Author: Sterling Title: Kayla and Mandy Summary: After gorgeous Kayla catches a man, she is revealed to be frigid, an internet addict, and a cold and inadequate mother to her six-year-old daughter Mandy. The good-hearted Rob steps in and learns parenting on the fly. Gradually Mandy develops the ability to read his feelings, and he discovers desires he never knew he had. The two work out the best father-daughter relationship they can. Keywords: MF gi cons rom pedo lolita het ESP inc fath dau 1st oral slow caution NOTICE: This story contains explicit sex. First posted 11/12/2009, new header added 8/26/2010. I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed. Comments to sterling27@live.com. I have written many other stories and they can all be found at /files/Authors/Sterling/ You are welcome to copy this story if you include the entire text unchanged, including this notice. If you tell me where you have re-posted it, I can enjoy knowing it is appreciated and perhaps enjoy the feedback the story gets where you re-post it. Sterling And now, our feature presentation. Enjoy! ================================================================== Kayla and Mandy I worked writing software for a young, dynamic company -- not quite a startup. It was a pretty interesting job and it paid well. I wasn't into working 60 hours a week any more. I had been in a true startup and seen all that hard work vanish instantly. I had gotten to the age of 30 and was now realizing that there was more to life than work and partying. I hadn't had any very serious relationships. A few months here, a few months there, a fair number of one-night stands. Kayla was the receptionist. She was beautiful, without question. She had shoulder-length blond hair, wide-set blue eyes, and a perfectly proportioned face. She was of medium height, with breasts and hips of medium size. She was also pleasant and personable. I asked her out and to my delight she accepted. She was charming and feminine on our first dinner date, and her beauty continued to mesmerize me. After the second date she invited me back to her place, but said we should be quiet because her daughter would be asleep. This was the first I had heard of young Mandy, age five. I saved my questions for later. Kayla locked the door once we were in the bedroom. We kissed standing up, and she started unbuttoning my shirt, while I worked on her blouse. Soon we were down to our underwear, and I was starting to caress her right breast through her bra while clutching her butt. She soon broke free, stripped, and lay down on the bed, and I followed close behind. Her naked body was perfect too, just as perfect in its nakedness as clothed. Skin with no blemishes, patch of light brown pubic hair. I started on some gentle foreplay, a little nipple sucking and stroking up her thighs, with my hand gliding to a stop between her legs, where I started massaging gently. She made some sighs and gave a few moans, and caressed my hard penis a little. I expected quite a bit more of this until she would be ready, but at that point she nudged me on top of her and she helped ease my penis inside of her. Her vagina was wet and hot, and I was in heaven thrusting for a while in this beautiful creature, considering how to help her climax. She just asked me to go faster and deeper. She started breathing faster and tensing, and she came surprisingly quickly. I was happy to let loose and come myself within a minute. It had been maybe twenty minutes total since we closed the bedroom door. I rolled off and we lazed in afterglow for maybe half an hour, but she said I needed to go home because of her daughter. That seemed fine to me. In retrospect the lovemaking wasn't particularly exciting, except that it was with a beautiful woman, and at the time that made all the difference to me. I asked what the story was with Mandy. Mrs. Jones from next door came in to give her supper and put her to bed, and then turned on a nursery monitor in Mandy's room before leaving. She could come back if needed. We were lying in the afterglow after our fourth time in bed when I heard soft crying outside the door and the handle jiggling. I started to bolt out of bed, figuring at the very least I needed to be dressed, but Kayla sighed and stopped me. "Mandy! Go back to bed!" she said in a firm loud voice. The door handle rattled a little harder and the crying got louder, and Kayla yelled "Get back to bed or you'll be sorry!" I could hear the crying die to a whimper as Mandy padded back to bed. "Sorry," she said to me softly. I was surprised that Kayla had just sent her away, but I didn't know much about child rearing. I did note that she was not the kind of woman who would consider her child's every whim more important than the relationship with her man. We were going out for dinner every other night or so, then back to Kayla's apartment to go to bed. She started dropping hints about marriage, and I was thrilled at the idea that such a beautiful woman might be mine. I needed to meet Mandy, of course. So one night instead of our usual habit of meeting at a restaurant, I arranged to come to her place at 5pm. When Kayla let me in, Mandy was sitting on the sofa. She was sitting upright, almost at attention, and she smiled at me -- a fake smile that masked sullenness. She was as beautiful as her mother, with long blond hair that cascaded down her back, blue eyes, with a very pretty face. "Rob, this is my daughter Mandy. Mandy, this is Mr. Decker. Say hi." "Hello, Mr. Decker" she said, clearly rehearsed, as she looked past me. "Hello, Mandy! What a lovely little girl you are!" Mandy suddenly really looked at me for a second before looking back at the wall. "Why don't I read you a story," said Kayla. "Goodnight Moon" was on the coffee table. I didn't know much about children, but it seemed like a pretty simple book for a five-year-old, but then I wasn't up on parenting techniques. Kayla sat sandwiched between Mandy and me. As Kayla read, Mandy relaxed a little and leaned up against her mother, and I could feel Kayla stiffen just a little. Mandy begged her to read it again, and Kayla did, but warned her it was just that one more time, then we would be going. As we got up Mandy banged her shiny black shoes against the edge of the sofa a few times. Kayla snapped her fingers and Mandy's legs were still. Mandy now looked sullen, with no smile to cover it up. "OK, be a good girl, and I'll see you in the morning." She bent over to give Mandy a kiss on the cheek. The last thing I saw as I headed out the door was Mandy's eyes tearing up. "Mrs. Jones will be right in to give her supper and put her to bed," she said. "I don't know why she's late today." Kayla had explained her basic situation. Her husband Derek had been a star athlete, especially on the basketball team. They had married a year out of high school when she got pregnant accidentally, and Derek had left before Mandy was a year old. Last she knew he was drifting around out west without steady employment, and she got no support from him. She and Mandy lived off her income as a receptionist. She had little contact with her own parents and siblings and spoke of them rarely and briefly, saying they had disowned her when she married Derek. Kayla, Mandy and I went out to dinner at McDonald's, Mandy's favorite. Mandy was mostly quiet during the meal, but she did occasionally look at me and gave me the hint of a smile once. Kayla noticed and later said Mandy liked me. Now that I had met Mandy, there was nothing else standing in our way. On bended knee I proposed marriage to Kayla, who happily accepted. I was delighted at the prospect of such a beautiful wife. The wedding was a small, private affair, as it was Kayla's second and I had no interest in wedding rigmarole. Mandy looked gorgeous in her white flower girl dress and even smiled a few times. We set up housekeeping together in a comfortable three-bedroom apartment. Kayla and I had one bedroom, Mandy another, and the third served as my office and a guest room. Kayla's computer was in our bedroom. I found out at once what I should have figured out before: relations between Mandy and Kayla were strained at best. In one respect Kayla was very attentive. She made sure Mandy had stylish clothes and always headed off to kindergarten looking immaculate and gorgeous. But Kayla shouted at Mandy when she disobeyed any of a number of rules, notably leaving her clothes lying around on the floor. What she expected Mandy to do was entertain herself, and if it meant watching TV in her room all the time, Kayla had no problem with that. Kayla continued to lock our bedroom door at night, and Mandy occasionally cried outside but was never admitted. We continued on our pattern of sex just about every night for a week or two, but then it naturally tapered off some. I was less pleased when it tapered off to once a week. Kayla increasingly encouraged me to come as quickly as I wanted, and she moaned and sighed less. I found out too late why all the books tell couples to talk over all the big issues thoroughly before they got married. Kayla spent her free time doing one thing above all else: using her computer. She was involved in a couple virtual reality worlds which occupied as much time as she could give them. She had no interest in doing anything with Mandy except shopping for clothes, and her one activity with me was her occasional conjugal duty. She did watch TV in the bedroom sometimes and I could sit beside her and snuggle up to her, but she didn't snuggle back. And she did not want me looking over her shoulder when she was online, nor did she want to discuss what she was doing there. Kayla had had no end of male attention due to her looks and had dated a number of men since her divorce. Several seemed promising but the relationships had always foundered because of Mandy. Mandy would scream at them and fight with her mother nonstop. That would have been highly unpleasant, but not too uncommon when a mother considers remarriage. I wondered if the men were also put off by how Kayla treated her daughter. They might have noticed that Kayla touched Mandy as little as possible and had virtually no books or toys for her. They probably noticed that Kayla locked the bedroom door and never admitted or comforted Mandy when she was crying outside. I was startled to discover that there had never been a Mrs. Jones listening in on a nursery monitor or coming over to prepare dinner. Mandy had just gotten herself more cold cereal for supper, I found out later. And as I thought back on it, I could picture in Kayla's apartment door a deadbolt that required a key from both sides, and Kayla confessed -- even she was sheepish about this -- that she had locked Mandy in when we had gone out on our dates. I knew Kayla was not very happy with her job as the company receptionist, but I did not know she would quit it as soon as we got married. We had talked vaguely of having children together, but now Kayla made it clear it was out of the question. She served frozen dinners every night, and the same cold cereals were offered for breakfast every day. Cold cuts, peanut butter and jelly, and tuna fish were the entire extent of the sandwich fillings on the lunch menu. I was liberated enough not to assume she would do all the cooking, but I was working hard all day and she wasn't. I hoped for a little more variety and creativity. I started complaining that this wasn't at all the marriage I had expected. We had a big fight where a number of facts came out that left me feeling discouraged. She had bad feelings about her childhood. She had faked all her orgasms with me, but considerately told me not to take it personally. Never in her life with any men had she felt any significant sexual pleasure. And from that day forth she said we could have sex once a month, no more. The prospect of my beautiful wife's naked body had been one of my main reasons for marrying her. I was desperate enough that I looked forward to those few minutes once every month, even though she was just lying there, maybe absentmindedly stroking my back or hair. I asked if she would consider therapy or marriage counseling but she was not open to the idea at all. ---------- Mandy was shy with me at first, but she kept looking at me to check me out. She would run away when I looked at her. A few times I caught her smiling at me. I tried to make friends with her. I would knock on her open door and ask if I could come in, and as she said nothing I did. But if I asked her what she was watching on TV she mumbled "nothing" and got a clearly unfriendly expression on her face. After a week I sought some advice on how to try to break the ice with this child. Jane at the office had school-age children, and I asked her what she thought I might do. At her suggestion I surveyed Mandy's room to report what in the way of books, toys, stuffed animals and dolls she already had. The list was quite short, and it seemed like nothing new had been added since she was about two. Jane's composure briefly flickered when I told her that, but she helpfully suggested some gifts a five-year-old girl might like. When Mandy opened her first present from me she found the American Girl doll Kirsten. She actually smiled at me openly for a few seconds. For days when I walked by her room I saw Kirsten snuggled beside her if she was not the direct object of her attention. One day three weeks after the marriage Mandy appeared in the doorway to my office looking shy. I welcomed her in and she came and stood beside me. I explained what I was looking at online and asked if she wanted to see anything for kids, and she shook her head. But she leaned up against me for a second. I was a little surprised and maybe she sensed it because she stood up straight again. But a couple minutes later she leaned up against me again, and this time I welcomed it calmly and smiled at her. I asked her to tell me about kindergarten, and she ran off. But as the days went by she stayed longer and said more. I always encouraged her and waited to hear what she said, content to tolerate silences and letting her leave whenever she wanted without comment. Then one day the dam burst, she started talking and there seemed no end to what she wanted to share. I learned about the boys and the girls she liked and the ones she didn't and the teacher and the books and the toys. I learned of her favorites and ones she wished she could take home. We heard the door to the master bedroom open, and Mandy stopped instantly and looked scared. That look of fear at the approach of her own mother haunted me. Kayla walked by and noted Mandy visiting me without comment. That night I asked Kayla how she would feel about going shopping to buy Mandy some books and toys. Kayla looked a little apologetic, and said that was a great idea. When Saturday morning came, however, Kayla was wrapped up in something online and asked if Mandy and I could handle it without her. I bought Mandy a few hundred dollars worth of books and toys and she was in heaven playing with them all for days -- including at first the empty boxes more than their contents. When I sat on the living room sofa to read her one of the new books we had bought she snuggled up right beside me. She wanted me to see how her toys worked and play make believe with her; in fact it seemed she wanted my attention whenever she could get it. I was delighted to have such a good relationship developing with Mandy, but after a few weeks I realized I wanted some chunks of time to myself and a little privacy. But I didn't need to tell her; somehow she knew when I wanted to be alone. Kayla was always up late with her online life, and I needed to get up early for work. Our sex life was on a strict monthly schedule, and she didn't like me to snuggle against her. In exasperation I said I would go sleep on the bed in the guestroom and she said that would be fine. With the new arrangement she no longer woke me up as she came to bed, and I was freed from the frustration of sleeping beside a sexy woman and being unable to touch her, let alone make love to her. It also let me jerk off at my leisure without worrying about her reaction. She barely seemed to notice my absence, which made my heart sink further. We didn't try to hide our separate sleeping quarters from Mandy. To my surprise, Kayla locked her bedroom door even when she was sleeping alone. At first I thought she was mad at me, but there were no other signs of that. It looked like she didn't want to risk Mandy bothering her during the night. Mandy later confirmed that before the marriage Kayla always locked the door even when she was sleeping alone. I didn't lock or even close my door, however, and a few nights after we started sleeping separately I woke to padding feet. "Hi Mandy," I whispered, "What's wrong?" "I had a bad dream," she said. "Let me help you back to bed," I said. So I got up and as she held my hand I walked across the hall. She got in bed, and I held her hand a little while, and then kissed her on the cheek and said goodnight. Two nights later she padded in again, and I settled her again. But she was back in ten minutes, saying she couldn't sleep. She asked if she could get into bed with me. "OK." I know now you're supposed to discourage kids from crawling into bed with you at that age, but I didn't know it then. And I also felt a tender ache in my heart that she had come to trust me so much. So I went back to sleep spooned against her small form. I woke a few hours later, before dawn, and carried her back to her own bed, admiring her innocent beauty as she slept. About two months after the wedding, I heard a cry from Mandy's room. Moments later she raced in and hopped into bed beside me, trembling. "Bad dream?" I asked, stroking the side of her head. She started crying softly, and I kept stroking her. After a few minutes she said, "I dreamed mommy was a wolf chasing me and was going to eat me." I just kept stroking her hair, and she started crying again. After she had calmed down she said "I love you daddy". Kayla and I had never encouraged her to use that term, and it warmed my heart that she chose that word on her own. She fell asleep curled up in front of me, my arm over her. I considered divorce. Kayla and I were far more like roommates than husband and wife. Our marriage amounted to virtually nothing. The main purpose it seemed to serve for Kayla was a source of income allowing her not to have to work. She was also delighted that I was doing so many things with Mandy and freeing her up for more time on her computer. They had fewer fights and there was less pressure on her to act like a parent. When Mandy wanted something, she came to me. Mandy was also happier, and I wondered with some sadness whether that mattered to Kayla or not. I could have done without Kayla, but the idea of abandoning Mandy to Kayla's "care" made me shudder. I would never leave Kayla as long as Mandy counted on me so much. I got Kayla to cook some real food for dinner as long as I bought the ingredients and left her the recipe. She wanted something in return, though: Now I dealt with Mandy in the mornings. I supervised her breakfast, brushed her long golden hair, made her lunch and snack, made sure she was presentable and dropped her off at kindergarten. This allowed Kayla to sleep in after her late nights online. Kayla saw us snuggling together sometimes, and passed by my room on more than one occasion when Mandy was sleeping in my bed. She didn't seem to mind as long as Mandy wasn't cramping her style. ---------- The first clue I got to anything unusual was eight months after the wedding, in May. One Saturday morning at breakfast I was looking across at Mandy wondering whether she would rather start her day at the playground or take a more ambitious expedition to the science museum. And she said quietly, absentmindedly, "playground". I hadn't said a word. We hadn't discussed it that morning or the night before. "Why did you say 'playground'?" "You asked me what I wanted to do." "I didn't say a thing." "Oh." Then things seemed to go too smoothly. I was about to tell her to stop looking at the cereal box and get moving for school, but before I could speak she just did it. She often told me all about her day when I got home from work at 6:30. Often I was interested, but sometimes I was in a bad mood. In earlier months I would sometimes tell her gently I needed some quiet time, but now she just sensed it without being told. If she came to my bed when I was truly exhausted, I might come to enough to see her standing there but then find she had gone back to bed. Even when she was crying and I was being very solicitous, if my arm was starting to go to sleep, she would shift her weight so it felt better. I found her more often just looking at me, not doing or saying anything. One day I was looking over her shoulder as she played with Kirsten and wondered whether I should get the horse-riding accessories next or the bed, and she just absentmindedly said "horsies". This was unmistakable. "Can you read my thoughts?" I asked. She looked up at me and paused. "Sometimes." I waited. "I just noticed it little by little. I didn't think about it much until you asked me about the science museum." "Can you read any other minds?" She shook her head. "Can you read my mind when I'm at work?" She shook her head. We did some experiments that morning. She could only read my thoughts when I was near her and thinking about her. She couldn't pick a random number out of my head. When I was sitting at the keyboard she couldn't tell what I was going to type next. What she could read were things that I was thinking related to her. She could also read my basic emotional state. She knew I wouldn't make fun of her or tell her she was crazy. That was because she knew me, and for all I knew she might be able to double check by reading my thoughts. But she understood that other people would scoff at her if she said she could read minds. We agreed we would keep quiet about this. Next a little dread arose in my stomach as I considered what thoughts of mine she could pick up that were embarrassing. I led a pretty honest and honorable life, so there wasn't going to be anything huge. "Are there things you know that I wouldn't have told you?" "Probly lots of little things, but there's one big one: I know you feel really mad at mommy a lot. But there's something else, like you want to hug her in a special way or something. And something to do with her panties." "Oh." I turned a little pink I guess. I had resolved to be honest with her. I should have told her this concerned a grown-up matter and I would tell her when she was older, but at the time I confused the need for honesty with the need to tell her everything. "You know where babies come from?" "Mommies' tummies". "Right. Do you know what the daddy has to do with it?" She shook her head. "Well, babies come partly from their daddies too, and mommies and daddies do something that puts the babies in mommies' tummies before they grow." "A daddy puts a little baby in a mommy's tummy?" "No, not exactly." Silence. How to put this. "There's something that comes from a daddy that is so small you can't see it. And it gets together with something from a mommy that is also so small you can't see it. And the baby starts so small you can't see it either. Then it grows in the mommy's tummy." "So when you want to hug her like that you want to give mommy a baby? A baby sister?" She smiled at the thought. Hmmmm. Analogies. We need analogies here. "No. But you know how if there's a really good cake with chocolate frosting on the counter you want to have a piece, even lick the frosting off? But then you don't really want to because you know you're supposed to wait until later and also you know mommy and I would get mad at you?" She nodded. That was clear enough. "Well, I like the idea of giving mommy a baby kind of like you like the idea of eating the chocolate cake." "So do you get to give mommy a baby later?" I paused. "No, no, I don't get to give mommy a baby later, because mommy doesn't want me to." Sigh. I decided I could leave out the once a month eating of chocolate cake, and the desire to act like you would if you were trying making a baby but not actually trying to make a baby. "Does it have to do with the daddies' underpants too?" "Why do you ask?" "Because there's something funny going on in your underpants now." Indeed, I had a partial erection at thinking about eating chocolate cake with Kayla. Or maybe it was partly at talking with Mandy about these things. I felt naked and embarrassed. "Yeah. But no more now. Let's talk about it later." --------------- You know how you can't easily follow a command not to think about an elephant? Knowing Mandy could read my mind, I was having something of that problem. I had always thought Mandy was beautiful, but I began to notice it more, to look at her more. That much was OK. I started musing about how that beauty would look grown up. Maybe that was OK. But it wasn't OK to think about how I would feel when I saw that grown-up version of her, how I would want her sexually. And I wasn't supposed to think about how lots of her parts already looked very much like the parts of women who I did feel like giving babies to. I had never had my thoughts extend to these forbidden realms before, but now they seemed to keep coming to me. Partly it was because they were the very thoughts I was not supposed to think. I had just finished reading Mandy some chapters of a new book she loved while she sat in my lap. She said "Thank you, Daddy!" and got off. Now we were going to play make-believe and I got on the floor in preparation for my part. Mandy was still sitting on her bed in a light dress. She had her legs together, naturally, and the thought flashed through my mind that I really should not want to see her thighs. Just then Mandy spread her legs to give me a view straight up her dress to her panties. I did sneak a peek before looking away guiltily. Later she was standing facing away from me and I felt I really shouldn't want to see those panties again, and Mandy lifted her whole dress just then and wound the fabric around her arm and put the hem in her mouth, then turned to face me and smiled before letting the dress drop again. Now I was upset and confused and I had to leave the room. She could tell and followed me. "I'm sorry! But you wanted to see, right?" It was going to be hard to keep secrets from this child, since I never knew how much she could read and how much she couldn't. "You're supposed to keep covered up with me just like you do in public." "But you wanted to see." "It's a little like the chocolate cake again. I want you to keep covered up like you're supposed to, but part of me is curious and wants to see." "But no one's here to see me but you. And you want to!" With that she flipped off her dress and pulled her panties down to her knees, standing right next to me. There was her perfect body. I had never seen a girl's labia before, at least not since I was really little. So that's what grew into a woman's pussy. I casually reached out my right hand and brushed the back of my index finger down the outside of her labia for just a second. It wasn't sexual, it was just curious. But I shouldn't have done it. I quickly withdrew my hand. "Get dressed!" I said. ------------ She padded up to my bed in the middle of the night. I welcomed her into my arms. "Daddy?" "Mmmm?" I said sleepily. "This afternoon, when I had my clothes off." "Mmmhmmm", I said, coming awake as this sensitive subject was brought up. "Did you... did you .... ummm" I waited. "Did you feel kind of like giving me a baby?" "Why, heavens, no! What made you think that?" My heart was racing now, and she could certainly tell I was upset. "Because down in your underpants..." I tried to think back. Did I get a little swelling down there between my legs? She had no reason to lie. "Listen, Mandy. I'm all confused and it's the middle of the night. I love you and you haven't done anything wrong, but let's talk about it in the morning." I gave her a big hug and sent her on her way. I thought about doing with her what you do to make a baby. I was repulsed, but my erection was getting rock hard inside my pajamas. The thought of her labia came to my mind and refused to go. I got a wad of Kleenex from the box beside my bed and gave myself about four strokes and spurted into the wad of Kleenex with an intense orgasm. Untold millions of those little things that help make babies came out, wriggling, seeking. I realized I made a little groan, which I hoped no one would hear. I tossed the Kleenex onto the floor. I decided I would think about it in the morning and was asleep in seconds. -------------- I woke to the alarm and set some coffee brewing. When it was time for Mandy to get up I poked my head in her door and stopped myself from calling her name when I saw she had a wad of Kleenex in her hand. I feared I knew where she had gotten them; indeed when I checked there were no Kleenex on the floor of my room. I felt my privacy invaded once more. What rules had she broken? There was no house rule about not picking up Kleenex off the floor. I had told her to go back to bed, and while she had not stayed in bed all night, she had not woken me or tried to talk with me about the subject I had said we would discuss in the morning. Now it was time for the day to begin, so I woke her up and she clutched the Kleenex to her. What looked like snot around her nose probably wasn't. "Why do you have those, Mandy?" She looked at me accusingly. "Last night after you sent me away I wanted to stay with you but you wouldn't let me." Then she started looking pleased with herself. "So I sat outside your door in the hall for a little but you didn't just go to sleep. First something happened in your underpants then I could tell you felt really, really great. You started snoring and I went in really quiet. I wanted to know what happened. I found the Kleenex and they smelled kind of like you and at least I could have a little of you with me. This is the stuff that you put in mommies to make babies, right?" Sigh. "Yes, it is. We'll have to talk this evening, but I want to make sure you know you can't say anything about any of this to mom or anyone at school, no matter what. If you do, then I'll be in a lot of trouble and I maybe won't be able to live here any more. OK?" She looked a little frightened. "OK". ----------- That evening, after dinner was done and Kayla glued to her computer for the evening, I sat down with Mandy in her room to talk. I was quiet for a long time, gathering my nerve. Who knew how much of my private thoughts she was getting anyway. "You know that feeling you sensed when I look at mom sometimes?" She nodded. "Men get that feeling for lots of women, not just their wives. They keep it to themselves. They might ask the woman to go out on a date, but they keep the feeling to themselves until much later, like when they are married. Even with mom, I wouldn't say anything about that feeling during the day, and never when you are around, but wait until night. The important thing is that when you read my mind you're getting thoughts no one is supposed to know. If we're out somewhere standing by a nice woman and you say 'Dad, why do you feel like giving that woman a baby?' that would be very, very bad." She giggled at the thought. She wasn't that dumb, and she knew I knew it. "And here's something you ought to know: Women sometimes feel like getting a man to give them a baby. "And there's a word for that giving-a-baby thing. It's called sex. "Sometimes people get confused. Sometimes men feel like sex with high school girls, though they're too young for them. Some men want to have sex with other men, and some women with other women, and you can only make a baby with a man and a woman." "What about little boys and girls?" "Girls and boys don't think much about sex until they go through puberty, it's called. That's when girls get breasts and boys get deep voice, and so forth. For girls it's when they are, oh, 12 or so, and for boys it's more like maybe 14." Now I paused a long while. "Sometimes men get confused and they feel like sex with little girls. Even for them, they don't really want to have sex with them, and if you can't read their minds you'd never know it." I paused again. "Like you." I felt a surge of shame. "Well, I never felt it until yesterday, but I guess I am sometimes. So if you read my mind and feel me feeling that, it's just my body getting confused. It's not what I really want. So your job is to help me be how I want to be, and not make my confused body any more confused. So you keep your clothes on and you don't let me look up you dress and so on. OK?" "OK." "And you never, never tell anyone that I think that way inside sometimes." "Why?" "A few of the men who feel confused that way don't keep it to themselves and they actually have sex with little girls or boys. That is very, very bad and those men get sent away to jail for a long time. "Why is it bad?" "It's bad because they are doing things that the little girls and boys don't like and it can give them memories that are really bad when they grow up." There was a pause. "Do little boys and girls ever get confused?" I felt a little surge of fear and excitement, and -- damn it -- she undoubtedly felt it too. "Yes, I guess they do. If a man asks them to have sex they might think it's OK and so they do it." "So, could a girl get sent away to jail for a long time too?" she asked, a little afraid. "No, they never send boys and girls away to jail like that. It's always the man's fault for letting it happen." There, I got that discussion out of the way. But it lurked. If only she hadn't asked if little girls get confused. ------------ Mandy was in her room playing with dolls. I stopped in the doorway briefly to look. Her face looked so happy, so beautiful as she smiled down at the dolls -- I wanted to kiss it. Mandy looked up at me a moment, half-smiled, but then stopped smiling and looked down again. She was at the breakfast table, eating her cereal. Her neck was so graceful and innocent, bounded on the one side by the little hairs that rapidly gave way to her blond hair, full and shiny, combed and neatly braided. On the other side her neck was bounded by the top of her dress. What a beautiful child. The kind a father could be so proud of. I did not want to see the skin as it extended below her dress, down her lovely back, down her lovely front where the little nipples were. I did not want to see that. No, I did not. She looked at me. She was beside me in the car as I drove her to school. What perfect little knees she had! Below were her high thick socks. Above the knees just a little of her thighs were showing. They were so smooth, I ... did not want to see any more of my wholesome kindergarten girl. She shifted a little so her dress rode up quite a bit, and there were her perfect thighs, just another part of a little girl's body, just like any parent might appreciate. There was a little warmth starting to grow between my legs. I felt a wave of anger and frustration. Why couldn't I stop thinking these thoughts? Mandy looked at me and sighed and quickly snapped the dress back down to cover her knees. I woke up to the sound of Mandy walking into my room tentatively. It was gray out and it was not quite time to get up for the day. I smiled sleepily and raised the blanket for her to get in and snuggle her back against me as she always had. It was so sensual to feel her little body, this child of mine, its warmth, to take in her smell, her hair tickling against my face. I did not want to move my hands all over her, below her nightgown or kiss her neck. I did not want her to push her rear end back against me harder. She pushed her rear end back against me, so the warmth of it started to heat my penis and the penis started to grow a little. I did not want her to do that. I wanted her to do that more than anything in the world. I hated myself. I wanted her to leave to remove the temptation. She got out of the bed with a big sigh and tromped back to her own room. The same thing happened two more nights. I woke in the middle of the night to the sound of her crying softly in her room. I waited a minute but she did not come in, so I got up and sat beside her on her bed. "What is it, sweetie?" I asked, as I stroked her cheek with my hand. "I can't come snuggle against you any more," she said. "You want to touch me but then you get so mad at yourself you make me go away. I don't mind you want to see me and touch me. I want you to be happy so you can love me like you used to." She cried more. "I'm so sorry," I said. "I don't want to think those thoughts about you, but I can't seem to help myself. Sometimes I feel like I ought to go away if I can't love you like a daddy is supposed to." "Don't leave me!" she wailed. "Shhh! Your mother..." She quieted instantly. "I want you to do the things you think about so you can love me again. And I also just want you to be happy!" "It would be bad for you! And I'd go to jail!" As she said, Mandy wanted me to be sexual with her because my fantasies were getting in the way of my loving her and accepting her without guilt and torment. But I later realized there was something more. She said she wanted me to be happy. For some reason, the fact that she could read my mind and tell when I was feeling great pleasure meant she desired my pleasure almost like it was her own. --------- Mandy started showing me her legs sometimes when I couldn't help thinking how much I didn't want her to. I chastised her. She started getting moody and uncooperative. And when she did that she knew just what to do to make me crazy. She hummed a tune and when she found from my mind that I didn't like it, then she kept humming it. She took her toys and spread them all over the living room. She wouldn't get out of bed on time to make it to school. I yelled at her and she yelled back. Even as I yelled I wanted to touch her between her legs. During one fight she raised her dress and pulled down her panties, looking at me defiantly. What if Kayla saw? We both heard the door to Kayla's room open, and with a look of fright Mandy composed herself again. Kayla. Kayla spread her legs to do her wifely duty, and I mounted her. I hated her, but I still wanted to fuck her, so I did. My property. She waited until I was done and asked what the story was with Mandy. She had noticed the yelling and the slammed doors and the messes all over the house. I said Mandy was going through a phase and we would get through it. ---------- I tried jerking off twice a day to try to reduce my sex drive. It made things worse. ---------- I tried to feel OK about wanting to touch her and be sexual with her. It was just the way I was. I just had to make sure never to act on those impulses. It made things worse. ---------- Just being there and letting her soak up my sexual desires was really a form of sexual abuse itself, I reasoned. The law didn't cover mind-reading, but it was covered by the spirit of the law. On sober reflection I thought she was correct that my leaving her alone with her mom would be worse than sexual abuse. I felt myself to be on a slope. It was getting steeper, it was slippery, and I was losing my footing. A slippery slope. Maybe if I just looked at her and didn't touch it would be OK, or at least not so bad. I appeared at her door, slumped and dejected. She gave me a defiant look, but then she sensed a change. I locked the door, then sat on her bed. "You promise not to tell anyone, ever?" "I swear." I thought how I wanted to see her thighs slowly appear. I was going to try to let myself feel that without feeling ashamed. She stood and with a smile slowly pulled her dress up so more and more thigh came into view. She wiggled her hips back and forth because I had wanted that. I wanted to see her panties, so she kept lifting the dress until the little bit between her legs came into view, then I had her drop the dress back down. I wanted to see her hair down, so she promptly undid her pony tail and shook her head so the beautiful stuff tumbled free. She slowly unbuttoned her dress from the neck while looking at me. I saw more and more of her chest appear. And then she let her dress drop and she was left with nothing but her panties on. For some reason I wanted her to hang the dress up. Maybe it took Kayla's displeasure out of the equation. So she promptly did it. She was smiling at me with excitement. She ever so slowly started sliding her panties down. The barest hint of her labia appeared, then the very top of her slit, then more. She smiled. She was doing all that because I had fantasized about it and she was following my thoughts. I had a raging hard-on. I wasn't sure what to do, so I hurried into my room, locked the door, pulled down my pants and with a few hand strokes ejaculated within seconds into another wad of Kleenex, trying to relieve the storm of tension that Mandy's sexual antics had wrought. I could hear her leaning against the door. After pulling my pants up I stood uncertainly. I felt satisfied for the time being. I unlocked the door and Mandy stumbled in wearing nothing but panties. "Put some clothes back on!" I said. With things going in the direction she wanted she saw no reason to argue. She darted away, reappearing a minute later in jeans and a T-shirt. I headed to the bed and motioned her to follow. I lay down as I would at night and urged her to curl up inside me as she always used to. "I'm hoping that I can now love you like I used to, OK?" She nodded, and as she lay there I felt at peace, felt like I cared so deeply for this child I would do anything for her. Sexual thoughts -- well, none at the moment. She fell asleep there. I just lay there adoring my precious Mandy for a half hour until she woke up. She smiled, flipped over and gave me a great big hug as we lay on our sides, a hug we kept for many seconds. "When I was so close against the door there, I could tell how great it felt to you when you took the baby-stuff out of yourself. It even felt a little bit good to me. "Can I see some time? I think you want me to see and help you take the stuff out." To have no secrets. I looked at her and said "Let me think about it", which satisfied her for the time being. We got up and resumed our ordinary afternoon activities. Private masturbation after seeing Mandy display herself to me stopped working as a way to keep my inappropriate thoughts at bay. When she snuggled I adored her, but I wanted more. ------- "I told you I might go to jail if anyone found out about what we're doing, right?" "Yeah, but I would never tell anyone." "I know, I know. But remember you might get mad at me or think different when you're older." She had no comment. "It's not a crime when we just snuggle in bed. When you take your clothes off and show me your naked body, that is a crime but maybe isn't really bad. I don't think letting you find the Kleenex with the baby stuff on it is a bad crime either. But if I touch you, like between your legs, or let you touch me there, or even if I just show you what I have there then that's a big crime. "If you still want to see more, then you have to promise me you will never tell." She nodded, "I promise." "I am placing my life in your hands, OK?" That gave her a little pause, but she nodded again. "Say it out loud, OK?" "Ummm. I promise never to tell about any of the stuff we do." We went off to other activities, then later I found her in her room, and locked the door. "Do you know any more about how babies get made than the last time we talked?" She shook her head. "Have you ever seen inside a boy's underpants?" "Maybe from far away once. Some bumps." "Have you ever seen animals having sex?" She shook her head. I had to start pretty far back. "OK. Remember I said the other day that a little bit from the dad goes into the mom? Well, there's an opening between a woman's legs where the little bit of the dad goes in -- and where a baby comes out, later. It's there in you, too." "Oh! Can you show me?" She pulled off her dress and panties with lightning speed, then spread her legs wide in front of me. "I've never even seen between a little girl's legs before until I saw you." "Really?" "Really. You always keep it covered up, right? And they tell you never to show it to a stranger, right?" "Huh." "It's really very beautiful." She smiled. I had to get my bearings here. When you go to bed with a woman you rarely turn a bright light on and examine her pussy like in a science experiment. But I got it. "Down here is where the poop comes out, and that's separate. Then I gently rubbed my index finger down each labial flap a couple times. "These are your labia", I said. "Latin for 'lips'". She smiled. "Mommy called them my wee wee". "Now if you hold them open with your fingers..." She instantly spread them wide. "If you look carefully you can see right here this little tiny hole is where the pee comes out." "I can't see down there." "Oh. Well, I can see it, and it's just perfect." She smiled. "And between the pee hole and the poop hole is this kind of hole called a vagina. That's where the little bit from the man goes in and where the baby comes out later." She giggled at my joke. "No, it's true! Your vagina gets way bigger when you grow up, even bigger when you get pregnant and it stretches a lot when the baby comes out." I didn't mention that it is also excruciating. She was feeling all around her parts. "Oh, so that goopy stuff in the Kleenex, you push it in there?" "Well, not quite. Not with fingers. Between a man's legs is a tube called a penis that is usually limp, but when he is trying to give a woman a baby it gets long and hard, kind of like a big finger. And he slides the hard penis up inside the vagina and slides it back and forth inside, and then after a while the goopy stuff, called semen, shoots out the very tip of the penis up inside the woman." She was silent a moment. "Eeewww". "Yeah, all kids think that. But the man really wants to put it in there, even when he doesn't really want to give the woman a baby. And believe it or not, the woman really wants him to put it there. When the semen shoots out is just at the moment when the man feels so good, like you've felt from me." "But there wasn't any woman around." "A woman's vagina when she is ready for sex is smooth and wet, and it is the feeling on the penis of going back and forth over it that makes the semen come out. It's called an orgasm. So a man can also pretend there is a woman around, sort of, by curving his hand so it's kind of like a vagina." I demonstrated with my finger sliding in and out of a tube I formed with the other hand. "And a woman can also feel the same really good feeling when the man's penis is going in and out." "I could feel as good as you felt?" "When you're grown up, yes. Whether you could now or not I don't know." "Why not?" "I've asked women what it was like as a girl, but they don't remember or don't want to talk about it. And I guess most girls don't try to do that a lot before they grow up. But if you really want, we can do an experiment later and see if you can really feel good that way or not." "You would put your penis up in my vagina?" "No, my penis is way too big to fit in you, but there are ways to make you feel good in the same way." "Can we try?" she asked with excitement. "Maybe later, if you're good", I said teasingly. "OK. Now you've got that part. Would you like to see inside my underpants? I'd like to show you." "Yes!" I pulled my pants off leaving me in my briefs. I lay down on her bed and slowly pulled them down while she looked on attentively. Although it had been hard earlier, with all this clinical talk my penis was soft. When it was all exposed to view she looked fascinated and a little intimidated. "You see it's limp now." "Can I touch?" she asked with awe. "Sure". I thrilled as her little hand gently rested against my shaft, then picked it up so gingerly. "If you want to see how it's limp, you'd better bend it now because it won't be limp for long." She bent it carefully. It wasn't really limp any more, but it did bend a little. As it grew harder her expression got more amazed. She looked at me as she read my mind about what I wanted her to do. She curled her little hand around my shaft and started moving up and down. I gently reached over to cup my hand over her labia as she sat, and she didn't object. I started moving my hips a little and the pleasure intensified as she rubbed. Gorgeous Mandy sat next to me, gorgeous innocent face staring at my penis in rapt attention, blond hair cascading over her perfect little naked body, my hand cupped between her legs, a hint of more fun to come. I was breathing hard. "Keep going, Mandy. It's about to happen." She went a little harder and then I gave out a big "Aaaaah!" as the semen spurted onto my chest in three spurts. "Wow", she said. "And you love the feeling sooo much!" A little later, "Can I play with the stuff?". "Sure", I said, with a smile. So she dipped her finger in, lifted a little, let it fall down. She smelled a little. "Can I taste it?" "Sure. Some people like the taste, others think it's strange." She took a little, sniffed it, then put some in her mouth. "Weird, but OK". She squished it between her fingers, and then messed it all around on my chest until it had dried out. By now my penis had shrunk, and she fondled it a bit more. "What's that underneath?" she asked. "That's where my body makes the little things that make babies. They're called testicles or balls, and the sac they're in is a scrotum." "We said before we could do an experiment to see if you can feel really good in the same way. You want to do that now?" She undoubtedly got an image in her mind of my tongue between her legs licking away. But she shook her head. Maybe seeing a man's organs in operation was enough to digest for now. I smiled and tousled her hair. I came by her room now and then and didn't try too hard to resist my sexual thoughts towards her, but she ignored me twice. That was fine. The third time was close to her bedtime, and she was already in her nightgown. She invited me in eagerly. Behind the locked door I stroked gently all over her hair, cheeks and neck, before starting to kiss her on the lips. She learned quickly, imitating me. Mostly we just moved our lips together on the surface, though we experimented with tongue thrusts too. I've always found that French kissing is exciting in theory, but the real pleasure comes from the ordinary kissing, lips to lips. At my thought, she slowly lifted her nightgown partway up so I could reach beneath it. I ran my hands over all her nonsexual parts, her arms and back. I kissed her ear and the back of her neck, which made her giggle. I formulated the thought once again of touching her between her legs as a preliminary to using my tongue. She was feeling sensual and maybe a little sexual from all our kissing and fondling, and she lay back on her bed after pulling her panties off. She spread her legs wide. I grazed my hand up and down her thighs but then focused on her labia, and it was ever so exciting to spread them just a little and peek inside, then to rub inside a little, but very gently. But fairly quickly I moved my head down and started licking all around the area. She giggled a little. Then I focused on her little clitoris, and she stopped giggling. With my hands I was clutching the nightgown she had pulled up around her waist, running my hands inside all over her chest and stomach and down to her hips but my hands eventually settled on her small sleeping nipples. My tongue was focusing on the little knob. And she responded. She moaned, she sighed. "Oh, Daddy, daddy... daddy ... ooooo" It took all of five minutes before I felt a little pulse and Mandy just moaned and sighed .... "Daaaaaadeeeeeeee!". She wriggled her hips and I knew it was time to stop. As I lifted my head, though, I stopped to look at her vaginal opening, which was engorged and open a little and quite moist. I'll be back, I promised it in my mind. She brought her panties back up and pulled the nightgown down and lay with her head against my clothed chest. My penis had desires, but they were mild and I wanted her to relax and enjoy the afterglow of her first orgasm for as long as she wanted. The next afternoon she wanted to reciprocate. I wasn't all that set on her giving me oral sex, but she wanted to, and I certainly didn't object. So as I sat on the edge of the bed my little Mandy was naked on her knees, working my penis in her mouth. Her mind-reading didn't let her actually feel the sensations on my penis, but she could fairly rapidly tell when I was feeling good and when I was feeling great, so she quickly learned what made me feel great. After my glow was building dangerously, I warned her that I might shoot the baby stuff into her mouth, and she popped off me long enough to say she liked that idea. So with my gorgeous Mandy's face surrounding my penis and wanting what it had to offer up, I did reach a fabulous climax. She looked surprised at the surge of fluid in her mouth, but surprised in a happy way. She gently spit it out into some Kleenex. The next day in her room sensing my desires she stripped naked and lay on her back while I stripped and held myself above her. My penis was big just from watching her undress and lie there smiling at me. I pointed it between her legs and poked against the inside of her leg, and against her stomach, and in her groin to the side of her labia. I gently held it against her labia and even held it against her vaginal opening. Big penis, small vagina. I brought out a bottle of lube and explained how it worked. I got her to lube her small hands and form a little pretend vagina that ended right at her real opening. It wasn't very long, but it was enough. I thrust into the tube with little strokes for maybe 30 seconds before dousing her vaginal opening with some surges of semen as my tip pressed against it. I felt deeper satisfaction than ever before, with an element of animal lust fulfilled, and she grinned. I continued to give her orgasms with my tongue, though it got so my fingers were enough too. She could make her hands into a fake vagina that I fucked, but my fingers could excite her to climax at the same time. One day after I had shut the door I had a simple desire. I just wanted to slide my hard probing penis up under her dress and under her panties. I didn't care exactly what I rubbed against inside, just as long as I could thrust and ejaculate in there. She got a little lube and lubed her labia area and her hand, so when my penis went in it was sandwiched between the two and I quickly came, very happy. I wanted that just about every afternoon, so one day Mandy surprised me by having prelubricated her whole labial area and inviting me up inside right away. I was ejaculating all over the inside of her panties, over and over. As a little splurge I threw them away each time and kept Mandy's privates covered with fresh brand-new panties much of the time. --------- The pattern of our lives continued largely unchanged. I roused her in the morning, supervised her getting dressed and eating breakfast, packed her lunch, and drove her off to school on my way to work. Kayla picked her up after school, as cold and distracted as ever. But Mandy had the afternoon to play. Kayla made a decent dinner according to what I suggested, but after finishing her food in five minutes she warred with herself over how long to stay at the table. Waiting for Mandy and me to finish was a minimal part of being a family, but in maybe three minutes she couldn't resist the online world that awaited in her bedroom. She had the foresight to pick out Mandy's outfit for the next day before she retreated behind her locked door. On the weekends I took Mandy to her soccer games. We went to the park and the museum. She had friends over, but because Kayla was so strange she mostly went to other kids' houses. And of course we spent parts of the weekend lounging around the house too. Often in one of our bedrooms. Often with the door closed. ----------- Mandy told me she was making a Christmas present for me, and I was curious what it was. My present to her was going to be flying her and three of her friends and one of their mothers to Aruba for a few days. About one in the morning on Christmas eve Mandy padded into my bedroom, saying she couldn't sleep. She sensed my interest -- I was almost always interested when she came to my bed -- and she took some lube in her hands to form a vaginal tunnel. I mounted her and started on my little strokes, the tip of my penis poking gently against the softness of her vaginal opening each time. She whispered in my ear "Press a little harder". I was always careful not to press too hard, because occasionally when I had she had winced. So now I tentatively pressed a little harder, feeling the blunt end of my penis against her hot little vaginal opening. "Harder", she said. So I did. I hoped this wasn't masochism, but she gave no sign of discomfort. "Harder!" she said, and as I did, something amazing and wonderful happened. Her vaginal opening parted and the tip of my penis started inside. I gasped and looked at her astonished. "Deeper!" she whispered, and I pressed a little deeper. Half inch by half inch my penis was disappearing up into her six-year-old body! She removed her hands that had formed the fake vaginal tunnel. Now I was in the real one. It was tight but there was no tearing and it was hot and wet. I was almost delirious with excitement. Finally my penis stopped going in farther because our pubic bones met. I started back and forth but couldn't last long with this amazing development. For the first time I came deep inside my Mandy, straining as deep as I could, holding nothing back. As I spurted I let out a cry and so did she. I collapsed beside her, hugging her to me, burying my nose in her blond hair. "Merry Christmas!" she said when she caught her breath. "Merry Christmas!" I replied. She could tell all along that my fantasy was to actually get inside her, so she had wondered if she could let my fantasy come true. So after getting herself excited by massaging her clit, she started the lubricated blunt end of a pen into herself. When that went in easily she went to a thicker pen. She could get it in but it felt kind of sore, so she left it there for a few hours. After a couple days it went in without being sore. She worked her way up to a highlighting pen, working in greater depth as well as diameter. Then she started working her way through a bag of carrots. After a couple sessions of a few hours each her vagina had adapted to each size. After a half hour's rest I could feel my interest rising again. On a whim she revved up her best little girl's voice: "Daddy, Dadddddee, put your peepee in my weewee, Daddy." I had a surge of excitement. Did I have a lurking desire for sex with toddlers? No matter; it was just a fantasy. Mandy sensed my excitement and decided to continue with this X-rated make-believe. "Peepee in weewee, Daddy! Peepee in weewee? Wike you wanna make a baby? Pweease? Daddy, pweeease?" "Tank you, daddy, I wuv you daddy. Peepee, peepee, weewee, weewee." After a little, in a singsong voice: "In and out and in and out and in and out and in! Out and in and out and in and in and out and out and in!" "Waaaay out, and waaaay in! Waaaay out and waaaay in!" "I want a pwesent, daddy. A pwesent. Pweeease? Hide de pwesent, deep deep deep! Hide de pwesent, deep deep deep! Goopy goo, I wuv you, goopy goo, I wuv you. Waaaay in, goopy goo!, waaay in, pwesent for me!" Heavy breathing. "Waaay in, I wuv you! Waaaay in, goopy goo!" "Mmmmmmmmmm! Aaaaaaarrrrr!" The monolog was interrupted by her orgasm, requiring breaking from character. My own orgasm was so intense it briefly felt like her words were coming from a different planet. Panted breaths. "Tank you, daddy. I wuv you!" Panted breaths. "Tank you, daddy, I wuv you!" Fewer panted breaths. "Tank you, daddy, for de goopy goo!" "Tank you, daddy, I wuv you!" "I wuv you ... I wuv you ... I love you daddy, I love you." "Thank you, daddy." And two big squeezes. One with arms. One with her weewee. We rested entwined for many minutes. "Daddy?" "Yes?" "You promise never to leave me?" "I promise I will never, ever leave you." Silence, and mutual drowsiness. "Merry Christmas, Daddy." "Merry Christmas, Mandy." ================================================================== I'm always eager for comments, whether good, bad or mixed. Comments to sterling27@live.com.