My ten-year-old daughter Lindsey came into the living room wearing her ballerina outfit, which I knew meant that she wanted to dance for me. The problem was that she hadn’t worn the outfit in at least three years, and it showed. The outfit was so tight on her that I couldn’t believe that she wasn’t busting out of it.
It was a one piece, but by design it didn’t fit like one. It was cut away in the front so that her stomach was completely bare and it did a sort of figure eight, crossing in front of her, cupping her budding breasts before it crossed again wrapping around the back of her neck supporting the ensemble. The biggest flaw was that it was designed for a girl the size that Lindsey was when she was six or seven, and not ten.
Lindsey was already beginning to take shape the same way that her mother was, and she was budding early. Her breasts weren’t fully developed yet, but they were getting there and they hung below where they were supposed to be hanging so that the fleshy part of her mounds were exposed and even the edges of her nipples were breathing unfiltered oxygen.
Her belly button was supposed to be out in the open, but the outfit used to cover the lower part of her abdomen. It didn’t any more, and as Lindsey stepped to the stereo and put on the music I couldn’t help but notice just how much skin she was showing off. She hadn’t danced for me in years, and I couldn’t even really remember exactly why it was that she stopped. As she stood there operating the buttons on the CD player my eyes were drawn to her buttocks which was uncomfortably bare.
I sat in my chair and watched as she began to dance for me, trying desperately to focus more on the dancing than on the way that she looked. The last time she wore the outfit in front of me she was still a cute little girl of seven with baby fat and barely developed muscles. She still young and still a sweet and innocent little girl, but her body was in the early stages of forming into beauty. She had lost pretty much every ounce of baby fat, and her muscles were elegantly toned. Just like her mother’s.
She began to dance for me and I was in awe at her skill and dancing talent. Her form was still perfect. She still kept her lines straight and her movements were graceful and practiced. It was clear to me that she had never stopped dancing, but for one reason or the other she had quit dancing in front of both me and my wife for some reason.
My attention was drawn back to her state of dress as I realized that the outfit had been washed so many times that the material was worn almost to transparency, which was even more evidence that Lindsey had taken to dancing behind our backs for some reason.
I didn’t understand why though. She was obviously good at it, and I also didn’t understand why it was that she had suddenly decided to come back out of the closet, but I had to say that I was glad that she did I had always enjoyed watching her dance, and now she was better at it than ever.
I would never normally ogle my daughter like this but it was no ordinary night for me. My wife had come to me a few nights before while I was sitting at the kitchen table with a piece of my mother’s famous lemon pie. She had a deck of cards in her hand. She sat down dealt out five cards and said, “best hand gets one night of being single.”
Let me just say that in so many ways I am a lucky man where my wife is concerned. She is brilliant. She has a wonderful personality and sense of humor. But the most important thing I should note about her is that she is way out of my league. She is drop dead gorgeous. I am a nerdy looking accountant, and to this day I don’t really understand what it is that she ever saw in me. Not that I don’t think I deserve her or anything, but I am a realist. Most gorgeous women don’t find nerdy accountants attractive let alone marry them.
I also know that even though I try I don’t satisfy her completely in the bedroom. I try to be creative, and attentive, and everything I can do, but again I am a realist, and five inches doesn’t exactly make a woman scream if you know what I mean.
I am also not stupid. She had come sat down and dealt the cards without shuffling. I am no card sharp, but I know a stacked deck when I see one. She knew before the cards were dealt that she was going to win, and I didn’t bother to correct her. I picked up my cards, noted that I had two pair, which meant that whatever hand she had definitely beat me. I took a card and to my surprise filled out my boat. She took two which meant that she had also completed her. It was the only thing that made sense.
Most guys would have never let her get away with it, but I am not most guys. The truth was that I secretly fantasized about watching her with another guy, and even though I knew that I wouldn’t be able to see her in action I still actually liked the idea of her doing it. I went along with the ploy and she ended up having the better hand. I pretended to be disappointed, but in reality I was turned on.
With Lindsey dancing in front of me half naked though I had a full fledged dilemma on my hands. I knew that I shouldn’t be going along with it, but the truth was that I was horny as hell and I didn’t want to say or do anything that would make her put more clothes on. I was enjoying the way that she looked, and I kind of figured that, in a stupid way, ogling my daughter was my way of enjoying the same sort of adventure that I was sure that Breanne was.
Lindsey kept dancing for me for almost a half an hour and the longer she danced the easier it became for me to look at her. I kept waiting for her outfit to give up its struggle and for more of her to bust through, and I kept hoping that a thread would snap free. I know that I should have been able to show more restraint, but if Breanne didn’t have to then why should I have to? I know she was my daughter, but I wasn’t touching her. I was just looking and if she wasn’t okay with that I figured she could easily have danced for me wearing a pair of sweats if that’s all she had.
Lindsey finally finished her routine and I clapped heartily for her. She bowed and slid into my seat with me. That’s when I remembered what it was that suddenly stopped her from dancing in front of me.
She used to have me dance with her, but she always used to make me up like a dancer. Not with an outfit mind you, but she made my face up. She’d sit in my lap and outline my eyes, and lips, and give my cheeks just the right amount of color, just like the real dancers. Then I would dance with her doing my best to appear like a real partner, but usually failing miserably. The problem came in one night while she was applying my make up. She was straddled across my lap and I had gotten a bit of a boner. I don’t know if she even realized what it was or not, but I knew and it had scared the crap out of me. I never let her sit in my lap like that again, and that was when she stopped dancing in front of me.
I remembered all of that as she sat in my lap and snuggled in and I couldn’t help but to miss the way that it had felt. She hadn’t sat that close to me in almost three years and having her that close again felt incredibly right to me. I didn’t fight it. I slid my hand around her waist and she looked up at me and smiled.
“I thought you might yell at me for sitting here,” she said.
I kissed the back of her head and drew in the berry scent of her hair.
“No pumpkin. I’m not going to yell at you,” I told her.
She scooched in close so that her buttocks was half covering my lap. My dick was still throbbing and my sweat pants were probably not doing a very good job of disguising my erection from her, but I decided that it was up to her. If she wanted to sit there than I wasn’t going to stop her.
My hand went into automatic mode and began to caress the smooth and silky skin of her stomach. I turned the television on and pretended to watch it, but my attention was really on the way that her skin felt against my fingers. I stroked up and down on her stomach waiting for that moment when she would offer some protest to what my hand was doing. That moment didn’t come. She just sat there silently while my fingers drifted up and down on her stomach.
I started to wonder what she was thinking. A part of me wished that I had ESP and what it would be like to be able to read her thoughts. I wondered if she liked the way that my fingers felt as I fondled her stomach, but more than that I wondered what she would think or do if I went further. I let my hand drift higher up and I waited for a reaction.
My fingers had brushed up against the bottom of the mound of her breast and I actually held my breath waiting for her to freak out about it. She didn’t though. She acted as if she hadn’t even noticed. I did it again, but this time I let my fingers go even higher and linger there for a second before they drifted back down. She still didn’t utter a word of protest.
I decided that I wanted something more definite. I wanted her to know clearly and without a doubt that I was touching her inappropriately so I let my hand wander back up and I flat out slid it under the material of her outfit, cupped her breast and gently squeezed her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
That time she reacted. She inhaled and held her breath as my thumb and forefinger toyed with her erect little nipple, but she still didn’t say a word. I let her nipple go and listened while she let her breath back out. She looked up and smiled at me nervously, but then went back to watching the television.
My eyes wandered back over her skin and I just had to know how soft her legs were. Her stomach was flat and soft and I just knew that her legs must feel just as wonderful.
It turned out that I was right. My fingers began to caress up and down each thigh and as my boldness increased so did the height of my stokes. Before long my fingers were probing the material that covered her girl hood and I just knew that would be the point that she began to fuss.
To my surprise she did just the opposite. She didn’t press her legs together and tell me no. Instead as my fingers began to probe against her she opened her legs slightly giving me more access. I took the latitude that she gave me and slid my fingers further down so that my fingers were touching against where I knew that her opening was.
She waited a second while I explored her there, and before I knew it she was adjusting herself so that her legs could spread wider for me. I was no longer satisfied with the outside of her outfit though. I let my hand drift up, and I watched intently as they reached the top, slid beneath and slowly worked there way down. She kept her eyes glued to where my hand was the whole time.
I started to work her clit with my fingertips, and she responded by panting and spreading her legs even more.
“Uh, uh, uh,” she said as my fingers tickled her love button. “Oh daddy! That feels so good!” She said.
I couldn’t believe my ears. Not only was I feeling up my daughter, but somehow she was actually liking it. I slid my fingers down and into her entrance.
“Oh God daddy!” She said.
I hesitated. I didn’t know if that meant that she was scared and wanted me to stop, or if it meant that she liked it and wanted me to go further.
She looked up at me and then back down to where my hand was. Her legs were spread wide and I felt her hips moving toward my hand, and not away so I kept going, sliding my middle finger slightly into her.
“Ugh,” she said. “More!” She begged.
I began to slide my finger in and out of her slightly, but I could feel her hymen so I couldn’t go very far in.
“Uh, uh, uh, uh!” she continued as my finger worked in and out of her slick hole.
Her hips began to work faster and my finger responded with the same. She started to pant and moan as my finger gave her pleasure and I couldn’t help but to relish every second of being my daughter’s first sexual experience with another human being.
Before I knew it Lindsey arched her back against me and I watched as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she squealed out for her daddy as she came all over my fingers. I didn’t even know that a girl that age could do that, but I guessed it made sense because I was about her age when I started having my own orgasms, and once that happened I could barely keep my hands off of myself.
Lindsey collapsed and before I realized what was happening I realized that she immediately fell asleep. I guess I wore her out. I didn’t plan on it, but I guess I fell asleep too.
I woke up to my wife walking through the front door.
“Isn’t that cute?” she said half sarcastically.
At first I didn’t even realize what she was talking about, but my heart sank as I suddenly understood what it was that she was looking at.
My hand was still down the front of Lindsey’s outfit cupping the meat of her mound.