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From: greysuit1@aol.com (Greysuit1)
Subject: DADDY's TOUCH (step daughter, anal, con)
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DADDY's TOUCH
I can remember the first time my step-dad used that small black butt plug
on me. And the second. And the third. I remember each and every time He
asked me to lay on my tummy, a pillow booster tucked snuggly under my hips,
my bottom bare, and the inevitable soft probing that was to follow.
The procedure was always the same, almost ritualistic in the way my step
dad proceeded. I would lie on my tummy with a pillow under my hips, my pants
down, not off, just pulled down, waiting, listening for my step-father's
footsteps. He liked to make me wait for a bit, He knows how impatient I am
always, says the waiting is good for me. I hear his footsteps, and my step
dad entering the room.
Lights off, a candle burning by the bedside, its light flickering across
my naked plump bottom cheeks. I knew it was coming, no matter my feelings
about modesty.
My step dad would arrive with the small black butt plug in one hand, and a
jar of Vaseline in the other, smiling at my submission, my willingness to
obey, and let Him have His way with my bottom like this when he asked.
The Vaseline jar always sent a queer sense of unholy excitement through me.
To this day I cannot look at one without thinking of my step father and that
butt plug. The lid would be snapped off and placed on my bedside table, the
plastic jar next to it, on the side the way my head was turned, so I could
see it.
He would always insert just the end of the plug in the pale grease to
lubricate it, then remove it, and I would swallow hard as He carefully sat it
down on the little white towel he had placed on the bedside stand.
The end of the butt plug was not the only thing to be lubricated. My step
father felt that my bottom needed a generous coating of Vaseline, both inside
and out, in order for the probe to slide in without discomfort, and He
enjoyed this ritual.
He would always sit on the side of the bed, next to my hips, something that
made me feel especially close to Him in these times of hushed anticipation,
and gently rub my bare bottom in little small circles, telling me to hush and
that I needed to relax and just do as Daddy told me. This was done no matter
how relaxed I thought I was, and no matter if I had made serious objection or
not.
After a while He would reach over and scoop a little dollop of the
Vaseline onto the little finger of His right hand. I would be transfixed by
the sight of that finger, the grease resembling a small little ball rolled on
to the end of His finger as it was retracted from the depths of the jar.
I knew where it was going, I knew I was powerless to prevent this gentle
assault on my exposed bottom. I admit that after the first few times, when I
had started to understand that this was going to happen no matter my
objections, in some ways, I no longer wanted to stop Him.
I started wanting, or perhaps even needed Him, to touch me this way, to
give him this, to submit to having my bottom massaged and probed, my step dad
working the lubricant gently between my bottom cheeks, into my tiny pink
vortex. To me, the entire procedure was a kind of act of love, my submission
to His little fetish ritual...something I gave back...a small pleasure I
guess...given to my step dad...for all the wonderful things he had done for
me in my life.
His finger and thumb would gently slide between my bottom cheeks. The
fingers would then open, pushing the cheeks of my bare bottom away from each
other, the left thumb holding the right cheek at bay, the fingers on the left
cheek.
To this day, it amazes me at the speed and the ease at which He always
exposed my anus to His view. To my step dad it seemed as natural a thing to
do as breathing, but, at first, I was ashamed at that intinmate exposure.
There was never any hesitations on His part, never any reluctance, only
myself feeling the cool air swirl around my bottom opening as I closed my
eyes in morbid anticipation and embarassment and excitement.
It is truly electrifying, and to me, humiliating, to have my step father
touch me in this way. Cast aside the embarassment factor and my reluctance
to be so intimately exposed to His eyes, and I truthfully admit that when he
touched my anus and the surrounding skin...it is incredibly and intimately
sensual. It is, after all, simply teeming with nerves.
This fact did not seem to be lost on Him. He would reach across to
lubricate my bottom, the bed creaking just a little, and at the sound of
those few rusty springs I would always hold my breath and clench my eyes as
tight as I could, lost in a world which is alive with physical sensation,
anticipation and submission.
My step father would never talk, just simply begin to gently rub the
Vaseline around the little ridges that circled my anus, being sure to also
lubricate the soft skin close by, held tautly apart by His firm hand. I
would always contract, a reflex I later learned, but not knowing at the time
I would always try with all my might to keep my bottom opening from shrinking
and pulling away from His cool fingers.
I would even arch my back a bit, pushing my bottom up at Him, thinking this
would compensate for my tiny opening made even smaller. It never seemed to
help, though, but was still rather fun to stick my bare bottom up in the air.
Something deliciously forbidden...laying on a bed pushing my young bottom up
at my step father.
After a while, I noticed that although my anus would clench at her initial
touch, once my step dad began to rub the area between my cheeks more
thoroughly, I would slowly slip into a blissful state of total and utter
relaxation while He rubbed the Vaseline lovingly.
And even though my breathing was rapid and my pulse racing, my mind always
went in to a blissful quietly erotic state as I surrendered to His touch.
After a bit, in a relaxed state, my bottom belonged to him...my step
father...open and exposed to His intimate soft touches.
It was often at this time, when I finally relaxed, that He would attempt to
push some of the Vaseline into my now relaxed opening. Using only His little
finger, He would stiffen the digit and softly, so very softly, begin to tuck
the grease into the folds at the very center of my opening. Each swipe
seeming more wicked, each gentle push driven by more and more gentle force,
my mind acutely aware of my step dad's every touch, of his ultimate intention
despite no words having been spoken, the entire universe for me reduced to
the resilient pressure of my step father's litle finger now being applied to
my tender opening.
I would always whimper into the pillow, and then, with the first breech of
my anal ring, my whimpers turned to small raspy low gasps. This always
embarrassed me, the small muffled sounds I tried tyo hide with a pillow
pulled close to my mouth. His persistence was always rewarded with the ring
of my muscle surrendering to His Vaseline-laden probe of a finger.
For a while, I would lay quiet, just deep breathing, impaled up to His
second knuckle, and my step dad would simply stop and hold His finger in me.
I felt so suspended, vulnerable and utterly transported...in my own world, a
whirlwind of vague humiliation and overwhelming physical sensation racing
through me as I attempted to lay still. Then, softly, wordlessly, my step
father would begin to slide His finger in and out of my bottom with a regular
rhythm that left me uttering small gasps and feeling breathless with both joy
and tactile pleasures.
My step father never inserted His finger harshly, or really even very
quickly ot too deep in any fashion. Although there were countless times when
as the sensations started to build in me I wanted to be treated more
forcefully, to feel his finger full measure..to be send quickly over the
edge. I would have given more to him.
Rather, my step dad kept up a slow steady pace of in-out, in-out, in-out.
Shallow at first, then a bit deeper, and always with a firm but gentle
pressure. I would find myself sometimes almost involuntarily swelling my
hips back toward his finger, slyly matching his gentle pushes and unable to
command my body to stop this even as it humilaiated me. I remember my legs
used to start to twitch on their own from these sensations, and my step
father always seemed amused by this.
Finally, after an eternity of this slow steady lubrication, He would
withdraw his finger. He always continued to hold my bottom open and I
wondered if He like to watch me like this, if he enjoyed the immense
humiliation that this caused me. But I didn't care really, the feelings
would overwhelm me, his gentleness and command combined to render me helpless
to object.
The butt plug was picked up from the night stand, its end still sticky and
shining like icicle frosting in the candle light. My heart lurching in my
chest as I saw my step father grasp carefully and position the small narrow
end away from His palm.
Holding the cheeks of my bottom wide open, my step dad would ever so gently
touch the cool end of the small probe to my bare and highly stimulated
opening...a preview, and then I would feel it. The sensation of having the
narrow tip of this probe applied to my previously stimulated opening is
perhaps beyond words. The overwhelming rush of pleasure, the combination of
gentleness, eroticism,
submission, hunger and embarrassment that all rushed in to me at once...I
have yet to encounter it. I felt my breath catch in my throat and my heart
stop, and for some reason I always became acutely aware of my toes curling in
response to this small object resting at the exact center of my most private
opening.
The thin probe was pushed ever so gently into my being, my step father
seeming to take forever, but still, sliding it in further than I ever felt
ready for. My eyes would literally tear at the pleasurable sensations, for as
I said, this to me was both humiliating and overwhelming in its sensations.
Only after the plug had been inserted about three inches did my step dad
finally release His grip on my bottom cheeks, thus allowing them to close
back into their original position, my bottom cheeks putting light pressure on
the wedge shaped end of the small plug.
His hand would lightly cup my bottom, two fingers wiggling the plug as it
rest snuggly in my bottom. I lay in almost motionless, but, in sensual
abandonment, and of course mildly embarrassed by the intimacy of the act.
But, and this is what my step father knew, the weakness He could see in my
response...all my perceptions of humiliation were always, sooner or later,
but always eventually, overpowered by feelings of blissful submission and
pleasure at his treatment.
My step dad would lay His hand on my bare bottom, and I would shiver in
the warmth and glow of this act. Five to ten minutes, that's what it usually
was. It went by too quickly, that feeling...always too soon, I would feel
His hand leave my bottom and grasp the end of the plug and very very slowly
remove it. My bottom cheeks were never parted for this portion of the
procedure, because I think my step dad knew it felt better to have the
slippery probe rubbed against the insides of my bare bottom cheeks.
Not every time, but occasionally, He would twist the plug back and forth a
little, ever so slightly as it was slowly withdrawn, the exquisite sensation
giving me goosebumps on my bottom and the back of my legs that no doubt he
could see. I always wanted something more by then, to have the feeling
extended, or more intense, or deeper, or faster...or something, but not to
end. I was ready to give myself completely to this man...to let my step dad
have more of me...to surrender more competly...but..not to stop when I was
right at that edge, waiting for the next wave of sensation to move me a
little higher. When I was like this my step dad...he had me, standing on the
edge and waiting for his push, hungry for the next fix. And like a good
pusher, my step dad..he always gave me just enough but not enough, kept me
hungry for more, even as I didn't want to want more.
So, then, the void...emptiness..the feelings of utter helplessness again as
my step father concluded his little ritual. He would pat my bottom cheeks
and it ended.
It was all right, though. I lay wrapped in my blanket of warm submission
and the feeling of love that comes from giving someone so special to you a
unique gift. There would be another day with my step dad. Sometime, after a
shower, maybe, when my step dad sees me in my tight jeans...clean and
fresh...he may ask me again to go in to the bed room and light a small
candle. And, I will know and I will. I will l lower my jeans and lay
stomach down over this pillow for my step dad...this wonderful kind gentle
man who means the world to me...and I will give him this little gift from
me...my embarrassed look and weak excuses concealing the little electrical
jolt that will no doubt start to buzz somewhere very deep in my being.
--
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