound less than half the size of a baseball and the sweet pink nipple thrusting out from its center. His dick felt the strokes that almost duplicated Angie’s when she masturbated him. His cock hardened with an explosive speed that he’d not experienced since high school.
“Oh my god!“ Wynter cried.
Until that moment Richard had never heard Wynter say anything stronger than “Drat,” and her outburst stunned him. He was more stunned by the realization that his daughter was standing there with a urinal of piss in one hand and his throbbing cock rocket in her other. She hadn’t released her grip on either, and was staring wide-eyed at the six-plus inches of the latter. Her lower jaw and lip were trembling.
“Daddy?“ The brittle tone of panic permeated her voice.
Richard’s face flushed as crimson as hers. “Oh, honey, I—I am so—so sorry that it happened,” he stammered.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, honey, you didn’t do anything wrong. Did—uh—did your mother explain men’s—uh—erections to you?”
“Sort of. You mean that’s all this is?” She held it without movement in her soft, warm hand and continued to stare at it.
In other circumstances Richard might have taken offense at his magnificent boner being referred to as “that’s all?” by any female, but he was still too distressed to think about that. The heat of her touch was maddening and exciting, but Wynter was a juvenile and she was his daughter. He tried to will the Beast into submission, but the warmth of her touch and the lingering vision of her budding young breast were stronger than his will.
“Honey, it’s something that just happens sometimes when we have no control over it. It’s a—a reflex. Like a yawn that you can’t control.”
Her blonde eyebrows drew together and her mother hen worries began to assert themselves, overriding her panic. “Does it hurt?”
Richard still couldn’t tame the savage Beast, but he gained some control over his own embarrassment. After all, he was the one who had said she shouldn’t be embarrassed while being his nurse. It would be hypocritical to tell Wynter not to be embarrassed, yet for him to do so himself. Richard hated fewer things more than hypocrites. He might as well use the opportunity to answer questions Angie couldn’t in an adult-to-adult manner. She’s not my daughter; she’s my student. “No. Well, it’s not a pain-type hurt, anyway. It’s more like—I don’t know. Hunger? That’s really not a good example, but it’s the best I can think of.”
“What should I do now?” she asked in a soft voice tinged with uncontrollable concern, if not worry. Fortunately the panic had left her voice.
“Well, first put the urinal down before you spill anything, and then put it away like you did before. It will go back down eventually.”
“It will?” she asked, still in the soft voice. Suddenly she seemed embarrassed by what she had asked, though her face was already red, and turned to put the urinal on the stand. Her warm little hand never released its grip on his turgid cock, and the turning of her body caused her hand to tug slightly. The sensation was better than any handjob he’d ever had, even the unforgettable one from Betsy Richards in the tenth grade.
Not if you keep that up, he thought, but aloud he tried to ease her worries with a joke. “What goes up must come down.”
Wynter gave him an odd, undefinable look, then turned her attention to his fly and the erect Beast in her right hand. Her left tried to pry the opening wider.
Richard was wearing the one set of pajamas with the small fly—obviously designed by either some short-dicked loser or somebody too old to get it up now—and she had to struggle. When he jerked involuntarily, and a wince of pain flashed across his face, she saw it and froze.
“You said it didn’t hurt!“ Her tone was a damning accusation.
“It didn’t. It doesn’t. Normally. It’s just that…. Well—it’s a long story and, uh—well, I guess you’re old enough to know. You might need to know some day when you’re married.” He didn’t even want to think the phrase, “When you begin dating.”
A flash of fear passed over her delicate features. “I will?”
“Honey, I said you might. Do you see all that scar tissue where my penis and scrotum meet?”
She nodded. “I saw it the first time I… uh—the first time.” Her eyes dropped to look again, but flicked back to his face almost immediately.
“Skiing accident when you were about a year old,” he said. “In addition to breaking my leg, I broke the ski, and the jagged edge jabbed me there. I gave myself a vasectomy—that’s an operation that keeps men from making babies any more—without benefit of an anesthetic or a doctor. The emergency room doctor said that I was lucky that I could still… uh—that your mother and I could still make love because I’d almost severed a nerve that helps cause the erection. But that’s the reason you don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
Wynter said nothing, but she was awestruck at the idea that her father was actually talking to her as if she were another grownup. Meanwhile, her grip on his penis-thingy—no, just penis, what a grownup would call it—remained firm, unintentionally causing it to remain firm, too.
“As a result of the damage, plus what the doctor had to do to keep me from bleeding to death, I—well—I have sort of a permanent problem now. The doctor says it sometimes happens to men who have had vasectomies, too, so if your future husband has one some day, then he might have the same problem.”
Wynter wondered why on earth her future husband would want to have a vasectomy “some day,” but said nothing to keep from destroying the magical feeling of being treated like an grownup.
“A vasectomy keeps a man’s sperm cells from being released in his semen, but semen is made up of liquids from several different glands. They keep producing the liquids all the time, and eventually the pressure causes discomfort, especially if there’s some damage left over from an accident or operation. I guess it’s sort of like the discomfort your mother feels just before her period, when other fluids accumulate in her tissues. Maybe it happens to you, too.”
Wynter flushed slightly with embarrassment as she lowered her eyes and nodded, and then flushed again in anger with herself. Here was her father talking to her like she was a grownup, and she was reacting like a child!
Her eyes had landed on his erect penis in her hand. She was still holding it! Should she release it? Her father hadn’t said anything about it, so perhaps if she did release her grip she would appear to be acting like a child again.
Besides, it had a—well—a nice feel about it, all warm and, oddly enough, both hard and soft at the same time. It was a pleasant sensation and….
Maybe it was because the comment about the discomfort of her period caused her to think about there, but she suddenly realized that the odd itchy feeling had returned. She tried to ignore it and looked back into her father’s loving green eyes.
“So it’s a monthly problem for you, too?” she asked, hoping she sounded grownup.
Richard chuckled. “I wish. It gets uncomfortable after about five days.”
“Oh my goodness! Every five days?” She thought that sounded very grownup and was pleased with herself for not blushing.
“Well, not exactly. Five days or so after it starts building up again.”
She looked puzzled at him for a few seconds, but then her eyes widened as she realized what he meant. “Oh. And since Mother isn’t here….” She didn’t finish the sentence, hoping that would keep her from blushing again. Then she frowned. “But when she goes out of town for a week or two, you hurt while she’s gone?”
Mother hen had returned. Wynter hated the thought that her father had to suffer whenever her mother was away. She hated for anyone to suffer, but especially someone she knew and most especially somebody she loved.
“Uh, not exactly.” It was Richard’s turn to try suppressing the red face. He also fought to suppress the urge to hump his aching dick in her fist. His daughter’s hand was warm and snug around the middle of his shaft, and the tension in her outstretched arm caused it to move slightly, sending tiny waves of pleasure pulsing outward through his body. He could just imagine what it would feel like if she were to tighten her fist around it and pound her arm up-and-down. Which, of course, was why his erection was refusing to subside. “When it gets too uncomfortable, I can relieve the pressure myself. Or could when my hands and arms were free.”
“Daddy, Mother won’t be back for two more weeks, and you’ll be in those casts for another week. I don’t want you to hurt until then!” Her eyes seemed to flick involuntarily to his cock and they back to his eyes before she asked in a low voice, “What—what can I do to help you get better?” The young woman lost the inner struggle to the little girl then, and her gaze shifted aside, locking on the corner of his pillow so that she didn’t have to meet his eyes, even though she was furious at herself for doing so.
Richard licked his suddenly dry lips. “Honey, there’s nothing you can do now. I’ll just have to wait. The pain pills help some.”
“Some? Just some? But you’re almost out of pain pills. Does the ibu…—ibu….”
“It helps a little. Honey, please put it away before I change my mind.”
Wynter grasped what that statement implied. “If—if you can change your mind, then—then there is something I can do! To help,” she stammered, angry with herself because she couldn’t control her blushing like a child. “If—if you could make it better with your hand, then—uh, I—I—I can do it with mine. For you. To help you. Just tell me how.”
Each refusal Richard made was more difficult than the previous, both because he knew she was seriously trying to help him and because he wanted the relief as much as a junkie wanted heroin. He smiled to keep his words he didn’t want to say from sounding like a rebuke. “Honey, you can’t. I’m your father.”
“NO!“ The intensity of her refusal surprised them both. “You’re not my father, you’re my patient! You said so yourself.” The picture of how Dragon’s tongue licked his hard, red penis-thingy floated before her. The odd itchy sensation also reappeared, but she was practiced at ignoring that.
She gently released his erect member, lowering it to his abdomen rather than letting it snap back. Although he knew that she had done the correct thing, Richard wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or disappointed. Then he gasped. Wynter had started stroking along it the way Dragon’s tongue moved. She lightly pressed her fingertips against the hot meat near the head, gently stroked downward to his balls, and then lifted her hand to repeat the process.
When he squeezed his eyes shut and moaned with pleasure, she misinterpreted the sound and stopped. Her blonde brows came together and she started at his tightly-squeezed eyes. “Am I doing it wrong? Did I hurt you?” she asked, worry roughing the edges of her words and tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. “It seems to be getting bigger. Is it s’posed to do that?”
He focused on her sweet young face, not wanting to encourage her to continue, but, in absolute honesty, not wanting her to stop, either. For the first time in his life, Richard King really did understand the saying, “A hard dick has no conscience.”
“No, honey, it felt really good. There is no ‘wrong’ way to do it,” he said, trying to encourage her without encouraging her, “unless it’s something that’s painful. I’ve never felt it done like that before, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. One of the nice things about sex is that people can always find something new that feels good.”
“What feels best?” Wynter asked, still frowning. The thrill caused by his talking to her like she was a grownup was cancelled by the thought that she wasn’t using the best possible treatment for her father’s—her patient’s—need. She kept her fingers pressed against his penis-thingy—his penis, she corrected herself again—and wondered whether she should pick it up. It occasionally throbbed against her fingertips, and each time it did, she felt that odd, itchy sensation intensify down there, where she also seemed to be growing wetter. But she didn’t need to go potty that bad yet. She wondered if her “friend had come to visit” early, but if so, she wasn’t flowing rapidly. She could spare some time to care for her patient before she had to go find a pad for herself.
———————————
“What feels best?” Richard almost groaned at her question. Best was the way Angie could deep throat him while purring. When he was really horny, as horny as he was now, she could have him creaming her tonsils in thirty seconds, unless she chose to prolong the act. She could play his skin flute the way Wynter could play her metal one. But he couldn’t tell Wynter that. Besides, her question had actually been the best way to handjob him. He was rather partial to the warm massage oil that Angie used for stroking her right hand on his throbbing boner while…. Well, he couldn’t tell Wynter that, either.
Richard capitulated to his desire. He talked her through the steps of picking it up, wrapping her hand around it at the right spot, and jacking his joint without ripping off his foreskin on the down stroke. When she had mastered the procedure, he leaned his head back into his pillow, closed his eyes, and sighed. He knew he’d give himself hell after he’d shot his wad and reason returned, but he was going to enjoy every moment of his handjob while it happened.
He let his subconscious argue over whether to prolong the pleasure or seek immediate release and let his daughter put the Beast away. Thanks to her musical training, Wynter was able to maintain a constant rhythm as her hand glided up and down his staff, coaxing a symphony of pleasure waves from his organ and into his body. After a minute she stopped and he sensed her body moving. He opened his eyes and gasped in surprise, delight, and overwhelming desire as the strokes resumed.
———————————
Wynter had carefully followed her father’s instructions, adjusting the tightness of her grip and the length of her stroke until he was satisfied and lay back in his pillow. A few seconds after he closed his eyes, she lowered hers to watch what she was doing to his penis. She fought the urge to look away by telling herself that a grownup woman, a real nurse, wouldn’t look away, and besides, she needed to look or she might pull too far down.
At first she was glad he had his eyes closed and couldn’t see her red face. The red faded and she was quickly spellbound by the way the foreskin partially covered, then uncovered the larger, purple, mushroom head in time with her stroke. The knob appeared to swell slightly with her upstroke. The network of veins along the shaft gave it a lumpy texture that could be seen but not felt. She frowned slightly as she concentrated on the way that the shaft felt as her hand moved along it. The odd itchy sensation intensified.
The cast holding her father’s arm, suspended in front of her, was in her way just enough that she was worried about nudging it and causing him pain. She stopped stroking but retained her grip on the thingy—the penis—while she moved a little further toward the foot of the bed. She had to bend forward to keep her grip on her father’s erection. She braced a hip against the side of the bed and rested some of her weight on her left arm atop the mattress. As she resumed stroking his penis-thingy, she heard him gasp and looked toward his face as the erection seemed to swell bigger in her hand.
She looked toward his face and saw his eyes staring… where? Her father was looking down the neck of her top! It sagged enough to leave her growing young boobies displayed despite the hair streaming over her shoulders. She flushed in embarrassment and looked back to his eyes, but continued to stroke him as the odd itchy sensation seemed to consume her lower body.
“I’m going to cum,” he said, and she wondered if she understood him.
His eyes lifted to her red face, and he realized he’d been caught gaping at those small, sweet titties that had crowded everything else from his consciousness. “Oh, honey,” he said, “I’m sorry I was staring at you.”
Then, as if having their own independent mind, his eyes dropped to feast on her tender young boobies again. “Don’t stop rubbing until it’s over,” he begged. “Oh my god, that feels wonderful!“ he said before his words were replaced by a low, guttural rumble and his body stiffened.
“Okay,” she said softly in response to his request, pleased by his subsequent comment. She wasn’t sure of what to expect, but, like a grownup, she would manage if it would help her father—her patient, she corrected herself—find relief.
Her gaze flicked back and forth between Richard’s eyes and his hard penis. Even as his body tensed, to the point that his hips were rising, thrusting his throbbing pole higher, his eyes remained fixed down her neckline and on her boobies. Somehow, that was helping him, so she hunched her shoulders forward to drop the neckline lower. Her odd itch became maddeningly intense, and she squeezed her thighs together, causing a new sensation that was much more pleasant than the itch.
The stiff penis swelled in her hand. She looked down and saw the skin of the head stretched so tightly that it was shining. A thick, clear drop had formed at the opening, and it was displaced by another pushing upward. Shaken by her hand, it began trickling erratically down the tube. “My god, you’re so sexy!“ her father gasped in barely recognizable words before an animal growl forced its way out of his throat. Again she squeezed her thighs together to combat the distracting itch. And then it happened.
She held his throbbing penis upright and continued to stroke with the same rhythm. It pulsed in her hand. And again. And again. It kept pulsing as thick white liquid shot out the tip, hung in mid-air near eye level, and then dropped down the same path to splash on the penis head and her still-pumping fist. A second shot rose almost as high and also splashed down. The third was half the height of the first. The fourth rose only a couple of inches. Another two or three rose slightly and flowed down over her slimy hand to puddle with the rest soaking into the front of his pajamas. Her slick hand, coated with the hot, gooey stuff, began sliding on the rigid pole, and he gasped with more pleasure. Wynter smiled. She was being a good nurse and helping her patient.
The aroma of his semen reached her nose, and the itchy sensation exploded anew. She squeezed her thighs together again and wished the dratted distraction would go away.
He finally said she could stop. She was surprised to discover that she didn’t want to stop, but he was the patient. Her hand slowed for two more strokes and then stilled. She kept his slimy penis-thingy in her grip and looked at his eyes, which were struggling up from her neckline. “That’s awesome!” she said, then realized she’d sounded her age again.
Richard gave her an embarrassed smile. “Actually,” he replied, “that’s exactly what I was about to say. I feel a whole lot better now.”
She tried to sound grownup as she asked the question foremost in her mind. “Daddy, uh—will I—you know, have to—to do this often when I’m a nurse?”
Chapter 4
Wynter gently removed Richard’s pajama bottoms, wiped most of the semen off his penis and scrotum with them, and put them in the washer to soak. She reclined him at a forty-five degree angle and fetched a washcloth, a dispenser of liquid soap, and basin of warm water to finish cleaning him. She wheeled the bedside table into place, put her load on it, and hopped onto the bed beside him. He’d seemed to recognize that she was struggling with something, so he had remained quiet while she sorted her thoughts while soaping his penis. As she began wiping it with the washcloth she found her courage. In a hesitant voice she said, “Daddy, I—I have a question. If you don’t mind.”
He gave her an exaggerated frown. “After all that, you have only one?”
She looked up at the funny frown on his face and giggled, releasing her nervous concern that he might object. “Nah. I have a bunch of ‘em.”
“Ah!” he said. “Then that’s more like it. What do you want to know? And Wynter, you can ask anything you want. I’ll try to answer the best I can.”
She smiled and turned back to the task in hand. “Tell me if I wash too hard,” she said. Then the smile faded. “Daddy, did looking down my top help?”
———————————
Richard blinked in surprise. For a moment he wondered how to answer that. Wynter had, of her own volition, just given him a handjob—and one of the most satisfying handjobs he’d ever had—because she was concerned for him, for his comfort and need. She had done so not out of prurient interest, of that he was certain, or because she wanted something, but simply because she cared about him. She deserved no less than the most honest answers he could give her, for this and all other questions.
“Yes,” he said. “Honey, I’m really sorry if that embarrassed you.”
She shook her head. “No. Not really. But how did it help?” She turned to rinse the cloth in the basin before resuming her task.
“It’s kind of hard to explain, honey. Different guys get turned on by different things. I’m what other guys call a ‘tit man.’ I like to look at women’s breasts of all shapes and sizes, and especially on the pretty ones like you.”
———————————
“Women’s.” Not “girls’.” She sat a little straighter and smiled. “So, you liked them?”
“Oh, yes. Definitely. Actually, I could see the outlines through your top when you turned on the light. That made me very horny. You know; turned me on. I could barely keep it down. Then I saw one through the sleeve opening and….” His voice trailed off. “Uh, oh.”
She froze in mid-stroke, afraid to move. “What’s wrong? Am I doing it wrong? Does it hurt?”
“No, honey, it definitely doesn’t hurt. It feels really good when you wash me, and that plus the thought of what your breasts looked like are starting to turn me on again.”
A look of surprise crossed her face, but she forced it into what she hoped was a grownup expression. “Then I’m doing okay?”
“Oh, yes! In fact, if you aren’t careful it might get hard again.”
Her brows arched. “Really?” As he nodded, she smiled brightly and looked at his limp noodle to see if she could see any change in its size. Finding none, she resumed wiping it in silence, rinsed the rag again, and asked in as conversational a tone as she could manage, “What does it feel like when you get—turned on?”
He shrugged. “It’s probably the same for me as it is for you.”
Wynter avoided his eyes. “I don’t know what that is,” she said in a quiet voice. “Mother didn’t tell me.”
Her father watched her for a moment, his mouth open in surprise. “You don’t know?” She shook her head. “Honey, have you ever—uh, masturbated?”
Her voice was almost inaudible. “Mother didn’t tell me how to do that, either.”
“Well, most mothers don’t. You haven’t learned to do it on your own?”
Wynter’s eyes were moist as she looked into his and said, “No.” Was this something she was supposed to teach herself, but had been such a child that she hadn’t done so yet? But she didn’t have the first clue as to how to begin. She didn’t have a penis-thingy she could grasp the way she did her father’s.
———————————
Richard guessed her thoughts. “Well, a lot of girls don’t,” he said, hoping she didn’t ask how many since he had no clue to the percentages. “I would guess, based on what your mother and other women have said, that it’s probably an empty or itchy feeling up between your legs, especially near the front. A feeling that demands some sort of attention.”
Her hands stilled. “Is that what that weird feeling is?” she asked. “I’ve felt it before, but I didn’t know what it was. Some times it won’t go away for hours.”
Richard was amazed at what she did and did not know. Surely she had friends who had by now discovered the delights of fingering the furrow. But, of course, Wynter spent much time isolated from them. His and Angie’s needs were fulfilled by their jobs and their home. They hadn’t consciously considered what Wynter’s needs might be. Guilt swept over him, and not the guilt from letting his daughter handjob his joint to orgasm. “Well,” he said softly, “now you know what you can do about it.”
She shrugged. “But I don’t know how. I wish your hands were loose so you could show me.”
That did it. The image that rushed into his mind rushed a torrent of blood into his cock.
She felt movement in her hand and dropped her eyes to watch his erection sprout. “That has to be the neatest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said with a trace of awe. She squirmed and added, “Daddy, that feeling is back. Am I getting turned on, too?”
The apology for erecting again died in his throat. “Probably. Well, this time you can do something about it.” He hoped he didn’t sound as eager to watch that happen as he actually was. Then he moaned as her hand encircled his rigid rod and pumped a few cautious strokes.
“Didn’t I get enough out of you the first time?”
Richard explained the difference between sexual excitement and seminal pressure, and how they weren’t related. “So it’s a reaction to an emotional need, not a physical one. Understand?”
“I guess,” Wynter said. She no longer made any attempt to avoid looking at her father’s—her patient’s—throbbing penis-thingy. His erection. She gazed at it openly and without embarrassment as her hand moved to show it from several angles. “But how come I feel it? I guess that’s what it is, since I don’t have any emotional need like you do with Mother gone.”
Richard shook his head. Wynter had always been brilliant, but sometimes she couldn’t see a floodlight shining in her eyes. “Honey, I don’t think you understand. Your mind and body are telling you that you do have an emotional need.”
As her eyes lifted to stare at him, her hand lifted his pole and started jacking it with slow, gentle strokes. “But I’m not, well, having to do without.”
Richard laughed gently. “You said you weren’t masturbating. If you aren’t hiding a boyfriend in your closet and letting him out at night, then you are doing without.”
“DADDY!“ She flushed a brilliant scarlet and looked away.
“‘Daddy?’ I thought I was your patient. Honey, your hormones are doing more to your body than just making your breasts grow and turning you into a woman. Well, no, I guess that those feelings are a part of them turning you into a woman. Anyway, they’re what’s causing the feeling.”
“Oh.” Wynter dropped the subject and began stroking his stiff stick, causing him to abandon the topic as well. The soft moan escaping from his throat made her smile. After several seconds her eyes wandered back to his. A thought struck her. “Would it help if you looked at my, uh—at me again?” She winced when she realized how childish she must have sounded.
Richard discovered he was staring at her top, trying to see through it. He met her eyes. “Honey, not if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“I already said it didn’t,” Wynter reminded him, a smile flickering across her lips. And it didn’t. In fact, the thought was causing the itch between her legs to intensify. She guessed that must be what it was like when he looked at her boobies. Her breasts, she corrected herself, not wanting to sound like a child.
Her tits. That thought caused the odd itch to surge in intensity. She squeezed her thighs together involuntarily and released his rod long enough to strip her top off over her head and flip her hair back.
Richard’s eyes feasted on his lovely daughter’s half-naked body as she twisted to show herself from several angles. She was long in the torso, the way he was, and slender like her mother, with arms that were skinny like a child’s. The interplay of light and shadow made her ribs stand out below the small, wide-spaced hemispheres that looked soft yet firm at the outer edges of her chest. Darker pink, quarter-sized circles drew his eyes to the small, round nipples that stood out as if inviting lips and fingers to caress, to worship them.
Her waist pinched in between her ribcage and her hips. Above the top of her pajama panties, her navel sat at the top of a small mound of—muscle or baby fat? He wished his hands were free to determine the nature of the filling under the smooth, creamy skin. And what lovely skin! Either she used moisturizer all over her body, or the dry mountain air hadn’t begun to affect her the way it had Angie and himself. Her skin glowed with a smooth, translucent softness that made him want to sandpaper his fingertips to make them more sensitive before he stroked them over the surface of her body, her arms, her legs, her face.
“Honey, you are absolutely beautiful,” he said, unable to keep a tone of awe from his voice. “I mean, I knew you were pretty, but a field of columbines growing in front of a waterfall would pale in comparison.”
As he expected, she ducked her head and blushed at the comparison to her two favorite things. While she enjoyed compliments, she never knew how to react to them. Something else to discuss with Angie, he told himself. His list was growing.
Richard wished desperately that his arms, or at least his hands, were free of the casts and that they were large enough to touch her everywhere at once, the way he wished his eyes could focus on every square inch of her at once. Later he would wonder what she looked like under the pajama panties. At the moment, what he could see was more than enough to fuel his desire for a month. She was a superb blend of innocence and eroticism, the innocence of youthful beauty and the eroticism of blossoming sexuality. If I’m to be struck blind in his life, let it be now so that this would be the last sight, locked forever in my mind, he thought.
She reached for his dick and began pumping again. I wonder if somebody else masturbating me would make me go blind, he wondered. She froze when he suddenly laughed. “It’s okay,” he said. “I just thought of something funny, sort of a variation on an old joke.” She gave him an uncertain look. He told her what it was and then had to explain it to her.
She looked confused but relieved. Apparently she had thought he was laughing at her, and he remembered her emotional roller coaster. “Never mind about the joke,” he said. “We’ll discuss it later. You’re doing just fine, honey. It feels every bit as wonderful as you look.”
Wynter blushed again and whispered, “Thank you,” so quietly that he read it on her lips more than he heard it. Realizing she had slumped in girlish embarrassment, she straightened, thrusting her—her tits out for her patient to see. She squeezed her legs together because of that dratted itch as she turned to unblock the view caused by her right arm crossed over her body. The combination caused her thighs to rub that place and send a small, pleasant wave throughout her body, but she forgot about it when she realized she was in danger of bumping the suspended cast of her father’s left arm.
She switched hands. “I’m sorry,” she said after a minute. “I have trouble keeping the beat with my left hand. Do you want me to move to the other side of the bed where I can use the right one?”
The question brought Richard back from teetering on the brink of release. “No, honey, that’s not necessary. I know sex has been called ‘The Symphony of Love,’ but you don’t have to stick to any beat. You can think of it as a syncopated symphony, if that helps.”
“Okay,” she said in a small voice, wondering if her ignorance had made her seem childlike again. Well, one thing was for sure: hunching down every time she made a stupid mistake certainly made her seem so.
Again she straightened and thrust her tits—the word sounded strangely grown up to her and made her itch tingle more—forward for him, flipping back the hair that had crept around her shoulders when she hunched like a child. She watched her father’s eyes roam about her body, always returning to her tits before wandering down another path. Every time they returned to her tits, the tip of his tongue crept out and swept along his lips. That triggered a forgotten thought which triggered a surge in the odd itching sensation. It was something she’d heard her mother say one night when she couldn’t sleep and was about to knock on their bedroom door. “Daddy, would you like to suck my tits?”
“Oh, yes, honey!” he said in a gasp. “Oh yes! Oh, fuck! I’m cumming!“ His penis-thingy swelled and began throbbing in her hand, the way it had when he had shot his semen earlier.
Fuck? Suzie Middleton had told her that word. Suzie didn’t know what it meant, but she said that it was a naughty word that only grownups said to each other, and Wynter had better not use it around them. But Daddy had used it with her, just like she was a grownup. She smiled and swelled with pride just like his penis-thingy had swelled with—with what? She guessed it was the semen that made it swell up, since it went down after he shot it out.
And shoot it out he did! Again she held it to shoot upward, and again it splashed down all hot and wet and thick and sticky over her hand and wrist and his belly and legs. There wasn’t as much as before, but she was still surprised at the amount. Even though it was one of the most exciting things she’d ever seen, she worried that the quantity meant she hadn’t done it right the first time.
Wynter continued to pump her small, slick fist up and down the shrinking tube until he opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Honey, that felt even better than the last time. You can stop now, because it’s starting to get too sensitive.”
Fear crossed her face. “Am I hurting you?”
He laughed weakly. “Not at all. It feels really, really good when you keep rubbing after I cum, but after a while my dick gets too sensitive. I have to tell you when that is, and then you can stop before it hurts.” He looked sleepy, but there was another, happier, look on his face that she hadn’t seen since his accident. Not counting, of course, after the first time he—he came. And he’d called his penis his dick. She wondered if she should start a notebook of all these new terms and what they meant so that she could use them properly.
“Oh, good grief!” he said in an exaggerated, playful voice. “I’ve really made a mess, and you’d just finished cleaning me up. I must be the most difficult patient you’ve ever had.”
“Yep,” she agreed with a bright smile that showed her perfect teeth. “I can truthfully say that except for Dragon, I’ve never had a worse one.”
Chapter 5
Dragon decided it was time for his early morning trip outside. Wynter let him out while she replaced the cold water in the basin with warm water and rinsed the wash cloth which held most of her father’s semen. She put her hair in a ponytail and went back to the kitchen to let Dragon in. He paused at his water bowl, but stopped drinking and tore across the kitchen floor when Wynter disappeared down the hall.
She opened her father’s bedroom curtains. They watched in silence as the heavy snowflakes tumbled down from the gray sky. After a few moments she returned to his bedside. Since it was warm in the room, and since looking at her tits made her father happy—and that other word, horny—she left her top off, thinking she could put it back on if he said anything negative. She could just pretend she had forgotten about it.
She washed and rinsed his—his dick, he’d called it; another word to remember—and cleaned away the other traces of his semen. This time his dick stayed soft, though she noticed he spent much of the time looking at her tits. Perhaps this time she had done her job correctly. But she couldn’t know unless she asked.
She didn’t replace his pajama bottoms because he said she would have to bathe him after breakfast and would just have to remove them again. She put the wash rag in the bowl, toweled him dry, and sat on the edge of the bed, carefully turning to give him a good view of her boobies—no, her tits.
She looked him in the eye, because that’s what grownups would do, though she desperately wanted to look anywhere else. “I have a stupid question.”
His green eyes were looking directly into her blue-green ones, just like she was another grownup, but the smile that spread across his face was part of the loving gaze that a father gives his daughter. She hoped that fathers gave that same look to grownup daughters because it made a warm, tingly feeling spread throughout her, and she never wanted to stop seeing it.
“Honey, there’s no such thing as a stupid question.”
Her face melted into a sorrowful look that made him want to hold her in his arms and comfort her. “Well, this one is ‘cause I don’t know the answer.”
Despite himself, he laughed. “Wynter, if you knew the answer, you wouldn’t have to ask the question. If you asked anyway, then that might qualify as a stupid question.”
She shrugged. “I just—I feel so ignorant about things I should already know.”
He understood. “Really? Do you know how to do an F-seventh augmented fifth chord?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t. I don’t know how to make any chords on a piano. I don’t know an F-seventh augmented fifth from a C-major.”
Her face brightened and grew animated. “I can show you. Just as soon as you get the casts off, I can ….”
“Maybe later,” he said, cutting her off gently. “But since I don’t know the difference, does that make me ignorant?”
“Well, no.”
“Of course it does. No, let me finish. Being ignorant of something just means nobody has taught you yet.” He emphasized the last word to be sure she heard it and understood. “Honey, everybody is ignorant of a whole lot of things, but over time they become less ignorant because they learn new stuff. Look how much you’ve learned since you woke up yesterday morning.”
Wynter thought about that, then became angry with herself as she felt her cheeks warming. She sat straighter and thrust her tits forward, hoping they would keep him from seeing that her face was blushing like a child’s. His eyes dipped to look at them, but quickly returned to hers.
“Wynter, it’s not the same thing as being stupid, where people tell you things over and over and over and you still don’t remember them. Smart is trying to learn the answers to your questions; stupid is living in ignorance when you don’t have to. So don’t you ever be afraid to ask somebody a question because you want to learn something. Especially of me. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said in a small voice. “I love you, Daddy. Thanks for helping me.”
“I love you, too, honey. Helping each other is what family and love and all that mushy stuff is about. Now: what’s the question? Let’s get it answered so we can get on to breakfast!” He gave her a wink and a grin.
Her head dipped slightly and a small smile spread across her sweet lips, causing the corners of her eyes to crinkle. The smile faded. “Why did you get, uh—horny?—erected that second time? Is it because I didn’t do a good enough job the first time, ‘n’ all the semen I missed made it stiff again?”
“We’re going to bypass college and go straight to graduate school, eh?”
The warm feeling tingled through her whole body again. Whenever her father said that, it was because she had surprised him with a grownup question, not something a child might ask. It really wasn’t a stupid question after all!
He made a face. “If you’ll scratch the side of my nose where it itches, I guess I’ll have to go on a diet long enough to answer all your questions. Uh, you do have more than one question, don’t you?”
———————————
Breakfast was late because her father had spent over an hour talking with her and answering all of her questions. He didn’t try to hurry her, and he didn’t duck away from any answers. She couldn’t believe how wrong some of her assumptions had been, but he told her that her assumptions made perfect sense based on the knowledge she had at the time. Some people, he’d said, could watch the sun rise in the east all their lives and still assume that it might rise in the west tomorrow, ignoring what they knew.
She thought of more questions while she cooked breakfast. He answered those while they ate. She liked the way he talked to her as if she were a grownup, but still managed to tease her just enough to show that he loved her and was trying to make her comfortable. It was like the way he teased Mother. She thought about that while she loaded the dishwasher and then brushed his teeth and shaved him. When she was a nurse and had to train students, or when she was a mother and wanted to train her children, she wanted to talk to them just the way her father was talking to her so that they would feel comfortable and would want to learn from her.
Then it was time to fetch the bedpan. After all that had happened since she became his nurse, that was less difficult than either anticipated. She put the empty bedpan back in its place, gave him more coffee, and then kissed him before excusing herself to take her shower before his sponge bath.
The most difficult part of sponge-bathing him was removing and replacing his armless, one-legged pajamas because of the suspended casts. She took much longer than Nurse Carter did, but he said that she also caused him much less discomfort. After that praise, her feet didn’t touch the floor for hours. Wynter also took extra precautions to insure that she didn’t wet the plaster casts and was gentle where the stitches had been removed the day he came home. By the time she was finished it was almost noon.
She was buttoning his pajama tops when her mother called from Geneva. She barely had time to tell her mother that she was now the nurse when the cell phone rang. She held the handset to Richard’s ear with one hand and answered the cell phone with the other. It was Nurse Carter.
“I was worried,” Nurse Carter explained. “I hadn’t heard from you, and then when I tried calling on the house phone I got a busy signal.”
“Mother called. Daddy’s talking to her now. We’re doing great so far. He says I’ve been a good nurse. He says I’m a natural!”
She thought she heard Nurse Carter laugh softly. “Well, I’ve been telling you that, too, haven’t I? And that you’d also be a natural at being a doctor, too, if you wanted to go to medical school?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she admitted, keeping her eyes on the handset she was holding to her father’s ear. “But everything’s okay here. We had breakfast, ‘n’ I gave Daddy his pills after I checked all his vital signs, just the way you showed me how to do them, ‘n’ I wrote everything on the forms. Everything was normal. I just finished his sponge bath. Oh, he’s taking ibu…—i-bu-pro-fen instead of his pain pills because he wants to save those in case he needs them ‘n’ you can’t get back here yet.” She was gushing. She told herself to slow down and speak professionally.
“Very good,” Nurse Carter said. “Sheriff White said they should have the road clear late tomorrow afternoon, but I may have to park by the mailbox and walk the rest of the way. Did you have any problems with the bedpan or the urinal, since he’s your father?”
Wynter liked the crisp, professional tone that Nurse Carter used. She sounded just like one grownup nurse talking to another. “No, ma’am. But he’s not my father, he’s my patient.”
Again she thought she heard a soft laugh, but the cell phone always had some static noise here, and Wynter couldn’t be sure. “That’s exactly the way to handle it,” she said. “You really are a natural.”
“Actually, it was his idea,” she confessed.
“Only because he thought of it first. I know you. You’d have realized it yourself if you’d had some time to think about it. Can you interrupt to ask if he needs anything from me?”
He didn’t. “That’s nurse business,” he explained. “You have to handle that. I’m just the patient, after all, and you are my professional.”
Wynter’s heart suddenly felt as if it were too big for her chest as the warm tingly feeling spread throughout her body again. “I guess that’s all now. No, wait. When you talk to Dr. Taylor, ask him what’s the soonest we can get Daddy’s fingers out of the casts.”
She had been afraid that Nurse Carter would ask why, and she didn’t know what she would say in reply, but there was no question. Nurse Carter must have assumed that there was a good reason, and that was enough for her.
———————————
Ellen Carter stared at the phone on her desk, leaned back in her chair, and silently sipped her honeyed tea. Nervous tension slowly seeped away. She was certain that she’d have heard it in Wynter’s voice, even over the noisy connection, if there had been any problems. The girl really was “a natural,” but she was also a perfectionist, and her voice revealed when things weren’t going perfectly. Professions with critical personnel shortages, like nursing, needed people who could do the job quickly and accurately enough for the current situation. Perfectionists, even the naturals, burned out rapidly.
Ellen worried about Jack’s “problem.” She’d had to remove the catheter because he was having frequent erections, and it was causing him additional pain, along with the pain from the semen buildup that stretched the damaged and weakened vas deferens. That would be why he wanted his fingers free.
She knew that she was within a day or so of having to find some solution for the problem, even if it meant masturbating him herself. Unfortunately, that was the only solution she could think of. Not that she’d have minded if he wasn’t married—he was an attractive man, after all, with a wonderful sense of humor and a way of putting everybody at ease even before he said a word. But she couldn’t afford to become involved with another married man the way she had in Pennsylvania. She liked where she was and the people around her.
She didn’t want to be forced into moving again.
———————————
“We’ll talk about it when you get back,” her father was saying as she turned the cell phone off. Her eyes jumped back and forth between the phone she was holding to her father’s ear and the one she was trying to place in the charger on the night stand. “But start thinking about where.” After a moment of listening, he said, “I love you and miss you, too. Here’s Wynter.”
Her mother sounded pleased with the job she had done as the new nurse, and the warm tingly feeling spread again. Wynter gave her some of the highlights of her nursing activities, omitting any reference to certain new skills she had learned, updated Dragon’s situation, reported that she had finally memorized that piano sonata, and told her what Nurse Carter had said about the roads. She noticed that it sounded more like a conversation between grownups than their usual mother-daughter exchange.
“Well, darling, I’m counting on you to keep Daddy safe and comfortable for me while you’re in charge,” her mother said. “If I’m lucky, I might get to come home a day or two early, and I hope so, because I really miss both of you. I found a perfect present for you yesterday, and I’ll bring it, too. The silly meeting’s running after dark again, and it’s about to resume. I have to go. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Daddy and Dragon and I miss you. Bye.” She hung up the phone, determined that this time the tear wouldn’t trickle down her right cheek the way it had the last two times she’d spoken to her mother.
Richard recognized the struggle within her. “Wynter,” he said to distract her, “let’s not bother with the pajama bottoms. They’re too difficult to put on because of the cast, and the covers keep me warm enough anyway.”
She glanced to the sheet that was pulled up to his waist, happy for the distraction. “Are you sure?”
“I didn’t want them in the first place. They were your mother’s idea, and, stupid me, I never thought to tell Ellen that I’d be happier in a hospital gown after your mother left. Besides, it’s plenty warm in here. You seem to be comfortable enough without a top.”
He watched her eyes drop and widen. After her shower, she had donned frilly yellow pajama panties, but had left the top in the drawer. She’d been so busy that she actually had forgotten she was nude from the waist up. He was trying to forget that himself, which wasn’t easy with her standing just a foot from his shoulder and him reclined at an angle that put her sweet, firm breasts at his eye level. Those beautiful, fresh young orbs, pushing their way out from her juvenile chest like new spring growth, were a mixture of child and adult that he found maddeningly enticing. And that very thought was about to awaken the Beast.
“Oh. Uh, do you want me to go put my top back on?” she asked in a hesitant voice.
No way in hell! he wanted to shout. Instead he kept his voice steady and said, “It’s up to you. If you’re more comfortable with it on, I understand.”
“Not really,” she said, with a casual air that convinced him she meant it. “You said you were a ‘tit man.’ Well, there aren’t any other tits around for you to look at. Or do you only like to look at tits when you’re, uh, horny? Is that the right word?”
“That’s the word, though when you’re in polite society instead of here alone with me, the word is ‘excited’ or ‘aroused.’”
Wynter nodded. She felt no embarrassment or unintended reprimand at his words. He had covered that aspect of the names and nicknames of sexual objects and activities in their talk earlier that morning. He wasn’t correcting her; he was only “reinforcing the lesson,” the way he had said all of her teachers would do in nursing school.
“And as for when I enjoy looking at titties, honey, I like looking at them anytime, even when I’m not horny or excited or aroused.” The way he emphasized those last words and his facial expressions when he spoke them caused her to laugh. In a softer voice he added, “Sometimes just looking at them can make me horny when I’m not.”
Wynter’s eyes shifted to his crotch, half expecting to see the sheet move. That odd, itchy sensation down there suddenly returned. When she looked back to his face, his eyes were on her chest and the tip of his tongue was disappearing back into his mouth.
She remembered. “Daddy, when I was—uh, jacking you off?—that last time, you said you’d like to suck on them, but then you—uh, came? Do you still want to?”
Richard struggled with both the physical Beast that he could feel beginning to swell and with the emotional Beast that desired his lovely pre-teen daughter. He knew that the answer had to be a resounding “No!” It’s the only possible, permissible answer. It isn’t morally right. She’s my daughter. She’s only eleven years old. She’s innocent. She has the most exciting body I have ever seen in my life. No! Bad argument!_ She’s illegal jailbait that could land my ass in a sling for years. She’s…_.
“More than anything else in this world,” he heard himself saying, even though he wasn’t finished arguing with himself. His argument might have been more successful if he had conducted it while looking at her face instead of her delicious young pink sweater-fruits. The battle between reason and desire, he suddenly realized, was unconventional warfare, and desire always fights dirty.
Wynter stroked his face with her left hand and smiled. “I guess you know you’ll have to talk me through it,” she said, liking the way she managed to avoid sounding childish.
“Huh uh!” he grunted. “Remember what I said earlier. As long as it doesn’t hurt, there’s no ‘wrong’ way. Honey, part of the fun of sex is learning about not only your partner but yourself, too. You experiment together, rather than following a script, to discover what pleases both people the most.”
Wynter had remembered that and was pleased with herself for having done so. “Oh, I knew that part,” she said in her most grownup tone. “I meant you’d have to talk me through it because of your casts, ‘n’ the ropes ‘n’ things.”
“Oh. Well, let’s see here….” Within two minutes they had the bed adjusted to an angle that placed his head where Wynter could comfortably lean forward, brace her hands on the other edge of the mattress, and have her small, pink nipples hover just above his face. The look on his face as he looked at the soft little mound in front of his nose made her heart swell with joy because she knew she was making her father—her patient—no, this was for her father—happy.
It also made the odd, itchy sensation explode down there.
The itch grew even more worse when she saw the sheet stir with movement because his dick was hardening. She wished she could help him with that immediately, but the suspended arm casts were in the way. She would have to wait until after he was through sucking her tits.
Sucking her tits. She liked the grownup sound of that, but she wondered what it would feel like for her. Her nipples were sensitive, though not as sensitive as when she was about to have her “friend visit.” No! That wasn’t what grownups called it. Like her father had said, when she was about to have her period.
She hoped that her father’s sucking on her tits wouldn’t be painful or even uncomfortable, but if it made him happy, she’d suffer through it as long as she could.
His voice interrupted her thoughts. “Honey, you can still change your mind if you want to.”
She didn’t want to, and the sound of his voice said he didn’t want her to, either. She twisted slightly at the waist, rubbing the tiny knob of her left nipple across the tip of his nose before touching it to his lips. She had just invented a new version of her special kiss for him! He let out a moan that she now recognized as desire. Horniness. The itch down there became harder to ignore, and she squeezed her sleek, slender thighs together trying to try strangle it.
———————————
Richard was surprised by the coolness of the hard, pink nipple that brushed across his nose. Desire flooded through him in a torrent that almost washed away his guilt over what he was about to do. He was glad that Wynter still wanted him to do this because he wasn’t sure she could have stopped him if she had changed her mind.
Well, that was stupid, he realized. All she had to do to stop him was stand up straight. But she didn’t. And if he guessed correctly, she was as horny as he was, though she clearly didn’t know what to do about it without his help. That thought triggered an onslaught of forbidden ideas that made him gasp and made his cock hard as iron as it pulled upright, tenting the sheet, and then continued on until it was aimed at his head. Despite himself, he wondered how many of those ideas he would be able to try with his daughter before Angie returned.
He also wondered how he would explain them to Angie. She had correctly assumed from one of his answers that his pain had been relieved by a handjob. She had incorrectly assumed that Ellen had provided the relief, which Ellen would have done if Richard had asked her, and he was on the verge of asking for that very favor. It was why he had wanted Ellen as his nurse: he had suspected that Murphy’s Law might separate him from Angie for a few days. Angie didn’t mind his using Ellen for relief because she understood the sharp pain that stabbed through his groin if the built-up semen wasn’t released. She also knew that release through a wet dream was rarely effective for more than a few hours. She would understand that a handjob from Ellen was simply a medical procedure.
However, Angie was certain to be pissed that he’d used his own daughter. She’d get over it when she understood that Ellen was trapped in town, that he was in discomfort and Wynter knew it, and that it was Wynter’s idea. Angie knew how determined Wynter would be once she realized that her father was in discomfort, if not pain, and that she might be able to help him somehow.
Angie would also be pissed that he hadn’t done more to discourage their daughter, but she’d eventually calm down enough to understand there was little he could do about it. She would….
The tiny hard berry of his daughter’s nipple pressed against his lips, and they automatically parted to enfold it. The little pink cone and some of the surrounding velvety white pad eased into his mouth as he applied gentle suction with his tongue, stroking it from her left to right because she was leaning over him from the side.
His nose drank in the faint, heady aroma of her freshly-scrubbed skin beneath the subtle bouquet of perfumed soap. He could imagine no sweeter aroma—except, perhaps, that of her virginal young cunt. He wondered if he would find a way to test his theory. As if from a vast distance he heard the gasp of her sudden intake of breath that pushed her sweet, sweet young breast gently downward toward the suction.
He’d have traded ownership of all the world for a mouth atop his head to suck the breast pressed there. He’d have traded twice that much to have his hands free. He wanted to hold his daughter, to squeeze her, to caress every part of her slender, nubile body at once. He wanted to run his fingers gently over every inch of her. He wanted to run his tongue over every inch of her.
God help him, he wanted, to the very core of his being, to fuck her.
His hips began an autonomous primeval thrusting, rubbing the underside of his steely cock against the roughness of the sheet. If he hadn’t already cum twice that morning, it would have been enough to get him off. For a moment he was almost angry, but then he was grateful. He didn’t want the sheet to get him off, he wanted his daughter’s gentle young hand to relieve him. Again.
———————————
Wynter was startled when her father’s mouth swept around her nipple, taking it and part of her underlying tit into his mouth. Immediately afterward the wet roughness of his tongue pushed against her tender flesh and pulled across, suctioning a wonderful hollow feeling that ran from the tip of her breast—her tit—through her supple body to—_there_, where the itch was. The feeling both relieved the itch and made it grow stronger. That effect there made her gasp, and she gently leaned into him.
As her father alternated between sucking and licking, the hollow feeling throbbed. This, she knew, was being horny, and now she really understood why it was so necessary for her to give her father the relief he needed. But what about her own need?
Later, she told herself, after I take care of Daddy. The patient’s needs come first. I’ll ask him after that.
She closed her eyes and bathed in the fascinating new sensation her father was giving her through her nipple. It flowed through her body, warm and exciting, like the feeling she got when she was treated like a grownup, but even better. Eventually she opened her eyes, and realized she was moaning softly. When had she started that? It was what her father did when she jacked him off. She really was horny! That’s what that feeling was down there.
Movement to her left. She looked. Her father’s hard dick was outlined against the sheet, and he was slowly moving it up and down the sheet using his hips. She wondered if that’s how fucking was done.
Wait a minute. She was also thrusting her hips. They were slowly moving, just as her father’s were, and she was squeezing her thighs together as she pulled back. It felt really good down there, near the front, where her—her—what was that “c”-word?—was located.
Her father was also moaning—whimpering, really. It was in time with the rhythm of his rubbing against the sheet rather than sucking and kissing and licking her breast.
“Daddy?”
“Wha?” he asked without releasing her from his mouth.
“Would you like me to jack you off now?”
A low moan escaped from her throat as he again sucked and licked his mouthful before grunting a yes. As she lifted, he said, “But first I want to kiss and suck the other one, too, for just a second.”
As she moved her right breast into place he said, “Wynter, you have the sweetest titties I’ve ever seen. They are every bit as wonderful as the rest of you. Oh, honey, I love you so very much.”
“I love you, too,” she said as she eased the nipple down to his mouth. She meant it with all her heart.
Five minutes later she watched less than a tablespoon of cum dribble down his upright cock and over her hand. “Better?” she asked when he opened his eyes.
“You bet!” His voice was exhausted but happy. “How are you doing?”
She stopped stroking and let her father’s dick grow soft in her hand. It wasn’t as much fun as feeling it grow hard, but still it felt nice, too. “I think maybe I’m horny.”
“Well,” he said with a yawn, “if you aren’t, you did a superb job of acting like you were.”
“I did?”
His head fell over to his shoulder, as if he hadn’t the strength to keep it upright on the pillow, and he smiled at her with sleepy eyes. “Yep. It was fun watching you masturbate—what little I could see with your chest in my face. Not that I’m complaining about the view, you understand.”
A look of surprise exploded across her face. “Masturbate? Me? How?” She was so surprised that the questions blurted out before she could think of a grownup way to ask them.
He looked as if he were trying not to laugh, but he did, though it came out as a strangled chuckle. A flush spread against her will. Drat! It was the first time she’d blushed in over an hour.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t laughing at your question. It was the look on your face, and I shouldn’t have laughed at that, either. It’s something all parents do at different times, and you’ll do the same with your kids someday. You’ll feel bad about it afterward, just like I do now, but you’ll do it. If it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you a secret: you’ll do it because you love them so much that you can’t control it. No, that doesn’t make sense, but it’s true. I didn’t believe Grandpa King any more than you believe me right now. You won’t understand until it happens.”
“Daddy,” she said, her eyes wide with horror, “I didn’t say….”
“No, you didn’t say it, honey, but you thought it. You forget that I used to be a kid, too. I’m not so old and senile that I’ve forgotten those days, you know. Now: let’s answer that question and then you can clean me up.
“I think it’s called ‘thigh masturbation,’ where the woman squeezes her legs tight against her clitoris…”
That was the word!
“…and releases, over and over. Supposedly some women can get off while seated in a crowded room and nobody will notice. Unless she starts screaming with joy, of course.”
Wynter laughed, her eyes sparkling with both humor and understanding. And with joy of a different sort: her father was once again talking to her like she was a grownup.
His eyes flicked to her hand still wrapped around his soft dick and the wet love goo, as he had once called it in their talk, covering both. “If you’ll clean us both up, then I’ll talk you through getting yourself off with your hands. It’s much easier that way.”
“Okay.” Drat! She had whispered again, like a kid. She gave him a big smile with lots of even, white teeth to let him know how she really felt. He smiled back at her, and she rose from her seat on the edge of the bed. She held her cum-slimed hand out for him to see. “There wasn’t much at all this time,” she said.
“Well,” he said, trying to look apologetic and making her giggle, “that’s the third time in just one morning. I haven’t done that in—oh, I guess since before you were born. But I’ll certainly make more, and you’ll have to help with that, too.”
“Good!” she said. That had sounded like an excited child, but she didn’t care. She was playing, just like he was. She bent to kiss him, first on his nose and then on his lips, holding her ponytail in her right hand while her left hand hovered aside, carefully not smearing his semen everywhere.
She thought she felt his tongue gently caress her lips just before she straightened and turned for the bathroom. She wasn’t certain, but it sure did leave a tingly, horny feeling there. In her “clitoris.” Then she remembered. Suzie Middleton, who had also called it a “clitty,” had told her about “French kissing.” As usual, Suzie knew the term but not the reason for its name. Maybe it was how people in France kissed. It didn’t sound very good, but apparently grownups really liked it and did it a lot, so she supposed she’d have to learn how to do it.
She was about to stick her hand under the running water when she noticed that the aroma of his semen—his “cum”—was making her horny clitty throb more. She brought her hand to her nose and sniffed. It was odd, but not unpleasant. She sniffed twice more before realizing she was doing thigh masturbation again, just like she’d been doing when Daddy was sucking her titties. Well, she was about to learn a much better way than thigh masturbation!
She washed her hand and filled the rinse bowl with warm water, putting it, the liquid soap, and a wash cloth on the tray.
Lost in thought, she almost tripped over Dragon as she left the bathroom.
Chapter 6
Exhausted by his third cum of the morning, her father had dozed off while waiting for Wynter to return with the wash cloth and warm water. She put the tray on the rollaway table and stood beside the bed, watching him for almost a minute.
He lay there at a forty-five degree angle with his green eyes closed and his head tilted down toward his left shoulder. His arms and right leg in their suspended casts looked terribly uncomfortable, and she supposed they were, but he never complained about them to her. The hem of his pajama top was pushed halfway to his rib cage, and his exposed, semen-coated dick hung over the left side of his scrotum—his nuts, or his balls, he had called them—the way his head drooped to his shoulder. His left foot and ankle were under the rumpled pile of the sheet.
His dark hair was in desperate need of a trim and shampooing, but he was still the handsomest man in the whole world to her. With as much gentleness as she could manage, she washed away the cum, dried him, and pulled the sheet into place. At the last second she leaned forward, holding her long blonde ponytail to keep it from tickling him, and placed a gentle kiss on his limp dick. Her father never moved, but she almost jumped out of her skin when the horny feeling exploded there between her legs as her lips touched his limp flesh.
The horny itch was more intense than ever while she rinsed out the wash rag and cleaned the washbowl in the bathroom sink. She wondered if “thigh masturbation” would help, and realized she was already doing it. It was helping—some.
She hung the wash cloth to dry, pushed the bowl to the back of the vanity top, and then braced both hands on the front of the sink. She began thrusting her hips and squeezing her slender legs together, really hard. It still helped some, but she knew she could do it easier with her hands. Her father had said so.
She wished he hadn’t fallen asleep before he could tell her how.
No! She immediately took that wish back. That wasn’t fair to him. He was, after all, badly hurt, and she was being selfish. She should have wished instead that he hadn’t had the accident in the first place.
Okay, she would just have to teach herself. Or try to teach herself until he woke up. He had said that some girls taught themselves, so maybe she could, too.
Where? Her room? He might wake up and need her, and it was her responsibility to be there with him if he needed her. Okay, then: his room. But what if she made too much noise and disturbed him while he was getting his rest? He really did need to rest so his body could heal. Nurse Carter had explained that part of healing to her. And he had said something about “screaming with joy.” Would she do that and wake him up? Maybe she should just wait.
But the—the horny feeling was so strong!
Okay, she decided as she entered his recovery room, I’ll just experiment. If I can’t be quiet, then I’ll stop until he wakes up.
Now where? Her sleeping bag or the chair? Her sleeping bag, she decided, would be best because she didn’t know what would happen when she did it. She might pass out or fall over or something strange. She didn’t know if that was possible, but a nurse was supposed to be prepared for anything.
She slid off her frilly yellow pajama panties and carefully spread them in the seat of the chair. Her white cotton panties joined them, and then she lay down on top of her sleeping bag, spreading her legs so that her knees were at the sides of the bag. Dragon watched briefly from where he had sprawled at his door guard station, then lowered his head.
Wynter felt strange lying there naked on the floor. It would have felt strange to her even if her sleeping father and Dragon weren’t in the room with her. No, that was being childish, she decided. After all, she had already been half-naked in the room with her father awake, and she’d seen—she’d handled—his sex stuff. And she’d been eager to let him teach her how to masturbate with her hands. What did she think she was going to do—sit in her room and listen to him over the intercom?
She arranged her pillow and a fold of the sleeping bag to raise her head. She looked down the long, white distance between her titties and across the slight rise of her tummy to the small fluff of blonde hair on the bulge right there at the beginning of her vaginal region. Her split. What else was it Suzie had called it? She had forgotten to ask her father what adults called it, but she was too horny to care now. She idly wondered if her father would like looking at her down there, too, and felt the horny sensation grow stronger.
She ran the fingertips of both hands through the fine hair that looked like corn silk where it grew just above the point of her split and down the fat little pads on either side of it. That felt nice and made the horny feeling stronger, but it didn’t give the relief that thigh masturbation had.
Her fingertips pressed down on the fat little pads and slid downward. That felt better, and it helped a little more. She slid her fingers back to the beginning and then pushed them toward each other, squeezing her clitoris—her clitty—between them. Her clitty was hard. Her father had said it was like a tiny version of his dick, and it sort of felt like it. Her fingertips met and squeezed her hard little clitty between them.
She gasped at the wave of pleasure that radiated outward from it like heat from a candle. It was like the warm feeling when she was praised for acting like a grownup, but lots more intense.
She pulled her fingers back and then pushed them together again. And again. And again. She began to understand why her father liked having her stroke his dick so much—it felt so good that she didn’t have words to describe the sensation. She was making the horny feeling grow stronger, yet she was also relieving it at the same time. That seemed odd, but she could worry about the reason for that later. Or she could ask her father. He would know, and he wouldn’t think it was a dumb question, either.
That noise—she was making a squishing noise when she squeezed and a smacking noise when her fingers pulled back. She hadn’t urinated—_peed_, the grownups would say. Then she remembered: had her period started early? Drat!
She slid a fingertip into her split and down to her vaginal opening. Cunny was what Suzie had called it, and no, Suzie didn’t know why it was called that, either. As her fingertip slid along her clitty the wonderful feeling seemed to grow ten times better. Her eyes made big circles and she gasped, but she had to check her cunny. She didn’t want to get blood all over her sleeping bag if her period had started, and as much liquid as she found between the two flaps inside her split and at the entrance of her cunny, she just knew that this was her strongest period yet.
She steeled herself before removing her finger, reminding herself that nurses couldn’t be squirmy about the sight of blood, and then lifted it to where she could see…
…that it was covered in a clear liquid, not blood, that felt something like her father’s cum, but slicker. It must be her “natural lubrication” that he had mentioned when she asked him about the mechanics of sex, sort of like the natural lubrication that oozed out of his dick after he got hard but before he came. She jumped up and rushed to the bathroom for a towel to place under her butt to keep from staining the sleeping bag. Then her fingers moved back to her split.
She slid one finger between the two flaps and noticed that they seemed not just thicker but also longer, too. Normally they were even with her split, but now they seemed to stick out a little bit past the edge of it. She slid the finger along her clitty again. This time the wave of pleasure was like heat from a fireplace.
After a little experimentation she discovered the most comfortable way to rub her clitty that gave her the most pleasure. Strange: it wasn’t the same as the way she rubbed her father’s dick. But he had said there were different ways to do it. After a while it became uncomfortable, but she could dip her finger in the slippery wet pool of natural lubrication and then go back to rubbing. Strange how the horny feeling got better, yet got stronger and more demanding at the same time. Strange, but fun because it felt really good!
She began to understand her father’s reactions as she jacked him off. She must be experiencing the same feelings. But what made him cum, and how did that feel when he did it?
Without conscious thought on her part, her fingertip dipped for more lubrication and resumed rubbing along the side of the tiny hard stick of her clitty. It felt really intense when she rubbed the tip of it, but she could take only a few seconds of that before it became uncomfortable, even with lubrication. But along the side and bottom like this—that must be what her father felt when she rubbed the sides and bottom of his dick.
The feeling got stronger whenever she thought of her father’s dick. Her mind replayed the times she had jerked him off, and her whole cunny felt like a giant spring was being tightened inside it. She remembered the feel of his dick in her hand, the sight of the cum shooting upward, it’s hot wetness as it splashed down around and over her hand, how slick his dick was when she began sliding her hand along his shaft instead of working the loose skin up and down it. The spring grew tighter and her clitty seemed to swell.
She thought of the kiss she placed on the dick of her sleeping father.
The overwound spring exploded in a thousand pieces, each one surfing through her body on a wave of super-wonderful pleasure that she never dreamed even existed, let alone could be felt by anyone, especially by young Wynter King. She felt her cunny spasm like a charley horse in her leg, except that in her cunny it felt good! Her clitty was the center of the universe, and wave after wave after wave of pure, absolute, wonderful pleasure was pulsing out from it, and she never ever wanted it to stop.
———————————
Richard awoke, though his eyes remained closed against the light. The twist in his neck was becoming painful. He twisted his head to the right and stretched it to relieve the kink that was developing. He should have Wynter lower the head of the bed so he could sleep comfortably, but she wasn’t in the room. If she had been, she’d have jumped to his side when he moved. Perhaps she was preparing lunch. His stomach said it was time….
Soft, faint whimpers reached through his drowsiness and slapped his mental face into full consciousness. There was no mistaking what they were. His eyes opened. The noon sun was almost poking through the clouds despite the heavy, wet flakes that were still cascading from the clouds. He turned his head back to the left and raised his head as much as he could.
Because of the bed and his left arm cast, he could see just Wynter’s head, shoulders, and the very upper part of her chest where she lay on her sleeping bag. The swell of her growing breasts was hidden by the arm cast, and there was no way he could move enough to see around it. Damn. Her sweet sweater-meat excited him more than any other pair of knockers he had ever seen, large or small. He wasn’t certain whether that was because of the forbidden aspect of his family relationship to her, the forbidden aspect of her pre-teen age, or just because they were so goddamned cute. All of the above, perhaps.
Her eyes were squeezed shut and her lips were drawn back in a grimace. Her right shoulder was moving, responding to the movement of her hand which he knew was buried in her young furrow—he could hear the liquid, slurping sounds of her fingers moving in her wet flesh. She was panting like Dragon on a warm day, with an occasional moan or grunt slipping softly from her throat like an escaped prisoner seeking freedom.
Richard suffered from mixed emotions. He had anticipated having her sitting in the chair beside him where he could watch her fingers discover the pleasures to be found in the honey-drenched valley at the bottom of her delicious naked body, where he could watch the expressions on her beautiful young face as she felt each new thrill that her fingers could coax from the slippery wet toys she had owned for eleven years but had never played with.
He was also happy that she had discovered the joys of masturbation on her own. Children should make that discovery themselves. He’d been half her age when he discovered that he could have more fun with the Beast than with the entire contents of his toy chest. If she weren’t so damned isolated during parts of the year, then perhaps she’d have heard about the act from some little friends who had already discovered that a finger in the right spot beat a Barbie doll hands down.
He again was shamed by his guilt over the disadvantages Wynter had experienced because he and Angie had wanted to indulge themselves with this isolated house. But that would be corrected soon enough. He’d told Angie that they would be moving when he was able to resume a normal life and to think about where she wanted to move. She hadn’t understood why, and she didn’t have time to stay on the phone to talk, but she knew that he was serious; she knew he had already decided for Wynter’s sake, and that nothing she could say would change his mind. Not that she would try to change it once she understood.
His attention was jerked back to the present by the strained groan coming from below the foot of the bed. His daughter’s dark red face was now turned toward him. Her blonde eyebrows had been pulled together by the grimace distorting her fragile beauty. In the quiet of the room he could just hear the squishy sounds that indicated how rapidly her fingers were now moving in her juicy young twat. A soft, “Ah!” was repeated and then stretched into a long “Eeee!” sound as her head thrashed back to her left.
And then she came.
If his hands had been free, Richard would have been trying to beat the Beast back to life, but it was as dead as last Tuesday’s road kill. But then he’d have been distracted from the spectacle barely visible to him.
He thought words were mixed in with the soft grunts, groans, and gasps that his young daughter voiced as her first ever orgasm rippled throughout her, but they weren’t clear enough for him to be certain.
She slowly wound down, and her “aaah”s of pleasure devolved into happy giggles that made him ache to hold her while she was still a child and told him that her childhood would end far too soon to suit him.
Her shoulders showed him the progress as tension left her body. Soon the vowel sounds ceased, but she continued to pant for air. Her head lolled back to her right, but her eyes remained closed for several more seconds.
Dragon had arisen when she started whimpering. He stood by her head and sniffed. Deciding she was apparently okay, he lay down by the top of her sleeping bag, just in case he were needed for an emergency. He put his chin on his forepaws and watched her.
When Wynter’s eyes opened, they were looking directly into Richard’s. They went wide and she gasped.
He had anticipated it. “I see we left the classroom and went to the lab exercise,” he said with a huge, heartfelt smile. “We did good!”
The moment’s hesitation on her glowing face vanished in a smile all white toothed and coral lipped and beautiful. “The classroom was closed,” she explained, pleased with how grownup she sounded, “but I didn’t want to get farther behind on my lessons.”
“I liked that last chord. Was that an F-seventh augmented fifth?”
To his surprise she didn’t laugh. Instead, her face jumped to the panicky expression she wore when she decided she had made a mistake. Now what have I said?
She bolted upright and scooted back so that he could see her face. He told himself to concentrate on that and ignore those heavenly young titty mounds for a moment or two. “Oh, Daddy, I didn’t mean to make noise and wake you up!”
“But you didn’t, honey. A neck spasm woke me up, otherwise I’d have slept right through it.” Well, that might not be exactly truthful because her orgasm itself was a little loud, but perhaps he might have slept through that, too. He was exhausted, after all. But her face returned to normal, then to mother hen’s look of concern.
“You have a neck cramp? Do you want me to rub it?” She rose quickly to her feet.
His eyes locked on the small blonde thatch. The hair next to her slit gleamed wetly. Peripheral vision noticed that her head dipped as she froze in place and looked down.
“Oh.” Her head came back up, but his eyes wouldn’t—couldn’t—rise to meet hers. The Beast stirred, and she smiled. “Do you like looking at me like this, too?” she asked in true innocence.
Richard’s mind raced to find the right thing to say, but his mouth opened and blurted, “That has to be the cutest little pussy that was ever created. It never occurred to stupid me that you were growing hair on it.”
Wynter felt the warm glow spread through her. ”Pussy.” Another word for her to remember. “I’m glad you like it,” she said with a shy smile, forcing her head to stay up so that she could look him in the eye like a grownup. His eyes however were still locked on her split. Her pussy. “But Daddy, what about your neck?”
“Huh? Oh. It’s okay now.”
She wanted to get closer to him, but then he wouldn’t be able to see her pussy, and he really seemed to be enjoying looking at it, the way he liked looking at her tits. Her mind raced for a solution. “Daddy, do you want me to sit on the edge of the bed so you can see my pussy better?”
“Yes,” he whispered. She was surprised because her father suddenly sounded like a kid, and looked like one, too, the way he stared with wide eyes.
She perched on the edge of the bed with her left foot on the mattress, then flopped the leg over his left leg, but not bumping the right one in the cast. She had just enough room to hook her heel onto the edge of the mattress and spread her legs for him to see her pussy. When she did so, the horny ache in her clitty returned to life.
“Guess what?” she said in an excited voice. “I think I came!”
Her father’s eyes roamed over her pussy. It was all wet with her natural lubrication smeared over the half-inch long, fine blonde hair around her split, and she wanted to go wash and dry it for him, but he seemed to enjoy looking at it anyway. “Honey, I know you did.”
“Really?” Her wide-eyed smile faded into a look of satisfaction. “It was_ awesome_! Thank you for telling me that I could do that. I never knew it would feel so—so—awesome!”
“It was my pleasure. Yours, too, I see,” he added in an exaggerated voice. They laughed together, and then he spoke quietly, as if embarrassed. “Honey, next time you need to get off, maybe—maybe you could sit where I could watch?” If he had tried to hide the hopeful tone in his voice, he had failed miserably.
“Sure,” she said. “I just wish your hands were free so that you could do me the way I do you. If—if you’d like to, I mean.”
She watched his eyes change to the way they looked when he was trying to decide something hard. He was quiet for many long seconds, not moving except for his eyes. She guessed that whatever it was, it must be something very important, so she remained seated there with her legs spread and the itchy horny feeling growing stronger. She was thinking about rubbing her clitty with her fingers when he finally spoke.
“Wynter,” he finally said in a quiet voice, “have you ever heard of oral sex?”
Part Two: Daddy’s Little Student
Chapter 1
Wynter stood at the kitchen stove wearing fuzzy house shoes, a green gingham apron, and a frown. Her left hand grasped the long blonde ponytail hanging over her shoulder, and her right held a large cooking spoon. She had left her pajama top off after her shower because she’d discovered her father liked looking at her boobies, or her tits, as grownups called them. She’d removed the bottoms to teach herself how to masturbate. Her father was going to talk her through it, but he had fallen asleep. He woke up with a neck cramp just before she came—she thought that was a funny name for it and decided to ask her father why it was called that—and she didn’t have time to put the bottoms back on. Because of that, she discovered he liked looking at her vaginal region—her pussy as grownups called it—and left them off just for him.
Her mind was racing everywhere, making it difficult for her to concentrate on making lunch. Daddy had done little more than define oral sex before he drifted back to sleep. Wynter knew he needed the rest to recover from his injuries, and she understood that men used up a whole lot of energy during sexual activity and needed to rest afterward. She worried that too much sexual activity would take away energy he needed to recover from his injuries. She had said that, and he had replied, “Honey, it gives me a reason to heal faster,” before dozing off again. She was still thinking about that.
He’d looked so very uncomfortable at that forty-five degree angle, and that was what had given him a neck cramp and caused him to wake up when she was masturbating. Getting herself off, as grownups called it. All these new terms. After lunch, while he was sleeping, she’d have to start a notebook of them to help her use them properly now that she was no longer a child—she was eleven years old now, and had started mens…—menst…—having her periods.
She had forced herself to think only about what she was doing as she slowly adjusted the bed until it was flat, cranking it down a bit and then adjusting the suspension of his casts, over and over until it was done. Nurse Carter would be so very pleased with her for not waking him up once in the process. Both Daddy and Nurse Carter had told her she was a natural at being a nurse, and she could hardly wait until she could go to nursing school. Nurse Carter had even said she’d make a fine doctor, too. Wynter got warm tingles throughout her whole entire body whenever they complimented her on her nursing skills
It was while she was fixing lunch that she’d realized that Nurse Carter would return tomorrow afternoon, if the plows got the road clear of the snow from the avalanche. With Nurse Carter back, Wynter would no longer be able to relieve her father’s distress when his semen, his cum, built up too much pressure in the damaged—what were they called? The tubes where he’s been injured when she was just a baby—vast difference? That couldn’t be right, could it? She’d have to ask him to spell the right name for her so she could put it in the notebook. She understood now that she couldn’t tell Nurse Carter that she had given Daddy handjobs. And Mother would be back before Nurse Carter left, and she’d be the one to relieve Daddy’s aching testicles, his nuts, after that.
Drat!
Eight seconds later the tidal wave of panic struck. Nurse Carter had removed his catheter because he was having too many erections, or hardons, and the catheter was hurting. She’d been his nurse before. She knew about the damaged tubes between his nuts and his dick and how it got too painful for him after four or five days with no relief. If he didn’t complain about the pressure, she’d wonder why. If he did, and she gave him a handjob for relief, she’d see that he didn’t have enough cum built up to cause pain. When he came an hour ago, it was just a trickle.
If Wynter did oral sex with her father, he’d probably shoot his wad again after she came, and he’d have even less cum when Nurse Carter returned. Perhaps she shouldn’t do any oral sex because of that. Besides, it didn’t sound very good when he described it. But he’d said, “Honey, it’s wonderful, and I really love doing it. You will too because it feels so very nice.”
Maybe, she thought. It sure didn’t sound very appetizing.
But he really did want to touch her pussy, and oral sex was the only way he could because his hands were in those casts. Daddy loved her so much that he wanted to make her cum because she’d made him cum because she loved him. She wondered how that sentence would look diagrammed, and then her thoughts raced to when she was cleaning him up afterward. He’d fallen asleep, and just like a grownup nurse, she’d cleaned up her patient without awakening him, except at the last second she’d put a gentle kiss of love on his dick. She doubted nurses did that to ordinary patients.
Thinking about that kiss was what had triggered her first orgasm.
And what triggered that sharp feeling of horniness that had suddenly returned to her vaginal region. No, to her pussy, she corrected herself. Well, she certainly knew what to do about that now! Her fingers were reaching under the apron that protected her slender nude body from cooking spatters, just brushing against the thin carpet of cornsilk blonde hair on her pussy when she realized what she was doing.
She couldn’t touch her pussy and then touch food! It was unsanitary!
But—Daddy wanted to put his tongue in there.
And he’d said that they’d both love it!
A yip from the door to the utility room announced that Dragon was finished with his doggie business and wanted back inside. She let the Labrador retriever in and leaned over to speak to him. She was rewarded with a tongue in the face.
She laughed and wished she could pet him, but it would be unsanitary to pet a dog and touch food. She went back to the stove, deep in thought.
If Daddy put his tongue there, would it help him with his next orgasm, his next cum, the way kissing his dick while he slept had helped her to have her first one? Dragon didn’t mind using his tongue on himself to masturbate. Of course, Dragon liked to eat what Daddy called “rabbit raisins” in the garden, so maybe that wasn’t a very good analogy. A better one instead might be….
“Oh, YUCK!”
She whirled to the sink and began scrubbing her face with dishwashing soap. The chicken soup almost boiled over before she was finished.
Chapter 2
Wynter put the tray on the table and rolled it to the bed. She stood silently, looking at her sleeping father lying there with his arms and one leg suspended in casts and a sheet covering his athletic body. His ruggedly handsome face didn’t have any of the scars that covered much of his arms and legs and body, but even if it did, she would still love him just as much. If she could have just one wish granted, it would be that he stopped having so many accidents that hurt himself.
The soup was too hot to eat, so she would just let him sleep a little longer because he needed his rest to heal. She might as well use the wait to incline the top of the bed again. At forty-five degrees she gently awakened him, rather than let his head suddenly roll and jerk him awake. A warm feeling raced through her naked body when his loving green eyes opened and looked directly into her large blue-green ones as he smiled. Her first orgasm felt really, really good, but it wasn’t nearly as good as the feeling she got from seeing him smile at her.
“Patients need their rest to heal, but they also need their nutrition so that the body has the stuff it needs to heal better,” she said, holding her long blonde ponytail to keep it out of his face as she leaned forward to give him a special nose-and-lips kiss.
“Quoting Nurse Carter?” he asked.
“No,” she said, giggling. “Nurse King.”
“Ah! Well, I trust whatever she says. She’s my favorite nurse, you know.”
Her head dropped and her eyes fastened onto his left arm cast, but she whispered, “Thank you.” She felt the heat of her blush. She was angry with herself for suddenly acting like a child again, but she didn’t know what to do when he complimented her, even though she loved hearing it. She knew he meant it, and that made it even more difficult. If he were just playing and teasing, it wouldn’t bother her and she’d tease back. But he meant it. Why hadn’t Mother told her what to do? Because Mother thought she was still a child? She could wait until Mother returned, but that would be another two weeks. Well, she would just ask Nurse Carter tomorrow. Nurse Carter would understand if she were asked in just the right way.
“Chicken?”
Her head jerked up and she frowned at him. “What?”
“Chicken?” He nodded toward the table. “The soup? It smells like chicken.”
Now she was mad at herself for thinking her father, who loved her with all his heart, had called her a name. “Oh.” She turned and pointed at each item as she said, “Home made chicken with vegetables soup and a chicken salad sandwich. Carrot sticks. Apple juice and milk.”
“No hospital food?” he asked with sad, puppy dog eyes and a downturned mouth.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said in her most serious expression. “With all the snow I just couldn’t find any road kill.”
Her father sighed heavily. “And I was hoping for some diesel-flavored chipmunk.”
They broke up in laughter. Wynter grabbed her pony tail and leaned forward to kiss him again. She saw his eyes look at her tits and slowed to give him a longer view of them. When they kissed, she felt his tongue brush across her lips, sort of like it had first brushed her nipples when he’d sucked on her tits earlier that morning.
Now what? She didn’t want to pull back. That would be childish. Should she lick her father’s lips in return? The thought made the horny feeling in her split—in her pussy, she corrected herself, wondering why she couldn’t remember to use all these new terms the way a grownup would—tingle. The thought wasn’t objectionable. But was it what he expected? She could ask, but then she’d have to stop kissing him to do so. That wouldn’t be fair to him because of his needs. Would it? Or would it be less fair to keep kissing him in a way that wasn’t what he expected or needed?
Being a grownup, Wynter suddenly realized, was a lot more work than it had seemed to her when she was just a child.
She gently pushed her tongue tip out and brushed it against her father’s lips. She was about to pull it back in when his rushed out and rubbed across hers. Drat! She had been too slow and his tongue had touched hers instead of her lips like he meant to do. She pulled it back into her mouth to give her father free access to her lips.
His tongue followed hers into her mouth! Yuck! What had she done wrong that had caused her father’s tongue to accidentally enter her mouth?
Wait a minute! He didn’t pull it back out. Instead he was rubbing her tongue with his. It couldn’t be an accident. He had to know the difference between her tongue and her lips. He was doing it on purpose! And it wasn’t really all that unpleasant. In fact, it wasn’t unpleasant at all. And the horny feeling in her pussy was getting stronger!
And then it was gone, and she felt his head draw back as far as the pillow and mattress would let him. It was over.
“I think I took you by surprise,” he said, looking deep into her blue-green eyes with a worried face. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew about French kissing by the way you responded.”
Drat! She had disappointed her father because she was ignorant of stuff she should have known. She felt puddles growing along her lower eyelids. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Mother didn’t tell me about that kind of kissing, and I didn’t know what to do. Suzie Middleton mentioned it once, but she said you just licked lips, and she didn’t know if both people did it or just one. I just guessed, and I guess I guessed wrong.”
“Oh, no, honey. Not at all! Kissing is like sex in that there’s not really a wrong way to do it. Well, unless you bite hard! Part of the fun of both kissing and sex is learning what each one likes best and sharing. And I’ll tell you a little secret about us guys if you want me to.”
She looked deep into his eyes to see if he was being serious. He was! And he wanted to share a secret with her? Then he really, truly must not be upset. She nodded, afraid her voice would break if she spoke.
“A lot of guys look at it as being a badge of honor to be the first one to do stuff with a girl. Like being the first to kiss her or to French kiss her. I’m one of them. I know that no matter how old you get and how many guys you kiss, none of them can ever be the first one to know the thrill of feeling your sweet little tongue against theirs. Only I have that honor, and that makes me feel wonderful.”
With her free hand she wiped her eyes and got another warm and tingly feeling all over from the way he was looking at her. It was a look that shouted how much he loved her. It was a look that wrapped around her and bear-hugged her the way his arms couldn’t.
“Raise the bed the rest of the way and let’s eat,” he said. ” I’ll answer your questions. I know you have plenty.”
Did she ever.
———————————
By the time they’d finished lunch it was mid-afternoon. She knew more about kissing now, and was eager to do her lessons in “the laboratory exercise,” as her father always called practicing new stuff. He had told her that it was his problem to explain to Nurse Carter why he was no longer feeling pain from “the discomfort of semen buildup.” He didn’t say how he’d do it, but he said it was taken care of and for her not to worry.
She wheeled the table aside and sat on the side of the bed, her body turned to where he could look at her tits and her pussy because that made him happy. Yes, he really did want to do oral sex with her, but not if the idea made her uncomfortable or upset. He would eat her pussy only if she really wanted it, not if she were agreeing because she thought it was what he wanted.
He didn’t see any way they could continue with sexual activities once Nurse Carter returned. And especially after Mother returned from Europe. That meant this was her only chance to learn from him.
“But, Daddy, you need your rest to recover. If you use up all your energy for me, it will take you longer to heal. I’m your nurse! I can’t make you take longer to heal just for me.”
She couldn’t identify the look he gave her. “Wynter,” he said in a gentle voice, “you’re not making this easy.”
She felt the heat of the blush spreading up her face. She was trying to be a good nurse and she had childishly done something wrong. But what? Her eyes dropped to stare at his arm cast and she couldn’t make them return to his eyes. “I’m sorry. Daddy, I’m just trying to be a good nurse for you. I’m not doing a good job of explaining it. Nurse Carter will be back tomorrow. Maybe she can explain it to you better.” She felt her voice crack with the last sentence.
“Honey, I’m the one who’s not doing a good job of explaining. I understand what you are saying, but you don’t understand me. You don’t understand what rules are all about. What I’m trying to say is that sometimes it’s okay to go against the rules.”
She frowned, thinking about that.
“Honey, I really would love it if you’d look me in the eye right now.”
Drat. She lifted her eyes to his. When she made eye contact, he broke out in a big smile. “Thanks. I just wanted to feel like you loved me.”
“Daddy, I do love you! That’s why….”
“Yes, honey, I know it in my head.” He gave her his big warm smile that always made her feel better. “But when you look at me instead of my cast or the bed rail or the floor or the table, I can also feel it in….” He winced suddenly, and Wynter flew into mother hen mode.
“Daddy? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said in a gasp. “Remind me not to try to tap my heart while I’m in these casts. What I’m trying to say—hmmm. Okay, let’s try it this way. The first couple of nights after you found Dragon and he was almost dead, you were up almost all night taking care of him, right?”
“Uh huh.” She realized how childish that sounded and grew angry with herself again. Why couldn’t she sound like a grownup?
“You were a growing girl and needed your rest to grow properly, but you spent most of two nights awake taking care of Dragon’s needs.” By the way he repeated it she realized he was “reinforcing the lesson” the way her teachers would do in nursing school, but she didn’t know what the lesson was. “By taking care of Dragon’s needs, you spent the energy you needed to grow.”
“Yes, but I made up for it after he started getting better.”
“Aha!” he said, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “You made up for it later.”
More “reinforcing the lesson.” He said nothing else. She thought about it. “You’re saying that you can make up for it later, too?”
He shrugged as best he could. “What else am I going to do when they plow the road and Ellen makes it back here? Wear myself out by going dancing with her?”
She laughed then, and that made him laugh. Wynter liked to hear her father’s rich, hearty laugh. It made her feel that the world was a happy place.
“But even if I couldn’t make up for it later,” he continued, “I wouldn’t care. If it took me another day, or even two or three days more, I wouldn’t care because I was doing something for you. Honey, you’re going to learn that as a grownup, you always find yourself having to make choices. Sometimes there’s no best choice. Heck, sometimes there’s not even a good choice. That’s called the ‘lesser of two evils’ decision. But that’s not what this one is for me.”
She stared into his deep eyes, thinking about that.
“When you’re a parent, just like when you were caring for Dragon, you’ll sometimes choose to do not what is best for you at the moment. It might not even be what’s best for your child at that moment, but what’s best in the long run. Do you understand?”
She scrunched her eyebrows in thought for a moment. “Like that time I was really sick and had a high temperature? I was freezing and wanted Mother to cover me up, but she put me in the bathtub and poured water on me to get my fever down?”
Her father made an embarrassed face. “Well, that’s a much better example than mine about you wanting candy before suppertime. I sure am lucky you’re the brains in the family.”
She laughed again and squeezed his leg to her hip in a hug. “You said Dragon was the brains in the family!”
“Well, that was last summer. You got smarter since then.” He looked at his casts. “Apparently I didn’t.”
“Daddy! It wasn’t your fault that drunk hit you.”
“No, but if I hadn’t been trying to change the CD, I might have been able to duck, or at least keep from being rolled down the hillside. You remember this when you start driving.”
“I will, Daddy,” she said in the most solemn, grownup manner she could use. She slid off the bed and moved to where his arm cast wouldn’t be in the way when she kissed him.
She suddenly realized that his eyes hadn’t moved to her tits or her pussy once. He’d kept them on hers the whole time, despite how much he said he loved looking at them! Did he not like it any more? Or did he keep his eyes on hers because that was what was best in the long run? It had to be the latter. She got that warm, tingly feeling all over again when she realized that he was showing her how much he loved her with his actions. The moment their lips met, her tongue rushed forward. She was going to show him that she loved him just as much as he loved her. And that was a lot!
Chapter 3
When Wynter returned with the empty urinal, he was already asleep again. She was glad that she’d put the bed down first, rather than leaving him sitting upright while she cleaned the container. She hadn’t even masturbated him after he was finished urinating. Or peeing, as the grownups said among themselves. She put the urinal in its storage location and noted the time and volume on his records for Nurse Carter.
She had her own record keeping to perform now. She’d fetch a new notebook, one of the thin ones the size of a hardback book, and write down all those new grownup terms she’d learned. Just as soon as she finished with her patient. She rechecked the suspended casts. If her father had moved, they might be pulling his shoulders uncomfortably. She guessed “uncomfortably” was a relative term since they couldn’t be comfortable under any circumstances. He’d wanted a pain pill with his last meds. He had been taking i-bu-pro-fen—Wynter wondered why she always had trouble saying that word. He had been saving the remaining few pain pills in case he needed some and Nurse Carter was still trapped in town by the avalanche. Nurse Carter was trapped there because the pharmacist had mis-read Doctor Taylor’s yucky handwriting and had filled his pain prescription with a laxative, and she had rushed to town in the blizzard to get more pain pills.
When Wynter was satisfied, she held her ponytail out of the way as she leaned over to gently kiss him. She slid her tongue forward just enough to touch it to his lips, and he sighed gently. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered as she pulled back and looked down his body.
She saw the slight bulge in the sheet where his penis—his dick—was. She moved around the cast and stood beside his legs, gently lifting the sheet away to look at that ruddy three inches of his body that made her father feel so good when she jacked him off. She thought about that term and remembered her father using a car jack once. The hand movement was sort of the same, so she supposed that was where the term came from. She decided to put that observation in her “Sexual Words” notebook when she started it.
She again felt the impulse to kiss his dick and took her ponytail in her left hand. The tingly feeling sprang to life down there in her pussy, especially in her clitty, as she bent forward with her coral lips puckered. A wave of incredibly strong horniness washed over her when her lips touched his dick, just as had happened before.
A thought struck her as she was straightening. She bent forward and kissed his dick again, this time sliding her wet tongue between her lips to caress the top side of it during the kiss. The first wave of horniness was like a candle compared to the bonfire that exploded between her legs. She needed one hand to keep her ponytail from tickling her father and awakening him, and the other to support her weight as she leaned forward on rubbery knees, but she could achieve a little bit of relief with thigh masturbation. She squeezed her firm, slender thighs together against her aching clitty and twisted and humped her lower body. It didn’t feel nearly as good as her fingers in her split—her pussy, she corrected herself again—but it helped give some relief.
His dick started to swell slightly and she stopped, rising to look at his face to see if she was awakening him before his body said he’d had enough rest. He hadn’t moved, except for his dick. She used her nose to point it up his stomach, where she could kiss the nerves on the bottom side, right where he’d told her it felt best when she rubbed him with her hand. When she did, it grew a little more, until it wasn’t hard yet, but it wasn’t soft any more, either.
On impulse, probably because she was thinking about her father performing oral sex on her, she opened her mouth and let half the head slide in. The bonfire in her clitty became a forest fire. A moan exploded from her. She suddenly grew scared that she would awaken him too soon if she continued, though she really didn’t want to stop yet.
But she was being childish in thinking about her needs instead of her patient’s. She reluctantly removed her mouth and gave him a soft, gentle kiss on the nerve spot. She wondered if it had a medical name and if grownups had another name for it.
With his sheet back in place she again checked his casts and eased across the hall to her room to find an unused notebook. Dragon moved the five feet from one door to the other.
She sat in her chair at her desk, which she’d moved to the wall by the door. By leaning forward just a little she could see through the facing doors and observe her sleeping father. Her patient, she corrected herself. She was Daddy’s nurse. The last time she’d masturbated him—given him a hand job—she’d done it for her father, but the first two times were for her patient. He was asleep now, and he was her patient again.
But he’d said that after he slept a little bit, he’d become her teacher and she’d be Daddy’s student while he taught her about oral sex. She thought about having her father’s dick in her mouth and the forest fire blazed to life. There was a lingering salty taste, probably from the tiny amount of urine, or pee, remaining on his dick or in the—the—that “u” word. Urethra. It sounded yucky to think about, but actually it wasn’t bad.
She wondered if she’d taste salty to her father when he stuck his tongue in her pussy, even though she carefully wiped and blotted in the bathroom. And she scrubbed her split really, really good when she bathed, too. Well, there was just one way to find out.
She was surprised to discover that her fingers were already in her split, massaging the tiny hard stick of her clitoris. She’d even dragged some of her natural lubrication from her vaginal opening to her clitty while she was rubbing it. It was only the second time she had used her fingers to masturbate and already her body was acting without conscious thought on her part.
She’d better ask her father if that was okay when he woke up. She thought so, but there was so much about sex stuff that he hadn’t told her. Grownups sure had to keep track of a lot of information.
She moved a finger to her vaginal opening—her cunny, she corrected herself. Or was it? She stared at the open notebook, its pages still unmarked except for the heading on the first page, “Sex Terminology.” She liked the way that sounded grownup—much more so than “Sex Words.” Was her cunny just her vaginal opening or all of the area inside her split? Where did her pussy quit and her cunny begin? She grabbed a throwaway notepad and scribbled her questions onto it so that she wouldn’t forget to ask her father. That way she wouldn’t have to make corrections in the notebook.
She was having trouble holding the pen while she wrote. Halfway through the first question she realized that her fingers were wet with her natural lubrication, and it was really slick. She chastised herself—another grownup-sounding word that she liked—for not paying more attention to what she was doing. A patient’s life depended on his nurse paying strict attention to the smallest details.
She set the pen down and brought her fingertips to her nose. It didn’t smell like urine, but it did smell like her split. It was a clean smell and not unpleasant. She hoped that her father wouldn’t be disappointed or upset by it, though she had no idea what he expected. She worried that it was different from other women’s and that he wouldn’t like it, but she couldn’t think of any way to find out except for her father to tell her. And then it would be too late.
She eased the tip of her tongue out and lightly touched the natural lubrication on her fingers. She pulled her tongue back in at the instant she knew it had touched the liquid. She really didn’t taste anything. She tasted again, leaving her tongue in contact for almost half a second. Strange, but not unpleasant.
After a third try she coated her finger with more of the natural lubrication in her split and put the finger in her mouth. She couldn’t define the flavor, but she decided that it didn’t taste bad to her. Of course, she still didn’t know how it would taste to her father when he ate her pussy. She resumed worrying about that as she used a tissue to wipe her fingers clean and picked up the pen. As she began writing, her left hand moved to her pussy and a finger worked its way into her split to stroke her hard little clitty.
She tried really, really hard to keep from making noise that would awaken her father when she came.
Chapter 4
Richard King slowly awoke from a dream about looking at flowers while walking down a mountain trail with Wynter. He couldn’t remember any more than that, but he remembered that he was enjoying the moment. Maybe he’d ask her if she wanted to go for a walk with him, down to the flat rock by the creek where she practiced her flute lessons. They’d pick wildflowers—flowers were growing now, weren’t they?
He opened his eyes. Past the ropes suspending his right arm cast he saw the late spring blizzard was winding down to scattered flakes, with the sun trying to break through the clouds. The real world crept back into his mind with all the subtlety of a dynamite charge.
He rolled his head to the left, expecting to see Wynter sitting in the padded chair. When she wasn’t there, he tried to lift his head high enough to see if she was in her sleeping bag near the foot of his bed. Movement beyond he door caught his eye. It was Dragon, getting up to turn a circle and lie down again in her doorway. The dog never left her side willingly, except to make his “doggie trips” outside. He always positioned himself in a doorway so that she couldn’t leave a single-exit room without going past him, waking him if he were asleep. In a room with multiple exits, he would sometimes move from one to the other at intervals.
Beyond Dragon he saw her desk’s new location and her slender arms atop it. She was writing in one of her notebooks. Half of a shelf in her bookcase was filled with her notebooks of various sizes, each dedicated to a different topic ranging from recipes—she was already as good a cook as her mother—to medical conditions and treatments to wildlife to notes about piano and flute techniques. The latter two were in separate books, of course.
She even had at least one large notebook with unlined pages where she made sketches, though she was unaware that her parents knew about that. Angie had found it open on her desk one day, but looked only at the open page. It showed a sketch of Dragon with a waterfall in the background. Angie had told him about it, saying that Wynter had shown talent in the sketch, but she didn’t know if it was a recent sketch or one that was a few years old. Richard wished he could have seen it, but Wynter had returned it to the shelf by the time he’d returned home. By that time, Angie was exceptionally enraged with herself for having looked at the drawing, but she’d been so surprised that she hadn’t had time to think until it was too late.
They treated Wynter’s notebooks the same as they’d treat her diary if she kept one—personal. In effect, they were a diary, just one in multiple volumes. After twenty years Angie was still furious over the time her older sister, Diana, had picked the lock on her diary and read her most personal thoughts. She felt betrayed by her sister and swore that she’d never make Wynter feel the same way. Richard willingly agreed to treat Wynter’s notebooks the same, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he’d refused to do so, Angie would have shot him with the .38 Special she carried when hiking in the mountain forests. The only thing that had more importance to her than that betrayal was Wynter and himself.
Wynter’s desk had sides that kept him from seeing her long slender legs, firmly muscled and covered in creamy soft, pale skin that had lost virtually all of last summer’s tan. They were just beginning to show the signs of the sculpturing they would have when she finished the transition from girl to woman. And that transition was well underway with her two small, wide-spaced hemispheres that were so soft and yet so firm at the edges of a ribcage that stood out in ripples like a washboard. The narrow waist that was pinching in above the soft flare of her hips. The wonderful, sexy little butt that had started rounding and filling out, looking more woman-like than childlike now. And the prominent little mound with its thin covering of half-inch blonde hair that started above the point of her sweet little slit and was spreading in a thin line down the soft-looking pillows of her outer lips.
He silently laughed at himself for being an idiot. He had known she was growing titties—not only were the bulges visible under her tighter blouses, but there were training bras in the laundry that certainly didn’t belong to Angie. But it had never occurred to him that she was also growing a mat of pussy hair on that cute little cunt. Cute was the operative word. Richard had never seen a prettier pecker playpen in his life. If he could sit down and draw up plans for his dream twat, he’d have Wynter’s on paper when he was done.
The most exciting moment in his life to date had been sucking on those incredibly exciting little titties. And now, unless she’d changed her mind, which he doubted, he was going to have that little honeybox pressed down on his face. If he could keep her there until Ellen Carter was able to return from town, it wouldn’t be long enough. If her could keep her there until Angie returned from Europe, it wouldn’t be long enough. If he could keep her there until the universe ended, it wouldn’t be long enough.
Movement against the sheet told him that the Beast was stirring, growing hard at the thought. He wondered if he could get her to suck his dick of her own accord—he desperately wanted her to suck him, but he wanted her to do so because she wanted to do it, not because he wanted her to do so. He emitted a hybrid sound between a sigh and a moan that she didn’t hear. But Dragon did.
The dog’s front half shot up from the floor, and he looked over his shoulder at Richard. That caused Wynter to lean forward and look into his room. Her mother hen face appeared in an instant and she sprang from her chair.
“Daddy, are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you need something? Are you in pain? Do you need a pill or just some water?” The questions began before she was out of her room.
Richard tried desperately not to laugh. The hormones surging through her body made her even more sensitive than usual to what she perceived as criticism, and even on her best days, she was a perfectionist with a determination that could be almost infuriating.
“Honey, I’m fine. I woke up was all. I’m tired of sleeping. I guess Dragon heard me yawn or something.”
She was at his left shoulder, looking down at him over the rise of those sweet, adorable young breasts with their creamy smooth texture and the small pink cones rising from them. He couldn’t believe the strength of the desire that his own daughter’s sprouting little sweater stuffers generated within him. He couldn’t see her sweet little pussy now, but those adorable titties were so wonderful that he didn’t care.
“Actually,” he said, “I could use a sip of water. And a kiss, if you don’t mind. I’m sure my breath is worse than Dragon’s right now, so if you don’t want to kiss me yet, you don’t have to.”
She put her fists on the gentle flare of her hips and stared down, trying to look stern. “Any woman who didn’t want to kiss you would have to be crazy. And I’m not crazy! Dragon says so.”
“Well, your mother’s not crazy, either, and some mornings she doesn’t want to kiss me.”
“Maybe she just doesn’t love you as much as I do.”
Before Richard could reply she realized what she had said. Her standard look of panic swept over her face, and words rushed out in a jumble. “Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry I said that! I was just teasing. I didn’t mean that Mother doesn’t love you. I didn’t mean to….”
“Honey, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I know exactly what you meant. Okay?” He wished his arms were free to encircle and comfort her. “Besides, maybe you do love me more than she does. There’s no way anybody can prove whether you’re right or wrong about that. But the important thing is that you both love me more than enough.”
The panicked look faded to puzzlement. “More than enough?”
“Sure. You love me enough to make me feel warm and comfy and good all over, but you also love me more than that. I take the more part and store it in here,” he said, looking down at his chest, “in my heart and that way I can still feel warm and comfy and good all over when I’m not around you. Like I have to do now while your mother is overseas, and like I have to do when I go to work.”
He said nothing while she thought about it for a moment, and then was rewarded by slender arms flying around his neck and her sweet coral lips lowering to kiss him. “I have the nicest father in the whole wide world,” she said. “And the nicest patient.” It was a father/daughter kiss, with no tongue action, but Richard didn’t mind in the least. It was the sweetest kiss imaginable.
She flew back as if shocked. “Oh, drat! I forgot about your water!”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes I did! You asked for water and I….”
“And you gave me what I needed the most first, and now you’re about to give me my water. Just like a responsible adult would do. And what a good nurse would do.”
She apparently realized he was serious because she blushed and her eyes dropped away from his. She poured half a glass of cold water from the insulated pitcher and put a bent straw in it. “I should raise the bed,” she said.
“Wait about that until after we talk. I can drink it lying down.”
After she put the empty glass back on the stand he had her sit beside him on the bed. His eyes swept over as much of her body as he could see from his prone position. “Honey, do you still want me to eat your pussy?”
He watched mother hen fight with personal desire behind her eyes. She slowly nodded. “But only if it’s not….”
“Stop,” he said, but with a gentle smile to ease the moment. He knew the routine that should keep her from feeling rebuked. “Recess is over. Class is now is session. I will call the roll of students. Wynter?”
“Here.” Her head was down, but her eyes were on his and she was smiling. It had worked.
“Good. Everybody’s present,” he announced, while she giggled as usual. He tried to ignore the patterns her sweet nipples traced when her ribcage quivered. “Today’s lesson is on relationships between women and men. I’ll grant you that your mother is better qualified to teach this from your perspective, but I’ve been appointed substitute teacher for the day. Any objections?”
“None,” she said with a bright smile and a shake of her head. “You’re better qualified than Mother to teach me from your perspective.”
“Well, you know that, and I know that, but let’s keep that our secret and not tell your mother. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said with another giggle. There were times that her mother insisted she knew more about men than her father did. Richard, of course, didn’t even pretend to understand anything about women.
Richard again wished his arms were free. It was difficult lecturing without the ability to make gestures. His father said that the fault came from his mother’s Italian blood. “For a relationship to work, the two people have to learn to be honest with each other and to respect the other’s opinions or wishes. Let’s pull a random hypothetical scenario out of thin air.”
Wynter giggled again, knowing what was coming.
“Let’s say you are a nurse with a patient you love, and he loves you. He offers to eat your pussy, but he’s concerned that you might not want him to. Let’s say he’s afraid that if you say yes, it’s because you’re doing what you think he wants and not what you want. Let’s say you want him to eat your pussy, but you’re afraid that if he does so, it’s not what’s best for him. Or maybe you don’t want him to, but you’re afraid that if you say so, you will hurt his feelings. Or maybe you want him to, but you’re afraid that he really doesn’t want to. Or he really doesn’t want to, but he’s offering because he thinks that’s what you want. Or—hmmmm.”
He scrunched up his face and studied the ceiling as if in deep thought. “I think that’s everything.” He shrugged. “Well, it’s close enough. Now, here’s the key: you have to be totally honest with each other. You can’t answer based upon what you think the other person wants, and you can’t be upset with what the other person says. Am I going too fast for you?”
She shook her head, causing her blonde ponytail to lash about. “Those rattling marbles sounded like a negative response,” he said, causing another round of giggles. Richard knew from vast experience that as long as he could keep Wynter laughing, she’d accept the message without feeling she was being chastised.
“A relationship, especially with someone you love, can’t work if you aren’t sure whether the other partner is fibbing about what he or she wants. The first time you’re not sure, it causes a teensy little crack that you can’t even see. Every time after that the crack gets a little wider until it’s as big as the vacant space between your Aunt Diane’s ears.”
“Daddy!” She tried to look stern, but it was hard to do when she was doubled over in laughter.
“Now, here’s the important part of the lesson.” He waited for her to stop laughing and give him her full attention. It was her cue that this was where she should pay complete attention. “The crack in the relationship can grow only so wide until the relationship breaks apart. Understand?”
He waited. No matter how obvious one of his lessons was, Wynter always thought about what he had said to see if she could find either hidden meanings or flaws in his logic. After a moment she nodded. “You’re saying you shouldn’t offer unless it’s what you really want, and I shouldn’t accept unless it’s what I really want, or else we’d risk our relationship.”
“Well, it’s not about us. It’s purely a hypothetical scenario. It could be about you and your future husband. Or maybe between you and some boy you meet in college.”
Wynter looked puzzled. “Why would some boy I met in college want to eat my pussy?”
Richard sighed. Angie was in for some interesting mother-daughter conversations when she returned. “Let’s save that for another class because it takes us too far off this lesson’s topic.”
“Okay.” It was obvious that she was mentally filing the question for later resurrection, undoubtedly before Angie returned. “What if one person wants to and the other doesn’t and they say so?”
“Oh, good question! We’ve been paying attention.” That sideways compliment caused Wynter to duck her head, but this time she kept her eyes on his and she smiled. Richard was amazed that this lesson was going so smoothly. His little girl really was growing up. The change in just the short interval between the time Ellen Carter called to say she’d been stranded in town and now bordered on incredible. Angie was going to accuse him of switching daughters while she was gone. Well, he thought, she should have realized that Wynter was growing up and done a better job of talking to and preparing her. A moment later he retracted that thought. He hadn’t even realized it himself.
“The answer to that question is: ‘It depends.’” He waited for the frown and then continued. “There’s no one fixed answer, honey. It all depends on the situation. Sometimes one side will give in, and sometimes the other will. I guess the answer is based on needs, though usually the “No” will be the deciding answer.”
“Then, uh….” Her face scrunched while she tried to think of a way to word her question.
“I’m your teacher and you’re my student,” he reminded her, knowing what the question was. “It’s okay to ask anything.”
“Then you and Mother….” She turned red and didn’t finish the sentence. Her expression changed, and he realized she was now angry with herself for blushing.
“We love each other and we do what’s best for both of us. Sometimes it’s what she wants, sometimes it’s what I want. Usually a ‘No’ answer is followed by, ‘But tomorrow…,’ or ‘In a couple of hours…,’ or something like that.”
Wynter sighed. “Why do grownups always have to make things so complicated?”
“To make our kids think we’re smarter than they are,” he said as she reached for the edge of the sheet and pulled it down, exposing the flaccid Beast.
“Okay,” she said as she took it in her warm, soft hand and began gently pumping it back to life. “If you think it’s not too early.” When he questioned that she replied, “Well, I masturbated after you went to sleep, and I came again. I’d like for you to eat my pussy if you think I’ve rested long enough that I can cum again.”
Something else Angie obviously hadn’t told her. “Honey, women aren’t like men. We have to rest between orgasms, but women can have one after another for as long as they can stand it.”
Mother hen’s face reappeared and turned to a look of horror. “That’s not fair!”
Chapter 5
For a while, Richard thought he would need a physician and a consulting engineer to work out a position that wasn’t uncomfortable for either of them and that didn’t put him in risk of greater injury if she should slip. The latter was mostly Wynter’s concern because she was very aware of her father’s accident-prone nature. Fortunately for Richard, his daughter had more sense than he did, and for that he was thankful. He was in far too big a hurry to taste that wonderful juvenile pussy and would have gone with the first position where she could rub her sweet little cunt on his face. He could just picture Ellen Carter showing up to find him with two dislocated shoulders and a bad case of pussy breath.
He was going to have enough trouble explaining—somehow—why he no longer suffered pain from seminal buildup.
They found the right combination of slight elevation of the head of the bed plus an additional pillow that allowed her to kneel on either side of his body with that firm, round little butt toward his face—he made a mental note to nibble on it to check its firmness—and her feet under his elevated arms and shoulders. From there she could push her little love box back to his face, as she was now doing. That position had an additional advantage: it put her face near the Beast, should she decide to return the favor. But later: he didn’t want her to be distracted while she enjoyed her first cunnilingus session.
“Daddy, after I masturbated, my pussy was just a big mess from my natural lubrication,” she said, “so I washed and dried it for you. If I didn’t do it good enough, I can go wash it again.”
Richard inhaled the intoxicating aroma of faint soap, clean cunt, and young skin from mere inches away. The Beast began showing renewed interest. “Honey, as long as your pussy is kept normally clean, it’s just fine. If you don’t wash for a couple of days and it gets all funky, then that’s different, but fresh pussy juice has some kind of chemicals—pher… phera… whatever they are—that attract men and make us interested.”
“You mean ‘pheromones,’ like bug traps use?” she asked, looking down between her small, round breasts and between those long, slim thighs to the lower part of his face.
Richard’s eyes where roaming over the almost flawless thighs and buttocks, the soft, fat little pillows of her outer labia, the thin line of the inner lips just visible within her slit, and the short cornsilk hair growing on her prominent mound and trailing back thinly along either side of her sweet-smelling slit. When he had time, he’d be amazed again at what Wynter did and did not know.
“That’s the word,” he said. “Honey, it smells just wonderful and looks—well, it looks good enough to eat, and I can’t wait any longer to taste you. Are you ready?”
She was. He guided her back and rubbed his nose over her butt cheeks, down along her thighs, and up them to the already dampening pinkness within her little slit. The tip of his nose toyed with the little button of her clit. It swelled and stiffened before he moved his nose into the wetness that was collecting at the tiny opening of her love tunnel. He noted that the entrance wasn’t restricted by a hymen, as he had expected. She was an active, athletic girl and could have ruptured it any number of times and ways over the past several years, but he was sure he knew how she lost it.
He eased the tip of his nose into the tight, wet tube and inhaled what she would probably refer to now as her “natural pheromones.” He nose-fucked her twice before sliding his juice-slickened snout up to the tight pucker of her little butt hole. That, too, had been scrubbed fresh and clean, he noticed, as his tongue licked the downy pillows of her outer lips. He placed several kisses on her thighs, ass, and pussy before repeating the lick. Then he slowly licked his was into her slit and alternated between probing the entrance to her love mine and the hard little stick of her twat trigger.
Maybe he was alive, maybe he was dead; whichever it was, Richard King was in Heaven.
———————————
Wynter felt nervous anxiety as she knelt over father’s body with her pussy almost touching his face. She was so afraid that he’d be disappointed with her pussy once he tasted it. She shivered when his nose rubbed lightly over her behind—her butt or ass, as grownups called it—and then down her legs, and then up between them. The horny feeling in her clitty started growing, and when his nose brushed that little hard stick of flesh, the feeling seemed to consume her whole lower body. If Daddy didn’t like her pussy, she’d have to get herself off with her fingers, and she’d do it while sitting in the chair so he could watch. Unless, of course, he was so disappointed with her that he didn’t want to watch, either. In that case, she’d have to wait until he went to sleep.
She thought she’d die from either horniness or happiness, she wasn’t sure which, when his nose slid into the tight, wet opening of her burning cunny. There was a not-unpleasant feeling of coldness when he inhaled and air rushed across her inner lips. Or whatever they were called. And then she felt her father’s nose push up inside of her, and again, and again, and she heard his sigh of pleasure. She knew that was what is was because it sounded just like her own. And with that, she knew he was pleased, and that she could stop worrying. If there was something he didn’t like, it had been overcome by her natural pheromones.
His nose slid out of her opening, and she felt a mixture of both disappointment with its absence and anticipation at what might be next. It probed her anus. Her butt hole, if grownups called people’s the same as Daddy had called Dragon’s. She needed to remember to ask him about that. She was suddenly thankful that she’d had the foresight to wash everything down there very thoroughly when she took her shower.
And then she stopped thinking when she felt his tongue caress the fat little pads on either side of her split. Her jump in horniness left no room for thought. She felt a dozen kisses on her cunny, her butt, her legs, seeming to all land at once. Another lick along her split tightened the clock spring in her cunny another notch. And another. And another. He was slowly licking his way into her split, and Wynter thought she would die of pleasure overdose before she could cum again. His tongue in her pussy felt as much better than French kissing as French kissing felt better than regular kissing.
His tongue stroked along the length of her clitty, to include the exposed head. It didn’t feel uncomfortable the way her finger did, even when she coated her finger with her natural lubrication—her pussy juice, said the correcting thought that seemed to come from another world.
She shivered with delight when his exploring tongue reached her cunny opening, expecting him to repeat the lick. Instead, it snaked inward until it was insider her cunny, making her gasp in surprise. It pulled back and thrust in again, several times, causing her to wonder if fucking felt that good, too.
What was that noise? It was her, moaning every time his hot tongue pushed up into her tight cunny hole. She held her breath, but the moaning continued. It was her father, and they had been moaning together, except, she vaguely realized, they were off-key. She thought that she should make an effort to get on key with him, but his tongue had pulled out of her cunny and returned for another lick up the length of her hard little clitty, and she lost all control of her next moan, and the ones that followed as he switched between licking her aching clitty and probing up her burning cunny hole.
When she was masturbating that afternoon for her second time ever, she had wondered if oral sex would feel as good as masturbation. The answer was clearly, “No.” It felt a lot better!
She knelt there, with her face above his hard dick, moaning in discordant harmony, feeling the spring in her cunny grow tighter and tighter and tighter as she enjoyed his mixture of furious licking and kissing and sucking on everything he could reach between her legs. She almost came when he sucked her clitty between his lips and began flipping it with his tongue. He had stopped at exactly the wrong moment and resumed shoving his tongue into her cunny hole.
Her eyes were closed! She opened them and saw that she was resting her upper body on her forearms, just above his lower abdominal area. His large, hard dick was an inch away, moving as her father humped empty air, the dark hair around it moving with the air panting out of her lungs. She lowered her head and kissed the nerve bundle just below the head and heard him gasp. She licked the underside from the tip of the head back to his nuts, and he moaned and humped harder. She repeated the movement, and he began licking the length of her clitty, in time with her licking his dick. His body began tensing under hers, and his dick began to swell even larger.
She brought her mouth back to the tip and opened wide to take the head in. The tight spring in her cunny overwound and exploded in a thousand shards, each one riding its own wave of pleasure through her body.
She wasn’t sure who came first.
———————————
Wynter was lying face down on her father’s torso, her face next to the end of his dick and her cunny in his face. She was gasping for air, and he was shaking like an earthquake under her as his body also gasped for air. She felt his hot breath on her very upper legs and her pussy, and he seemed to be softly moaning. It was a happy-sounding moan, not one of pain or discomfort. She started giggling and couldn’t stop. She was that happy. She slowly pulled her feet out from under his extended arms, rose on hands and knees, and turned her head to look at him.
She felt something thick and wet at the corner of her mouth and wiped it away when she was balanced and able to lift a hand. It was his semen—his cum. Then she remembered that she’d been sucking on his dick when he came. She touched her tongue to it, decided she liked it, and with a twist of her finger, wiped it onto her tongue and swallowed it. She turned about, careful not to bump his arm casts or his leg cast, and looked at him while still on all fours above him. He looked even happier than he had after her last handjob; happier than after she let him suck her tits. His face was smeared with her natural lubrication—her pussy juice, she reminded herself—making it seem to glow.
He gave her that warm, loving smile that in turn made her glow all inside, and he gasped, “Honey… I hope… you had… as much fun… as I had.” If he hadn’t been a man, she’d have sworn that he giggled before he said, “That’s the best time… I’ve ever had… in my entire life.”
She carefully eased up over his whole body and lowered herself, watching for signs that she was causing him discomfort, until she was stretched out atop him, with his dick between her thighs and her arms trying to wrap around his body under his arms. He couldn’t hug her, so she hugged for both of them.
“I love you, Daddy,” she said, squeezing her arms tighter about him.
“I love you, too, Wynter.” His voice said he meant it, and that made her body tingle all over.
They lay there in silence for a few moments, enjoying the warm closeness of each other. Before long he spoke again. “Honey, would you do me a favor?’
She raised upright, Mother Hen rushing to her face, though a little slower than usual. “What do you need? I’ll do it for you?”
He gave her a strange look—almost a disappointed one. “You were doing it until you raised up,” he said, getting back his breath. He panted for a second and then said, “I wanted you to stay right were you were and to keep holding me for a while.”
“Oh. Sure! Tell me if I put pressure on your casts.” She eased back down, watching his face for signs of pain. When she was down, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her chin against his chest instead of her cheek. She smiled as she looked at his face. She couldn’t believe how happy he looked.
“Honey,” he asked, sounding almost a little nervous, “if it’s not too much trouble and it’s not uncomfortable for you, would you mind holding me while I go to sleep? I’m barely able to stay awake, despite the fact that I’m so happy that I don’t want to go to sleep.”
“It’s no trouble, Daddy. But you have my natural—I mean, my pussy juice smeared all over your face. Don’t you want me to clean you up first?”
“Huh uh,” he grunted. “Not unless it bothers you.”
“Not really,” she said, turning her head and squeezing him tightly, not caring that the pajama top button was hard against her cheekbone. “I guess my natural pheromones work on you, huh?”
He made an odd laugh that sounded echoy through the ear against his chest. “I guess they do, honey. I’m sorry I can’t stay awake. Women always complain that men want to go to sleep right after their orgasms. Maybe I have a legitimate excuse, though?”
“You’re hurt, and you need to rest to recover,” she said, keeping her face tight against his chest as she continued to hug him. “You have a reason, not an excuse.” She thought that sounded like a grownup response and was very pleased with herself.
———————————
Richard awoke to a pressure on his body. He opened his eyes and saw blonde hair just below his chin. His face seemed tight, and he remembered. He licked the dried pussy juice and saliva mix from his lips. My god, she still tasted wonderful. She was asleep, breathing slowly and evenly.
He was uncomfortable, but he was always uncomfortable with his arms and one leg hanging there, pulling slightly against their joints. But he was being held in a warm, comforting embrace. She was no longer squeezing, but her arms were still warm around him. He wished he’d had her remove his pajama top first so that he could feel her silky-smooth skin against his. Of course, she might have found all his scars to be uncomfortable, he admitted.
He had felt wonderful when Angie squat-fucked him before she left, but that was nothing compared to how his eleven-year-old daughter had made him feel by humping her juicy little twat in his face and sucking on the Beast. He hadn’t expected the blow job, and he didn’t have a chance to warn her that he was cumming. He was surprised that she said nothing about him cumming in her mouth. Not that she’d had much opportunity to say anything, but if she’d been upset, he was certain that she would have said something, wouldn’t she? But she was Wynter.
She had wiped some seepage from the corner of her mouth and swallowed it when she arose afterward. He hadn’t planned to bring up the idea of oral sex on himself at that time and was more than pleased that she’d done it of her own volition.
The memory made the Beast twitch once. He thought the bastard was dead after the strength of his last orgasm. He wondered where his body had found enough cum to shoot into his daughter’s sweet, coral-lipped mouth and its rows of perfect white teeth. Perhaps he hadn’t actually shot into her mouth after all, and what she wiped from her lips was his entire load, expended outside her mouth. But he was sure he remembered her lips encircling the head and her tongue rubbing rings around it as the Beast opened fire.
He lay there for a long while, memorizing every detail of the moment. He was wondering if there were any way he could keep her there that night as he finally drifted back to sleep.
Chapter 6
The tickling sensation at the end of his nose wouldn’t go away. Richard couldn’t move his arm to swipe at it, and his arm hurt when he tried. He dragged himself to consciousness and opened his eyes to see blonde bangs brushing across the tip of his nose, then lifting to reveal two sparkling blue-green pools checking to see if he was awake yet. When she saw him looking at her, her face lifted higher to bring puckered coral lips up for a nose-and-lips kiss. There were no words to express how loved he felt every time she did that. He had difficulty forcing his smile into a pucker as her lips lowered to gently kiss his.
“Time to wake up,” she said. “You should have taken your pills a half-hour ago.”
She said it in a calm voice, with a hint of a smile. Richard couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d jumped up and kicked him in the nuts. Wynter always fretted herself silly if she were just five minutes late with his pills. Always, that is, until this time.
“You’re waking me up to give me a sleeping pill?” he asked with an exaggerated frown.
“I don’t think you need one,” she said, her face suddenly glowing with a huge smile.
That wasn’t the way the game went. Something was different.
“It took me ten minutes to wake you up,” she said with an odd giggle.
Something was radically different. It wasn’t her little-girl-giggle that he often heard when they joked with each other. It sounded, well—more grown up, he finally decided.
“You’ve been tickling my nose for ten minutes?”
“Unh uh,” she said. “That only took about ten seconds.” The huge smile remained as radiant as before as she searched his eyes with her own.
“Well, then just what were you doing for the other nine minutes and fifty seconds?” His futile attempt to sound stern changed her giggle to a laugh.
“Tickling you with my hair,” she said.
He frowned, trying to make sense of that. It was the tickling with her hair that had awakened him.
She reached behind her and wrapped her hand around the Beast. It was erect, though it had to be a piss-hardon after the workout it had endured the past couple of days. The thought made him realize how distended his bladder was. Then somebody finally hit him with a mental sledgehammer. “Oh!”
“It got hard, but you didn’t wake up,” Wynter said. She was having trouble sounding disappointed because she couldn’t stop smiling and giggling. She lifted her butt from his abdomen, relieving some of his bladder pressure, and scooted back until she was over his hard dick. She lowered her body slightly and brushed the cornsilk of her nether hair along the rigid Beast.
“Not even when I did this,” she said with another giggle. “Or this,” she added, lowering a little more until he felt the warmth of her pillowy outer lips against his dick. She hunched her hips slowly and left a warm, wet trail along his lance of lust, then reversed her direction and added to it. She moaned softly, and need showed in her eyes.
“It felt so good to me that I came in just a couple of minutes, Daddy, but you didn’t wake up then, either.”
Damn! “I’m truly sorry I missed that, honey. I really would have loved seeing it.” The only time he’d seen her orgasm up close was when her juicy little twat had been smeared across his face. He had loved watching the way her cunt had swollen and throbbed, especially that short stretch between her sweet little vagina and her hot little anus, and the way her opening expanded and then squeezed shut, as if it were sneezing. But he also wanted to watch her face during orgasm, to see if her expressions, like her contractions, mimicked Angie’s.
“Well,” she said, lowering her head but keeping eye contact, “I guess I could do it again for you. After you’ve had your pills.”
“Promise?” he asked, realizing he must have sounded like a schoolboy being offered a new bicycle.
“Cross my heart,” she replied, tracing an “X” between those two wonderful pink orbs bracketing her heart. “A good nurse never fibs to her patient,” she continued, lowering the Beast gently to his stomach and releasing it.
“Nurse? I thought you were my student!”
“Nurse now, then student,” she said in a stern voice, carefully swinging her left leg over so that she could climb off the bed, “or else I’ll have to explain to Nurse Carter why your pills were so late.” She tried to give him a glare that matched her voice, the way Ellen Carter had done on a couple of occasions when he’d been obstinate, but she broke up in a fit of giggles.
“Well, Nurse King, I need two things worse than I need the pills, and the first is the urinal and the second is a kiss.”
She understood that the second priority for the kiss meant that he was desperate for the urinal and flew into action. She had the bed upright in record time, yet managed to do it without causing any additional discomfort to his arms and leg. Or perhaps the pain in his bladder caused him to ignore any such additional discomfort. Fortunately the Beast had retreated so that he could piss as soon as she had his flaccid cock in the mouth of the urinal.
She smiled at him when he moaned in relief, then turned her attention back to her task in hand. No blushing, no looking away. His little girl really was growing up. He’d give a year’s pay just to have his arms free for one minute to squeeze her to himself in a bear hug of Olympian might. He did not want to give up his little girl. And yet, he had wanted that same little girl to become just what she was evolving into. Wynter was absolutely right, he realized: grownups did lead lives that were far too complicated.
“DADDY! WHAT’S WRONG?”
She was staring at his left cheek. He slowly realized that a trickle of wetness ran down it from the outer corner of his eye. “Nothing, honey,” he said with a forced smile that he hoped looked natural to her. “I guess it’s just a reaction to the relief. I was about to explode.”
Fortunately she accepted his statement. When he was finished she stripped the residual piss out of his cock with two strokes that would have brought the Beast to life if it hadn’t had such a workout for the past two days. She put the urinal on the side table while she adjusted the sheet over him.
“There’s one other thing I need,” he said in a quiet voice, bringing Mother Hen to life. “I really need a special kiss before you go.”
She giggled and gave him a nose-and-lips kiss. But when she drew back, her face had an odd look faintly overlaid on her delicate features. She suspected that something was different, but she was too dedicated to her nursing duties to take time to ask him what. He knew what she would ask when she returned with his pills and furiously searched for an answer.
She emptied and cleaned the urinal, then replaced it below the foot of the bed. “Pain pill or i-bu-pro-fen?” she asked, slowly sounding out the syllables of the word that just would not flow easily off her warm, wet tongue.
“Ibuprofen,” he said with a smile that hid the turmoil in his brain.
While she counted out the pills, compared them to the schedule, and noted the type and time in his records, he remembered his lecture about honesty and trust. He would not lie when she asked.
“They’re not very chewy,” he complained. “They weren’t cooked long enough.”
“Maybe I overcooked them and made them tough,” she retorted as she popped the last one in his mouth and held the straw to his mouth.
He managed to swallow it with a sip of water before they broke up in laughter. She let him drink his fill of water and put then glass on the night stand. After she lowered the bed to a thirty degree angle she turned to him, her face serious.
“Daddy….”
The phone interrupted. It was Ellen Carter. Wynter offered to let him speak to her, but once again he told her that it was her job to take care of nurse business. He watched her smile explode across her face. Her slender, nude body seemed to swell slightly and glow, but with pride, not embarrassment. He watched her, as if seeing her for the first time. He heard her voice but not her words as she discussed her patient on a nurse-to-nurse basis. He was too busy wondering if he’d been given Wynter as compensation for all the pain he’d had to endure from his frequent injuries.
Then he wondered if all that pain was the compensation he had to give for the privilege of having her. If it was, then he was paying a bargain price, he decided, as she hung up the phone.
———————————
Ellen Carter switched off the cordless phone, snuggled into the corner formed by the overstuffed couch’s back and arm, and adjusted the Navajo blanket over her lap and folded legs. She put the phone on the end table and hesitated a moment before picking up her cup of honeyed tea. As she blew on the tea to cool it, she frowned. Just who in the hell was that self-assured, confident adult who had talked to her in Wynter King’s voice?
———————————
“Daddy, something’s wrong, isn’t it?” The beautiful blue-green gems, just inches from his own eyes, sat under a bluff weathered with Mother Hen worry.
Richard made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a soft laugh. “Before the phone rang, I’d have said yes. But now I know that I’d have been wrong, and that everything is the way is should be. But first tell me what Ellen said and then I’ll tell you all about it.”
Wynter looked uncertain for a moment, but that passed. She knew he was telling her the truth. She trusted him. Richard saw that trust in her face and felt really, really good about himself. He was the kind of father his child could trust implicitly. He focused on her eyes and waited.
“Nurse Carter said that they expect to have the road clear by two or three tomorrow afternoon. She’s bringing Doctor Taylor with her. He’s going to check your hands to see if he can remove them from the casts, but he said you shouldn’t get your hopes up. She has your right prescription with her, and she said that the pharmacist won’t make that mistake again.”
Richard winced. Ellen Carter was just a couple of years older than he was. Not only was she exceptionally competent and skilled as a nurse, she also was attractive. Oh, sure, she’d never win the Miss America title, but she was a shoo-in for Miss Congeniality, even at her current age. But in less time than an eyeblink she could metamorphose into the Queen of Bitches. Kevin Taylor called her Nurse Jekyll and Ms. Hyde for damned good reason.
Richard had received one of Ellen’s tirades when he had been similarly recuperating at home from an earlier accident. Dragon had actually left Wynter’s side in the family room to check on the commotion, and for the rest of the day Angie, who claimed she’d heard nothing in the kitchen, couldn’t keep from laughing every time she looked at him. After that Richard was the best patient he could possibly be. Deep down he didn’t really believe any of Ellen’s threats, but he was unwilling to test that belief, just in case he was wrong.
“Now,” she said, grasping her pony tail and leaning forward to kiss his nose and lips, “what is or isn’t wrong?”
Richard indicated the side of the bed with a nod. “Have a seat,” he said.
———————————
Wynter sat on the edge of the bed and turned, moving her left leg over so that her father could see both her tits and her pussy if he wanted to look at them. He had told her how much he loved looking at them, but now he barely glanced at them. If he wasn’t looking because he still thought that was what was best in the long run, then she’d just have to set her patient straight! She straightened and inhaled deeply, thrusting her tits toward him. She felt warm all over when his eyes dropped to them for a moment.
“That’s better,” she said. When he looked puzzled she explained. “You’ve hardly looked at them since you woke up. I was wondering if you’d stopped liking to look at me.”
Now he looked embarrassed! But his eyes dropped down to her tits and lingered there, looking back and forth from one to the other. And the tip of his tongue licked his lips for just an instant, the way it had the first time she’d let him have a good look. Her tits lifted slightly as her chest swelled with happiness, and she thought she heard him moan. “Don’t forget this,” she said, using her fingers to hold her split—her pussy, she reminded herself yet again—open so he could see her clitty.
“Honey, if I ever come down with Alzheimer’s, I promise you that your pussy will be the last thing I forget,” he said with a touch of horniness in his voice as he looked all around her pussy area.
“Promise?” she asked. She hadn’t played the promise game with him in a long time, but it suddenly seemed grownup instead of childish to her, like some of the games he played with Mother.
“Cross my heart,” he said, looking up at her eyes. “Except I can’t do that now for some reason.” He looked at her casts and then her tits.
Drat! She’d forgotten about that. For an instant she felt childish for not thinking ahead, but then another thought overtook her. A good nurse always helps her patient with things he can’t do for himself.
And a good daughter does the same for her father.
Wynter released her pussy lips and leaned forward, extending a forefinger and using it to trace an “X” on his chest. He looked at her eyes. Tears seemed to be collecting in his. Yes! She was sure of it.
“You wanted to know what was or wasn’t wrong,” he said in a low, quiet voice. When her father used that voice, he was being very serious with her. She sat back and waited for him to get his thoughts together. Nurse Carter said a good nurse always waited for a patient to get his thoughts together when he was about to say something that he was uncomfortable with or that embarrassed him. She began worrying about what was embarrassing him or making him uncomfortable.
He smiled at her, looked at the ceiling for a moment, and then met her eyes. “It’s about being a parent, and you’re going to go through this same moment yourself some day. I don’t know what it’s called, so let’s make up a name for it. Let’s call it, ‘The Moment the Lights Came On.’ Okay?”
“Okay,” she said, wondering what that meant. But a good nurse didn’t rush her patient.
“You’re going to spend years helping your child grow up to be a young woman or a young man. You’re going to do that because that’s your primary purpose as a parent. It’s a job that consumes your very existence day and night, but it’s a labor of love, and you’ll think there can be no greater calling in the whole entire world. Understand?”
“Yes.” She really and truly did. But she still didn’t know where this was going.
“Night and day; day and night. You’re doing all you can to help your child grow up. And then comes the moment that you suddenly know that she really is growing up. The moment you realize she’s becoming a young woman. Oh, sure, you say that you know she’s growing up, but somehow, deep inside, you still think of her as your child. It’s like you are in the dark until, suddenly, and apparently with no warning whatsoever, the lights come on. That’s when, deep inside, what you are thinking changes to what you’ve been saying.”
She nodded, afraid to speak, because she thought her lights were coming on, too, and she thought her voice might break. But then he smiled at her again and made her feel warm all through her body.
“Another lesson Grandpa King tried to get through my thick head. Maybe you’ll be smart enough to understand it before it happens, since you’re now the brains of the family.”
She felt her head lowering. She couldn’t stop it, but she did keep her eyes on his. She put her hand on his leg and rubbed gently, a demonstration of her love for him, like a substitute for a kiss.
“I’m selfish,” he said. “I don’t want to give up my little girl, yet I also want to do my part to make you the best adult woman you can possibly be.”
“Like I felt when Dragon changed from a funny, clumsy puppy into a grownup dog?”
“Yes! Exactly. But, honey, I promise you something: even when you are a hundred years old and I’m older than dirt, somewhere deep inside me, under whatever casts I’ll be wearing then, a part of you is still going to be my little girl, so don’t get mad at me when I act that way, because I’ve already warned you.”
“I won’t get mad. I love you, Daddy,” she said, wanting to throw her arms around him and never let go.
He apparently felt the same way. “Can I have a hug?”
———————————
The sun on the snow had been almost blinding when she had stretched along her father’s body and wrapped her arms about him. Now it was almost dark. They’d fallen asleep, and now she needed to go pee as badly as her father had needed it when he last awoke. She didn’t want to give up her warm perch on top of him, but she sure as heck didn’t want to get his bed wet, either.
She carefully crawled off him. Her back hurt just a little from having slept at an angle, but she didn’t care. She had snuggled and held her father, who she loved with all her heart, for almost two hours, and that was worth every twinge she felt.
She lowered herself onto the toilet seat and looked at the mass of black hair and red tongue that had taken his usual guard position in the doorway. “Dragon,” she said, “do you ever think you’d be happier as a puppy again?”
He cocked his head and lashed his tail about.
“That’s what I thought.”
She flushed and then washed her pussy really good with warm water and soap, rinsing carefully so that her father wouldn’t taste soap if he wanted to eat her again. She hoped so. And she had something else she wanted to try before Nurse Carter returned.
Chapter 7
Richard couldn’t suppress a sigh of contentment. He had dozed off with Wynter stretched out atop him and awakened to the smell of lasagna on the bedside table and the feel of her tongue lashing the flaccid Beast in the warm, snug cavern of her mouth. He’d told her that the floppy thing was worn out for the night, but with pure lust in her eyes she’d replied, “Don’t bet the mortgage on it,” one of her mother’s frequent replies whenever she disagreed with something he said.
Based on that, he’d asked for a pain pill instead of ibuprofen, expecting that he would need it before the night was over. He was correct.
Dessert was a multi-course treat. It started with almond praline ice cream. Next came tiny pink nipples on small firm breasts as she knelt with her legs on either side of him and leaned forward. Now he was having the final dessert course. He’d have called it a “fish muffin,” but she’d washed it so clean that it now had just the heady, intoxicating aroma of young girl and clean pussy overlaid with a hint of the flowery perfume of the soap. His mind detoured momentarily and named the course, “Hirsute Angel’s Lips … la Natural Lubrication,” causing an involuntary chuckle.
Naturally, she instantly lifted her body from his, releasing her meat popsicle dessert from her mouth, to stare down between their bodies at his wet face. “Daddy, is something wrong?” Mother Hen asked.
“No, honey,” he said with a grin that echoed in his voice. “You really do need to learn that during sex people make all kinds of odd sounds, laughter, and sometimes even crying. It’s not because something is wrong; it’s because they feel so good that they just can’t control it. Sex is where you stop being rational and start being emotional. Sometimes your brain just does strange things on its own and you can’t control it. Like the time your mother….”
He wasn’t surprised that when he didn’t continue, she asked, “Mother what?”
“Well, I might get in trouble if I tell you,” he said. Oh, sure. As if I wouldn’t_ be in trouble if she could see us like this right now, naked in bed together with Wynter’s spit all over the Beast and pussy juice all over my face._
The old Wynter would have immediately dropped the topic, probably with an apology. This was the new Wynter. With a hint of eagerness she said, “I won’t tell her that you told me. Okay?” She shifted her weight so that she could move her hand to her chest. One finger crossed her heart.
What the hell? “Okay.” He almost added, “If you promise,” but he realized in time that such a qualification would have been an implied insult. She had already promised.
“It was one night when you were two or three years old. She remembered something her tenth grade biology teacher had said in class: ‘red roundworms.’ It wasn’t the least bit funny at the time he’d said it in class, but that night, for reasons she still can’t explain, her mind dragged it out of a storage vault, put it up in flashing neon lights, and wouldn’t turn loose of it. It suddenly became the funniest thing she’d ever heard. She’d have a hysterical laughing fit, and as soon as it was over and I’d try to get back into her, she’d say, ‘Red roundworms!’ and start laughing like a maniac all over again. I finally had to give up for the night.”
Obviously his daughter wasn’t so wrapped up in what they were doing that she wasn’t in full control of her own mental faculties. She had no trouble drawing the accurate conclusion about the impact that had on his damaged vas deferens. “But, Daddy, didn’t that make you hurt,” she released his semi-hard cock and lightly rubbed the left side of his groin, “in here?”
“Well, yeah,” he admitted. “After she went to sleep, I went into the bathroom to masturbate.”
Her voice went deadly serious. “Well, don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll see to it you get off and don’t have to do that tonight!”
“Good,” he said with an eagerness he didn’t feel. “I don’t think I could make it to the bathroom in these casts!” He couldn’t believe that the Beast was responding to his daughter’s hands and mouth and actually erecting again, but he knew another orgasm was beyond question that day He’d be lucky if he could get off again the next day, before Ellen could make it back from town.
From Wynter’s technique it was obvious that cocksucking was something new to her, yet she was so damned good at it! Nursing wasn’t her only natural skill. He thought at first that it might be the slight hesitancy implying innocence that he found so exciting. Then he told himself that he could wonder about that when Ellen returned the next day and he had nothing else to occupy his time. It was then that his mind had taken the detour.
“Honey, I wasn’t finished with dessert. May I please have some more?”
“Only if you promise to eat every bite!” He heard the grin on her unseen face. His eyes were feasting on the smooth, white globes of her ass; the dark pink of her anal pucker; the brighter pink of her “vaginal region” that glistened with his saliva and her own “natural lubrication;” the soft pillows of her outer labia, swollen with desire; the tiny head of her still-erect clitoris peeking at him from within its hood; the narrow, thin inner lips running the short inch from her little clit to the opening of the succulent love tunnel that should have been glowing from its intense inner heat; and the incredibly soft, thin mat of first-growth pussy hair that would all-too-soon be coarse and rough.
“I’ll eat it all, no matter how long it takes,” he promised as she carefully steered her sweet little pussy back into place. “Cross my heart.”
He waited while she reached back to draw an “X” on his chest and then steered her with vocal commands until she was where he wanted her. He kissed the juncture of her thighs with her cunt and with her gorgeous little ass. He kissed her tightly puckered little anus, and the kissed the “‘taint” between her heavenly little holes. As his tongue resumed alternating between plunging into her steaming vagina and licking the length of her love trough, he felt her mouth again close around his erect cock and wondered how the Beast had managed to keep from shrinking as soon as the direct stimulation had ended.
Lost in the excitement of eating her wonderful young pussy, he forgot about the discomfort in his arms and legs and back and hips, except for the times when he involuntarily tried to enfold her in his arms or caress her body. For a while, time ceased.
———————————
The force of her girlish, barely restrained laughter vibrated Richard’s stomach as it supported the weight of her upper body. Her lower body was still supported by her knees, but they quivered like they were about to collapse. She managed to gasp, “Stop!” and he pulled his head back to watch her young cunt spasm with her fourth orgasm of the evening.
He wondered what would happen if he were to say, “Red roundworms!” Fortunately, he had enough sense to conclude that sometimes ignorance was the better choice.
The laughter slowly faded to a happy chuckle every ten seconds, accompanied by a vaginal contraction that caused her tiny open cunt to wink at him, as if she were flirting upside-down. He carefully kissed her thighs, being careful not to tickle or startle her, and avoiding her still-sensitive little pussy. He would wait until she had caught her breath before asking if she wanted him to eat her to a fifth cum, desperately hoping that she would say, “Yes.”
Richard loved Angie to the very depths of his being, but if he had to make a choice of having only his wife’s pussy or his daughter for oral sex for the rest of his life, he would choose Wynter without a second thought.
The Beast, of course, had not erupted in her zealous little mouth, but to his amazement, it had stayed hard. No doubt the permanent erection was aided by all the different things she was discovering she could do with it while it was at her complete disposal for a “laboratory exercise.”
She lifted her upper body onto her forearms, shoving her steaming cunt back toward his face. He eagerly thrust out his tongue and pulled his head forward, aiming for the clit that had retracted back into its glistening, wet hood…
…and just missed the target as she straightened her body upright on her knees. One hand flipped her pony tail back into place while the other rubbed her neck for a moment. The firm little globes of her buttocks clenched and dimpled at the sides as she stretched like an awakening cat. His little girl giggled again, then looked over her shoulder at him with the dreamy face of a sexually satisfied woman. The dreamy look stayed, but her eyes widened.
“You look like somebody held your head under the pond!”
He winked at her. “Well, I didn’t have a towel in reach, and it would have been impolite for me to get up and go look for one.”
She carefully turned until she was facing him, legs still astride his body but now on the opposite sides from where they had been, and looked down at him with a mixture of dreamy satisfaction and what was obviously love. She leaned down until her face was just above his. “Daddy, I love you!”
Before he could respond with is love for her she quickly kissed his wet nose and then glued her mouth to his, ignoring the layer of her pussy juice which coated his lips. She kissed him deeply, first attacking his tongue and then withdrawing so that he could chase it with his own. Time again ceased while their tongues chased each other back and forth, accompanied by a duet of grunts that evolved into moans of desperate longing and aching desire.
When she broke the connection she straightened and looked down at him. He gasped for air and looked into her blue-green eyes, sparkling in a face he’d never seen before. It was his eleven-year-old daughter’s face underneath, but it had been overlaid with veneers of that sexually satisfied glow, a look of carnal need (_How can women always manage both at the same time?_ he wondered), and what appeared to be a more mature version of her look of impish deviltry.
“Now you have pussy juice all over your mouth,” he said with a grin, guessing what the new Wynter would do. He was right. Instead of jumping up to fetch a towel or washcloth, her little tongue flew out, wiped down her lips, and disappeared back into that strange grin. She remained there, grinning down at him and not moving. “What?” he asked.
If anything, her grin grew even wider as she began easing backward on her knees.
Chapter 8
Richard’s curiosity grew as Wynter continued to inch backward. When her little pussy was directly over the Beast, she changed direction and began slowly settling until he felt the hot wetness of her slit press down on his semi-erection. As she had done that afternoon, she rocked her hips, tracing a slick, wet path first up and then down the Beast. After that, his cock was no longer “semi” erect, but a blue-steel diamond cutter that could deal out serious damage to an iron bar.
Wanton desire flashed across her face for a moment, but then the grin returned. After a moment he realized she was no longer moving her hips. The stimulation he now felt was from his humping the Beast along her slit. And she was timing the beat. Suddenly she began moving again, moving counter to his motion, and they both moaned in a discordant chorus.
On the seventh beat she closed her eyes, leaned forward slightly, and angled her pussy down. The Beast’s nose popped into her slit and pressed against the tight opening of her burning love tunnel.
Richard froze. “Honey….”
Eyes squeezed shut, Wynter pressed her tight virgin cunt harder against the tip of his dick and wiggled her little ass, trying to force herself down around it. Each thrust was accompanied by a moan of need that included a grunt of frustration.
“Wynter!”
She stopped pushing and opened her eyes to look at his.
“Honey, no.”
“Daddy, I want to!” she pleaded, leaning forward and planting her hands on the bed between his casts and his body, ready to shove backward with the additional leverage.
Richard knew what he had to say, but he did not want to say it. “But it’s not right. We shouldn’t.”
He watched her eyes stare blankly at him from beneath her twisted forehead. She was so horny that she had difficulty processing the information. After a long moment she asked, “But if we can have oral sex, why can’t we have intercourse?”
“Well….” How the fuck do I answer that one? “Honey, you know we shouldn’t have done that, either. I’m sorry I talked you into it. I shouldn’t have.”
Another blank stare. Then, “You didn’t talk me into it. Remember? You said we both had to want it or we wouldn’t do it, and that’s what happened. And if oral sex is that much better than masturbation, then I want to see how intercourse is. Unless you don’t want me. I thought you did. But if you don’t want me, then I won’t. I just….” The little girl was returning to her voice. Tears started collecting. She broke eye contact and her head dropped. The old Wynter was taking control again and was about to panic.
“It’s not that I don’t want you, Wynter. I do.”
The head came up again and tilted sideways as she frowned in confusion. “Then why don’t we? Since you said you like being the first man to do things with a woman, I thought you’d like to be the first to have intercourse with me, just like you were the first to French kiss me and the first to have oral sex.”
While she was talking she let the Beast’s nose slip from the entrance to her tight little tube. It fell back against his stomach, and she began slowly sliding her clit along it, masturbating with his dick without realizing what she was doing. And, also without realizing it, she was driving his own need up and his resistance down.
But he gave it another try. “Honey, you know that fathers aren’t supposed to have sex with their daughters.”
“Then I’m not your daughter, I’m your nurse.”
“Honey, nurses don’t have sexual contact with their patients.”
He saw the look on her face and wondered, Is there any way I could have handled that worse?
Probably not.
“Understand?”
She lay quietly for a minute, her tense body stretched along his, her arms tight around him, and her face in the puddle of her tears on his chest. “Yes,” she sobbed. “But all I wanted to do was be a good nurse to my patient, and a good daughter to my father.” Again her body shook his with its wracking sobs, and he wanted nothing more out of life at that moment than to have his arms free to hold her. The best he could do was rub his cheek on the top of her head.
“Honey, you were—you are—the best nurse I’ve ever had. And no father ever had a better daughter. Not even Grandpa Wolfe—and I don’t mean your Aunt Diane, I mean your mother.”
“But I didn’t…,” another sob interrupted her. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with Mother.”
It was The Moment the Lights Came On.
It wasn’t that she had misunderstood the requirements of her nursing duties. It wasn’t that she’d done something society frowned on. It wasn’t that she felt like a child for making those mistakes or that she was mad at herself for having done so. Her sole concern now that he had explained his thoughts was she had angered her mother with her father.
He rubbed his cheek against her blonde hair again, his nose still picking up the faint balsam scent of her shampoo and conditioner. “You know, honey, that it takes two people to do sex—except for masturbation.”
She seemed to be thinking that over for a moment. “So?”
“So don’t you think you’re being a little selfish trying to hog all the blame for yourself?
She raised her head and looked at him, her beautiful blue eyes rimmed with red and her left cheek soaked with her own tears. “But it’s all my fault! Why would you want to take any blame?”
“For two reasons, honey. One, I’m at fault, too, and you know it. And the other reason is something you haven’t learned yet. You think adults make weird decisions that don’t make sense to you? Wait until you become a parent. You’ll do anything to protect your child, no matter what her age is, when you are partly to blame. You will probably try to protect her even when she’s totally to blame on some occasions. But if you’re partly at fault, then you’ll try to protect her from….”
He frowned in thought, his eyes searching the ceiling for the blatantly obvious concept that kept eluding him. It was flitting about like a moth around a light, just escaping his grasp. And then he looked at her eyes and knew.
“I was wrong. You have learned that, haven’t you? That’s what you’re trying to do for me.”
She sniffed, and a hint of a smile flickered for just an instant. “I’m not your parent.”
“No, you’re my student, and like a good student, you’re teaching your teacher something he wasn’t aware of. And like a good daughter, you’re teaching your father, too.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
“And I love you, too. You know, if we’re going to share blame, your mother gets some, too.” He watched her frown. “She and I both wanted to live up here, isolated and away from civilization. That was good for the two of us, but not for the three of us. Neither she nor I realized that we weren’t doing the right thing by keeping you isolated up here.”
He saw the stricken look flash into place. “Don’t you dare say it!” He was surprised by the harshness of his tone. His body was tense, as if in fight-or-flight mode. He relaxed and gently said, “You are not an imposition on our lifestyle. Life is full of trade-offs, and you opt for the one you want most. You want Dragon more than you want that corner of the back yard where you used to play fairy princess. You gave it up so that he could have a puppy potty.
“Well, your mother and I want you more than we want this ‘fairy castle.’ Our fairy princess is far more important. We knew the night we made you—and that’s exactly what we were trying to do that night—we knew that we wanted you and that we were willing to make any sacrifice necessary to have you.”
She sniffed and nodded understanding.
“If I ever even get a vague impression that you might possibly be thinking that you are an imposition or that you are standing in the way of something we want, I’ll turn you over my knee and spank that incredibly cute, bare little butt of yours. There is nothing in this world that we want more than you. Understand?”
Her head dropped at the compliment, but her eyes stayed on his, and a grin forced itself in to place. “I understand.” Her head lifted and inspiration showed in her reddened eyes. She sniffed again and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Can I fib to you sometimes and say that I’m thinking it?”
Unable to guess where that was going, the teacher braced himself to learn from his student again. “Why?” he asked with a suspicious frown.
She gave him an odd smile, a mixture of love, and devil-imp. “So you’ll have an excuse to look at my butt! I’ll keep my legs open so you can look at my pussy, too.”
Uh oh. The Beast sprang to life with a vengeance, pressing against her joined thighs. She parted them and allowed it to flip into its upright position. Richard felt the still-wet pubic hair framing her slit brush the Beast’s nose. She squeezed her thighs together, trapping it in place. He was amazed that she had the self-control not to start humping. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t as his hips cycled before he could get control.
Devil-imp kept smiling, but love was still visible, too, as she asked. “Daddy, you’re supposed to be completely honest with me if I ask you a question. Right?”
“Right.” He knew where this was going, and he wasn’t sure he could keep it under control.
“I want you to be the first man to have intercourse with me. Cross my heart.” She raised up and used a fingertip to draw an “X” between those small orbs that seemed to crowd everything else out of his vision. “Do you want to be the first man to—um—fuck me?”
He knew the right thing to do was to lie to her, but he couldn’t. She trusted him to be honest. “Next to being out of these casts so I can hold you, I want nothing more than to be the first man to make love to you. There’s a difference.”
She used her hand to wipe her face and sniffed again. “What’s the difference?”
“Fucking is a sport—something you do for fun. Making love is something you do to show how much you care for someone. Sometimes you do one, sometimes you do the other, sometimes you do both at the same time.”
She blinked; then again. “Then I want to make love to you, and I want you to make love to me. It’s what we both want, and if Mother is going to be mad at us for having had oral sex, she can’t be any madder if you make love to me. And you always say it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission.”
Richard did some blinking of his own while she began thigh masturbating not her clitoris but his erect cock. Okay, maybe her clitoris got stimulated, too, but she was definitely affecting his ability to think. Her sudden change of emotion had him wondering if Wynter had actually maneuvered him into this situation, but he quickly abandoned that idea. He had no doubt that she was smart enough to devise that plan, but he also had no doubt that she wouldn’t. It would not be honest. No, it had to be that her hormone factories had gone into overdrive and were flooding that slender, smooth-skin, incredibly sexy little body with a deluge of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Her hormones were in charge. She might be only vaguely aware of what she was actually doing.
“Daddy?”
Mother Hen had tinged her voice. She was waiting for a reply, and his mind was wandering. He sighed. “There’s going to be a problem getting me in you,” he said.
Wynter nodded. “I know. My hymen. I know it will hurt at first, but I don’t mind.”
Richard chuckled. “No, not that, honey. As grownups would say, your cherry has already been busted.”
She lapsed into panic mode. “Daddy, I haven’t had sex with anyone else! I promise.”
“Yes, honey, I know that,” he said with a grin. “But it’s easy to break it lots of different ways because it’s right at the very entrance into your vagina, and it’s usually very thin. An active girl like you could have done it many different ways, but unless it happened earlier, I think I know how you lost it.”
She stopped squeezing the Beast with her thighs but left it within its warm trap. “How?”
“Remember a few years ago when you were walking down that tree limb and your feet slipped? They went to both sides and you sat down hard?”
“Oh, I couldn’t forget that!” She shuddered, quivering her thighs around his erection. “It hurt for almost a week! So you think I lost my—my cherry then?”
His hips cycled, rubbing the Beast between her smooth thighs. “Unless you’d done something similar and lost it earlier. I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t find one while I was eating you. I remembered thinking two things when you fell: ‘I hope she didn’t inherit my tendency toward accidents,’ and ‘I hope whoever she marries doesn’t expect proof of virginity,’”
She giggled.
“No, the problem is that you might be too tight for me to get in you. I wasn’t able to tell with my fingers, of course, but you did seem awfully tight to my tongue.”
She frowned. “Is there any way to tell if you don’t use your fingers?”
Richard chuckled. “Well, there is one way for sure.”
She gave an exaggerated sigh and shrug. “Works for me,” she said, unable to keep the grin from spreading across her face.
Chapter 9
Wynter thought her father was being too cautious. After all, grownup women had vaginas that normally weren’t much bigger than a hardon, but they stretched enough to let a baby get out through them. But he was just trying to watch out for her the way any good parent would and the way she would protect her children some day. She didn’t want to argue with him because she knew that, and because she was afraid that he might change his mind again.
The inside of her vagina—her pussy—was nice and wet and slick, making it easy for her to slip her own fingers inside and show him how much it stretched. His dick really got hard while he was watching her do that. It got even harder after he had her hold her hands and fingers exactly the same way in front of his face so he could see how much she had stretched. And then he asked to suck the pussy juice off her fingers, and his dick got so hard it raised up from his tummy, and she thought he was going to cum again right then.
She thought he would make love to her then, but he said he wanted to try something else: he wanted to see what size vibrators she could comfortably get in her. That didn’t make sense.
“Daddy, if I can’t get my hand without a vibrator on it in my pussy, I don’t think I can get it in there with a vibrator.” His laugh told her she’d said something stupid again, but she had no idea what.
“This is something different, honey,” he said, looking like he was sorry he had laughed. “I wasn’t laughing at what you said, I was laughing at the picture I saw in my mind. I’m not talking about a Swedish massager. I mean a different kind of vibrator, long and round like a penis, the kind women use to masturbate with. I really doubt that that’s a topic your mother would have discussed with you. Few mothers do.”
“No,” she said, feeling a little less childish for not knowing. “But how are we going to get any with the road closed and….” From his face she realized there was something else her mother hadn’t told her. “Mother has some?” Wynter couldn’t imagine why. She had a husband for sex.
No, Wynter realized. She doesn’t always have Daddy, even when he’s home. Like now. Wynter suddenly felt very sorry for her mother and for what she missed out on when he or she was away, or when he was hurt really bad.
Which was what her father explained to her. And he also said that sometimes Mother used them even when he was with her, because he liked watching her use them on herself, and he liked using them on her as part of playing together. Wynter hadn’t thought about her parents “playing,” and certainly not doing so with sex! Grownups sure did keep a lot of secrets from kids.
He told her what drawer to look in and sent her to fetch them. On the way she let Dragon out and realized she had to go pee, too. She did, then washed her pussy really good for her father and let Dragon back in. A glance at the clock showed her how late it was. It was almost time for his last round of pills. She’d have to give them to him first, so they wouldn’t have to stop making love.
Making love. She liked the sound of that. Fucking is a sport. Well, that sounded pretty good, too. But she was thrilled that her first time at intercourse was to be making love. If she could get her father’s hardon inside her pussy. I really and truly want to get him inside me so I can show him just how much I love him, she thought as she opened the drawer and looked under the underclothes in the back right corner.
She couldn’t stop her eyes from going wide and from gasping. She had no idea any such things existed. Three were different sizes of white plastic tubes tapered to a blunt, round point at one end and flat at the other. One was colored and shaped like a hardon with the foreskin pulled back. The fifth was a cylinder that had a thin piece as long as her finger at the top, where the others had been the same size or slightly larger in diameter than the rest of the tube. The thin piece was rippled, like a stack of jelly beans stacked end-to-end. She couldn’t imagine why it was shaped that way. Surely her mother’s vagina wasn’t tight enough for that to do any good—not after she’d given birth. But when she tested the batteries in each by turning them on the way her father had told her to do, it vibrated, too.
She was so puzzled that she almost forgot to take the squeeze bottle of lubricant.
“Daddy, what’s this?”
Did he turn a little bit red? “Oh. I’d forgotten about that one. That’s—that’s an anal probe.”
“Like for a colonostomy? I mean, co-lon-os-co-py?” she corrected.
“Not exactly, but that’s a good guess. Well, yes, I guess it is, sort of.” He chuckled and then explained.
Wynter frowned. “And that’s fun?” It sure didn’t sound like fun to her. It sounded like a trip to the doctor.
“Some people think so. Different people like different things, honey. Besides, you thought oral sex didn’t sound like much fun, didn’t you?”
“I guess you’re right,” she said, reaching for his pills. She counted out the correct ones and gave them to him with some water.
“They’re still tough.”
Wynter sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to let Dragon do the cooking.”
“I take it back!” he said in mock horror. “I can just imagine what kind of pills Dragon would bring in from outside!”
Wynter felt herself blush as she laughed with him. Drat!
After she noted his medications in the records, she sat on the side of the bed with the vibrators and the lubricant squeeze bottle. “You might need the lube if you aren’t wet enough,” he said, telling her to start with the smallest one. It was a snug fit, but it entered her easily. She was so wet with her natural lubrication from thinking about finally having intercourse—_making love_—that she didn’t need the squeeze bottle of slippery stuff.
She noticed her father’s dick move as she pulled the vibrator out. He said he liked watching Mother use them, she remembered. She also noticed that her horny feeling got worse when she removed the vibrator. She carefully wiped it off with a wet cloth and put it on the rollaway table.
The next size was bigger, but still smaller than her father’s hardon. She went slow and easy, the way her father told her to do, though she wanted to shove it in quickly because the first one had felt so good sliding into her.
“Good girl!” her father said. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” she said, honestly. “But it feels really big. And really good, too!”
“You might want to turn it on and see if it relaxes you inside so you can get the next one in.”
“Okay,” she said warily, turning the base to make the connection. Well, her mother liked oral sex, and Wynter thought that was great. Her mother liked the vibrators, so maybe….
The unit switched on. Wynter screeched for an instant, bringing Dragon to his feet. He looked around and sniffed as he moved to the bedside and sniffed up at her, whimpering in his throat.
“It’s okay, Dragon. I was just caught by surprise. Wow! Daddy, that’s a nice surprise!” She realized she was giggling, but she couldn’t stop.
“Just try to relax inside and then you can move it in and out and around,” he said, with a horniness showing in his eyes as his dick went totally erect. He licked his lips as he looked at the plastic vibrator in her pussy, and that made Wynter happy. She was pleasing her father.
After a minute she started sliding it in and out, just a little bit, to see how that felt. It was as good as when her father ate her pussy. She felt her little clitty swell until it felt like it was going to burst. And that gave her an idea. If she just pulled it out a little more, and then pulled up on the end and pushed her pussy downward….
When the vibrator touched her clitty she exploded in orgasm. It felt wonderful—almost as good as her father’s tongue on that hard little stick. When she regained her senses, he was staring at her pussy and the vibrator stuck in it, humping his dick against the air. Wynter was so very sorry that he couldn’t touch his hardon for relief. She bent down to kiss his aching pole, causing the vibrating plastic to press against her clitty. She came again when her lips touched his hard dick. When she opened her eyes, he was looking into them.
“We might have to get you your own vibrator,” he said.
“It might help when I’m by myself,” she gasped, then giggled. “It doesn’t feel as big now, Daddy, like I loosened up a little. Do you want me to try the other one?”
“Yes, but carefully. It’s a little bit bigger than me. You might need the lube.”
Wynter shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m just so flooded with my natural lubrication. My pussy juice,” she corrected.
She felt empty when she pulled it out of her tight, wet pussy. She wiped it with the wet cloth and picked up the third one. If it went in, then she would be able to take her father’s erect dick. Please, please, please, she thought, let it fit!
Her father talked slowly and gently to her, relaxing her and guiding her through easing the massive piece of plastic into her hot, tight hole. It was a little uncomfortable, but it didn’t hurt as she eased the tip into the mouth of her tender cunny. She twisted it and wiggled it slowly and gently. It began easing into her slender young body. The widest point was about an inch down from the tip. When it went into her, she almost cried with joy. She could take her father!
———————————
Wynter positioned the tip of his dick against her overheated hole and began pushing her body downward. “Don’t be in a hurry,” he reminded her for the third time. His dick was slippery in her hands. He’d insisted on her using the lubrication stuff because her pussy juice wouldn’t lubricate his dick the way it had the hard, smooth plastic of the vibrator. The dildo, he’d called it. She thought that was a funny name, but right now she was too happy to laugh. She thought that was strange and told herself to describe that feeling in one of her notebooks. Then she told herself to remember to describe this sensation, too: the very tip of her father’s dick had just entered her pussy, had entered her vagina.
“Take it easy, and stop when it gets uncomfortable. Give yourself time to stretch. I want the first time you make love to be something you always remember because of how good it felt, not how much it hurt during and afterward.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, feeling that warm tingly feeling shoot all throughout her body again. That was even better than cumming. It was the feeling that her father loved her with all his heart and was trying to both protect her and help her feel wonderful at the same time.
Push down slowly. Relax. Push down slowly. Relax.
Her eyes flew wide. “Daddy, I think the head just went in.”
“Yes, it did,” he gasped. “Don’t rush it and ruin it now. Take your time and we’ll be making love in a few minutes.”
She felt the grin on her face and knew she couldn’t remove it for a million bucks. “Daddy, I feel like I’m already making love with you.”
His eyes shot up from watching his throbbing hardon going into her horny little pussy and gazed deeply into hers. “Honey, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a sweeter compliment in my entire life. Thank you very much. I love you.”
Drat! She couldn’t stop her head from dipping again, but she did keep her eyes on his. “I love you, too, with all my heart.” She giggled as something moved down there and shot a thrill through her body. “It feels so big, but good at the same time.”
Her father smiled his warmest smile and moaned softly as she slid down another half-inch onto him. “Honey, I just hope it feels as wonderful to you as it does to me,” he said. “If it hadn’t been for those last two cums, I’d probably be shooting now and ruining it for you.”
She giggled again, unable to control it. “Daddy, the only way you could ruin it would be to tell me to stop. If you did shoot now, I’d just keep you inside me until you got hard again.”
He was looking at his big dick going into her little pussy again, but he broke into the biggest smile. It reminded her of Aunt Diane’s baby Christopher’s smile when she teased him with the rattle. Then she bent her head to look, too.
“That’s all that’s in me?” she said in surprise at the amount of his greased dick that she could still see. “It feels like there’s two feet up there.”
“You’re doing just fine, honey.” He moaned softly. “You may not get all of me in because your pussy probably isn’t deep enough yet. Just keep going slowly until it hits bottom, and don’t try to force any more than that into you.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She tingled throughout again. Her father had to be feeling as good as she did, yet he was still watching out for her, rather than taking the time to enjoy the experience. She wouldn’t disappoint him. She’d be extra careful so that he wouldn’t worry, and when she had all of him inside her that she could get in, she was going to see to it that he had the biggest cum she could possibly give him as a reward for his patience and his love.
Push down slowly. Relax. Push down slowly. Relax. Until….
“Daddy, I don’t think I can get any more in.”
His wide eyes seemed unable to lift from her pussy. “Don’t try. You have almost all of it in you. More than I expected.”
She couldn’t see all that well because it was underneath her, so she felt to see how much was still outside, reaching behind and under her butt so that she wouldn’t block his view. Maybe two inches. She giggled. “I’ll just save the rest for later,” she said.
He made a sad little smile under his happy face. She realized he knew that this would be their only time. Then she saw a faint change, one she’d never be able to describe in her notebook in a hundred million billion years, and she knew that they would make love again. And fuck for sport, too. “I love you, Daddy,” she said softly, with all the love and caring she could put into her voice.
His eyes looked wet, like he was about to cry. He gave her the warmest smile and said in a soft voice, “I love you, too, Wynter.” She hoped he had heard as much love in her voice as she heard in his. “Are you ready, or do you need to relax and stretch a little more?”
She concentrated on her pussy and the huge tube of flesh filling it. She felt it throb, just like it did in her hand, only this time it thrilled her even more, and that started her spring tightening again. “I think I’m as stretched as I can get now.”
He nodded. “Okay. Slowly now for a little bit, until you get the hang of it, lift slightly and then lower back to where you are now. You may want to hurry, but you have to teach yourself to stop before you hurt yourself. We don’t need both of us to be patients!”
She giggled and rubbed one hand on his chest in a caress. “I’ll be careful. We can’t make love or fuck if my pussy gets put in a cast.” Because she was supporting her weight on her knees, the laughter that shook her father’s body caused his dick to jump and shake inside of her. A thrill shot from her pussy through her entire body, and that spring tightened some more. She started raising and lowering her body on him, sending more pleasure waves out from her pussy and causing her to gasp every time she felt him stuffing her pussy full again.
Soon she was lifting until just the head remained inside her body, then lowering down to feel it slowly stretch and fill her. She couldn’t believe that anything could feel better than the vibrator or her father’s tongue in her split—her pussy—but this really and truly did! She concentrated for a few moments on where the limits were to keep him inside her and to keep him from going too deep within her, and then she slowly increased the speed. It made the horny feeling in her overstuffed pussy feel so very much better, but it also made it worse at the same time, causing her to move faster for more relief, on and on in an endless loop.
She heard noises as she slid her stretched little hole up and down around the rigid dick jutting up from her father’s lower body. Because the horny feeling was so overwhelming she needed several moments to realize it was both her father and herself. They were both grunting and moaning and saying, “I love you” and “It feels so good!“ and laughing and crying and making all sorts of sounds at once that she knew wouldn’t make any sense to someone listening through a wall, but made perfect sense to her, being where she was and doing what she was doing, and now she could hear a wet sound coming from her split that was her father’s thingy sliding into her through her natural lubrication as it wound a spring inside her vaginal area tighter and tighter and even still tighter yet even though it couldn’t possibly get any tighter as shemovedfasterandfasterand….
She knew she screamed when the spring exploded, sending shockwaves of almost unbearable pleasure shooting through her body over and over and over and over like it would never end. She couldn’t help it because it felt so wonderful and the strength of it was such a surprise because it was much bigger than any of her other orgasms, and she was vaguely aware that she might have scared her father when she screamed, and she really really really hoped that he wasn’t scared, and that he was feeling as good as she was with their first time making love, and why hadn’t her hips stopped moving, and what was that hot feeling deep inside her, and why was the spring getting tighter again, only it was getting tighter muchmorefasterthistimeand….
She screamed in delight again.
Chapter 10
Richard lay gasping for breath, unable to believe he’d actually cum again. The sight of Wynter convulsing in orgasm had been too much for him, and somewhere he’d found a reserve of cum for her tender young pussy and the energy to shoot it. The Beast finally died then, though rigor mortis had apparently kept it stiff enough for her to work herself almost immediately to a second release.
He wasn’t sure if she’d fallen asleep or fainted, but at least she was stretched along his body in such a way that she was in no danger of rolling off him and falling to the floor. She, too, was gasping for air. A whimper to his left told him Dragon was worried and was checking up on her. “It’s okay, Dragon. She’s okay, boy. Go lie down.”
Okay? She was better than “okay,” she was the most exciting sexual partner he’d ever experienced. He sincerely hoped that she would always remember her first time making love as a wonderful experience. And, now that he thought about it, her first fuck, too. From what she was saying while she humped him, her first orgasm occurred while she was making love, but the second one—that second one was pure, unbridled, no-holds-barred, all-for-me fucking.
He wondered why he felt tears streaming down his cheeks. It was, he realized, because he needed to hold her and couldn’t. The other times he’d just wanted to hold her. This time he needed to hold her, the way he needed oxygen and water, because his life depended on her. Well, by god, he had one free leg.
Carefully, but with urgency born of need, he shifted his body, lifting and twisting his free leg until he was able to capture her left thigh between his foot and his bare right thigh. Something inside the cast on his lower right leg flared in pain, but he didn’t care. He squeezed her to him in the only way he could, trying to ignore the fact that he would eventually have to release her.
Rigor mortis fled the beast then, and it oozed out of her tight, wet, wonderful little cunt with a faint “slish” noise. He wasn’t totally surprised to find fresh tears on his cheeks.
———————————
He opened his eyes at the movement. Wynter was sitting up, about to swing one leg back from across his body so that she could get down from the bed.
“Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up, but I was afraid I was making you uncomfortable.”
“Honey, that’s no problem at all. If you aren’t uncomfortable, you don’t have to get down. You can stay right where you are and hold me while we sleep. I’d really love that if it doesn’t keep you from resting.”
She grinned sleepily, a mixture of happiness and sexual satisfaction. “Okay,” she said, masking a yawn with her hand. “I’ll turn off the light.”
“Don’t. Not unless it bothers you. I don’t want you to be away from me that long, even if it is only two feet away and five seconds apart. Unless you need to get up for another reason.”
“Huh uh,” she said. “Daddy, that’s sweet. I don’t want to be away from you, either.” She yawned again. “But don’t you want me to go wash my pussy for you? And wash off your dick?”
“Not unless it bothers you. All I want is to feel you next to me, to go to sleep that way, and to wake up that way.”
She leaned forward for nose-and-lips kisses, freed her hair from its ponytail, and gently eased herself down onto him. She found a position that wasn’t uncomfortable for either and wrapped her arms around him. “G’night, Daddy,” she said with a squeeze.
“Goodnight, honey,” he replied, feeling warm and cozy and wondering why his tears were threatening to break loose again.
She snuggled her cheek against his chest, scooting it around until it was just right. “Thank you for loving me.” And she was asleep.
The tears escaped.
———————————
Bacon. Coffee. He lifted his head from the slight—no, steep—incline. Wynter had raised the head of the bed over halfway without waking him. There they were, on the breakfast tray on the rollaway bedside table, where his pills had been counted out. The urinal was on the nightstand and the vibrators weren’t. Wynter had been busy while he slept.
He noticed the faucet in the bathroom just as the water stopped flowing. Seconds later his naked daughter appeared, a smile of afterglow still radiating from her face. She saw him looking at her and stopped. “Drat!” she said with a sudden frown. “I was going to crawl back on top of you and let you wake up with me holding you, like you wanted.”
“Honey, the important thing is that you’re here with me,” he said, sympathizing with her feelings. “I’d much rather wake up here alone and find that you are just over there in the bathroom than wake up in the hospital alone and find you are miles away.”
Her head dropped at that, but her eyes stayed on his and she didn’t blush. “Yeah, but I wanted to make you happy,” she said as she placed a gentle hand on his arm cast and bent to kiss his nose and lips. She gave him a quick daughter-type kiss on the lips and then lowered her head again to invite his tongue into her mouth.
Her mouth was sweet and fresh and tasted of spearmint. He knew how funky his own breath was and kept the kiss short. “I’m sorry my breath is so funky,” he apologized. “I didn’t have time to go brush my teeth for you the way you did for me.”
“I’d rather kiss you with funky breath than not be able to kiss you with fresh breath,” she said with a big, self-satisfied smile, followed by another daughter-peck before she turned for his pills.
He swallowed the last one. “That’s a little better. Did Dragon cook them?”
“No,” she said, a grin threatening to split her face in two. “I cooked them. He just brought them in fresh from the garden.”
“No wonder there was an improvement,” he managed to get out with a straight face before both erupted.
“You probably need this by now,” she said, reaching for the urinal. “No sex! Just urination for now. Your breakfast is getting cold.”
“Yes, Nurse King,” he said without argument. One, the sight of the urinal had caused him to realize that he was about to explode in a hurricane of yellow, and two, he couldn’t get the Beast stiff with a plaster cast this morning.
They talked while she fed the two of them. He listened while she described her joy at having made love with the man she loved most in all the whole entire world and tried to explain how it felt to have him inside her exquisite nubile body. She didn’t know the words to describe some of her feelings. When, at her request, he tried to describe to her was it was like to be the one inside of her, he, too, discovered that he was ignorant of the words required.
Egg yolk dripped onto his chest. “I guess I should have scrambled the eggs,” she said, rising to lick the spot of yellow from his chest while looking at him with devil-imp eyes.
He wondered if she were now devious enough to have planned the dripping yolk from the over-easy eggs. Then free association latched onto “scrambled eggs.” Surely the bouncing she had done with the Beast in her nearly up to her ovaries had scrambled her own. He chuckled, and expected that he would have to explain why he was suddenly laughing at her.
Wynter, however, appeared to think she had tickled him when she licked away the egg.
“Honey,” he asked as she sat down, “is your pussy sore this morning?”
Her face scrunched and her eyes went vacant for a moment, as if she were reading a bank of indicators and gauges inside her head. “No, not really,” she said. “It’s just a little tender.” She grinned slyly. “Why? Are you ready to teach me how to fuck?”
“Another sip of coffee, please? No, you already know how to do that.”
She hesitated as she lifted the insulated coffee mug with the bent straw. “But we didn’t fuck; we made love,” she said.
“The first time, yes,” he agreed. “But the second time you came, it was from fucking. Plain old ordinary, ‘I need my brains screwed out’ fucking, and that was a sight to see. Could you move the straw a little closer to my mouth? My lips aren’t six inches long.”
She blinked as she returned from wherever she’d been and moved the straw to his reach. ”Second time?”
He grunted acknowledgement, and when he swallowed he added, “You came twice, you know.”
“I did?“ Richard understood the phrase “eyes as big as twin full moons” at that moment.
“Oh, yes. Very definitely”
Her eyes unfocused as she replayed the recorded scene in her head. “I guess I did. Oh!” Mother Hen made a sudden appearance. “Daddy, I’m sorry! I totally forgot about you then!”
He made a face. “Do I have to call class back into session again? Wynter?”
Instead of laughing she made a wry smile. “Present.”
“There’s a reason that making love and fucking have different names: they are different activities. Making love is what we did the first time. It’s when two people share love and tenderness with each other through their bodies. Making love is sharing. Fucking is when one or both of the people need sex for its own sake. Fucking is selfish, but that’s okay because it’s supposed to be selfish. You really needed to cum again, and I helped you. Sometimes one partner has a need to fuck and the other has a need to make love. Usually the partner with the need to make love will defer, knowing that they can make love later when the first partner is relaxed and can concentrate on both of them. I call it instant gratification and future satisfaction. Clear so far, my little student?”
“Yes, teacher,” she said, offering him another bite, which he chewed and swallowed.
“Now, a question for the class: can one person make love while the other fucks?”
The silence grew long while she turned the question over in her head. She wasn’t about to repeat the answer he’d given her without first coming to that conclusion on her own. Finally: “Yes. That second time—I was fucking, but you were still making love,” she said with a little smile of triumph on her face.
“But you barely remember there was a second time. How do you know I was making love while you were fucking?
She already knew that answer. As she fed him another bite she said, “Because you were watching me cum. You were sharing my experience instead of being selfish and just paying attention to yourself. You remembered what it was like to watch me. And you also just said that you helped me cum again.”
She bit off a piece of buttered and jellied toast and chewed with a look of silent self-satisfaction.
Richard blinked twice and turned his head toward the door. “Dragon!” The shiny black head sprang up, instantly alert. “It’s official: you are no longer the brains of the family.”
———————————
It wasn’t until she was putting the dishes in the dishwasher that he realized she’d brought only one knife and fork.
———————————
Wynter was sorry that her father couldn’t get another hardon, but he told her that in a way it was a good thing. He was sure that as much as she was stretched and as hard as she had fucked him—_she_ had fucked him? Well, that made sense if you thought about it—she was probably more than “just a little tender” down there, and if they fucked, or even made love again, she might experience more damage and it might be painful.
“We might have to put your pussy in a cast,” he explained as she finished shaving him, “and then you’d need Doctor Taylor to give you a pussy stretcher.”
She was proud of herself for catching the joke, and the look in his eyes said he was both surprised and proud of her, too.
“But Doctor Richard has a prescription for you, Nurse King.”
She put the razor on the table and crossed her arms under her tits, lifting them slightly and watching his eyes go to them. She lowered her head and looked at him from under the bottom of a frown. “What?”
“Doctor Richard prescribes that you have somebody kiss it and make it feel better.”
She fought to hold back a grin. “Well, I don’t see anyone else here, Doctor Richard, so I guess you’ll just have to treat me yourself.”
He broke into his own wicked grin, and she couldn’t hold back. “Trust me,” he said, “it will be a treat.”
———————————
Wynter tried to suck her father’s dick back to an erection, but this time he was right: it was so dead it was beyond rigor mortis. Still, the excitement of having his dick in her mouth again while his tongue did wonderful things to her pussy was enough to cause the spring to wind supertight before it exploded. Her father had told her that there were little cums and big cums and giant super-sized cums. She sure did hope that these were the giant super-sized ones, because if they were just the big ones, she’d never survive anything larger.
———————————
Three o’clock. Richard was clean and dressed in a hospital gown rather than the pajamas Angie had wanted him to wear for whatever reason. Lunch was over. The room was clean and smelled lightly of cinnamon air freshener. The sleeping bag was gone. Wynter was dressed for the first time in what seemed like years. Richard watched as she turned a slow circle for his inspection and then asked, “Well?”
“You look beautiful,” he said, “but I think I like your birthday suit better.”
Again her head went down at the compliment, and she seemed to suddenly have trouble keeping her eyes on his again, as if returning to a girl’s loose blouse, knit shorts, white ankle socks, and slippers had returned her to her earlier girl’s mind set. “Thank you,” she whispered, then louder added, “I’ll let you see my birthday suit every chance I get.”
“Kiss?”
Nose-and-lips daughter-kiss.
“Lover’s kiss?”
He was exploring her mouth for the third time, his eyes closed, when he noticed the salty wetness. He opened his eyes, broke off the kiss, and pulled back into his pillow. She raised her head and released her ponytail, freeing that hand to wipe her wet cheeks. Her other hand continued to smooth his hair.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
She sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m being selfish. You want a nice lover’s kiss to remember, and I’m ruining it.”
He smiled gently. “You’re avoiding the question, honey.”
She sniffed again and chased down another escaping tear. “I’m just getting to know about sex, and now I have to give it up. I know you said we’d find time after Mother returns, but Nurse Carter will still be here then, until you can get out of bed. It’s going to be a long time before I can show you—before we can show each other—how much we love each other.”
“You are wrong, my favorite student who didn’t pay full attention to her lessons. You are very wrong. We may not be able to have any sexual contact for a little while, but you are showing me how much you love me right now. Just like you’ve always done.”
“Yes, but,” she said, pausing to wipe a cheek and her nose again, “I want to show you like a grownup, not like a child.”
“Honey, you’ve missed part of the lesson somewhere, probably because I concentrated too much on the other part. Sex may be a ‘grownup’ way to show love, but non-sex doesn’t mean ‘non-grownup.’ How many different ways do your mother and I show that we love each other without going at it on the kitchen table or living room floor? A kiss on the nose and lips from you is one of the most wonderful things in the world because it shows me you love me. Nobody else loves me that way. Well, except Dragon, sometimes, but it’s definitely not the same.”
Her mouth corners curled upward slightly, and her body trembled once with a silent laugh.
His eyes lifted upward to indicate her right hand. “You pet my hair, you hold my arm through the cast, you smile at me in a way that I’ve never seen you smile at anyone else, you do the best job possible as my nurse, you feed me, you play your flute for me even though you want to shoot me for asking….”
“Daddy! No I don’t!”
“Ah, ah! Don’t fib or I’ll have to turn you over my knee.”
She grinned suddenly. “Want me to take off my shorts and underpants?”
Richard pulled his head deeper into the pillow and looked at the ceiling. “I actually lived long enough to hear Wynter King ask a dumb question!” He brought his eyes to hers in an eloquent leer. “Of course I do! But Ellen and Kevin could walk in any minute now. I’ll make your mother understand, but I could never get them to.”
“Can I do one thing just for you before they get here?”
He lifted one eyebrow. “What?”
She pulled the hem of her blouse up to her armpits and thrust a tiny pink cone at his mouth.
———————————
“Nurse King, would you escort me to the door?”
Wynter’s head dropped. “Sure, Doctor Taylor.” She waited until he said his goodbyes. Nurse Carter acted like she was going to come with them, but Doctor Taylor did something with his hand and she changed her mind. Only Dragon accompanied them. Doctor Taylor stopped her in the living room and asked if they could talk for a moment. They sat together on the overstuffed couch.
“First of all,” Doctor Taylor said, looking her straight in the eye the way she saw him talk to Nurse Carter, “you did a very excellent and professional job while Nurse Carter was away. Wait a minute—a nurse doesn’t look away when a doctor compliments her professionalism.” He pointed to his eyes. “You continue to look right here, okay?”
Drat! She had acted like a child when he’d just told her she’d been acting like a responsible grownup. “Okay.”
He broke out in the biggest grin. Doctor Taylor sometimes was grumpy with other people, and sometimes even with kids, but with her he was always the nicest person she’d ever met. Except for her father. And her mother, of course. If she ever had to pick somebody else to be her father, she’d choose Doctor Taylor.
“Now! You did an excellent job with his records. They were neat, orderly, and precise.” He was leaning toward her and tapping his left index finger with his right to indicate his points, the way he discussed patients with nurses and other doctors, and that made her tingle inside. “I had no trouble following them. Those extra comments you made were a perfect touch. I felt like I had been present at the time and observed him myself. Ellen is right: you are a natural nurse.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, using all her willpower to force her head to stay upright.
“Don’t thank me, it’s the truth!” His voice snapped, but she saw the sparkle in his eyes and knew he was playing with her. “I have nothing against nurses, and I know you’ll be the best in the state, if not in the whole country, but you’d make a damned fine doctor, and I really do hope you will consider medical school. Of course, you’ll have to learn to scrawl so nobody can read your writing. But you still have plenty of time to think about it.”
She grinned at him. “Only if you forgive me.”
His eyes grew wide and he drew himself upright on the couch. He jabbed an index finger at her nose. “Never!”
Doctor Taylor always said he’d never forgive her for deciding to be born at home early, during a winter storm that had closed the mountain road, thus depriving him of the honor of being the first person to ever see her. Wynter had thought that he teased other kids that way until Nurse Carter told her that she was the only one.
He bounced his fingertip off her nose and said in a serious tone, “Listen, I’m still worried about Richard’s hands. I let him talk me into leaving his right fingers free and two fingers on his left hand, but you have to be sure that he doesn’t try to do too much with them. Understand?”
Wynter nodded. “I understand. You think it might interfere with his—uh—range of motion?”
Doctor Taylor gave her a warm smile that was the next best thing to one from her father. “Exactly. There’s not much he can do with his arms still in the casts, but he might try and overdo something. Did you hear me say that I’ll take the leg cast off next week if he continues to make the same progress?”
Wynter nodded again. “Yes.” Doctor Taylor always treated her like she was a nurse, but this time there was something different in his voice and manner. She wondered if, just maybe, that was the way he treated other doctors.
“Good.” He rose and offered her a hand in assistance. Doctor Taylor was the person she always thought of when she heard the word, “Gentleman.” She felt guilty that she didn’t think of her father instead, but she couldn’t help herself. He bowed crisply from the waist and said, “Then I shall bid you good day, Nurse and/or Doctor King.”
She threw her arms around him and squeezed.
“Oh, my goodness! My diagnosis was wrong!”
Wynter looked up at him and frowned. She knew he was playing, but she had no idea what the meant. “What diagnosis?”
“I thought you were too grown up to hug.” He dropped down, wrapped his arms around her, and squeezed. It felt almost as good as a hug from Daddy and Mother and Grandpa King and a lot better than one from Aunt Diane or Uncle Bob. When he rose again he said, “You keep on taking good care of our patient.” And then he was gone.
———————————
The low voices from her father’s sick room sounded angry as she approached the door. The fur between Dragon’s shoulders suddenly bristled at the tone. Nurse Carter had her back to the door as Wynter entered the room. Her father was lying back and looking at the ceiling.
“Daddy? Nurse Carter? Is something wrong?”
“Something is very wrong, Wynter,” Nurse Carter said, slowly turning to face her. “Your father can’t seem to explain these.” She held out her hands. One hand held the smallest vibrator. Pinched between the thumb and forefinger of the other hand were three short, thin, cornsilk curls.
Part Three: Mother’s Little Helper
Chapter 1
The low voices from her father’s sick room sounded angry as she approached the door. The fur between Dragon’s shoulders suddenly bristled at the tone. Nurse Carter had her back to the door as Wynter entered the room. Her father was lying back and looking at the ceiling.
“Daddy? Nurse Carter? Is something wrong?”
“Something is very wrong, Wynter,” Nurse Carter said, slowly turning to face her. “Your father can’t seem to explain these.” She held out her hands. One hand held the smallest vibrator. Pinched between the thumb and forefinger of the other hand were three short, thin, cornsilk curls.
———————————
Panic swept across Wynter’s elfin features. “Where… where… where…?” she stammered as she flushed scarlet in embarrassment.
Nurse Ellen Carter held the smallest vibrator forward. “I saw the tip of this sticking out between the nightstand and the wall. It wasn’t there when I left because I had cleaned this room thoroughly, and there were no dildos in here when I finished.”
Dildos. Wynter added that to the list of words to put in her “Sex Terminology” notebook while she tried to remember how the vibrator could have become stuck behind the nightstand. She had moved them from the rollaway table to the night stand. Later she was picking them up to return them to her mother’s dresser drawer. Dragon, who’d just had a drink from his doggie bowl, stuck his cold, wet nose to her naked butt. She jumped and dropped them. She thought the noise would awaken her sleeping father, but he was more unconscious than asleep. Drat! She had been chastising—a grownup sounding word that she really liked—Dragon while she picked up the vibrators again and had failed to pay attention to the details like a good nurse would do.
Nurse Carter pulled back the vibrator and pushed forward the blonde pubic hair. “I found two of these under your father’s neck and one under his leg. I see you got around while I was gone.”
Wynter’s father looked blurry through her streaming tears. His upper body was lying at a forty-five degree angle. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling and he looked very, very upset. She knew he was mad at himself because she had wanted to change his sheets before Nurse Carter returned, but he asked her not to. He was blaming himself for something that was all her fault. A good nurse would have done what was best for her patient, not what he wanted because it was less work for her.
Her father had wanted the oral sex, and the intercourse, too. She loved him, and she wanted to show him through the oral sex and intercourse that she loved him. And she had also wanted the sexual activities. But it wasn’t what was best for her patient, or for her father, in the long run. A good nurse and a grownup would have done what was best for the patient in the long run, but she had acted like a spoiled, thoughtless child interested only in what was best for herself at the time.
Nurse Carter’s voice rose and got much angrier and her face turned very red as she shook the hair in Wynter’s face. “Jesus, I thought he was in the good hands of a responsible nurse, not the hands of a little slut!”
Wynter felt the Labrador retriever’s body pressing against the front of her legs. It vibrated with his growl, a deep, rumbling noise that caused Nurse Carter to step back and almost fall onto the bed.
“Ellen,” her father said in a quiet voice that still sounded very angry, “if your attitude doesn’t change immediately, Dragon will eat your face, and even Wynter won’t be able to stop him.” Then his voice softened and his eyes looked at Wynter with love that made her heart ache for the trouble she had stupidly caused him. “Wynter, honey, take Dragon into the den. Please close the door on your way out. Everything will be okay, I promise. I’m going to have a little chat with Nurse Carter, and she won’t want to be disturbed until it’s over. Please?”
She nodded and wiped her flooded eyes with the back of her right hand while her left closed around Dragon’s collar.
“I love you, honey….”
Nurse Carter glared down at him over her shoulder and cut him off. “Is that how you talked her into your perverted….”
“Ellen!“ he shouted, startling her into silence. Dragon began growling again, louder this time, and Wynter felt him pull forward a little. Then in a soft, almost gentle voice her father said, “Wynter, release his collar.”
She did. Dragon didn’t move and continued his low, rumbling growl. Through her tears Wynter saw the blurred white streak of his teeth.
Her father fixed the nurse with a hard stare. “Now, Ellen, I don’t know with absolute certainly that he will attack if you raise your voice at me again, but do you know with absolute certainly that he won’t? You know as well as I do that he will attack if you raise it at Wynter again.”
Nurse Carter seemed to collapse inward, like a party balloon that was losing air.
“Honey, everything’s going to be just fine. Nurse Carter doesn’t want you to hear what I’m about to tell her, so please go wait in the den with Dragon. She’ll be along to apologize to you in a little while. You can have some cookies and milk if you want them. Not too many this close to supper.”
She nodded and tried to say, “I love you,” but her voice broke.
Her father gave her that big warm smile that made her heart feel much too big for her body. “I love you, too, honey. We won’t be long.”
She nodded again, wiped her eyes, and took Dragon’s collar. Any other time he would have followed her out the door, but she wasn’t sure whether he would do so now. He went out the door with her, but his eyes never left Nurse Carter and his low growl did not stop until Wynter closed the door.
Wynter held her long blonde ponytail in one hand and threw herself face down on the couch in the den, trying to control the huge sobs that shook her body. How could she have been so childish and caused such a huge problem for her father, who loved her with all his heart, when all she wanted for him was to be the best grownup nurse possible? How could he still love her if she were such a huge disappointment? And how much more trouble would she cause him when Nurse Carter told Mother?
———————————
Dragon whimpered and sniffed his little human, looking for clues that would explain her condition in terms his canine mind could understand. When he found none, he licked the hand covering her cheek, looked over his shoulder to the hallway door, and growled softly.
Chapter 2
“Just what the fuck do you mean telling her that I’ll ‘be along to apologize in a few minutes?’ I’m not the one….”
“Ellen,” Richard said in a gentle tone, “Dragon can hear you from the den, and I can guarantee you that door won’t stop him if he wants in.” Actually, only the first half of that statement was true. He couldn’t guarantee that the hollow-core door wouldn’t stop Dragon, but he would not bet money that it could. “Wynter could hear you if she weren’t crying her eyes out, probably face down on the couch. You know how emotionally shaky she is because of puberty. Your attitude isn’t helping one goddamned bit, and I won’t allow it to upset her any further.”
“You….” She glanced at the closed door and forced her volume control down, but in her fury construed his gentle tone as meekness. ”You won’t allow it? I won’t allow you to abuse that girl any further, you child-molesting son of a bitch! I ought to call Larry White to come put you under house arrest and get Wynter to safety until Angie gets back here. What the fuck were you thinking, using her to get you off? If the pain in your damaged vas deferens was that bad, you should have told me and I’d have gotten you off.”
His grin, as if of triumph, took her aback, and she wondered if he had divined her innermost thoughts.
“Do you know who recommended you to be my nurse during these at-home recuperations?”
“Yeah,” she snapped. “Kevin Taylor. What….”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Kevin merely said you’d be a good choice when I asked him about you.”
“What does that….”
“Tommy Rosenbaum recommended you.”
“Who?” Then she gaped. “You know Tom Rosenbaum from Pittsburgh?”
“We were on the same committee for the Geological Society several years back. I’d been to his house a few times before the divorce, and once or twice after. But I didn’t say ‘Tom,’ I said, ‘Tommy.’”
The color left Ellen’s face and her arms fell to her sides. The strands of Wynter’s pubic hair drifted to the floor. “T…—Tommy? Oh, Jesus.”
“Tommy. Doctor Rosenbaum. He was—what? Sixteen? Fifteen the first time? The father and the son for over two years?”
“Tommy told you? And…. Oh, Jesus. And Tom told you about us?”
“You look like you’d better sit down,” he said and waited for her to do so after she put the small vibrator on the night stand. “No, Tom didn’t tell me the details of his divorce other than he’d been caught with another woman. Tommy finally told me who when he recommended you for my home nurse. He said that his father couldn’t have been in better hands, but that I should watch out because you had dependency issues. He said that it cost you your own marriage as well, and that you’d tried to convince Tom to marry you. He said you left Pittsburgh as the price to keep Tom from filing a professional complaint and charges against you.
“Tommy knew about my injury and said that if I ever needed you to relieve the pressure, that you wouldn’t be satisfied with providing just a handjob, and that things would slowly spiral out of control. He apparently did a couple of papers on you while earning his psychology degree. He also said you were the ‘greatest piece of ass’ he’d ever had, although that was a personal opinion rather than a professional one.”
Ellen Carter’s pasty-white face slowly reddened, this time with embarrassment.
“I never planned to tell you I knew, but, Ellen, two things I can’t stand are hypocrites and somebody threatening my family, and a threat to my marriage is a threat to my family. Naturally I haven’t told anyone else. In a small town, a secret like that won’t stay secret for a year, and it would be a lot harder for you to hide the facts if you were forced to leave here than it was when you were forced to leave Pittsburgh.”
She twisted her hands together in her lap. “So, if I promise to keep my mouth shut and just leave quietly, you won’t tell anyone about my past? You’ll trade your silence for mine?”
“No.”
She stiffened, and Richard was struck by the similarity between her face and Wynter’s during one of his daughter’s panic attacks.
“I don’t want you to leave. You’ve overcome your past, and you’ve established a good practice here, both as a private nurse and at the hospital. People admire you, respect you, and depend on you. And I hear that Dusty Hughes has taken a fancy to you. I have only a few conditions besides the trading of silence. Are you interested?”
She sighed as if the weight of the world had been lowered onto her shoulders. “Do I have a choice?”
“You always have choices, Ellen. However, you have only one good one.”
———————————
“Wynter?”
Dragon was standing and facing the door when Ellen entered the room. She had stopped just inside the door, waiting to see what the dog would do. He wasn’t snarling or growling, but his muscles were tensed and his eyes were fixed on hers. It was a challenge, and she responded by lowering her eyes from his.
“Wynter?” she asked again. “Don’t cry. I—I came to apologize.”
Wynter sniffed and lifted her face from the couch cushion long enough to sob, “You aren’t the one who was bad.”
“Yes, I was. Wynter, you made a mistake, but so did I, a long time ago. I am still mad at myself about that, and I took it out on you. That was another mistake I made. Richard reminded me that we can overcome our mistakes and continue to be good people. Wynter, I said some mean things to you and your father, things that I, of all people, had no right to say. I am truly sorry that I said them, and I hope that you can forgive me. If you can’t, then I understand, and I won’t blame you. But I do hope that some day you will be able to, and that we can be friends again.”
Her head came up again. “I…” [sniff] “I can forgive you. I’m not…” [sniff]”…a hypocrite.”
Tears suddenly streamed down both of Ellen’s cheeks. “Thank God for that. One of us is already too many.”
Wynter suddenly bolted upright, startling Dragon. “Daddy! He’s all by himself,” she said, brushing away tears and wiping her running nose.
“He’ll be okay for a little while,” Ellen said. “Can we sit together and talk?”
“But Daddy might need us.”
“Right now he needs us to be friends again more than he needs anything else.” She began easing toward the couch, avoiding any sudden movements and watching for any sign of displeasure from Dragon. “He explained a couple of your questions to me and said he’d like me to help answer them for you, if you don’t mind.”
———————————
Dragon watched for any threatening sign as the tall human female sat beside his short one. They held each other and made sad noises. He didn’t understand why they did this, but he did sense that no threat to his human remained. Dragon watched and listened, trying to comprehend, unaware that the expression on his face was very similar to that shown by his human male when he, too, was trying to comprehend females.
Chapter 3
Richard shook his head. “You two are a mess.”
Ellen and Wynter looked at each other’s red eyes and tear-stained clothing. “I guess we are,” Ellen admitted. A lot of tears and mucus had flowed for almost two hours. “Would you like for us to call in the other nurse?”
“What other nurse?”
She looked down as Dragon brushed past her legs. “Here he is.”
Richard laughed. “I don’t think he can hold the urinal steady.”
Mother Hen worry appeared on Wynter’s face and she sprang into action, retrieving the container from its storage place under the foot of the bed. Then she hesitated and offered it to Ellen, who shook her head.
“You can handle it,” she said. Richard laughed again, and she realized what she had just said. She rolled her eyes. “Jesus. I mean, it’s your job. You do it for him.” This time both Richard and Wynter laughed. “Oh, to hell with it! I’m going to clean up.” She turned and headed down the hall to her room.
Wynter looked at him with twin blue-green pools in a sea of red beneath a brow furrowed in concern. “Do I have time to raise the bed the rest of the way?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, “but I do have time for a quick kiss.” He hummed contentedly as she gave him a kiss on the end of his nose and a quick daughter-like kiss on the lips. “That’s better,” he sighed as she pulled down the sheet and raised his hospital gown. “So do you and Ellen have things worked out now?”
“I guess,” she said as she began working the flat pillow under his buttocks. “She said she was sorry and, Daddy, I think she really meant it.”
“She did, honey. She was surprised and reacted before she had time to sit down and think. I gave her time to do that.”
Wynter paused to glance at his face before resuming her task. “I think you did more than just let her sit and think.”
Richard grinned. She was burning with curiosity. Obviously Ellen hadn’t told her everything, but she wasn’t about to pry. She was giving him the opportunity to volunteer information. It was one of the devices her mother used. “Well, sometimes people need a gentle nudge in the right direction when they aren’t sure what they should think about. And speaking of gentle, that was the first time my leg didn’t hurt when you put the pillow under me.”
She broke into a wide, happy grin that warmed his heart. “Maybe you’re finally healing.”
“Or maybe you’re getting to be an even better nurse.”
The smile faded, and she ducked her head before threading the head of his dick into the urinal. He saw a faint tinge of red spread across her face, one that he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been watching for it. She had regressed back into the little girl who didn’t know how to handle a compliment. So much progress these past two days and now a setback. He’d spent enough time in hospitals and home sick beds to know that setbacks were temporary. Still, it almost broke his heart to see his daughter slipping back into the little girl who, just one day earlier, he had wanted her to remain. Ellen’s next task would be to explain to Wynter how a lady accepts a compliment from a gentleman. He wasn’t going to wait until Angie returned to begin teaching Wynter how to interact with other people, one of many things she’d know by now if he and Angie hadn’t insisted on this isolated lifestyle without giving thought to their daughter’s needs.
“Finished?”
Her question brought him back to the real world. “What, honey?”
“I asked if you were finished. You stopped almost a minute ago.”
A minute? Yes, the pressure in his bladder was gone. “I’m sorry, honey. Yes, I’m done. I guess my mind went on a trip and left my body behind.”
She stripped the remaining piss from the Beast in two pulls that would have it hardening if it weren’t exhausted from the number of times she’d brought him to orgasm the past two days. “Did it go visit a nice place?”
“I’m not sure where it went.” He glanced at the snow melting in the spring sunshine outside the window. “Maybe it went looking for some spring flowers because it was tired of all the snow.”
She gave him an odd look and frowned for an instant. “What kind of flowers?”
“Probably columbines,” he said, watching her grin spread when he mentioned her favorite blossom. “Maybe some other flowers, too, like in that glade down by the pond.”
“Maybe you’ll see some soon,” she said. “I’ll go empty this and be right back for the pillow.”
“Would Nurse King do her patient a favor when she returns?”
“Sure. What?”
Richard wiggled his newly-freed fingers. “Could you bring back a washcloth and some soap? My fingers feel like they’ve been in a mine sump for a month.”
“Sure!”
Richard smiled as she hurried as fast as she dared into the bathroom. Nothing like a little occupational therapy, especially when it benefitted the patient as well as the nurse. He wanted—needed—to talk to her about their relationship and the guilt he knew she had placed on herself, but she wasn’t emotionally ready. Plenty of time for that after she had slept on it. One thing he had learned after hours, days, weeks at a time in hospital beds was patience, even if he didn’t like it.
———————————
Richard pressed the channel selector again and found himself back where he’d started. “Damn,” he muttered, then selected a news program for background noise.
Wynter had placed the remote control on top of three large, thick books and adjusted the suspension of his right cast until he could reach the channel, volume, and on/off switches. After giving him a quick kiss she cornered Ellen in the hall, spoke with her in whispers for a moment, and then disappeared into her room to clean up. She hadn’t emerged or even opened the door after the shower stopped. Now Ellen was in the kitchen preparing supper.
For the first time, Richard felt lonely in his room. He didn’t realize how much he’d grown accustomed to Wynter’s constant presence. He didn’t mind solitude. He occasionally welcomed it. The unceasing presence of someone else, even his wife, occasionally wore on his nerves, but that wasn’t the case with Wynter. Her invariable worrying every time he hiccuped or sneezed might become a minor irritation, but not her presence. Even a visit from Dragon would be welcome, but the black Lab would never leave the room with Wynter in it unless he had to. Richard sighed and tried to become interested in the latest Middle East flare-up.
“Richard, do you need anything before we eat?”
He hadn’t heard Ellen’s approach. Maybe he’d dozed off. “No, I’m fine.”
She nodded and knocked on Wynter’s door. There was a pause before Wynter invited her in. Richard wondered if his daughter had been practicing “solitary sexual techniques,” or some similar adult-sounding term. He found himself wishing he could have been there to watch.
“I’m almost finished,” Wynter said. Ellen’s body blocked his view of her desk, but he suspected there was nothing to see on it.
“Ten more minutes?”
“Okay.” When Ellen turned to leave, Wynter smiled at him from her doorway. “I love you, Daddy.”
That cheered him up. “I love you too, honey.”
Her door closed. Five minutes later it opened. She flashed him a bright smile, all coral lips and teeth as sparkling white as her pullover blouse, low-rise socks and tennis shoes. She blew him a kiss before disappearing toward the main part of the house with her four-legged shadow in tow. When she reappeared she was carrying one of his metal rulers, a razor knife, and something else in the pocket of her pink jersey shorts. She blew him another kiss before closing the door.
Most un-Wynter-like. She was obviously up to something, but what? He amused himself by trying to guess.
———————————
Wynter was smoothing down the last piece of tape when Nurse Carter knocked on the door again. “Wynter, it’s time to eat.”
“I just finished. I’ll be right there.”
She heard Nurse Carter say something to her father, but didn’t hear his reply. She stood back and looked at her work. “I dunno, Dragon. What do you think?” she asked picking it up and showing it to him. He sniffed it and looked up with his head cocked to one side and his ears alert. She called it his “curious pose”.
“I supposed it will have to do,” she said, holding her blonde ponytail with her left hand at shoulder level and pinching her lower lip with her right, “but I wish I could have done better for Daddy. Maybe if I wrap it, he might like it better. What do you think?” He perked his ears, and she assumed that meant, “Yes.”
Nurse Carter was placing the tray on the rollaway table when Wynter opened the door. “If you and Wynter don’t mind, I’d like to bring mine in here and eat with you tonight.”
Both Wynter and her father said they’d love to have her join them. Nurse Carter was about to return to the kitchen when she saw the flat, wrapped packet in Wynter’s hand. “Do I get to stay for the unveiling, or would you rather be alone with your father?” she asked with a smile.
“You can stay. If it’s okay with Daddy, I mean.” When her father agreed, Wynter handed the flat package, wrapped in silvery foil paper and sporting a big yellow bow, to Nurse Carter. “You can unwrap it for him,” she said.
Nurse Carter held the present where he could see the bow and the wrapping paper. Wynter always kept a roll or two of wrapping paper and some bows in her room for presents that she gave to her parents and sometimes to special visitors like Doctor Taylor. She had placed her father’s present face-down against a piece of cardboard to protect it. Nurse Carter held the present so that her father could see it first and slid the cardboard away at his nod.
She watched her father for his reaction, her fingers crossed and a worried frown on her face. He stared at it for a moment and tears began collecting in his eyes. “Oh, my god,” he whispered so softly she almost didn’t hear it, and then he shook his head.
Drat! She just knew it wasn’t good enough and that he wouldn’t like it, and she was right! She should have taken more time with it, but she wanted to give it to him right away. And now, instead of making him happy, she had made him sad. She had been a child again.
———————————
Richard understood the gesture. Allowing Ellen Carter to unwrap his present for him was Wynter’s way of saying that all was right between the two of them. He admired the way the present was wrapped. His very best efforts rarely equaled Little Miss Perfection’s worst efforts, which were usually when she was wrapping something for Aunt Diane or Uncle Bob.
Ellen held the piece of cardboard before him and asked, “Ready?”
“Go,” he whispered in anticipation, and she slid the cardboard away.
Wynter had used woodgrain-patterned posterboard to make a frame around an eight-by-ten, intricately detailed, colored-pencil drawing of the pond, looking down from the northside hill. The field of wildflowers lay to the west, but in the foreground she’d added a patch of columbines. The scene was breathtaking. Angie had accidentally seen a sketch of Dragon in front of a waterfall in a notebook that Wynter had left open, and she had told Richard that Wynter had shown talent, but he had no idea that his daughter was this talented. He felt tears puddle on his lower eyelids.
“Oh, my god,” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief and continuing to study the detail. He tried to look at Ellen but couldn’t. “Ellen, this is incredible.”
Ellen Carter turned the picture slightly and leaned sideways to look. “Jesus!” she whispered in a voice as awestruck as his own must have sounded.
“Honey, how long have you been working on this?”
“I started after I got out of the shower. I’m sorry it’s not any better.”
The tremble in her voice caused him to drag his eyes away from the drawing for the first time. “Sorry for what? You did all of this, in this much detail, in just a couple of hours?”
She sniffed. “I can do it over. I’ll take my time ‘n’ do it better for you. I was in a big hurry to give you some flowers to look at, ‘n’ didn’t have time to do a really good drawing.”
“Didn’t….” He glanced up at the nurse, who hadn’t moved. “Give us some room, please?”
Ellen straightened and moved aside without shifting her eyes. “Jesus!” she whispered again.
“Kiss?”
Head down, Wynter moved beside him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
“Honey, if you tell me you can do a better version of that drawing, then I believe you, but I really, honestly, truly don’t see how you could improve it.”
She sniffed again and kept her eyes down. “I could put more detail in the background trees ‘n’ the mountains ‘n stuff, ‘n’ the water in the pond’s not quite right.” Before he could interrupt her she added, “‘n’ I could put Mother in the picture for you.”
“Jesus!”
Richard gaped at his daughter. “You can draw people, too?”
“Uh huh,” she said in a small voice. “They take longer to make them look right, though. They’re harder than Dragon.”
“Jesus!”
“Ellen, you sound like a revival meeting.”
Ellen Carter looked at him for a second and then focused on Wynter. “Did you overlap the frame pieces before you cut the miters for the corners?”
Wynter turned to face Ellen, her thin blonde brows pulling together. “You can do that?”
Ellen shook her head. “Yeah, I thought so. Here. Look at these,” she said, turning the picture toward Richard and pointing at the corners. “Freehand! Wynter, I know only two surgeons who can make cuts that precise. You make the rest of them look like amateur butchers.”
Wynter flushed a bright red, lowered her head, and stared at the floor.
Ellen glanced at Richard, who mouthed, “We need to talk about that,” and indicated Wynter with his head. She nodded.
“Let’s put it where I can see it. We’ll figure out where while we eat. And thank you very much for my flowers and for loving me enough to draw them for me.”
Her head came up and she gave him an almost pleading look. “You really like them?”
“Honey, they are the fourth most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Honest.” He frowned, twisted and looked down at Dragon, looked at the picture, and looked back to his daughter. “Maybe third.”
She exhaled pent-up breath, then giggled and threw her arms around his neck, strangling him with a huge hug. Then she pulled back enough to give him a big kiss. He felt the tip of her sweet tongue on his lips and gently, briefly, caressed it with his own. When she pulled back her face glowed with delight. “Oh, Daddy, I was so afraid you wouldn’t like it because of the mistakes.”
Richard heard Ellen stifle a laugh, but ignored her. “Honey, maybe you can see mistakes in it, but I can’t. I can’t draw good enough. How long have you been able to draw like that?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Four or five years, I guess.”
“And in all this time you never let Mother or me know?”
She shrugged again and looked down at her left hand resting, from habit, on his arm cast. She slid her hand down to grasp the two exposed fingers. “I didn’t want to show you until I was good enough,” she said in a low voice. “You wanted to see some flowers to make you feel better, so I thought maybe I could help, but I wasn’t sure they’d be good enough for you. But, it was what you said you wanted, so I took a chance.”
“Jesus,” Ellen murmured again as she examined another area of the drawing.
Richard threw her a quick glance. “Amen.”
———————————
Ellen Carter sat in one of the padded chairs reading a book. Richard half-watched a science program and half-watched Wynter. She had scooted down in the overstuffed chair adjacent to the door. Her feet rested on the front edge of the seat cushion, and her left hand pinned a drawing pad to the easel formed by her long, slender legs. Her face was screwed into a mask of concentration that occasionally flickered an eyebrow or mouth corner or eyelid as her hand guided a number two pencil across the paper. Sprawled across the floor at her feet, Dragon began twitching his paws as he chased a rabbit or perhaps a squirrel. Or perhaps he raced across the fields with his little blonde human. The flower drawing was on the wall over her head, on the wall opposite the window so that he didn’t have to see the snow while he was looking at the springtime meadow.
Ellen lowered the book and looked at her watch. “It’s bedtime, young nurse.”
“Three and a half more minutes,” Wynter mumbled. Ellen raised her eyebrows at Richard and looked at her watch again.
Three minutes and twenty seconds later Wynter lowered the pencil, relaxed, and sighed. “It’s probably not very good ‘cause I did it from memory.”
She couldn’t get out of the chair without awakening Dragon, which was the reason the dog had chosen that spot. She poked his ribs with a toe and he jumped to his feet. While he shook everything back into place, Wynter rose and showed Richard the drawing of her mother.
Richard blinked in surprise. “Honey, that’s incredible. Show Ellen.”
“Jesus! You know, Wynter, if you can’t make any money as a nurse, you could always moonlight as a police sketch artist or a bank note forger. She looks like she should speak to me.”
“Well,” Wynter said, pointing to a spot, “right here I….”
Ellen gently pushed the girl’s slender arm down. “Wynter, maybe you see mistakes, but you don’t have to point them out to everyone. Let other people enjoy what you’ve done. I look at that, and I feel as if your mom is right here in the room with me. It helps me forget that she’s half of two continents and a whole ocean away, and I’m sure it helps your father forget that, too.”
“Yes, it does,” he agreed, switching off the television.
“But when you point out your mistakes, it keeps people from enjoying the feelings you inspired. You put a lot of effort into creating something people can enjoy. Let us do so, please? And when you point out mistakes that only a museum art critic might notice, you make those of us with no talent, and whose mistakes would probably include putting both eyes on the same side of her nose, even more jealous of your talent.”
Ellen smiled to take the sting out of her words. “Perfection as a goal is admirable, but it’s a goal you can’t achieve. Not consistently, anyway. And certainly not in the medical field, where you will have far too many problems, far too few resources, and far too little time. And even with something like this,” she indicated the drawing with a sweep of her hand, “you do the best you can in the time allocated. Don’t be concerned with the fact that it wasn’t perfect; be concerned that it’s better than what you did before within the same amount of time. Understand?”
Wynter was looking at her bare feet. “I guess so,” she mumbled.
“You’ll find that out when you become a mother, and you’ll realize you’ve….” Her mouth worked without sound for a moment, and then she sighed. “Well, it’s not so much that you did your parents an injustice as it is that you didn’t do them a favor.”
Mother Hen worry settled on her face as her eyes rose to meet the older nurse’s. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, your job as a parent is to raise your child to be an adult. The measures of progress are the development of your child’s new skills, her first time to roll over, her first time to sit up, her first steps for instance, and how her skills improve—first time to take two steps without falling, then three steps, then four and so on. But when you go from having a child who, as far as you know, has no drawing talent to having one who is Leonardette da Vinci in one afternoon, you realize you’ve missed out on watching her improve and in sharing the joy of her successes with her.” She shrugged. “I guess you could say it’s rather selfish.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Richard wince. She understood as much as he did the impact that would have on Wynter, but it needed to be explained to her in those terms, and neither of her parents could, or would, do so. As an “outsider,” she could phrase the situation in the necessary terms. His silent nod of thanks assured her that he understood.
“Now: recuperating patients, growing girls, and old women need their rest.” She looked at Dragon. “And he looks like eighteen hours of sleep weren’t enough.” She hugged Wynter, stood, and said, “I’ll be in my room if you need me, but I won’t be the least bit surprised if you don’t, Nurse King. You give him his bedtime medications. Good night, Richard.”
She pulled the door shut on her way out.
Chapter 4
Richard heard Ellen moving about. He glanced at the clock. She was an early riser and must have been up for at least an hour. She was also overdue with his morning pills by about fifteen minutes. She wouldn’t wait much longer. He suspected that was the reason he had heard her.
He nuzzled his chin across the top of the blonde head lying on his chest. After the anticipated and drawn-out apologies for being selfish and not sharing her talent with him, she had asked if she could sleep in his room. It was his little girl who had asked, and there was no “sexual activity” as she would call it. She had offered to bring in her sleeping bag, but he knew she needed the physical contact. They had both needed it, and he again became her mattress.
He rubbed her head with his chin again. “Morning, honey.”
She seemed to take a moment to realize where she was, then lifted her head and gave him a heartwarming, if still sleepy, smile. “It’s your fault,” she said.
“What’s my fault?”
She yawned. “I was having nice dreams because I felt safe and loved. It’s your fault.”
“Good. How about a kiss?”
She frowned. “I have dragon breath.”
“Then I’ll keep my eyes open so I’ll know it’s you and not him.”
She gave him her ritual kisses, one on the end of his nose and another on his lips. “Good thing I kept my eyes open, too,” she said with a grin.
Dragon shook himself awake, stood by the door, and whimpered. Wynter gasped. “I forgot to let him out before bedtime!” She pushed herself up and carefully crawled off the bed. For a moment Richard had a flash down her neckline of two tiny pink cones atop soft white swells, and he felt the Beast twitch.
“Go let him out first. He needs to go worse than I do. I’ll still be here when you return, I promise.”
She made a face at him. “Smarty pants!”
He laughed and watched her follow Dragon out the door.
“Morning, Nurse Carter,” echoed down the hallway.
“Good morning, Nurse King. Has the patient had his morning meds yet?”
“Not yet. I gotta let Dragon out now.”
Ellen was chuckling when she turned the corner into his room. They exchanged greetings, and Ellen counted out his pills. Her voice turned somber. “I caused her to regress, didn’t I?”
Richard shrugged. “Maybe. But maybe having to be an adult pushed her too far forward too fast and she’s just returning to normal.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I guess. But not because of the sex. It’s because I was finally coming to terms with the fact that my little girl won’t be that same little girl forever. Pain pill instead of the ibuprofen. I was her bed last night and there’s some increased pain in my arms.”
Ellen gave him a curious smile. “Medically I should warn you that that’s not a good idea, but you’ve already discovered that for yourself. And I doubt it would do any good.”
“None whatsoever.” He watched her write the medications in his records. “Do you regret not having children?”
The question surprised her. Richard rarely asked personal questions. She hesitated before finishing her notes. She put the records down before answering. “I have many children. They just have other parents is all.”
He nodded. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
She poured his water. “It’s okay because I’m going to. Do you think you can keep this a secret from Angie?”
“No. I’ll have to tell her, somehow.”
“Will you tell her I know?”
“Not unless she specifically asks. I won’t lie to her.”
She started popping pills into his mouth. “But you’d cheat on her with your own daughter,” she said in a quiet voice.
He stared at her for a moment and nodded at the water. Ellen held the straw for him and added, “I’m not being judgmental, Richard. Really. I’m just trying to understand.”
Richard swallowed and released the straw. “Do you understand why you screwed both Tom and Tommy?”
“No. Oh, I’ve rationalized it a dozen different ways, but….” She shook her head. “No. I guess I hoped your answer would answer my own questions for me.”
“We make a hell of a pair, don’t we?”
“Huh! I’ll get the urinal out for Wynter so you don’t have to wait.”
“You’re going to pass on the opportunity to handle it yourself?” he asked in feigned shock.
She winked. “She’s doing well enough that I think I can take a night off and handle Dusty’s.”
“Must be terrible having to settle for second best.”
She gave him a wry grin. “Well, I wouldn’t know about that. I’ve not had the—pleasure—to make the comparison.”
They were still laughing at bad jokes and double entendres when Wynter returned.
———————————
Ellen paused at the door to give her substitute last minute instructions. Wynter had one more question.
“What are you and Dusty gonna do tonight?”
Ellen stared at the face grinning up at her. The previous questions had come from an eleven-year-old girl. The voice tone and facial expression for this one was from a thirty-year-old. She wondered if Wynter had any idea of how she changed personalities.
“Oh, I dunno,” she replied. “Probably the same thing you and your dad are going to do. If that’s any of your business. I was teasing,” she added when she saw the stricken look. “Wynter, wait to see if you really have offended someone before you start feeling guilty. Boys aren’t the only ones who play rough. If you’re going to survive medical school or nursing school, you have to learn to play rough, too. Give them a reason to respect you, and they will. Or give them a reason not to and they’ll run roughshod over you.”
Wynter frowned. “Why? That doesn’t sound very nice.”
“We’ll talk about that when I get back tomorrow. For now, let’s just say that people respect you if you can stand up for yourself. If you show signs of weakness, then they think you might not be deserving of respect. Medicine is a tough field. You have to be tough to survive. Maybe they are just weeding out those who can’t make it before they can become a burden to others. Now: don’t forget what I said….”
As she tramped through the melting snow to where she’d left her car, Ellen couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of Wynter.
———————————
Wynter looked down at her sleeping father. He looked so very uncomfortable suspended that way, but some of his fingers were now free. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but any was a welcome one. She held her blonde ponytail to her shoulder and bent to gently kiss his forehead. Then she shooed Dragon ahead of her and retrieved a notebook and pencil from her room. While she positioned herself in the overstuffed chair by the door, Dragon again established a blocking position at her feet and dozed off.
When she decided the drawing was to her satisfaction, she stuck the pencil behind her right ear, snagging it in her drawn-back hair to keep it in place. She guessed it was okay, though if she had another couple of days, it could be a whole lot better. She used the back of her right hand to cover a yawn while she again checked the drawing. She lowered the notebook…
…and looked into her father’s sparkling green eyes. “Daddy! How long have you been awake?” Mother Hen almost stood up on Dragon. He jumped and shuffled aside to shake, giving her room to rush the two steps to her father’s side.
“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.” He had the most amazing look on his face, sort of like when he saw her flowers picture. “I was just watching you and thinking about how much I love you and how lucky I am to have such a special daughter.”
Her eyes dropped to his cast and she blushed. She was furious with herself because she didn’t know why she’d done that. Doctor Taylor and Nurse Carter had told her about looking people in the eye, but here she was acting like a child again.
Her father knew. She had regressed that much. Some of his little girl he was almost happy to have back, but he would give that part up if she’d just learn how to handle a compliment and remember it.
Then Mother Hen returned. “Do you need anything?”
“I certainly do. I need a kiss.”
She gave him the best nose-and-lips kiss she could manage so that he would know she loved him with all her heart.
He smiled at her and made that heart feel too big for her chest again. But then he said, “Dragon breath’s that bad, huh?”
For a moment she wondered, and then realized. “Oh. I didn’t know if you’d want me to, you know….” She couldn’t stop her voice from trailing off. She pushed the words to the tip of her tongue, but they would go no further.
He settled back into his pillow. “Honey, I don’t want you to do anything that will make you uncomfortable. You know that.”
She tried to think of the words for what she wanted to say. She was having trouble with them, and she grew angry with herself for acting childish. Her father gave her a look almost of sympathy and asked, “Can I see the picture, or is it private because it’s in one of your notebooks?”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s private for us,” she said, opening the notebook to the place marked by her finger. She almost said, “It’s not very good because I didn’t have much time,” but she remembered what Nurse Carter had said. Instead, she turned the book so he could see the page.
They were sitting on the big flat rock by the creek. Both were dangling their feet in the water. They were holding playing cards. Dragon was curled beside her and sniffing at a butterfly floating just above his head. Dragon was wearing his collar, which was more than the humans were wearing. She had captured every one of her father’s scars. She had debated about whether to include them, but they were who he was, and she didn’t want him to think she was ashamed of them.
“That’s incredible,” he said. The awe in his voice made her heart swell up in her chest again. “It looks like we were playing strip poker.”
“Uh huh.”
“And we both lost.”
She lowered the notebook to frown at him. “No! We both won!”
He smiled suddenly. “I like that. We both won. Can I see it some more, please?”
He looked at it for several seconds and made happy sounds while she waited for him to notice. “Wait a minute. If we were playing strip poker, where are our clothes?”
She grinned and pointed. “Right there. You were wearing that lei of wild flowers, and I was wearing this one of columbines.”
His smile grew wider, and he winked at her. “We were walking around naked?”
“Nooo,” she said, trying to sound like Nurse Carter patiently explaining things to someone slow. “You were wearing that lei of flowers, and I was wearing this one.”
He made big round eyes and nodded slowly. “Oh! I see. I thought you were drawing naked pictures of your father.”
She couldn’t stop the blush, and she knew that he guessed the truth from that.
“Oh,” he said, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to pry. Your mother and I both agree that whatever you put in your notebooks is personal, like a diary, and none of our business. It’s not our place to ask. I’ll forget that I said anything.”
She hesitated, wondering what she should do, and then said, “It’s okay. I can show you some of them.”
“Wynter,” he said, giving her his most serious look that told her what he was saying was something he really and truly meant, “I would love to see any of your pictures that you have drawn, but you don’t have to show any of them to me if you don’t want to. Okay, honey? I don’t want you to think you have to do that just to make me happy or to keep me from getting mad. That would be blackmail, and I love you too much to blackmail you.”
“I know,” she said, and she really and truly did know.
“Good. But before I look at them, may I have the urinal first?”
She sighed deeply and put her notebook on the nightstand. “I guess you’d better. I’d be awfully upset if you exploded and got the pages all wet.”
Chapter 5
Richard shook his head in wonder. “When did you have time to draw these?”
“Mostly while you were asleep. You aren’t mad at me, are you?”
Amazing, he thought. One sentence she sounds like a thirty-year-old woman, the next she sounds like a six-year-old kid caught raiding the cookie jar.
“Of course I’m not mad at you, honey. I told you that what you put in your notebooks was your personal business and wasn’t my concern. I can’t then complain about what you put in there.” He looked at the current page and added, “Though you might not want your mother to see these. Not until I’ve explained to her.”
She nodded. “I know,” she said in a soft voice.
He shook his head slowly. The picture of a naked Wynter straddling his hips, her head thrown back in orgasm while he himself was cumming obviously inside her was enough to stir the Beast, and he felt it move under the sheet and his hospital gown.
“Is that really what I look like when I cum?” he asked.
She nodded but said nothing, eyes wide like a deer’s caught in headlights.
“I’m surprised you and your mother let me anywhere near you! But your face is exactly how you look. How did you know how to draw yourself?
She gave him the look of patience that women had been using on men for the past few hundred thousand years. “Daddy! There are mirrors in all the bathrooms, my dresser, that dresser over there….”
“You masturbated while watching yourself in the mirror?”
The adult Wynter returned. “No, silly! I wouldn’t have seen anything! I had to remember what it felt like and then act it out while peeking through my eyelids.”
“Can I see the one before it again?” In the straddling picture he’d been in his hospital bed, arms and legs suspended. She turned back to the one of them in a field of columbines. She was on her knees and he was taking her from behind, doggie style, the way he had described it to her. “Is this a wish for when I’m better?” he asked. Then he realized what he’d said and hastily added, “Of course, you don’t have to answer that. That’s prying. If you pretend I never said anything, I’ll understand.”
She held the notebook in her right hand and ran her left down the cast to grasp his two exposed fingers. “Thank you for not wanting to pry.”
He nodded.
“It’s a wish.” A smile washed across her lips. “I wish you could be well and not ever be hurt again, and that we could be in a warm field with flowers and naked together, and that we could make love forever and ever and ever and never get in trouble for it.” A tear escaped and trickled slowly down her left cheek. “But if we do it together again, Mother will hate both of us, won’t she?”
He squeezed her hand with his fingers. “No, she won’t hate us. But she’ll be upset until she understands.”
“I love you. With all my heart.”
“I love you with all my heart, too, honey.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, her soft coral lips parting and her warm, pink tongue sliding into his mouth in a lover’s kiss. The Beast, sufficiently recovered from the workout she’d given it while they were isolated, roared to life and tented the sheet.
———————————
A pillow propped up Richard’s head so he could see on the flat bed. Wynter was impaled on the Beast, thrusting herself toward her third release. Her first was a new treat for them. She’d allowed him to eat her pussy to the point of orgasm and then had moved so that he could finish her with the fingers of his right hand. It hadn’t been a fully satisfying cum because Mother Hen had been worried about hurting him, so she immediately returned to his face, locked her hands behind his head, and humped that hot, wet, aching little slit on his tongue and lips until she came violently.
She laughed and giggled as she came down from the second orgasmic high, her forehead resting on the wall above the headboard and that sweet, lightly-haired set of lower lips hovering above his face where he could watch her spasms trail off to nothing. After resting for a minute she slowly moved down until her slit was over the Beast. She brushed it lightly with her soft, short, blonde curls and then slid her sopping slick slit along it. Richard fought cumming outside of her.
She leaned forward. Twin blue-green pools of intertwined love and lust looked deep into his eyes. Her lips crushed his, and her tongue tasted her own juices on them as it sought his, invited it into her mouth, and playfully tried to keep it out when it accepted her invitation. Her head snapped back as if it were released by a catapult, and her face momentarily contorted as she moaned. Her eyes returned to his, and she grinned wickedly. “I’m gonna make you cum as big as you made me do it,” she announced, and again glued her lips to his.
Entry was a little easier this time, though whether it was from the stretching from her first intercourse or the effect of the juices flooding her tunnel was anybody’s guess. She was still very tight around the Beast and it required all his effort to avoid spewing while sliding into her. She began slowly, then increased her pace slightly. Once she’d mentally established the rhythm and the length of her strokes she began slipping the head of his cock almost out of her tight little love tube, hesitating, and then sliding down around it, allowing him to force her pussy open. She began inhaling on the up stroke, holding her breath on the down stroke, and releasing it in a soft explosive sigh at the bottom. It was the most erotic thing Richard had ever heard.
Her blue-green eyes unfocussed for a few moments. She returned to focus and looked deep into his green ones. She paused to squeeze the Beast within her tight young twat while at the bottom of a stroke, then resumed pistoning. “Does that feel good?”
“Incredible! Where did you learn that?”
“Girls have their secrets.”
He blinked in surprise. “Ellen told you?”
“Would you be mad if she did?” A hint of worry had crept into the playful tone.
“Mad? I’m going to give her a pay raise!”
Wynter giggled and did it again.
“Honey, I can’t hold it back,” he gasped and then released his load in a wave of indescribable pleasure as she tried to maintain a pound-and-squeeze rhythm on his bucking hips. When he finally relaxed and opened his eyes, she started giggling. “What?”
“I think I’m ready to ride the bucking broncos at Frontier Days now!”
He tried to force the concern he felt through his dreamy facial expression, but it wouldn’t appear. “Did I hurt you?”
“Unh uh,” she said shaking her head. “I was worried about you, though.”
“Are my arms and legs still attached?”
She looked. “Yep.”
“Then I guess I’m okay, too.”
She squeezed his limp dick with her pussy, and it shot out of her, allowing a little more slimy jism to dribble into the lake of it she was sitting in.
“Drat!” she said with a pout. “I wanted to keep you in me.”
“Well, that happens. Tell you what,” he said with a conspiratorial grin. “I’ll let you put me back in you later, after I get a little rest. Okay?”
She used her fingertip to cross his heart for him, then dipped it between her legs and brought it between the small, round, pink-capped orbs rising from her own slender chest. “I promise to let you,” she said, tracing an “x” with their mixed juices, “any time you want to, now and forever.”
Chapter 6
Wynter knocked gently on the door frame. “May I come in?”
Her father’s eyes jumped from the television screen to her face. He smiled his biggest, warmest smile, the one that always made her heart feel like it would explode from her chest like that yucky creature in Alien, except it wanted to explode in joy, not pain. He put down the handgrip exercisers, reached for the remote control, and turned off the television. “My nurse is always welcome in here.” He brought the head of the bed from forty-five degrees to full upright and held his arms open to her. “You don’t have to ask.”
“I don’t think you and Mother would have liked me walking in without asking last night,” she said with a giggle as she snuggled her face against his neck. She pulled back and gave him her biggest smirk. “Would you?”
For a second he looked almost embarrassed. “We thought you were asleep.”
“Unh uh,” she grunted as his hands kneaded her back through her knit top. “I was doing what Mother was doing, except I had to imagine you and use my fingers.” She sighed deeply and looked very put upon. “It’s not as good.”
She saw the reaction in his eyes as he realized he wasn’t feeling a training bra strap. She giggled. “Mother went for a walk. I thought,” she said, straightening and reaching for the hem of her top, “that you might like to exercise your hands with these.” She lifted the bottom of her blouse above her small titties and twisted slightly to let him have a good view of the pink cones on them.
The delighted grin on his face made her feel wonderful all the way down to her toes and back up again. He took the soft, pale orbs in his hands and gently squeezed. “I can’t squeeze these as hard as I can the exercisers,” he said in mock complaint.
“No, but these will be gentler to your hands. Doctor King prescribes you use them for a while.”
He raised an eyebrow. ”Doctor King?”
“Uh huh. I think I want to go to medical school.” She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly as he massaged her small breasts. She giggled when he tweaked her nipples to open her eyes and gave her a stern look.
“So that’s why you and Kevin disappear together every time he shows up. He’s been giving you a sales pitch! And here I thought you were just sneaking off to have sex together.”
She giggled again, then leaned forward to give him a nose-and-lips kiss. She backed away for a second and then, as the horny feeling between her legs grew unbearable, she glued his mouth to his and invited his tongue in to play. She moaned in anticipation as his big hand slid down to cup her butt and squeeze it, then continued down to the leg of her pink knit shorts. His fingertips slid under the shorts, and two wiggled their way under the leg opening of her panties. The flats of the nails of those fingers slid around the front of her leg to the short cornsilk curls and then moved downward. His fingers shifted position and the fingertips came to rest on the fat little pads on either side of her split.
She shifted her feet further apart to give him better access. Her split made a wet sound as his fingers pulled it open. Then his ring finger entered her panties and held her split apart so that his middle finger could stroke first through the puddle of liquid at the entrance to her vagina and then across the hard little stick of her clitty. She moaned and sighed around his invading tongue.
He withdrew his tongue and pulled his head back to focus on her face. “I get the feeling your fingers weren’t enough last night.”
“Unh uh.” She could hear in her voice the desperation she felt in her pussy. “It’s been two weeks, and I got really horny during my period last week. It hasn’t gotten any better since. Please, Daddy, I know we can’t make love, but can you get me off with your fingers? Please?”
She knew she was begging like a child, but she was so horny, so desperate for relief, that she couldn’t help it. She had cum four times the night before, and it had barely helped.
His fingertip began vibrating her clitty. Relief mixed with need shot through her from that spot. His fingertip dipped slightly into her desperate cunt, gathering more pussy juice and causing a new sensation as he stretched her open slightly. His finger returned to attack the ache in her clitty. The clockspring in her pussy began tightening. As if it were attached to strings reaching to her face, the tightening spring pulled her face into a scowl and then a pucker as it kept winding tighter and tighter andtighterandtighterand….
She tried really hard not to make any noise when she came, just the way she had done the night before, but the feeling was too good, especially when he stopped rubbing her clitty directly and slid his finger inside her throbbing pussy at the height of her climax. The fingers on the fat little pads on either side of her split continued to squeeze-stroke her. A strangled groan escaped from her throat, and she thought it might have been loud, but she wasn’t sure. Her ears stopped working while the spasms shook her body.
As she came down she gasped, “Daddy, I love you!” She gasped twice more before she could add, “With all my heart.”
His heartfelt smile made his face glow. “I love you with all my heart, too, honey.” His fingertip traced the “X” over his heart.
She gasped as her breathing slowed, never taking her eyes off his face, searching it and finding only love for her written all over it. It made her whole slender body tingle more than the orgasm did. “Want me to do you?” she asked with a mischievous grin.
“We don’t have time,” he said, and he looked really and truly disappointed when he said it. But he left his finger inside her.
“Daddy, haven’t you told Mother yet?”
He shook his head. “I’ve dropped plenty of hints. One of the best ways to handle your mother is to give her information she needs to work out answers for herself. If her mind has subconsciously prepared itself for what you’re going to tell her, then it’s easier to break news to her.”
“And you think that will work this time?” she asked, squeezing his finger with her cunny muscles.
“Well, I certainly hope….”
The slamming door rocked the house.
Her father removed his fingers from her pussy and her panties and sucked them clean.
Wynter jerked down the hem of her blouse and smoothed her clothing into place, then dropped into the overstuffed chair by the door as footsteps stomped through the house and down the hall. A scared feeling made a cold knot in the pit of her stomach, and she looked to her father for courage.
He looked from the door to her and mouthed, more than he said in a soft voice, “I don’t think that’s Ellen back for a visit.”
Five feet, five inches of red-faced fury stopped in the doorway. Angie’s shoulder-length, light-brown hair was tied back with a blue bandanna. A white-knuckled left fist gripped her walking stick. Her .38-Special wavered in her right as she gasped for air. Her face was wet with sweat. She’d obviously been running. She glanced down at Wynter and then snarled at Richard. “You son of a bitch!”
Chapter 7
Richard gave Wynter his warmest, most reassuring smile. “Wynter, would you excuse us, please? Your mother wants to talk.”
Angie’s furious gaze swept down to Wynter and caused her to cringe back into the chair. “Wait a minute. Wynter, did he molest you?”
Tears brimmed in the twin blue-green pools. “M—m—molest me?”
“Did he,” she indicated Richard with the gun barrel, “force himself on you and molest you? Fondle you? Coerce you into fondling him?”
“Angie, put the gun away. You’re scaring her.”
“Answer me!”
Tears exploded as Wynter cringed and folded her legs up into the chair and along her body. She wrapped her arms around them and tried to make herself as small as possible. “Mommy, it wasn’t Daddy’s fault, it was all mine. He couldn’t make me do anything. He was hurt and in the bed all the time,” she cried through tears.
Angie turned her fury back to Richard. “You’ve got her taking the blame for you,” she spat.
His voice stayed calm, rational, and gentle. “Put the gun in the holster, Angie. You aren’t Patsy Ramsey or Lorena Bobbitt, and you aren’t going to hurt either of us.”
Angie focused on the revolver as if she were seeing it for the first time. She tucked it in the holster and fastened the safety strap while snarling at him.
“Angie, it’s not her fault, it’s ours.”
“Oh! So you can’t accept your responsibility without shifting some of the blame onto her?”
“Not Wynter’s and mine ours. Yours and mine ours.” He smiled at Wynter. “Honey, you can go now. It’s okay. Mother and I just need to talk. All right?”
She looked at him, her eyes dumping tears. “Okay.” She looked up at Angie as she started unfolding. “Mommy, don’t hurt him, please? [sniff] I love you both. I don’t want you to hurt him. [sniff] Please?”
Angie tore her eyes from her husband to look down at her daughter. Some of the fire faded. “I won’t hurt him,” she said. Wynter’s face said she wasn’t convinced.
Richard had an idea. “Honey, would you do me a favor?”
“Uh huh. [sniff] What?” She rose to her feet and turned to face him. She looked ready to bolt into his arms but was too frightened to do so.
“You know that cedar tree that you said looks like it has a big scary thing crawling out of it? Would you take a drawing pad out there and draw me a picture of the thing? Not the tree as it is, but with the scary thing crawling out?”
She sniffed, looking from him to her mother and back. “Okay.” She was being run outside and she knew it, but she went along with it because he’d asked for a favor. “Colored pencils or black and white?” she asked, sniffing again and brushing tears away.
“I think black and white might look scarier. Don’t you, dear?” When Angie didn’t respond, he stared at her and indicated with a nod in Wynter’s direction that she should say something.
“Yes. Yes, that would be better.”
“‘Kay. I love you, Daddy. I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you, honey.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.”
Angie watched Wynter retrieve a pad and pencil from her room and then trudge down the hall with her shadow in slow pursuit. She turned to glare at Richard. “What….”
He held up a finger to silence her and pointed in the general direction of Wynter with it. “Sit down, please” he said in a gentle voice. “Wait until she’s outside.”
The closing kitchen door was barely audible in the silence. He preempted the opening attack. “We failed her, Angie.”
“We? Richard…”
“We. Both of us. Here. In this place. With this house. This location.”
She shook her head. “This is the house we wanted. We both wanted to live here.”
“Yes, we did. But we made that decision before we made her. We never looked to see if that decision was still the right one after she was born.”
Her left fist clenched around the walking stick. She brought it horizontal across her knees and grabbed it in her right fist. “You’re trying to change the subject. You’d hinted at moving before. Were you planning all along to use that to distract me when I found out?”
“Wynter’s being deprived by being out here all alone with us.”
“Deprived?“ Angie shook her head in bewilderment. “She has trees and flowers and nature and low crime and…”
“And no interaction with other people, especially people her own age. She’s being raised like a miniature grownup, not like a kid.”
“So you used her like she was an adult to get off. What the…”
“Angie, do you know how much she knows about sex?”
“Obviously a hell of a lot more than she knew when I left. Just how much did you teach her?”
“Honey, please! One argument at a time. Do you know how much she knew when you left?”
“Well, of course I do, for piss’ sake. I’m the one who had the mother-daughter talk with her.”
“Exactly.” He leaned back and lowered the upper half of the bed slightly from full upright.
His complacent grin of triumph confused her. He had obviously scored a point, but why? What was the point of the point? She had been married to him too long. She knew not to ignore that look. This was something he’d been awaiting and was prepared to handle.
He adjusted the pillow behind his head. “Ever notice how she handles a compliment?”
“She sometimes gets a little embarrassed, but what the hell does that….”
“It’s all related. And it’s not ‘sometimes.’ She always gets embarrassed unless it’s a teasing compliment. Always. Or did until Ellen and Kevin explained to her how to handle….”
“What? Ellen and Kevin? For piss’ sake, Richard! That’s our job.”
“Yes,” he said in a soft voice. “That’s our job. But when we don’t do our job, she has to go elsewhere to learn. And how do kids normally learn things they don’t learn from their parents? They learn them from other people, especially other kids. But she doesn’t have other kids around to learn from most of the time.”
“Richard, you’re crazy! There’s Kenny Taylor, Suzie Middleton…”
“Suzie! Glad you brought her up.”
Angie frowned at his grin, beginning to realize that she was being steered into setups.
“Kids learn a lot about sex from other kids. They listen to conflicting information, seek a general pattern, and assume that what most of the people say is probably what’s right. Only she doesn’t have any kids but Suzie to listen to, and Suzie doesn’t always have answers. The ones she does have are frequently wrong, or at least incomplete. Not that having more kids to talk to would guarantee she’d get the right information.
“She didn’t know what being horny was, or why she felt that need. She didn’t know that she could masturbate to relieve the feeling, and she didn’t know how to masturbate once she learned it would help.
“Do you know what else she asked me? ‘Why would some boy in college want to eat my pussy?’ She honestly didn’t know.”
Angie’s knuckles turned whiter as she squeezed her walking staff. Richard supposed it was a proxy for his neck. “Well, number two, I suppose you showed her why, and number one, why would she ask that question in the first place?”
“I explained the answer the second time she asked it, though I was hoping she’d save it to ask you. And you’re missing the significance of her question. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t understand what a sexual relationship is all about.”
Angie rolled her head back and stared at the ceiling. “Oh! Well!” She glared at him and added, “Isn’t she lucky that you are able to show her! I thought we were protecting her.”
“Exactly.”
She shook her head, wondering which part he was agreeing with, and suddenly realized he’d awarded himself another point. She was still being steered. “What?”
Richard shook his head. “We thought we were protecting her, but in reality we were preparing her to be a victim of the first slick-talking sonofabitch that realizes he has a naive winner on his hands.”
“That would be you,” she said with a sneer.
“Honey, you keep trying to start a new argument before we’ve finished with the old one,” he said with a smile that did nothing to reduce her anger. “How do kids normally find out what the other half of humanity looks like?”
“Well, books and ….”
“No,” he interrupted. “How do Dick and Jane really find out what the other half looks like?”
She stared at him for a second, and then slumped a little when she realized what his response would be. “They play ‘doctor,’ and ‘show and tell,’” she said in a normal voice.
“Exactly!” He ignored her wince. “They go to Alice DeClerk and Eddie Thomas.”
I should have never told him about Eddie, she realized, years too late.
“But Wynter doesn’t have that opportunity to do so because we wanted to live here in isolation. You can’t raise a child in isolation or you’ll raise a social misfit who doesn’t know how to act around her peers and who doesn’t know how, or when, to protect herself.”
“But I’ve told her how to protect herself from everyone. From everyone except you because I never thought….”
“Angie.” It seemed strange to hear that patient tone directed from himself to her for a change. “That’s the problem. You told her. She’s far too trusting.”
“Are we back to the new argument now?”
He ignored that. “If you don’t say, ‘I’m a bad guy,’ she’ll take anything you tell her at face value. She needs to have Little Billy and Little Johnny take advantage with something minor, or Bill and John will take advantage of her big time. About the only person she doesn’t trust is Uncle Bob after all the promises he’s broken over the years.”
“So: you’re telling me you took advantage of her with something minor—I’d say you took major advantage of a minor—to protect her later on?”
“Nooo….”
She released her breath in an explosive sigh. He’d stretched the word out and ended it on a higher note, his way of saying she wasn’t seeing the obvious. “Then for piss’ sake, what are you saying?”
He sighed. “First that she’s been pushed too far too fast. She wants to be older than she is. That’s not unusual for kids, but she takes it to an extreme and feels that anything she does that isn’t adult in its execution is cause for alarm. Not concern: alarm. You’ve seen those panic attacks the same as I have. And you’ve seen the way her personality shifts wildly about. You’re back to being ‘Mommy’ after a year of being ‘Mother.’ Also, she understands that sex is an adult way to express love and feelings, but she doesn’t understand that no sex doesn’t mean non-adult. Second, I’m saying that she’s not had a proper opportunity to satisfy her curiosity. She was deeply embarrassed to assist me with the urinal, but once she discovered why the catheter had been removed….”
“Did Ellen tell her that?”
“No. She asked and I didn’t lie to her. I won’t lie to her. She discovered that semen buildup was painful and, well, you know Wynter when she thinks anyone or anything is in pain.”
“And of course you didn’t try hard enough to talk her out of relieving your condition.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Angie blinked. She wasn’t expecting that. Like all men, Richard refused to fight fair.
“Eventually her curiosity got the better of her, and I didn’t try hard enough then, either.”
“For piss’ sake, Richard! Why didn’t you have Ellen jack you off, then? Couldn’t you wait until she returned?”
“I was prepared to wait longer than that, actually. I couldn’t let her, though I might have given in within a few days.”
“Oh! Well, yeah! You couldn’t let Ellen but….”
“Angie, do you know why she left Pittsburgh?”
“No, but….”
“I do. I’m sorry that can’t tell you, but, trust me, I couldn’t let her handjob me because I didn’t want to risk losing you.”
“And just what makes you think you aren’t risking losing me because you substituted Wynter for Ellen?”
“Faith in you. In your common sense.”
That also caught her off guard. Her mouth worked silently, trying to spit out the words that weren’t there.
“I know that you’ll think it over and see how what I’ve said all ties together. You’ll see what I’ve been trying to tell you, and eventually you’ll understand. Why don’t you go for a walk again, but this time let your subconscious work on what I’ve said for a while. It does a much better job of analyzing and sorting out than your conscious mind does. We can talk again when you return.”
She slowly rose and stared down at him. She knew he was right about the walk. He was quoting what she’d said to him on more than one occasion. “Richard, just how far did you two go?”
“Don’t waste time trying to pry information out of Wynter by telling her I told you everything. She’s expecting it.”
A hint of a wry smile teased its way onto a corner of her mouth. “You would tell her that,” she said as she turned and walked out of the room.
Richard lay back in his pillows and let out a long breath as he lowered the head of the bed. He’d have done that if he’d thought of it in time.
———————————
“Wynter, I’m going for another walk,” Angie said to the blonde ponytail seated on the pine stump.
Wynter turned her head, lowered the drawing tablet, and stood. Even from halfway across the large back yard Angie could see the tear streaks and red eyes. Wynter tucked the pencil behind her ear and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Is—is everything….” She dropped the pad on the stump and rushed toward her mother, arms flung wide to encircle her. She buried her face in her mother’s waist and cried in deep, wracking sobs. Dragon sat beside her and looked up at the two in his curious pose, whimpering softly.
“Mommy, I’m [sniff] I’m so sorry. Don’t don’t hate me. [sniff] Please? It’s not [sniff] Daddy’s fault, it’s—it’s all mine. Please [sniff] don’t hate him, either. Please? [sniff] Okay? Please?”
Angie jammed the point of her walking stick into the soft earth to hold it in place. Her left hand pressed her daughter’s shoulders in a hug while her right smoothed the blonde hair above the ponytail. Her body twisted in a gentle rocking motion. “Sweetheart, I don’t hate anyone. I’m just a little upset and angry. Why did…. No, never mind. I just need to go take a walk and think a bit. We’ll talk then. Okay? How’s your drawing?”
“It’s [sniff] okay, I guess.”
Angie disentangled herself from Wynter’s arms and dropped to a squat. She removed her bandanna and used it to wipe the tears and mucus from her daughter’s pitiful face. “I’ll just hike up to the aspen grove and back. Can you have your drawing finished in about twenty minutes, or do you need longer?”
Drawing the scary thing was a brilliant idea, and she wished she’d thought of it. It gave Wynter a way to vent her fears safely.
“I can be done [sniff] in about fifteen minutes.”
“Good. You can show it to your father and me at the same time. How’s that?”
“‘Kay,” she said in a small voice She was struggling to stop crying, but tears escaped from each eye. Angie caught them with the bandanna.
“Good.” She kissed Wynter’s forehead. “I’ll see you in a little bit.” She kissed Wynter’s forehead again and rose.
“I love you.” Wynter’s pleading voice sounded as if she were trying to convince her.
“I know you do, and I love you, too, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see your drawing.”
“‘Kay.” Wynter waved as her mother walked to the back gate and then, head down, trudged back to the stump, followed by her shadow.
Under the arbor Angie paused and turned, watching as Wynter moved the tablet from the stump and took her seat. Her daughter bent forward at the waist until she was almost lying on her legs, wrapped one arm around her knees, and engaged Dragon in a long, apparently one-sided conversation punctuated with pointing and waving of her free arm. As she watched a light slowly grew in the darkness of her thoughts.
Chapter 8
Angie wasn’t surprised that Wynter had met her at the gate. Dragon would have given her plenty of warning, though she suspected that Wynter had been waiting for several minutes, given the girl’s apprehensive look. She put a smile on her own face, which was never difficult whenever she saw her daughter. “Are you finished with the drawing?” she asked.
“Uh huh,” she said in a quiet voice. “But, do you mind if Daddy sees it the same time you do?”
“Of course not,” she said, opening the gate and holding an arm out for a hug. She wrapped her arms around Wynter and felt the girl’s muscles shuddering with tension. “Let’s go show him.”
“Are, um…. Are you still, um, mad at us?”
“I’m not mad, sweetheart. I’m not sure exactly how I feel, but I’m not mad at anyone, unless it’s at myself.”
Wynter pulled her head back and looked up at her with brimming blue-green eyes. “Why are you mad at yourself? You didn’t do anything.”
Angie let out a wry chuckle. “I guess that’s why. I didn’t think when I should have. Your father pointed that out to me and then gave me time to go think about it.”
Wynter sniffed lightly and nodded. “He’s good at that. He did the same for Nurse Carter while you were gone.”
“He did, huh? I don’t suppose he told you what Ellen did?”
“Well, no. Daddy didn’t. Nurse Carter told me, but….” She hesitated and then sighed. “Well, it’s patient confidentiality.”
“But, sweetheart, I’m the patient’s wife,” she said, wondering what Richard had said or done that needed to be kept confidential.
“Oh, no! Not Daddy. Nurse Carter was my patient. She said I could be her psy…. Her psy-chi-a-trist.” Wynter looked frustrated because she’d stumbled over the word, but she’d kept her eyes on Angie’s. “She said it helped her to talk about it and to show me why she shouldn’t have been mad at me.”
“Because of what you and your father did?”
A tear fell out of the corner of her right eye. “Uh huh.”
“Well, I won’t make you break a medical confidence. Come one. Let’s go see your picture. Dragon looks like he wants to go see it, too.”
“Oh, he’s already seen it. He thought it was scary, too.”
The catch in her throat caught her by surprise. The Wynter she had left behind wouldn’t have said that a dog would think a picture was scary. She coughed once. “Maybe he just wants to see if we agree with him.”
Wynter frowned and looked at Dragon. “Could be.”
———————————
As one, Angie and Richard exchanged glances, looked at the drawing again, and then to Wynter. Hollywood directors might spend hours reshooting a scene to get such perfectly-timed mirror reactions.
“That is scary,” Richard said, his eyes jumping back to the drawing. “Gruesome,” he murmured.
Angie was still trying to get words out of her mouth. “I agree,” was the best she could do before her eyes were also drawn back to the dark shape oozing out of the tree like some malevolent creature intent on committing great violence and mayhem with the small girl with the blonde ponytail cowering on the ground before it. The drawn girl seemed to be quaking on the paper as they watched. Angie felt tears accumulating in her eyes. “It certainly gets the point across to me,” she murmured, one hand reflexively curling around Richard’s left wrist.
She felt, rather than saw, his eyes on her because she couldn’t rip hers away from the creature in the drawing. She realized she was shaking her head and forced it to stop. “I….” She couldn’t get any further than that one word, though she tried three more times. She gave up, afraid that the next thing out of her mouth would be a scream.
“It’s the best I could do in the time I had,” Wynter said in an apologetic tone.
“I….” Her throat tensed, and she quit again. Fortunately Richard knew what to say.
“Honey, I think it’s good that you didn’t have any more time than that. I think it’s perfect for what you felt. Sometimes a rough drawing can be more effective at conveying emotions than a full-blown effort with oils and acrylics and… uh, stuff.”
Wynter’s tone turned eager. “You mean a sort of minimalist approach is best?”
“Ummm, yeah, I guess that’s what I meant. Right, dear?”
She made herself look at Wynter, saw the girl’s reaction, and forced her face to relax. “What? Oh. Yes. It’s, it’s….” She looked at Richard and saw the smile he was directing at Wynter. She forced her own smile and gave it as well. “It’s remarkable.” She willed her eyes to stay on the blue-green ones and not return to the drawing. “Sweetheart, would you mind if your father and I talked alone for a little bit, and then I’ll talk with you, and then we’ll all talk together in a family conference?”
“Ummm, okay. What should I do with the drawing?”
“You….” Good question. “You can put it in your room for now, and then go have some cookies and milk if you want them. Dragon can have a treat, too.”
“Okay.” She hesitated at the door.
“It’s okay, honey,” Richard said. “We just want to talk now.”
“That’s right,” Angie added. “Everything will be okay. Save a few cookies so I can have some with you later?”
“Sure. Should I close the door?”
“Ummm….” She couldn’t make her thoughts work.
“Yes, please,” Richard said. “We wouldn’t want Dragon to come ask us to let him out because you were too busy with your cookies and milk.”
“Smarty pants!” She closed the door behind her.
Angie gave Wynter time to put the drawing on her desk and go to the kitchen. That was her excuse. Actually she was trying to find the words, but all she could ask in a trembling voice was, “Did you see it, too?”
Richard smiled and shook his head as if dismissing what she was thinking. “Don’t read too much into it,” he cautioned. “It was subconscious because she was upset by what was going on. If I’d asked this morning or yesterday, I’m sure it would have looked more like Diana or Uncle Bob than you. You know as well as I do that if she thought the creature looked like you, she’d be in a panic and apologizing from now till breakfast.”
Her voice cracked as she squeaked, “But she really thinks I’m a monster and would hurt her.” She pressed her face to his arm and felt the tears roll off her nose.
“Of course she doesn’t.” Richard smoothed her hair in gentle strokes the way he always did when she was upset. “Her subconscious needed to get that out of the way and did so. If I asked her to draw a picture of you now, it would be as full of love as the one she drew for Ellen and me while you were gone. Trust me on this.”
She wasn’t convinced. But she changed the topic. “I saw what you meant as I was leaving the yard. The only one she has to talk to is Dragon, and she has to imagine his side of the conversation. I think you were right about not considering what was best for her. At least, not from her point of view. We assumed that what was best for us was automatically what was best for her. I can see where you might be right about that.” She knew that she was babbling to avoid the issue and stopped. As she expected, he did not avoid it.
“And the main issue?”
She sighed and wiped her eyes on his arm. “Well….”
———————————
The family meeting occurred at the dinner table over steak and onions with mashed potatoes and green beans and corn. “Your father and I want to know what you think about moving to town.”
Wynter stopped chewing and shifted her eyes between the two. After several seconds she asked, “Town?”
“Yes. Your father said he’d mentioned it to you. Do you like the idea? You’d be able to go to school with other children, uh….” She hesitated when Wynter frowned at the implication that she was still a child, then continued. “You’d have other… you’d have others around to talk to and to play and study with. You’d get to see more of Suzie, and you’d be able to talk medical stuff with Kenny Taylor. Or with his dad and Nurse Carter.”
The guilty look spread across Wynter’s face. “But Daddy said this was your dream home.”
“My dream home is wherever you and your father are. Our being together is what’s important, not where we are.”
“But what about your nature walks?”
“I can do that in Otter Park. And there’s Barber Beach where you can go swimming in the summer. You’ll be close to Wizard Basin and can go skiing there in the winter. You said you needed more practice at both. Suzie’s the captain of the swim team. I’ll bet she’d help you learn to swim better.”
They waited while Wynter resumed chewing, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“What about Dragon?”
“We’ll have to find a place with a big yard. Your father said that Tom Jerome is moving to Denver and has his house for sale. Daddy’s seen it before. I haven’t, but he says it’s nice.”
Richard pointed at Wynter with his fork. “That’s right. It’s a nice tri-level with a basement and a huge back yard. It’s at 1331 West Seabridge Trail. Do you know where that is?”
Wynter’s ponytail lashed as she shook her head. “Unh uh.”
“Well, it’s in the northwest corner of town, a little south of the highway and east of the park. It’s small hills with lots of trees in that area, so that it feels like you’re isolated even though there are neighbors close by. It’s about four blocks north of Suzie’s and three-quarters of a mile west of the Taylors’.”
Wynter pursed her lips and skewed them sideways in thought. “I don’t think we should move into a tri-level.”
“Why not?” Angie asked.
“There would be too many steps for Daddy to fall down and hurt himself.”
Angie snorted a laugh. Richard made a face and said, “Now who’s being a smarty pants?”
Most of the mealtime was devoted to the idea of moving to town, the house there, its neighborhood, and the disposition of their current mountain home. The latter was not a problem. Richard knew a broker who was always reminding him that he had clients who were looking for mountain homes like theirs and wanted to be the one called if they ever decided to sell.
An uneasy quiet settled around the table near the end of the meal. Wynter’s fork stirred a pattern in the residue of her mashed potatoes as she tried to find the words. Finally she chose some and spoke. “Um, what about….” She lost her nerve and said nothing more, her eyes locked a spot of gravy in her plate.
“Your father and I have discussed that, too. Wynter, I’m not mad. I’m still upset, but not mad. I know it’s too late to change things that have already happened. Unlike your aunt, I’m not dumb enough to try. I could ask that you stop and never touch each other again. I’m not dumb enough to think that would happen, even though you would mean it now if you promised it.”
Angie waited while Wynter sorted that out and raised her eyes. Angie cut off the objection. “Honey, if you’re going to be sexually active, I suppose I’d rather it be with your father than some stranger. With your father I can be certain that you aren’t going to suddenly announce that you’re pregnant or, worse, have some terrible disease. So, I’m not going to put the genie back in the bottle, but I am going to lay down some rules for the genie. Okay?”
Wynter swallowed, glanced at her father and noticed he was smiling, and nodded to her mother, her eyes wide.
“Good. First, just because I’m condoning it doesn’t mean that I want it flaunted in my face. There will be no humping in front of the television while I’m trying to watch the news, and we’re not going to have any family orgies. Understood?”
The look on Wynter’s face as she nodded told Angie that she was scaring the girl. She had sounded too harsh. She softened her voice and her face.
“Good. Second, Richard is my husband. I have first claim to him. I’m willing to let him have one night a week with you.” She held up an index finger and waved it back and forth. “In your room, not in our bed. Our bed is just for your father and me. Okay?”
Wynter seemed to relax a little. “Uh huh. Um, yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Third, that night shouldn’t be when you have school the next day, which means Friday or Saturday. I’ve decided it will be Friday for my own reasons.”
Wynter nodded. “That’s okay.”
“Good. Fourth, you know what will happen if anybody else finds out. You were lucky with Ellen. You will likely not be lucky the next time. Any time anyone else is around, whether you can see them or not, you will act like a normal daughter and father, not….” She sighed and swallowed. “Not like lovers. Whenever you’re sure nobody else is watching is when you can bet your college tuition that someone is. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. Nurse Carter explained all of that to me, and so did Daddy. I understand that I can’t trust anyone else to keep a secret.”
“Good. Fifth, you can ask me any questions you want, just like always, but don’t expect me to give you lovemaking tips on how to keep your father happy. Questions about relationships in general, especially since you’re going to be in a school and around other… uh, around young men, are part of my responsibility of being a mother. They’ll be yours some day, but I’d prefer that ‘some day’ not be before you’ve finished high school and college.”
“And medical school.”
Angie smiled. “That’s even better.”
Wynter nodded, the concern no longer evident in her eyes and the hint of a smile teasing her coral lips. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Sixth.” She sighed. “Sixth. Sweetheart, this isn’t going to be easy for me for a while. I may get upset or grouchy because of it, but if I do, don’t forget that I love you. That won’t change. I may not love you in the same manner as your father does, but I love you as much as he does. This is a bigger change in my life than it is in yours. You may not fully understand that until after you’re married, but some day you will. So, when I get upset or grouchy, give me some space and let me get over it. Like your father did when he sent me for that second walk.”
Wynter nodded. “Sure. I love you with all my heart and don’t want to make you upset.”
Angie had to bite back the “It’s a little late for that.”
“Thank you. Now: since you got your way with that, I get my way now. You serve dessert.”
Dessert had to wait while Wynter threw her arms around her mother, buried her face in Angie’s neck, and squeezed.
That, Angie decided, is better than chocolate cake.
Chapter 9
The weather had turned uncharacteristically hot on moving day, three days ago. The water pump in the new house’s swamp cooler chose that time to die, and McKeown’s had to order a replacement from Houston. Fans stirred the air in the house, but were of marginal help. Angie wore a bandanna to keep the sweat out of her eyes as she unpacked still more moving boxes.
Over her shoulder she watched Wynter drop onto the edge of the living room sofa and slump, her legs straight out and sneakered feet pigeon-toed inward. Wynter sat with her arms dangling down between her legs as if she hadn’t the strength to lift them to the seat cushion. The breeze from the fans stirred her bangs and the loose strands of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. “I didn’t know moving would be so much work,” her daughter said with a heavy sigh. Dragon collapsed at her feet. Standing guard in a fur coat while his human unpacked boxes and put things away had exhausted him, too.
Angie looked in the open box atop the stack beside her. Two more plates remained to be placed in the dining room china cabinet. She almost reached for them, but instead she sat beside Wynter and heaved a big sigh of her own. “I’d forgotten how bad it was. Of course, it’s been a long time since I moved into that house, and we didn’t have as much to move then. We added a lot of stuff after we’d settled in.” She wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and squeezed. “Good thing I have a helper this time.”
“I think your helper is worn out,” Wynter replied collapsing sideways against her. “I’m going to sleep the rest of summer.”
“Would you rather have a stranger put everything away in your new room? You’d never find half of it again.” She felt Wynter’s body tense momentarily. Wynter would never allow anyone else to touch her things.
“When’s Daddy getting back with lunch? I’m starved.” Her voice had a slight whine.
Sunlight flashing off a moving windshield swept through the window and around the room as Richard’s new pickup pulled into the driveway.
Angie kissed the top of Wynter’s head. “How’s that for timing?”
“Any earlier and I’d have been too tired to eat.”
Angie pulled away slightly to look at Wynter’s face. “Is there any way to please you?”
Wynter giggled.
“Besides that.”
“Unh uh. Daddy says I’m too much like you.”
Angie rubbed one of Wynter’s slender upper arms with her hand and felt a look of sympathy creep onto her face. “God help you, sweetheart.”
Richard almost bounced through the door, whistling off key. “Kentucky Fried Colonels for everybody!” he announced, holding up two large red-and-white plastic bags. He looked back and forth between his two favorite women. “What is this, a loafer’s convention?”
“Some of us had to work,” Wynter sighed.
“Well, so did I! The new pump for the swamp cooler came in, and I also picked up lunch. I even carried it into the house all by myself, without any help from anyone else!”
“So where’s the pump?”
“You ask about the pump when I bring food?” Richard sighed and indicated with a jerk of his head. “That’s still in the truck. I was afraid the weight of it plus the weight of all this food might cause me to strain something.” He saw the looks on their faces and added, “Kevin did tell me not to overdo it!”
He looked from one to the other in anticipation as they rolled their eyes. “Well? Doesn’t anybody want a kiss?”
“I do,” Angie said, “but Wynter’s too tired.”
“Am not,” she retorted, sitting upright.
“I spoke first, slowpoke. You can wait your turn.” She rose and threw her arms around Richard. Still holding the bags, he crossed his arms behind her and bent her backward.
Wynter snorted. After a few seconds she tapped her foot, crossed her arms, thrummed her fingers on her elbows, and made impatient noises while her parents stretched out the kiss. She looked at her wrist as if checking a watch and thrummed some more. She coughed. Twice. “Well, Dragon, how about those Broncos?” When he looked up and thumped his tail she said, “That’s what I thought, too,” and looked at her “watch” again. “Read any good books lately?”
She saw a tremble in both her father and her mother. They were fighting to hold back laughter. “I’m all rested up now,” she announced. “And if I don’t get a kiss real quick, I’m going to go eat up all the chicken and the smarty pantses will just go hungry.”
Richard’s head jerked back, leaving Angie’s tongue exposed for an instant. As she straightened, he transferred both bags to one hand, spread the other over his heart, and staggered backward. “Oh, NO!“ he cried. ”Not the chicken!”
Angie threw back her head, eyelids squeezed shut in anguish, and pressed the back of one hand to her forehead. “Oh, mine cruel and heartless daughter! Take thy beak from out mine heart, and put instead a chicken leg in mine stomach!”
Wynter rolled her eyes upward. “I can go down to Jimmy McCauley’s house. He’ll kiss me.”
That got their attention. They looked at each other and then back to her. “But I’d rather have you,” she said to her father. Just before their lips met she added, “And it better be at least as good as what Mother got.”
Angie took the food bags from Richard. “Then I guess I have time to go set the table.”
“Um hmm,” Wynter grunted before backing away to stage-whisper in conspiratorial tones, “I’m not wearing a bra.”
Angie doled out paper plates on the breakfast table, the only flat surface in the kitchen that didn’t have boxes stacked on it. Mother’s little helper was the one who had insisted that she would be sorry if she didn’t keep one surface, preferably that one, clear all the time. She reasoned that Wynter spoke from recent experience in her room.
Jimmy McCauley? She didn’t know the boy, but he’d been in front of the house when they first inspected it with the broker. He’d seemed quite smitten with Wynter at first sight. When they began moving in he’d been a constant presence, either volunteering to help or frequently riding past on his bike and staring at the house as if looking for someone. He still checked once or twice a day to see if he was needed. His father, Keith, was a supervisor for the county highway crew and someone she and Richard knew in passing.
Ellen Carter said that the twelve-year-old was his father’s son, an upright, courteous, first-class individual and that Wynter could do far worse for a friend. Ellen also said that Suzie Middleton had her eye on Jimmy. The near future could become interesting.
Napkins. She shook her head. Richard had remembered to bring the plastic fork/spoon combinations that Wynter called “foons,” but he’d forgotten the napkins. She reached for the paper towels.
Richard’s relationship with Wynter still disturbed her a little, somewhere deep inside, but at least her daughter’s first intercourse had been with someone who cared about her. Eddie Thomas had not only been the first to play looky-loo with Angie, back when she was nine or so, he’d also been the first for touchy-feely and was the first to screw her, shortly after she turned fifteen. And screw her, he did.
Her first experience wasn’t ‘making love.’ It was getting royally screwed, and it was practically rape. He was putting on the rubber while he knelt between her wide-spread thighs in his parents’ den. He suddenly realized he was about to cum prematurely. He dropped the rubber, jammed his boner into her virgin hole, and came two pumps later, before she’d recovered from the surprise and could tell him to get the hell out of there. He pulled out, wiped his cock on her bush, held both her ankles aloft in one hand while he slapped her bare ass with the other, and said, “Not bad for a beginner.” Obviously it was something he’d learned from talking to other boys because he’d already admitted he was still a virgin, too. She’d worried about pregnancy for almost three weeks. It was the last time she let him touch her. She was in college and on the pill before she let anyone else touch her. Fortunately her daughter didn’t have horrible memories like that of her first experience.
Angie looked out the kitchen window and sighed, banishing the memories. They had a huge back yard, with large trees that provided shade as well as the sense of closeness to nature she needed. They were on the edge of town, and walking trails and woods and meadows were close by. But those weren’t on her property. Well, they were on public property, so they were partially hers. She’d been afraid that Richard would want to move to Denver or Grand Junction or Casper, some place larger and more boisterous. She hadn’t considered moving down the mountain to town. It wasn’t too far from their former mountain home. An older couple had bought their dream property and said that they were welcome to return to hike through the woods and meadows and to dangle feet in the creek any time they wished.
Wynter would be going to a real school for the first time, surrounded by people her own age. She wondered if Wynter would stabilize at their maturity level or bring some of them up to hers. She knew Wynter and thus knew which way to place that bet.
A sudden, sharp sound from the living room heralded Wynter’s orgasm. Angie supposed it was better that she got it from Richard than from someone like Eddie. In fact, she knew in her heart that it was better. But Jimmy McCauley better keep his grubby little hands off—and other parts out of—her daughter if he knew what was good for him!
The good news was that Wynter knew how to handle him. She hoped. They had discussed sexuality and sexual relationships with a frankness that she’d never expected to experience with her own child. She’d certainly never experienced that candor with her mother. She had done what she hoped was an adequate job of explaining men to Wynter. She loved Richard, but unlike herself, he was blind to the faults, foibles, and shortcomings of his own sex.
Wynter had laughed oddly when she mentioned that fact, but her daughter had explained that she had somehow dredged up a funny thought from the past. But Wynter had admitted afterward that she now understood men well enough to help her take care of Richard’s needs, especially if she had to leave town again. “Most mothers aren’t lucky enough to have a helper for that,” Wynter had said. “Not a helper who wouldn’t run off with your husband.” That had been the thirty-year-old Wynter making a reappearance after an absence of over a week.
She smiled warmly at her family as the other three, husband, daughter, and daughter’s omnipresent shadow, trooped into the kitchen, one looking exceptionally pleased with himself, one looking dreamily satiated, and one looking as if he were performing the most important job in the world.
No, Dragon, you don’t have the most important job. I do.
———————————
While Richard alternated between deep kissing Wynter’s mouth and sucking her sweet little breasts, he had snaked his fingers up the leg of her shorts. He was surprised to discover that Wynter wasn’t wearing panties, either. His fingertips felt soft cornsilk curls and moisture and heat. His desire ignited and he felt the Beast begin to stir, despite the workout it had received the night before. His tongue attacked hers with renewed vigor.
She moaned into his mouth when his index and ring fingers parted her labia, allowing his middle finger to drag some of her “natural lubrication” to the hard little pebble of her clit. He began gently massaging the tiny button with his thumb while his middle finger crept up inside her body. Moments later she jerked her hips in the way that he’d learned meant she was rapidly building to a climax.
Half a minute later her body stiffened and a sharp moan escaped through the tension in her throat. Her body convulsed. His thumb stopped rubbing her sensitive little clit, and his finger stilled within her hot, pulsing love tunnel. Three more jerks, then a pause, a smaller convulsion, another pause, and a final spasm. Another moan devolved into a sigh, and she relaxed against him, somewhere finding the strength to rub her hand down the back of his head. His head dropped to her breast and he gently nipped on the two sweetest little berries in the country.
She giggled, and after a brief pause said, “I love you Daddy, with all my heart.”
He raised his head to look into the beautiful blue-green pools sparkling with love and satiation beneath her blonde bangs. His free arm squeezed her in a tight hug. “I love you, too, honey.” He smiled at her and added, “And I always will.”
Why the hell did I feel the need to add that? he wondered. He’d never felt the need to add it before. He pondered the question as he released her from the hug and used his index finger to trace an “X” over his heart. He idly wondered if it had anything to do with the Jimmy McCauley remark.
It was The Moment the Lights Came On. All of the talk about first nursing school and then medical school, all of the talk about her being a wife with a husband and a mother with children of her own. All of that, and he’d never seriously understood that the day would come when he would have to face life without Wynter as a constant presence in his life. The day would come when “home” would be just Angie and himself in the house.
“Daddy?”
He returned to the present and looked into the worried face brimming with love and concern.
“Did you go away again?”
A huge smile of love spread across his face, and he felt sadness horning in around the edges. “Just for a minute. I’m back now.”
“Did you go someplace nice?”
He dipped his head to give her soft coral lips a gentle father’s kiss. “Not as nice as the place I came back to.”
She giggled happily, but stopped when he reluctantly removed his finger from her sweet young body. He held the finger back as he pulled her top down. “The chicken’s getting cold.”
She gave him the lascivious grin of a thirty-year-old woman. “You know how to warm chicks up.”
“Just the kind of chicks that don’t have feathers,” he said, popping his middle finger in his mouth to suck it clean of her juices. ”Mmmm. Finger lickin’ good.”
“Smarty pants.”
They laughed, and he wrapped his arms below hers, lifting her and kissing her in mid-air. She finished with a nose-and-lips kiss that suddenly seemed more precious than ever to him. He lowered her to her feet and took her hand. Dragon fell into place on her other side, and they trooped into the kitchen to see his other favorite chick.
———————————
Wynter rolled her eyes upward. “I can go down to Jimmy McCauley’s house. He’ll kiss me.”
Where did that_ come from?_ She had no idea. However, it worked: they were focused on her. She made a mental note to remember that trick.
“But I’d rather have you,” she said to her father. Just before their lips met she added, “And it better be at least as good as what Mother got.” The love that sparkled in his eyes made her heart feel too big for her chest again.
Her mother took the food, freeing her father’s hands for more interesting activities. “Then I guess I have time to go set the table.”
“Um hmm,” Wynter sighed dreamily as she closed her eyes and parted her lips. Then her eyes flew open. I almost forgot! She pulled back to whisper loud enough for her mother to hear, “I’m not wearing a bra.” She almost giggled at the look her mother gave her, but then her father’s lips touched hers and the world narrowed to the contact of their lips and the feel of his hand sliding up under her blouse to tease her nipple and cup her breast her titty and she closed her eyes again.
Strange that she should have to remind herself of the grownup word. It was the first time since her father had been allowed out of his recovery bed that she didn’t remember. She’d been having lots of trouble remembering things since they’d moved to town, sort of like she was distracted, but there was nothing to distract her except the endless unpacking and storing of things.
Her father’s fingers slid inside the leg opening of her shorts. She felt his surprised reaction when his fingertips immediately found soft, cornsilk curls instead of panties. His kisses grew stronger.
“Mmmm,” she moaned as his finger probed the firm, hirsute—she’d just learned that grownup-sounding word and liked it—outer lips of her pussy while his tongue did the same with the coral lips of her mouth. She felt almost like she could see his tongue chasing hers back and forth between their mouths, as if it were a movie being projected on the insides of her eyelids. And then her view shifted and she could see his blue eyes and light dusting of freckles staring at her from beneath his mop of red hair….
Huh? Her father had green eyes, brown hair, and no freckles. Why would she suddenly think that?
Jimmy McCauley! Jimmy had blue eyes, red hair and freckles. Her father’s fingers must have done something special while she was distracted because the aching horniness in her split—her pussy—suddenly grew stronger. The clockspring began tightening as his finger slid into her hot, slick, wet pussy while his thumb did wonderful things to her clitty. As the tension built toward her release point her attention focused on what was happening inside her knit shorts. Now the movie on the inside of her eyelids showed his fingers playing with her pussy.
She wondered if Jimmy McCauley’s fingers would feel the same way.
The clockspring exploded with the best orgasm she’d had in a week. She felt her pussy squeeze his finger as her body shook again and again and again and again at the end, like those earthquake aftershocks her father had told her about. Finally the tension left her body and she was allowed to relax.
She sighed contentedly and rubbed her hand down the back of his head, smoothing his hair. She felt just a little bit guilty about thinking of someone else when she came. She opened her mouth to speak but erupted with a giggle when he nibbled her nipple. She tried again. “I love you, Daddy, with all my heart.” This time it meant two things. It was also an apology, even though he didn’t know that it was or why.
She didn’t feel much less guilty when he replied that he also loved her with all his heart. But then he added, “And I always will.” For just a moment that made her feel really guilty. Then, all of a sudden, the guilt went away and she felt wonderful! She knew in her heart that she would always have her father’s love, even if, as he’d said would happen, she found a boyfriend and later a husband, and she and her father stopped having sexual activities. Once again her heart felt too big for her chest. She started to say something about that.
His eyes were unfocussed, as if the eyes inside his head were too busy looking at something else. Maybe he was horny, too, and was thinking of the times she’d repaid his love and attention. Well, she could repay him this time, too!
“Daddy?” she asked, feeling her face pull into a worried frown all by itself.
His bright green eyes focused and looked deep into her, making her shiver with warm feelings of love. She wondered how a warm feeling on a hot day could make her shiver, but she filed that question away for later. “Did you go away again?”
She marveled at how he never seemed to smile at her the same way twice, yet every time that smile made her feel loved so very, very much.
“Just for a minute. I’m back now.”
“Did you go someplace nice?” She thought maybe his mind had gone looking for spring flowers again. She hoped he’d found them. If not, she’d draw him some more, and this time she would take as long as necessary to do a proper job. She was still amazed that the very first thing he carried into this house was her flower drawing. He put it on the wall of his home office, right above where his desk would go.
He gave her a gentle kiss that made her tingle all the way down to her toes and back. “Not as nice as the place I came back to.”
She couldn’t have held back her giggle for a million dollars. It stopped when he removed his finger. She felt just a little bit disappointed when he pulled her top back down over her tits and felt a frown creep over her face.
“The chicken’s getting cold,” he reminded her.
She sure was. “You know how to warm chicks up,” she reminded him.
They had just seated themselves at the table when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Wynter said. She had a good idea who it was.
She opened the door and had to look up just a little bit to see blue eyes in an eager, freckled face. Dragon, standing beside his human, started wagging his tail. Dragon seemed to like the boy, possibly because Jimmy had twice brought him a big dog biscuit.
“I was just riding past and, um, wondered if you might, um—you know, need any, um, help or something,” Jimmy said, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.
Anxiety disorder, she diagnosed. Again. “No, thanks. We’re just about to have lunch.”
“Oh,” he said as usual, with his usual disappointed look and his usual, “Well, if you, um, need anything just let me know. Bye.”
“Okay. I will.” She watched the slumped form turn back to his bike and surprised herself by saying, “Wait a minute.”
He turned to her with an eager look she’d sometimes seen in Dragon’s face, or in her father’s face when they were about to snuggle together.
“If you can come back in about an hour, I could sorta use some help, um, unpacking stuff and—and putting it on the, um, top shelves of my bookcases and closet. Okay?”
Wynter had been to Las Vegas once, when her father went to a geologists’ convention. None of the buildings there lit up the way Jimmy’s face did. ”Okay!”
They said temporary goodbyes, and he raced away on his bike. Wynter waved and then dropped her hand to scratch behind one of Dragon’s ears. “You know, Dragon, he’s kinda cute.”
End
]
[
civ /
co /
eh /
fit /
halp /
jew /
lit /
phi /
pr /
rnb /
sci /
tg /
w /
zom
]
[
a /
grim /
hi /
me /
rx /
vg /
weed /
wp /
x
]
[
ai /
cake /
cd /
d /
di /
elit /
fag /
fur /
gif /
h /
men /
pco /
s /
sh /
ss /
unf
]