Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Chapter 1: Dr.  Simon's Office (MMg, intro, mast, nosex)

   Dr.  Simon and I have been friends since high school.  It's a little
unnerving having a doctor who you knew since childhood.  I mean, how can I
take him seriously knowing that he once banged Martha, the fat girl from
the band, just to win a bet?  Or the time that we both got caught drinking
beer under the bleachers and trying to look up the cheerleaders' skirts.

   Yup, James and I had been through a lot together.  He had apparently
straightened out his act and gone to medical school.  He was a family
practitioner in our town now, and my wife and I had been going to him for
years.

   We lived in a small town, and when Sally was born, he was the only
doctor on call at the local hospital, so my best friend got to deliver my
daughter.

   He was all professional during the procedure, and after, and I was
impressed.

   Three days later, however, at our weekly poker game, he described my
wife's pussy in very graphic detail to all of us.  He explained how he
watched as it spread open so wide that he thought Sally's head would rip it
in half as she emerged, and how it was such a nice cunt that if I ever let
him, he'd try to recreate that event in reverse with his own head...

   I told him he was a douchebag, but that was just the kind of friendship
we had.

   I had gone to college for business, and was a midlevel executive at one
of the only businesses in town.  I had an office and was basically a
paper-pusher with a nice salary and good title.

   My wife, Linda, had been my college girlfriend.  She was blonde, with
blue eyes.  Her body was just my type: thin and short, but with big tits.
She was one of those "Front-heavy/top-heavy" type of girls.  I loved that.

   I am definitely a boob man, and having a petite wife with a great rack
was heaven for me...

   Until she left me.

   My wife left Sally and I to run off to Vegas with her strip-aerobics
instructor to pursue her dream of being a dancer.  This had left me more
than a little jaded about women.  Sally has largely forgotten about her
mother, but alas, I was not so lucky.

   I still remember coming home that fateful day to find Sally, who was 4
at the time, sitting watching cartoons and eating Fruit Loops out of the
box.

   "Where's mommy?" I asked.

   "Mommy left?" Little Sally replied.

   "Where'd she go, the store?"

   "No, she said she was moving away.  She left you a letter on the table."

   She was so calm, I don't think she grasped what she was saying.

   I read Linda's letter, and I collapsed into one of the dining room
chairs, tears welling up in my eyes.  Sally wasn't watching me luckily.

   What was I going to do?  I was 27 years old!  I had a 4 year-old
daughter!  How can that bitch think I can handle this alone?!

   Sally kept me from falling apart.  It's amazing the strength you find
when someone else is depending on you.  If it had just been me and Linda
had left, I would've crawled into a bottle and probably never come back
out.

   But Sally deserved at least one parent, so I picked myself up and sat
with her eating Fruit Loops and watching cartoons until it got dark that
night.

   Don't get me wrong, I still drank quite a bit, but only after Sally was
asleep and never around her.

   After a few self-indulgent months, I moved past it and quit most of the
drinking.  I still had a passion for single malt scotch, but it was more of
a special treat, rather than a meal.

   Jim (now known around town as Dr.  Simon) was a great friend after Linda
left.  He'd arrange for babysitters and take me out to the bar on Friday
night.

   A few times, I'd come home drunk from the bar to find one of his
"babysitters" waiting for me on my bed in nothing but lingerie.  They
always looked like college girls and always said things like, "I was all
alone in this big scary house after Sally went to bed, come keep me
company..." or other cheesy, rehearsed lines like that.

   Because Jim always got me shit-faced and then drove me home, I always
fell for it and climbed into bed.  The girls were always beautiful, and
they always fucked my brains out.  Had I not been drunk, I would've seen
through it sooner, but as it was, it took about 6 months of this before I
found out that Jim was calling a local escort service and hiring the girls,
telling them it was for babysitter roll-play and that a real child was
involved.

   He made plenty of money as a doctor, and thought it would help me move
past Linda while rebuilding my confidence with women.

   It would've been a nice gesture, if he hadn't have revealed the whole
plan at another one of our poker games to all my buddies.  They howled and
laughed and once again, I told Jim that he was douchebag.  He just clapped
me on the back and told me that he could tell I needed to get some.

   My life progressed like this more many years.  Sally got older and we
had a good father-daughter bond.  I was active with her school activities,
I was around to help her with her homework, and I would watch TV with her
in the evenings.

   In the dark recesses of my mind, not the place where guys keep their
schoolgirl fetishes or the memories of the teenage asses that they check
out at the mall, but much, much deeper than that, I always half-wondered
what it would be like when Sally got older.  Would it be like having a
younger, nicer, pseudo-clone of Linda living alone with me?

   Sally definitely had always had Linda's facial features, and her blonde
hair and blue eyes, but she was a little girl so my comparison never went
beyond that.  Had Sally been in high school, I'm sure I would've let my
eyes wander a few times, and maybe gone through her top dresser drawer out
of morbid curiosity (you know, like the way a horny teenage boy will
inevitably do to his teenage sisters), but there was some intangible veil
over my eyes that prevented me from doing the same to Sally right now.

   In the few months after Linda left, I took on the role of both father
and mother.  I bathed Sally, (Nothing sexual, she was only four!) and
bought her clothes, and got her hair cuts; all the things moms do with
their little girls.

   As she got older and more self-sufficient, she was able to bathe
herself, so I stopped that activity around age 5.

   I still took her shopping when she needed clothes.  This continued until
she had just turned eight and I started getting the stink eye from women in
the Girls' department at Target.

   To this day, I don't get it.  Obviously she was my daughter, Hell, I was
30 and she was eight!  But regardless of the reason behind their uneasiness
toward me as I waited outside the fitting room for Sally, it was plain to
see that the entire department was uncomfortable with a man invading their
domain.

   One time, as I sat there surrounded by neon little girl clothes waiting
for my daughter, I decided that this was the last time I'd do this.

   Every time after that, when Sally needed clothes, I'd take her to the
department and commandeer the nearest salesgirl and play up the clueless
single dad routine (which wasn't that much of a stretch for me...)

   They were always young teenagers and college girls, and they were always
willing to help Sally shop.  I suspect it was because it got them out of
doing real work.  After all, women of all ages love to shop, especially
when a man is paying, so they were happy to help Sally buy whatever she
needed.

   At first, I used to stay in the store and look at electronics or
sporting goods (about as manly as you can be in Target) but then I got more
adventurous and I'd leave Sally there all afternoon and get some errands
done.  Sometimes I'd catch a movie, or have a beer and watch the game at
the bar.

   I never went too far or was gone for too long, and nothing bad ever
happened.  Over the years, it got to be a routine.  Every employee at
Target knew about Sally Brown and her clueless but well-meaning single dad.

   That routine actually got me a few dates with some of the college-aged
employees who thought I was just so sweet (and really cute, apparently!).
And I learned fast that a "date" to a college girl meant a free meal in
exchange for a fuck.  I slept with at least two of Sally's personal
shoppers (though not at the same time!) It was fun, but it never went
anywhere.  The girls were far too young to be looking for anything real,
and I wasn't the kind of guy they'd invite to Spring Break or the local
frat party, so it became a convenience thing.  When we went shopping,
occasionally I'd get to fuck one of them, kinda like a kid gets an ice
cream if they behave.  This was only about once every six months, so
needless to say, my sex life was mostly online.

   Over the years since Linda left, I had acquired quite a healthy
collection of porn, but I always made sure that Sally was otherwise engaged
and locked my bedroom door before polishing my pole.

   It was the typical, less-than-perfect, dysfunctional but loving
single-parent family.  And that's how Sally and I lived, at least until the
beginning of the summer between third and fourth grades.

   Sally had finished classes a week before, and had pretty much been a bum
since getting out.  She slept late, she watched TV, and she went to the
mall with her friends.  I, of course, worked during the day and had dinner
with her in the evenings.  Then we usually ended up watching something on
Netflix before bed.

   Our life started to get weird when Sally screamed one Saturday morning
from the bathroom, "Daddy, daddy, I think I'm dying!"

   I rushed in and saw her standing in front of the toilet holding a pair
of panties and crying.  There was a small amount of blood in them.  Any
father would immediately think that his daughter was starting her periods,
but Sally was only nine.  It couldn't be that.

   I don't know anything about medicine, but I called up Jim and told him I
was bringing in Sally for vaginal bleeding and that I was worried.

   Needless to say, he said come right in.  Having a best friend who's a
doctor has its benefits, after all.

   The whole ride in, Sally was in tears and I was thinking about all the
worst case scenarios.  Could it be cancer?  Or something worse?  Pssh, what
could be worse than cancer?  What else could cause that in a little girl?

   Luckily, Jim's practice is closed on weekends, so when we got there, his
beamer was the only car in the lot.  He heard the door as we walked in, and
hollered for us to come on back.  The office was dim except for the light
on in one exam room.

   I headed toward the light clutching Sally's hand as I went.  I stepped
into an exam room I had never been in before.  I was about to comment to
Jim about how I had never seen this room before, when I realize it was the
gynecology suite.  No wonder I hadn't seen it before!

   All over the walls were posters of women's crotches, and there were all
sorts of brochures for breast exams and pap smears on the counter tops.

   Instead of the normal table with the paper roll on it, there was a chair
with stirrups in the center of the room.

   Jim was sitting on the doctor stool flipping through Sally's chart as we
walked in.  He was wearing his white coat but under it I could see he was
in jeans and T-shirt.  Probably working on the car.  I hope he hadn't been
drinking too much while he did...

   He looked up as we entered.

   "Hi, Sally," he said, genuine concern in his voice.  He handed her a
gown and said, "I need you to get completely naked and wear this, just like
your other check-ups, okay?  Remember the opening goes in the front."

   Sally nodded, taking the gown.

   "C'mon Bob, let's let Sally change in privacy." He motioned to the hall
and headed out behind me, closing the door.

   I was always impressed how Jim had the ability to go from complete and
total immature prick to professional and compassionate doctor.

   Jim was a self-proclaimed lifelong bachelor.  All the years spent in
medical school caused him to want to rebel against routines and rules, so
he pretty much lived like Tony Stark, enjoying the money and power of being
a doctor, and making the most out of his life.  He had a huge house and a
garage that housed at least 3 functioning cars, plus parts of several he
was rebuilding.

   He confessed to me at one point that he got such great treatment from
that escort service because he used them frequently for his own
extra-curricular desires as well.  (As he got drunker that night, he also
told me that he had hand-selected all the girls that he had sent to my
house by violating each one in every hole before I did.  That's just the
kind of guy Jim was, an odd mix of caring and selfish with a smattering of
horny mixed in.)

   We lived in a small town, and his practice was the only primary care
office for 30 miles.  Because of that, he had a huge gamut of patients,
from the very young, to the very old, and everything between, including
many hot eligible women.  I always wondered which side of him was the
stronger of the two.  The womanizing, horny asshole side would probably
grab the young female patients, bend them over the exam table and plow them
from behind, while still wearing his lab coat and making them call him
"Doc;" while the professional and clinical side would never look with lust
upon another human life that had been entrusted to his care.  I suspected
that his morality lay somewhere in the middle.  That got my mind wandering
about which of the hot women in our town he had been inside of under color
of his authority.

   "Bob, I know you're worried about Sally," he said, as we stood in the
dim hallway waiting for her to finish changing.

   I nodded.

   "I want you to know, I'll take care of her like she's my own daughter.
But you gotta try and be strong right now, okay, she's already worried
enough.  Tell her it'll be okay."

   I nodded again.

   Jim knocked on the door, "You done, Sally?"

   "Yeah."

   We walked back in.  Sally was seated in the gyno chair now, her feet
hung down between the stirrups, swinging nervously.  She held the edges of
the gown together in the front.

   Jim slipped back into his doctor persona, flipping idly through the
chart as he talked, "So how old are you now, Sally?"

   "Nine."

   "Wow, you're getting big.  I remember when you were born."

   "I know," she said, "My daddy said you delivered me."

   "Yes I did, you were no bigger than my hands."

   After a few more seconds or flipping through the chart, he said, "Okay
Sally, I'm gonna ask you a bunch of questions and you just answer them as
well as you can, okay?"

   She nodded.

   He started off with all the normal bullshit doctor questions like, "Are
you sleeping well?" and, "Is anything bothering you?"

   He asked about fevers, and coughs, and headaches.  Then he started
asking about her pee and poop (it's weird to hear your best friend use
those words, but I guess it's because he was talking to a child...)

   She said all that was fine.  Then it got interesting.

   "Sally, when did this bleeding start?"

   "I saw it this morning."

   "And how much blood was it?"

   "Here," I said, wanting to contribute something, I handed Jim the bloody
panties that I had grabbed on the way out the door.

   He looked at the crotch and the handed them back to me.

   "Sally, the next couple questions are a little embaressing but I need to
ask, okay?"

   She nodded.

   "Did you do anything down there last night?"

   Jesus Christ!  She's nine!  Just cuz the young skanks he probably fucks
all have 14 inch black dildos that they ram into their twats doesn't mean
my baby girl does!

   I managed to keep my anger in check.

   "No." she said matter-of-factly.

   "Have you ever stuck anything up there?"

   "No!  Like what?!"

   "Anything at all.  Like a finger?  Or a hairbrush handle?  Or one of
your toys?"

   Jim wasn't making eye contact with me at all during this part.  These
must be hard things to ask a little girl in front of her father.

   "No, honest!"

   "If you did, honey, tell Dr.  Simon.  I promise you won't get in
trouble..." I added, trying to help.

   "I didn't!" she yelled, bursting into tears again.

   "Okay, okay, Sally.  We just need to be sure."

   I put my hand on Sally's shoulder to comfort her.  Jim rolled a small
table over to the foot of the chair, and adjusted the stirrups to the
shortest length possible.

   "Okay, Sally, I need you to put your feet up here."

   She looked nervous, but she complied.

   I moved to look over Jim's shoulder so I could see anything that was
wrong if he pointed it out.

   Jim did not object to this, and he affixed a strap-on head light to his
forehead.

   "Going mining later?" I asked.

   He ignored the comment, flicked the light on, and flung back Sally's
gown until it was resting on her stomach.

   And there is was, right before me, my nine year-old daughter's cunt. 
Pussy?  Can you call it a cunt or pussy if they're not even a teenager yet?
Maybe `cunny' was a more diplomatic word for now.

   Regardless of what I called it in my mind, Sally's cunny was covered in
thick, black pubes.  I was taken aback.  Her lips were almost completely
obscured by the hair, which extended up over her mound.  I hadn't seen a
pussy, ahem cunny, this hairy since I stole a 1980s Playboy from my
tentmate in Boy Scouts.

   What the Hell, she was nine!  Why on earth would she have all this hair
down there?

   I thought back to when I was going through puberty, I don't think I grew
pubes until I was almost in high school.

   I returned my attention to what was going on in front of me.  Jim now
had his gloved hand on Sally's cunny, and was spreading her lips apart.  He
reached over to the table and grabbed a pediatric speculum, which he slid
into my baby girl.

   She grimaced at the sensation, and I reached for her hand.  She squeezed
my hand tight as Jim began to ratchet the jaws open, spreading my baby wide
open so we could look inside.

   After a minute of peering around, Jim laughed.

   Yeah, that's right, that mother fucker laughed!

   I swore at that moment if he made a joke about Sally's cunny, I was
gonna punch him.

   Sally also heard him laugh and she did not look amused.

   "Something funny there, Doc?" I asked.

   "Not really," he said, "But you two should be relieved."

   "Why is that?  What'd you find?"

   "Here, come look."

   I wasn't sure what I was looking for, or how I felt about staring up
inside of my daughter's spread pussy, but I complied.  I moved in closer.
The unmistakable smell of pussy hit my nose, and I realized the intimacy of
what I was doing to my daughter.

   "See that blood there, and where it's coming from?"

   "Uh huh," I lied.

   "Sally's a woman!"

   "Huh?"

   He turned to face Sally, withdrawing the speculum as he did so.  Sally
grimaced again.

   I found myself continuing to look at my daughter's pussy.  Suddenly, she
didn't seem so young to me.

   Her hairy lips hung open slightly from the trauma of the speculum exam,
and there was some blood matting her pubes a little.

   "Sally, you had your first period!  You're a woman now!  Isn't that
great?"

   Sally burst into tears again.

   Meanwhile, I was so happy I could've somersaulted.  At least she didn't
have cancer.

   "Well," Jim said, taking Sally's legs out of the stirrups and pulling
out a retractable extension for the bed for her to rest them on, "Now that
you're body is going through these changes, we should give you the rest of
your grown-up exam, okay?"

   She just kinda stared at him, tears in her eyes and streaking her
cheeks.

   "Just lay back, Sally," he said, laying the back of the bed flat.

   Sally did.

   Jim reached over and loosened her grip on the front of the gown.  She
let it go, but then nervously searched for someplace to put her hands.

   Jim spread the two halves of the gown apart, and what I saw changed my
life forever.

   Sally had two of the most perfect, gravity-defying breasts I have ever
seen.

   Her tiny little waist, and her flat child's stomach swelled to a pair of
tits fit for Girls Gone Wild.

   Amazingly, Jim kept his composure.

   "Wow, Sally, you really have developed since the last time I saw you. 
What size bra do you wear right now?"

   "She doesn't wear a br..." I started.

   "28-C." Sally answered.

   "When did you start wearing a bra?  Where did you even get a bra?" I
asked, confused.

   "My boobs started growing about six months ago, and I told Tasha about
it and she helped measure me for a bra.  It was in the cart when we checked
out that day, Daddy."

   Tasha was one of the Target salesgirls, a 23 year old grad student with
quite an ample bosom of her own.  I had only gotten to sleep with her once,
to my dismay.  I think she said she had gotten married since.

   "Well, one thing that is common when breast tissue grows this fast is
metaplasia." Jim said.  Then, realizing that we had no idea what that
meant, he turned to Sally and said, "That means things may go haywire with
the growing process.  If it isn't detected, it can lead to cancer later in
life.  This is why women get breast exams every year."

   "Will it hurt?" Sally asked.

   "No, you're just gonna feel my hands.  Just try and relax."

   With that, Jim moved Sally's arm over her head and began at her armpit,
feeling in a linear pattern across my preteen daughter's very perky tits.
My eyes were glued to Jim's fingers as they probed and dug in to the
pliable white flesh.  Delicious flesh...

   As she lay there, naked and her eyes closed, she reminded me very much
of Linda.

   I started letting my mind drift to all the things Linda and I used to
do. I had met her when she was nineteen in college.  She had been such a
firecracker.  She used to love to tease guys with her cleavage, and tank
tops and V necks were common for her.  She was a D cup, and I used to play
with them every chance I got.

   She loved it, too.  She used to tell me that her nipples were very
sensitive, and I could always make her moan when I would suck on them.  I
loved to thrash my tongue against them, and sometimes she'd ask me to take
them between my teeth and tug on them.  I was always afraid that this would
hurt her, but she always moaned so loud when I did it, that after a few
times, I stopped worrying.  I could never be too rough with her nipples;
the rougher I got, the more she loved it.  I would even try to hurt her at
times just to find out where the line was, and I never succeeded in finding
it.

   We had even experimented with some unorthodox things a few times.  She
loved clothespins on both her tits and on her nipples.  She especially
loved it if you pulled her nipple away from her chest nice and far and then
applied to clothespin to the base, so it held it under tension.

   Throughout our marriage, I had applied nearly every edible sauce to
Linda's tits, including whipped cream, Hershey's syrup, and honey.

   I had slathered them in baby oil and fucked her cleavage hard and fast
until I shot my load all over her face.  I had fucked her from behind while
squeezing a breast in each hand and using them as leverage to pull her back
onto my cock.  I have covered her tits with my cum in almost every possible
way.  She even let me nipple-fuck her (we had googled breast play one time
and that gave us a very informative list of breast-releated activites to
try.  It described nipple-fucking as a man thrusting his hard-on into a
well-endowed woman's nipple so that you're basically driving directly into
the meat of her breast.) Surpsingly, she even liked that.  One time while I
nipple-fucked her, I thought my cum was gonna shoot out my ears because her
titflesh completely occluded my pee hole, but luckily, my cum found a way
out and squirted all over her very red and angry nipple...

   I realized that as I was remembering all these things I did with my
wife's tits, I was staring blankly at Sally's.  I snapped back to reality
and saw that Jim was still squishing away in a methodical manner at Sally's
breast meat.  He was directly over her left nipple now.

   "Sally, it's important you do this at home, too.  Most women do it in
the shower.  Check for any lumps or any pain.  Also, squeeze your nipple
gently like this and see if any blood or fluid comes out."

   As he said this, he grasped Sally's puffy, pink nipple between his thumb
and forefinger and gently squeezed, rolling it between his fingers.  He did
this a few times, pinching and twisting, until it got hard and stood up
nearly a half inch from the surrounding tissue.  At this point, Jim
released it and resumed the prodding of the rest of her breast.

   I found something oddly zen about watching Jim do this.  It was kinda
like watching someone mow their lawn, only instead of grass, it was a pair
of perfect tits with puffy nipples.

   And they really were perfect!  Sally was laying completely flat, with
her arms over her head, and yet her tits still pointed straight up to the
ceiling.  When Linda would lay flat, her tits splayed off to the sides. 
She would often pull her arms in tight against her ribs to "squish" her
tits back together.  She always complained that she looked flat when she
was on her back.  It wasn't the least bit true, it was obvious she had
tits, just that they were subject to gravity and spilled off to the sides
of her chest.

   Sally did not have that problem.

   Her nipples were also different than Linda's.  Sally's were pale pink
and very "puffy." There was a smooth line from the tip of her nipple, and
over her areola, which then blended with the smooth contour of her breast
tissue.

   Being single all these years, and getting to fuck more college girls
than most thirty year-olds, I was not a stranger to the puffy-nippled teen;
in fact, I had an entire folder of "Puffy Porn" on my hard drive.  I
fancied myself quite the connoisseur of puffy nipples.  I had never guessed
that my nine year-old was hiding the most perfect pair of puffies
underneath her shirts right under my nose (well, technically they were
under HER nose...)

   When Jim finished with her left breast, he moved on to the right,
repeating the same process.  Sally's eyes remained closed.  That's probably
for the best.  At least she hadn't caught me staring at her tits blankly.

   After he had finished with her chest, Jim sat the back of the bed up to
a seated position, and reached into a drawer, grabbing a handful of wrapped
items from a drawer.  He opened one, and I realized they were tampons.

   I just stood there watching my best friend calmly explain the tampon to
my completely naked, and very busty daughter.  Now that she was sitting up,
it once again baffled me how I could have missed these giant tits strapped
to my daughter's chest.

   I wasn't some deadbeat dad who never saw his kid.  I wasn't some
workaholic who had nannies do all his parenting.  I was around all the time
for Sally.

   Perhaps that's the problem.  Maybe I had stumbled onto the old lobster
in the pot idea.  Maybe I never noticed gradual changes, I only notice
drastic ones.  Sally had been gradually filling out for months and I never
knew, but the first time I see her topless, I was smacked in the face with
a huge change.  (As I was thinking this, I realized that I'd really like to
be smacked in the face with the two `huge changes' that were perched in my
field of view...)

   That must be how that veil worked.  Because I saw Sally every day from
when she was four, I still imagined her like that.  Well, I can tell you
for a fact that that veil is shredded and set on fire now.  I shifted my
weigh and for the first time realized that my cock was as hard as stone.

   It must've been from thinking about Linda...  Yeah, that's why. 
Certainly couldn't be from Sally, she's only nine.  I reminded myself that
as I continued to stare at her very top-heavy form as she sat naked in
Jim's office.

   I was so preoccupied with her tits, I almost missed Jim kneel in front
of Sally, and insert the tampon into her cunny.  Her expression told me she
didn't like the feeling, but once it was in, she shifted around a little
and seemed to be okay with it.

   Jim gathered up the rest of the tampons and wrapped them up in a bag for
her.

   "Make sure you get that bum of a dad of yours to go buy you some more,
okay?  These' won't last you too long."

   She nodded.  Jim reached over and dried her eyes.

   "Hey kid, you gonna be okay?"

   She nodded, sniffling loudly.

   "You're such a beautiful girl.  If I met you at a bar one night and your
old man wasn't there with me, I'd flirt with you..." he grinned as he said
it, and that made Sally grin to.

   "Hey now..." I said.

   He leaned in and whispered, "Don't tell your old man I said this, but
you've got a great body, kid."

   She smiled.

   "Okay, you're free to go.  Get dressed, I'm gonna talk to your dad for a
minute, okay?"

   We didn't leave the room that time, we just headed to the doorway.  I
deliberately faced into the room, watching my daughter as Jim started
talking to me in a low tone.

   "I'm really glad it's nothing more than a case of precocious puberty,
Bob."

   I glanced over as Sally slid off the table, causing her bare breasts to
bounce seductively.

   "What could cause that?" I asked, tearing my eyes off my naked daughter
and back to the gaze of my friend.

   "Hell if I know," he said, shifting his stance, "Maybe it's all the
hormones we pump into chicken these days.  Or maybe it's genetics."

   He paused for a moment for dramatic effect, then continued, "I mean, if
I remember correctly, Linda had some rather large..."

   "Jim!"

   I looked back into the room and saw Sally pulling up her panties.  There
were hot pink cotton briefs.  Looked like something Target would sell...

   "Hey man, I kept it professional, but it would be ridiculous of me to
not notice that Sally has some large breasts.  Body shapes are usually
genetic, so I suspect that she's gonna look a lot like Linda did as she
gets older."

   I looked back in the room and saw that Sally had fished a hot pink bra
out of her pile of clothes and was struggling to get the back clasped
before pulling it up over her tits.  Once it was in place, she adjusted
both breasts inside the cups and fixed the straps so they laid flat on her
shoulders.  It was mesmerizing to watch all that tit flesh jiggle around
inside that bra.

   The bra matched the panties.  It was the same hot pink color and the
same quasi-conservative cotton material.  There was no lace or silk
anywhere on it, just a basic boobie holster.

   After Sally had the bra situated on her chest, I returned my attention
to Jim.  While I was preoccupied by the little show my daughter was
inadvertently putting on, he had followed my gaze and was watching it too.

   I looked back at him to find him watching Sally.  Before I could say
anything (like `What the fuck, asshole!') he said, "She does look a lot
like Linda.  This can't be easy for you."

   I shrugged.

   "I just can't believe that she's had those tits for six months and I
haven't paid enough attention to her to notice.  I thought I was a good
father."

   "You are a good father, that's WHY you haven't noticed.  Fathers aren't
supposed to notice their daughters' tits."

   I nodded, this serious doctor side of Jim was nice sometimes.  But, like
always, he had to fuck it up almost immediately by adding, "However,
fathers' best friends ARE supposed to notice perky, giant, young, preteen
tits with puffy, pink nipples..."

   "Asshole!" I cried out, a little too loud.

   "Hey man, relax.  I saw you looking to.  There's nothing wrong with men
looking at attractive women.  We're hard-wired to notice characteristics,
like big boobs, and flared hips.  It's just biology."

   Glancing down, he added, "Though you look a little more `hard-wired'
than I do right now, if you catch my drift..."

   I realized that my rock-hard cock was tenting out the front of my
slacks.

   Before I could say anything, Jim said, "Bathroom's over there," pointing
down the hall.

   I nodded and walked rather awkwardly toward it.

   As soon as I shut the door, I whipped my cock out.  It was amazing how
hard I had gotten before I even noticed that I was hard.  Sally had
preoccupied me that much, I guess.

   I grabbed a handful of paper towels in my left hand and grasped my
hard-on with my right.

   I closed my eyes as I slowly began rubbing along the length of my shaft.
As I jerked off, I remembered the morning.

   I remember Jim pulling open that gown and revealing Sally's awesome tits
to me like a car dealer pulling the cover off a new model.  I thought about
how firm they were, yet how Jim's fingers had made the flesh look so soft
under them.  I thought about how he had molested her puffy nipple until to
it was almost half an inch long...

   I imagined standing on the other side of the table doing the same thing
to her right breast.

   Once I got her nipple hard, I dropped my mouth to it and thrashed it
with my tongue like Linda always loved.  Then I'd capture it between my
teeth and draw it away from her breast.

   I imagined the noises she'd make involuntarily as I let it pop from my
teeth.  Her titflesh would jiggle a bit and then settle back into place,
her crinkled up young nipple, bright red and angry from the abuse, would
sit proudly on top.

   I imagined gathering up one of her giant breasts between both hands and
applying a tittie strangle hold to her firm young flesh, squeezing it
tightly and watching as it turned red.  As I did this, I'd suckle at her
nipple some more...

   Before Linda left, we had started experimenting with breast bondage.  We
had only tried it a few times, but I always loved tying her ample tits up,
watching the flesh strain against the rope with each breath she drew.

   Sally's breasts looked even firmer.  I starting thinking about where I'd
run the ropes if I was to tie those preteen breasts.  I wondered what color
her pale pink nipple would turn as I let her breasts get darker and darker
red.  I thought about having her tied to the four posts of my bed as I
jerked off straddling her until I dropped my load all over those
proud-standing globes.  My cum would slowly run down her breasts and
collect in the valley between them.  I thought about untying one of her
hands and making her scoop it up and eat it off her fingers...

   My balls tightened at this thought, and I jerked my cock faster, my
breathing deep and ragged.  I grunted far too loudly as I shot what seemed
like a gallon of cum into the wad of paper towels.

   `That was intense,' I thought, as I regained my composure.

   After the last few cum dribbles had finished, I wiped off my soft dick
and zipped up my pants.  I debated what I should do with the paper towels
saturated with my cum.

   My first thought was to flush the evidence.

   My second thought was to leave it in the trash so Jim's bathroom smelled
like cum for the next few days.  I was gonna do that, but I decided that I
didn't want to make some old lady uncomfortable (or horny) on Monday...

   But still, Jim had clearly enjoyed feeling up my daughter this morning,
and since he got to touch every inch of those magnificent breasts and I
still haven't, I decided I had to get even.

   I opened the bathroom door, and flipped off the light.  I made my way
across the hall to Jim's dark office, depositing the cum-soaked paper
towels right into the center of his nice, oak desk with a loud, splat.

   Chuckling to myself, I returned to the gyn room, and saw Sally and Jim
standing in the corner talking in low tones.  Jim had on his `Flirting at
the Bar' face, and Sally had on her `I'm having a Bad Day' face.

   "Hey buddy," he said sarcastically, "Everything all right in there?  You
were gone for a while."

   "Yeah, it was pretty messy.  Definitely unexpected..."

   "I'll bet," Jim chuckled.

   He wouldn't be chuckling if he knew my cum was seeping into the oak
grain on his desk as we spoke...

   "So, are you sure it's just her period?  I saw Linda have a period
without a pad once and it was a lot more blood than this." I inquired in a
normal tone, including Sally in the conversation.

   "I'm sure.  First periods are often a smaller volume.  Her next few may
be irregular too," he said, shifting his focus to Sally, he added, "Don't
let that get you down.  It'll all even out soon, I promise."

   "Okay," we both said in unison.

   "I wanna see her again in six months, so call my secretary Monday and
get it on the books, okay?  I don't mind this weekend bull shit for a
friend in need every once in a while, but I think this'll have to last you
the year.  Capish?"

   "I understand.  Thanks a lot, man.  I owe you."

   "Don't worry, I'll call in that debt someday!"

   We all walked out together, and after Sally was in the car and Jim was
getting in his, he called out, "And if those things get any bigger, bring
her back in for a very thorough follow-up exam!"

   "You're a dick!" I called back, opening my door and getting into my car.