Author: Oliver Newton Title: Sophie in the Morning Summary: A father discovers the perils of a young girl's virgin beauty. Keywords: Mg, intimate moments, incestuous thought ======================== Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It is a product of a fertile imagination. Under no circumstances does the author recommend or even suggest that a reader should attempt any similar behaviour or actions. Do not try this at home! ======================== Sophie lay on the other side of the bed, her back turned to me, sleeping soundly. I lifted the duvet slightly to look at my daughter's beautiful naked body and wanted to reach out and touch it. My usual morning erection stiffened and was within an inch or so of her firm round buttocks. The temptation to spoon, to press that urgent penis between her thighs, rubbing it against the soft yielding lips of her vulva, sent the blood that so stiffened my cock pounding alarmingly in my ears. Quietly and carefully I eased myself out of the bed. I felt her stir before I heard her say 'Dad?' in that irresistible way I'd heard a hundred, a thousand, times before. "Yes darling?" I replied, already with one foot on the floor and halfway out of the bed. "Cuddle?" she pleaded demandingly. She had a way of asking for things that was irresisitible and an invitation to cuddle made me a real and total slave: but I was naked, she was naked... and I had a hard-on that got even harder just at the sound of her invitation. I should like to say that I was resolute. That I did not slide back under the covers and welcome her warm entrancing body into my arms. That I somehow prevented my iron-hard erection from coming into contact with her firm thighs as she slithered on top of me and nuzzled into my neck like a joyful kitten. But I didn't. I hugged her and kissed her and exalted in our closeness. I admitted to myself that this was what I had always wanted but had been too scared to suggest or initiate. Sophie lay on my chest, her legs slipping either side of my hips and my penis was so close to her vulva that if I rotated my hips very slightly the tip nudged against her vulva. I ran my hand slowly down her hack and caressed her bum and let a finger idly find its way between the cheeks and to gently explore the firm ridged rosebud sphincter of her anus. She murmured softly: not a moan or a sigh, but somewhere between, like a breath of wind rustling the reeds by a mirror smooth lake on a summer's day. I let my finger drift on and trace the cleft of her velvet vulva until I encountered the nub of her clitoris. She sighed again and seemed to relax invitingly. Had she complained or stiffened I would have used that as my spur to desist; but that soft yielding relaxation emboldened me. After all, I had done this before and she had seemed to respond positively o those previous occasions. Gently, ever so gently, I stroked the nub and explored the heavenly softness of her labia, the inviting entrance to her vagina and her puckered rosebud. I steadfastly resisted a terrific urge to grasp my erection and rub it against her clitoris and force it into the welcoming mouth of her vagina. It is not that I did not want to: the urge to force myself into her was painfully, frighteningly powerful. But this was my darling little virgin girl who was far too precious to sacrifice to such a primeval urge. Oddly this victory of love over lust had the unexpected consequence of deflating my penis but increasing my wonder at the calmness, tranquility even, with which Sophie allowed me to fondle her so intimately. I relaxed and continued gently stroking her, every now and again gently probing her anus and vagina and was surprised that she gave no sign that she was unhappy with these tentative intrusions. I was surprised, though pleased, that even a slight penetration seemed to be almost welcomed. My intuition suggested that she was interested in this new activity but also uncertain how to respond. Consequently I was reticent to do too much or go too deep. Sophie was totally relaxed, quite a weight on my chest, breathing slowly and deeply into my neck. My attentions seemed to be relaxing rather than exciting her, but it was much the same for me, so I continued slowly and gently and thought about the rest of the day, hoping not to disturb her and anyway far too engrossed in the inviting softnesses between her legs. "Darling," I began quietly, hoping not to disturb her, "I was going to Waterworld tonight; would you like to go?" The duvet exploded off us and she sat up excitedly. "Oh my God! Yes!" she exclaimed, sitting herself, I wondered whether deliberately, on my recumbent penis, which immediately began to stiffen again, probably encouraged by her wriggling excitedly. "It's a nudist event," I explained reluctantly, remembering that she had not wanted to accompany me to nudist swims previously. As I had on those occasions I added, "you don't have to be nude, you can wear bikini bottoms." "Is everyone nude?" "Yes, it is an official BN event." "BN?" she asked, wriggling rather deliberately on my, by then, firmly erect penis that was beginning to leak precum already. "British Naturism," I expanded. "I've never been on one of these events and always wanted to." "Mum and Steven don't like theme parks if they aren't in Florida or somewhere exotic" she replied dismissively but continuing to wriggle forward on my cock so that, instead of sticking out between her thighs the glans was being kissed by her labia and getting dangerously close to her vagina. I was in a quandary! But when she shifted her hips slightly the glans seemed to slip almost into the mouth of her vagina, I could feel it tightening around the head as she pushed against me. I panicked and moved, actually forcing the head a little further in so I could feel her vagina clamping tightly around the tip. Immediately I lifted her off me. "Shower time!" I almost shouted, getting out of bed as quickly as I could and stumbling across to the bathroom and almost throwing myself into the shower. Sophie came into the bathroom as I was regaining my composure under a deliberately cold douche. She sat on the loo watching me as she did whatever she was doing, stood up, wiped herself, flushed and sat down again. She waited until I stepped out of the shower and began to dry myself before speaking. I was terrified that it was going to be an indictment of my recent behaviour and a demand to be taken home to her mother. Instead she waited until I had finished drying myself, watching me as if uncertainty was gnawing at her thoughts. To break the ice I said "shower's free." She did not respond for a second or two and then asked, just as I was hanging the towel over the heated rail "why are you a nudist?" Turning to face her, and thankfully pendulous, I could almost hear her mother asking the same question when I had finally plucked up the courage to reveal my secret addiction as a prelude to suggesting a nudist holiday. "Because I like to be naked," I replied. "So do I," she said quietly, "but why does mum, teachers - everyone really - say its wrong?" "I wish I knew" I said, sitting on the edge of the bath, unsure how to proceed. "But do they tell you nudism is wrong?" She had stood up and opened the door to the shower but paused to answer. "They say showing your body to someone else is wrong," she said, "you know, like sexting and stuff. It's like it's the middle ages again." Before I could respond she had closed the shower door and turned on the water. Though tempted to watch I went back into the bedroom and started to tidy, remaking the bed and picking up her discarded clothes. I went to my room, opened the blinds and thought for a moment about getting dressed but decided to stay naked, telling myself that it was to see how Sophie would react but in fact was just a way of putting off the moment of having to get dressed and return to normal life. I was doing the washing up when Sophie came into the kitchen. She had a towel wound around herself and another around her head. "What's for breakfast?" she asked and then sat at the table texting or snapchatting or watching a video. For a moment I was tempted to make some sarcastic comment about not having servants in this house but bit my tongue, I had made comments before that were really my mean streak breaking the surface and which had hurt her: she couldn't be blamed for her lifestyle or, I realised ruefully, she could be quite rude about my inability to provide the luxury to which she was used. Having made and eaten breakfast, washed up again, swept and vacuumed and tidied I had to go shopping and Sophie declined my invitation saying that her hair was wet; and she did not appreciate my ironic comment that it was raining: however, she did give me a list of the things she wanted. The cold and the rain sobered me up in the few steps to the car. By the time I had parked at the supermarket I was berating myself for my improper, illegal and selfish thoughts and actions and by the time I had secured a trolley and got out of the rain I was sliding into a self-hating depression. This wasn't the first time but it was the most acute. Walking the aisles with ordinary harassed mums and dads on their shopping expeditions and their energetic kids running up and down and demanding this or that made me feel like an ogre feeding on innocence. By the time I had got to the check-out I had resolved that I should not be projecting my sexual frustrations and fantasies on my vulnerable eight year old daughter. By the time I had parked and unloaded the bags and searched my pockets for the keys to the house I had decided that it was totally wrong to be naked with Sophie, ill-advised to have invited her to a nudist water-park evening and down-right evil to have 'interered' with her virgin beauty. ========================= I hope you liked this little story. My email is optiskeptic[at]outlook[dot]com Any feedback will be welcomed.