Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Bringing Up Daughters Part II

   By LuvsItWet

   Copyright @ 2009

   Chapter 27

   "Honey.  The school called today.  The principal wants us to drop in and
have a talk with him."

   Sandy was in the kitchen fixing dinner.  I was stretched out on the
couch with a cold one and the morning paper.  Old news by the time I got to
it.  I still checked out the sports page and the funnies.

   It had been a rough couple of weeks since Tony and Jill's wedding.  The
new lab had finished up the testing phase and the staff had started moving
in.  It seemed to me that everyone wanted something changed.

   "Did he say what he wanted to talk about?" I asked.  Being more polite
than interested.

   "No, but he seemed awfully serious."

   That got my attention.

   "Did you ask the girls if they knew what he might have on his mind?"

   There hadn't been a problem that I knew of since Pammy's outburst when
Tammy had her first period at the beginning of the school year.  We had
cautioned them regularily to keep a low profile.  They didn't like dressing
like Mennonites, but we thought it best not to flaunt their blossoming
womanhood.  And were they ever blossoming!!!

   "They don't have any idea what it could be about.  No one has said
anything to them." Sandy said from the kitchen.

   We had just sat down to dinner at the table on the lanai when there was
a thumping on the gate.

   "You guys decent back there?" Went along with the knock.

   "Hell no." Sandy yelled back.  "Come on in, it's unlocked."

   It was Lamar.  We hadn't seen much of him in the past couple of weeks.
He'd been pretty busy.

   "You got any soy sauce?" He asked.  "Gaile's making teriyaki steak and
ran out."

   'Busy' might not have been the right word for it.  Occupied was more
like it.

   We didn't see Bert and Gaile the day after the wedding party.  Or the
day after that.  On Tuesday, Sandy mixed up a pitcher of Mai Tais, stuck
half a dozen joints in her pocket and trotted her little butt next door. 
Nose trouble, I called it.  My redhead had to stick her nose in.

   The house next door was closed up and dark.  In the middle of the day.
That wasn't like Gaile.  She might have been a bitch but she was an
outgoing, sunny bitch.

   Gaile finally answered the door in a ratty dressing gown and Sandy told
me later that she looked like death warmed over.  Swollen eyes, red nose
and hair that hadn't been touched since the party.

   It took most of that pitcher of strong cocktails and two of the special
smokes to get the long legged blond to stop crying long enough to be
coherent.

   Over and over and over.  "I've ruined my life." "I've ruined my
marriage." "What will people think of me?" "How could I have done that?"
"How could I have done that with a black man?" "What if I get pregnant?"
"My dad will disown me."

   Sandy let her rant and rave until she was semi-stoned and semi-drunk. 
Gaile finally wound down into a fit of hysterical laughter.  Sandy just
held her and let her get it out of her system.

   "What does Bert think about you having sex with Lamar?" Sandy asked
quietly when Gaile had finally cried herself tearless.

   "He says it's the hottest thing I've ever done.  He can't leave me
alone. We've had sex so many times in the past two days, I'm sore."

   "Well, there's your answer.  He's the one that counts.  Listen to him."
Sandy said.

   While Gaile was blowing her nose for the umpteenth time, Sandy lit
another one of our funny cigarettes.

   "And the other big question is: Did you like it?" She asked as she
passed the smoke to Gaile.

   Big drag.  Hold it.  Hold it.  Let it all out.  "It was the best fuck of
my life.  I wanted it to go on forever." The strawberry blond said with a
small trail of thin haze escaping with each word.

   An hour and a half later Lamar was in Gaile's house.  In Gaile's
bedroom. In Gaile's bed.  In Gaile.

   My little leprachaun stayed with the new lovers through the first round.
She stripped down and cuddled up to Gaile while Doctor Lamar injected the
booster shot.  Sandy was gently craddling Lamar's scrotum as he ejaculated
a fresh batch of sperm into the vulnerable holding cup deep within our
neighbor.  By Sandy's calendar, that was the day most likely to result in
Gaile's pregnancy.

   Sandy slipped out, leaving the temporarily sated couple napping, and
called me at the office.

   "You'll never believe..." She stumbled all over herself telling me what
had happened.  She wanted me to be home early to be sure to intercept Bert.
She was afraid Gaile would have a fit if her husband walked in on her and
her black lover in their bed together.

   I figured Bert might break his neck tripping over his hard-on or drown
someone in spurting cum.

   I waylayed Bert and kind of filled him in on what had been going on in
his bed.  He was thrilled that Gaile had settled down.  He had been
concerned she would do something stupid like going back to her folks.  He
was even more thrilled that Lamar was with Gaile.  He was thinking with the
little head again.

   Sandy sneaked into the house next door and found the lovers sound asleep
again.  After round two or three.  She quietly woke Lamar and, while he and
I had a beer over in our backyard, Bert slipped into bed with his wife.

   Bert told me later that was the first time he had went down on his wife.
Ever.

   Lamar took a few days off from work and we didn't see much of the folks
next door.  No big deal, we expected for them to try to hurt themselves
with sex when they finally gave in to their inner desires.

   The next week Lamar moved in with Bert and Gaile.  They were a family.

   "Mr.  and Mrs.  Martin.  Glad you could come in on such short notice. 
Please have a seat." It had been a long time since either one of us had
been called to the principal's office but we were still intimidated by 'The
Prinipal'.  And the chairs are always too small.

   "I wanted to talk to you a little bit about Pammy and Tammy.  Tammy
mostly.  Some of our girls mature early but frankly, yours are the most
precocious we have ever seen.  Have you noticed?"

   "Well, early bloomers run in my family." Sandy had anticipated this part
of the problem.

   "Have the girls been causing a problem?" I was a little more cautious.

   "No, not directly.  It's mostly how the other kids interact with Tammy.
She's been good but she gets teased a lot.  Pammy is a tiger protecting her
younger sister.  We're running out of bandaids and some parents are
starting to complain." Mr.  Blount looked up at me with a weak smile.

   "Also Tammy's teacher thinks that you might want to have your
pediatrician check her for...  well...  er.  We think Tammy may have a
yeast infection or something.  She rubs herself a lot."

   Uh oh.  The little gold bead.

   "We're thinking of putting the girls in special classes next year.  We
have a teacher that is trained in dealing with this sort of thing.  Would
that be OK with you?"

   "We had already planned to put Pammy in a private school over on the big
island next year.  Tammy might need some special attention, though." I
said, solving half of the nice man's dilemma.

   The principal did seem relieved.  He pressed a key on his intercom. 
"Gretta, would you ask Mr.  Washington to step in here for a moment."

   "I think you'll like Frank Washington.  He's had good luck in a couple
of other cases something like Tammy's.  He and his wife have three foster
children and he works well with young girls, one-on-one."

   I shot Sandy a glance.  She just shrugged.

   Mr.  Washington was exactly the kind of teacher that would work well
with Tammy.  About my size.  About my age.  Great smile.  The tiny silver
ear ring would not have contrasted quite as much in my ear lobe, though.

   Mr.  Blount absent mindedly introduced us to the well dressed black
teacher and I liked him immediately.  The phone was ringing and the
principal had another staff meeting to attend.  He dismissed us with the
back of his hand and turned to his intercom.

   We walked out of the administration offices with the attractive Mr. 
Frank Washington.  The gentle black man invited us to see his office and
the classroom our daughter would be spending the next year in if we
approved the curriculum.

   Down one floor and in the back of the building, a small facility had
been set up with an entry area almost like a reception office.  The
teacher's desk and a couple of file cabinets on one wall.  A comfortable
imitation leather covered sofa on the other.  Through a door and down a
short hall was four smaller rooms with tiny windows high in their doors. 
One of the doors stood open.

   A fifth windowless door at the end of the hall closed off a restroom.

   As we stepped in behind Mr.  Washington, he scooped something off his
desk and pocketed it in his side jacket pocket.  Sandy was ahead of me and
I couldn't see what it was but thought it was probably a handkerchef.

   "We have enough space for four children but only have three in the
program this year.  Next year with Pammy and Tammy we'll have four kids."
Mr.  Washington said as he sat down behind his small desk and motioned for
Sandy and I to have a seat.

   "We had been thinking of putting Pammy into a private school next year.
Some friend of ours have highly recommended a special school that their
daughter attended in grades six, seven and eight."

   "That would be such a disappointment." The teacher said rubbing his
chin. "I had so looked forward to having both of your daughters next year."

   Was this going where I thought it might be going?  I certainly was
getting a strange feeling about the whole set up.

   Mr.  Washington...  Frank, eventually showed us the individual study
room that was vacant.  Small desk, large cork board for projects and
artwork.  The ever present chalk board was on the opposite wall.  A
carpeted floor with a small mat and pillow rolled up in one corner for naps
made the tiny room very homey.  The room was well lighted and cheery.  I
would even have liked a room like it in our house.

   He explained that because each child in the program was likely to be in
a different grade there was a need for separation to allow individual
instruction and study.  Even though the rooms weren't totally sound
proofed, they did mute most of the distracting noises between students.

   As we stood talking in the short hall, I was startled to see Sandy
casually reach into the teacher's pocket and pull out the tiny wad of cloth
he had snagged off his desk when we entered.  Frank flinched but she was
too fast for him.

   Sandy held the pale blue scrap to her nose and inhaled deeply.

   "Young." She said looking up at the black teacher though her eyelashes.

   "She's seven." He said with a relieved smile.  "In the first room on the
right." He said, nodding with his head.

   The little girl was busy at the corkboard with some pieces of colored
paper.  Her back was to us but I could see that she was a tiny little
thing. Blond, with a single braid down almost to the middle of her back. 
She was dressed in a knee length pale pink frock with a white short sleeved
blouse underneath.  She was shoeless.  And, although we couldn't see,
pantiless.

   "I was just starting to work with her when Gretta paged me."

   The student in the second room was an oriental girl that looked to be
twelve or thirteen.  Quite well developed.  I assumed she would be moving
on next year leaving a vacancy for our daughters.  Well, one of them
anyway.

   The third room had a dark haired boy, also probably nearing junior high
age.  He was stripped down to his white briefs.  Asleep on the mat along
the far wall.  Co-ed.  I wondered how far that went?

   "We'll let you get back to your work." Sandy said with a smile, as she
slipped the tiny panties back into Frank's pocket.  We had reached a level
of understanding pleasing to us all.

   I exchanged a quick glance with my wife and we agreed.

   "I think your program would be perfect for Tammy.  She's a very special
girl and needs some very special attention." I said.

   As we made our departure, Sandy took one of the teacher's long fingered
black hands in both of hers.

   "Why don't you and your wife join us for dinner.  Say tomorrow afternoon
about five.  Nothing special.  Just a chance to become better acquanted. 
Tim will throw some steaks on the Hibachi.  Bring your girls, too, if you'd
like."

   "How did you know they are girls?" He asked.

   "Oh, just a guess." Sandy saw through him like he was made of fine
crystal.  "We have a pool.  Bring their suits if you want them to wear
anything." She added over her shoulder.

   Sandy was giggling to herself as we made our way through the quiet
school and out into the parking lot.

   With the high solid wall around our backyard, Sandy and I became quickly
accustomed to casual nudity in our backyard.  The gate was generally locked
and the only window in the front of the house with a veiw through to the
lanai and beyond was glazed with a themal covering that reflected sunlight
and acted as a one way mirror.

   All three of the girls and most of our friends and other family were
encouraged to join us in our nudity.  Sammy was potty trained and quickly
adapted.  Pammy and Tammy had never liked to wear clothes so they were avid
members of our little experiment in naturism.  If any of the gals wore a
swimsuit when strangers were around, it was so miniscule as to be
non-existant.

   Footwear was a necessity, however.  The hot pool deck was decidedly
uncomfortable barefoot.  Sandy shopped around and found a pair of cork
soled shoes for each of the girls, herself included.  The kind with the
thick soles and solid four inch high heels.  and the twine straps.  Very
chic...  and very sexy.  They gave each of our budding lolitas the
appearance of legs that went on forever.

   I could never get enough of looking at Pammy and Tammy.  They may have
been pleased with the rapid changes in their bodies over the past year.  I
was hypnotised.  They were very much alike but each different in her own
way.

   Pammy's hair was red like her mother's but straight like mine.  She
liked to wear it loose or in one or two ponytails.  She didn't have the
patience for braids.  Tammy had inherited Sandy's hair color and the curls,
too.  We tried to let it grow out but she wouldn't take care of it so Sandy
had had it cropped fairly short.  Tammy just ran a towel through her hair
and let it do whatever it wanted.

   They both were only a few inches short of five feet.  Pammy a little
taller and maybe a little thinner.  Her hormones, taken orally, didn't
quite cause the explosion they had caused in Tammy with the implant.

   Both their hips had broadened nicely.  Their pelvic girdle's were ready.
Waiting.

   They each had whisps of pale orange pubic hair that Sandy had encouraged
them to trim or shape or remove as they wished.  Neither of the girls
bothered.  You had to be within a couple of feet to tell they had any pubic
hair at all.

   They both did shave their legs and under their arms.  Sandy insisted on
that.  Whether they liked it or not.

   The one big difference in their bodies was in their breasts.  Both nice,
just different.

   Pammy's breasts were soft and white.  Gently rounded cones when she
stood, mounds when she reclined, with pale pink tips.  Her nipples were
nearly invisible, just a slightly darker shade of skin.  Up close, you
could see the tiny blue veins just below the surface of each globe.

   Tammy, on the other hand, had tits.  Nothing subtle about that girl. 
And no other way to describe her endowment.  Not huge.  A nice mouthful but
they were bigger, firmer, pointier.  Tammy's nipples were prominent.  Even
at rest they stood out about a quarter of an inch.  Aroused, her darker
colored areoli hardened up with wrinkles and the nipples doubled in size.

   For the past couple of years, Tammy's breasts had been hardwired to her
cunt.  Pinch her nipples and her pussy got wet...  pinch her clitoris and
her nipples hardened almost painfully.  And that's what she liked.  Pain.

   Psychologically, that was big difference between the girls.  They both
liked sex.  Couldn't get enough at times.  And they weren't real particular
who they fucked with.  They liked men, women, black, white, young, old.  We
had tried to engender a preference for adult black men in both of them and
it had worked well.

   But Pammy didn't like to be hurt in any way.  It truly disturbed her and
she took physical punishment as a rejection.  Pammy didn't mind dishing it
out though.  She could be very cruel, heartless even, in the way she
administered loving punishment to her sister.

   Tammy couldn't get enough of pain.  It was like an aphrodisiac to her.
If she was slapped on the butt, she would back up for more.  She didn't
like to be scolded but she loved to be spanked.  I gave up on that form of
discipline when I found out she could climax longer than my arm would hold
out.

   Our two oldest girls were perectly matched and we encouraged them to
experiment.  We did insist on some ground rules.  No cutting tools and no
small diameter ligatures that could leave marks.  If the word 'canteloupe'
was ever spoken by either one of them while they were playing, they were to
stop right there and come and get Sandy or me.  No exceptions.

   Permanent damage wasn't very sexy.

   Tammy had some ideas of her own in that direction too.  Our girls were
growing up.

   To be continued...