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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of o
o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o
o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o
o particular order other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to o
o be typed therefore I don’t type things myself." I think it’s o
o a lot more fun to browse around and find 'little' surprises o
o that you might not have even thought of looking for. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors. Kristen o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
At His Daughter's Mercy (Mf, teen)
by Schulzie <schulzie@hotmail.com>
Jim Sykes was in a bad way. Only hours before, he was racing down the
ski slopes with a buddy of his from work. Now, here he was waiting for
Bill, his buddy, to unlock the door to let him into his own house. You
see, Jim had lost total control of his skis on that last ski trail, and
found himself horizontal, sliding directly for the woods to the side of
the trail. Friction alone helped to slow the helpless skier, but Jim
could see he was heading for the trunk of a formidable tree right in his
path. In a spontaneous defensive motion, Jim braced himself for the
impact by putting his arms out in front of him rather than take the
impact headfirst. Fortunately, his head suffered no damage. But his
hands and wrists had taken the force of the crash into the tree. Searing
pain hit Jim hard, starting with his hands, moving up his arms, until he
thought he would pass out from the pain. He didn't pass out, but the
rest of the evening was a long one as the ski patrol took him to the
lodge infirmary to treat his wounds and injuries. His buddy Bill was
with him as he received the bad news. He had broken both wrists and
several small bones in his hands. His wrists were set in casts, and he
was told it would take a number of weeks before his wrists would heal
properly.
Since he had gone to the resort with Bill, he didn't have to worry about
driving home. Thank God, he thought, since the painkiller they had given
him at the infirmary had made him a little groggy. In spite of his
stupidity on the slopes, Jim was not worried about the time he would
miss from work. He had numerous sick days saved up from years of work in
which he had taken no sick days at all. He had enough sick days
accumulated that he could afford to take a couple of months off if his
health dictated it. What really worried Jim was the fact that having
both wrists incapacitated would make daily life very challenging.
Dressing, eating, showering...all of the mundane activities of life were
about to become more difficult. Especially since he had no wife. Jim's
wife, Annie, had died twelve years ago in an automobile accident which
left him to survive as a single parent of their young daughter, Dana.
Jim drifted in and out of sleep on the ride home due to the effects of
the injection for pain he was given by the doctor at the infirmary. Try
as he might to remain awake and focus on how he was going to get through
the next few days and weeks, Jim continued to drift off. When they
finally arrived at Jim's house, Bill had to shake Jim to get him to wake
up. Bill helped his friend to the door, taking the key ring out of Jim's
coat pocket, and unlocking the front door. Bill led Jim upstairs to his
bedroom and proceeded to undress his injured friend down to his briefs.
It would have been quite a struggle for Jim to have managed to get all
of his clothes off with his wrists in casts, not to mention his being
somewhat sedated by the drugs. Bill said to his friend, "I'll give you a
call tomorrow to see how you're doing. I'll let the boss know what
happened so he won't dock you. Let me know if I can do anything for you,
Buddy."
Jim looked up at Bill and said, "There is one thing you could do for me
before you go."
"Sure. Name it."
"Go down the hall and check on Dana. Make sure she's alright."
Being a father himself, Bill was more than glad to check on Jim's
daughter. He quietly walked down the hall, opened her door slightly, and
peeked in. Fourteen-year old Dana was tucked in under the covers
sleeping soundly. Bill went back to Jim's room and found that Jim had
fallen asleep on top of the covers. Bill turned off the light, closed
the bedroom door, and quietly left the house.
The following morning, Dana woke up around 9 o'clock. It was only a few
days after Christmas, school was out for the holidays, so she was in no
hurry to get out of bed.
She lay there for a few minutes making plans for the day wondering what
the weather was like outside. Climbing out of bed, Dana slipped into her
robe and stepped into her slippers and wandered over to her window to
take a look outside. There were a few clouds in the sky, but it looked
like it was going to be a bright, sunny day. Then she looked down at the
driveway and noticed that her Dad's car was still there. Dana looked at
her alarm clock and realized it was after 9. Her Dad usually left for
work around 7. Something wasn't right since her Dad hardly ever missed
work. She left her room and went downstairs to see if he was there. When
she got to the last step, she saw that his keys were on the table and
his briefcase was next to his recliner. He must still be in his room,
she thought. Did he oversleep? Was he sick? Oh, my God, she thought,
what was wrong with Daddy?
She rushed back upstairs and down the hall to his room. When she got
there, she found the door closed. She knocked softly at first. "Daddy?"
No response. She knocked louder and called out, "Daddy? Are you alright?
It's after 9 o'clock. Are you up yet?" Again, there was no answer from
the other side of the door. Dana began to panic a little. Her father
being home on a work day was very unusual. But the fact that he wouldn't
respond to her knock or voice really upset her. Ever since she could
remember, her father had been there for her and she never thought for
one moment that he wouldn't be there. But now she was feeling worried
and insecure. She was almost afraid to turn the doorknob and look in,
not knowing what she might find out. Part of her was afraid that he had
died. No, she reprimanded herself, ridding herself of such morbid
thoughts. Yet, the realization that she had lost her mother at such a
young age made the young girl shudder at the possibility that her father
might die unexpectedly and leave her alone to fend for herself.
After a few moments that seemed like an eternity, Dana plucked up enough
courage to open her father's door. She turned the knob and slowly opened
the door to his bedroom.
Immediately, she saw her father sleeping face-up on the bed. The first
thing to hit her was a sense of relief. He was there and she could see
that he was breathing normally. Then she noticed the casts on his
wrists. Now it was beginning to make sense. She remembered that he had
gone skiing last night and from the look of things he must have really
got banged up pretty bad. Poor Daddy, she thought to herself. No wonder
he didn't go to work today.
Then, after understanding why he was still home but apparently not too
badly hurt, she suddenly became aware on one more thing. Her father was
sleeping in his underwear, on top of the covers, in plain view of her
eyes. In all of her years, Jim had behaved modestly in front of his
daughter, not once allowing her to see him in his underwear. He either
wore pajamas or a robe around the house when she was home. It wasn't
that he was a prude. But since she was little, he wasn't quite sure how
a single father of a girl should act around the house as an adult male.
Part of him knew that nudity or partial nudity was perfect natural
within a family, but he also didn't want to act in a way that others
might think was improper. He always felt that if he were to err in his
child-rearing methods, better he be too conservative than too
permissive.
Dana was very surprised to see her father in his underwear. Funny, she
thought about her own surprise at seeing her father practically naked,
but she had seen him in a bathing suit at the beach or at the pool and
had never given too much thought to her Daddy's body. Yet, here we was
lying on the bed in front of her with only a pair of cotton briefs on,
and it seemed almost forbidden for her to see him in just his underwear.
The real cause of Dana's surprise was the bulge in his underwear pushing
up in the front like a tent. It had escaped her notice at first as just
the sight of his lying on the bed in his briefs had startled her a bit.
But, now she was mesmerized by the huge bulge sticking up. Dana was not
naive by any means. She realized that her Daddy had an erection. She
knew enough from sex ed in school to know about penises and erections,
but she was a little shocked to think that her own father got erections.
She always associated erections with boys her own age since most of the
diagrams in the textbooks gave adolescent male anatomy drawings of erect
penises as examples.
With the textbook as the basis of her knowledge, supplemented by the
little bit and pieces of information supplied by some of her girl
friends, she knew enough about sex to know that what she was gawking at
was a bulge created by an erect penis...in her own father's underwear!
The obvious suddenly occurred to the intelligent, but inexperienced
young teenager all at once, in a new way that she had never considered
before. Her father was a man, her father had a penis, and her father had
an erection - right now - pushing and straining the cotton material of
his briefs. And she could see the bulge jutting out from his groin. His
erection was so immense that it was stretching his waistband, ever so
slightly, up from his taut stomach. Dana could not see under the
waistband, but she could tell by the shape and the size of the bulge
that her father must have a big penis. No, her father had a huge penis.
In spite of all her academic knowledge of sex and the male anatomy, Dana
had no practical knowledge of penises whatsoever. She was still a
virgin, and a very inexperienced virgin, at that. She had never seen a
penis before in her life, not even on a little baby boy. She had done
some babysitting before, but always with little girls.
As far as boys her own age were concerned, she had never gone beyond the
stage of kissing and letting them get quick little feels of her budding
breasts, but she had never seen or even touched a penis before. The
closest she had ever come to seeing a penis was when she was about 8 or
9 years old. She had gone on a little nature walk in nearby woods with
one of the boys in her neighborhood. During their little hike, he said
he had to pee and he went to the nearest tree to relieve himself. She
was behind him and all she could see was the motion of his hands pulling
out his penis, and the splash of his urine as it hit the tree. She
thought it was kind of neat that boys could pee standing up and could so
easily go to the bathroom outdoors when they had to without exposing
their entire bottoms the way she would have to do if she needed to pee.
She tried to move to his side a little bit to get a peek at his penis,
but by the time she got to where she might see it, he had finished and
stuffed his penis back in his pants.
But now, right before her eyes, was a grown man's penis - her father's
penis - hidden only by his underwear. And it was erect. And it was huge.
>From what she had read and what her friends had told her, a man's penis
were usually about six inches long. She didn't know how big her father's
penis was, but it was sure more than six inches.
And the tip of it was poking up, lifting the waistband even more. She
got a little closer and cocked her head to one side trying to get a peek
at his erect penis under the waistband that was extended slightly up off
his tummy. No luck. But she could see a tiny bit of curly brown hair
down his shorts, the same color as the hair on his head. Pubic hair, she
realized. She saw her father's pubic hair. She felt a sense of
excitement from the knowledge that she had seen a tiny intimate part of
her father's body. Then she began to feel a sense of guilt. This was her
father's body she had been thinking about, not one of the boys at
school. She had been staring at her own father's crotch, wondering what
his penis looked like, even wondering what it might be like to touch.
That's all she wanted to do, she thought to herself. Just look at it and
touch it, just to satisfy her curiosity. But then she returned to
reality again. There was something wrong about the idea of looking at or
touching your own father's penis, she thought. No, she just couldn't.
She wouldn't. Not even though her own curiosity was driving her crazy.
Then she noticed that his underwear - right where the tip of his penis
was pushing - was moist with a few little droplets of...of what, she
wondered. Then she realized that the crotch of her own panties were
moist. She knew that her vagina got wet when she was thinking about sex
and sometimes that wetness would drip down to the crotch of her pretty
cotton panties. She had only recently discovered masturbation, though
she had not yet brought herself to an orgasm. She had read about
orgasms, but wasn't sure exactly what they were like. Her masturbation
was limited to rubbing her vulva under her panties as she lay in bed at
night. It made her feel good to rub her fingers over her labia as she
drifted off to sleep, but she had never fantasized while doing so. She
just rubbed her vulva as a way of relaxing herself to sleep. She was
aware that as she played with herself, she could feel herself getting
wet inside, and her limited knowledge of sex suggested to her that the
wetness was perfectly normal, that the wetness was just a natural
lubricant that allowed women's vaginas to get wet to allow a man's penis
to slip in more easily when they had sex.
As she thought about her own wetness, she continued to stare at the
wetness on her father's underwear. It wasn't yellow, so it must not be
pee. What was it then?
And then, something occurred to her. Why were both her father's
underwear and her own panties getting wet, especially hers. She
considered the possibility that her father must be having some dream
about sex. Her father dated occasionally, but he didn't have one
particular girlfriend. She found it hard to believe that her own father
dreamed about sex, but that was the only explanation she could come up
with to explain why her father was sleeping with an erection. But then
the only time she had wet panties was when she was playing with herself.
She wasn't playing with herself now. Why should her panties be wet. It
then dawned on her. If her father had an erection because he was
dreaming about having sex with a woman, then could her panties be wet
because she had been thinking about...her father's penis. About seeing
it? About touching it? Did she want to have sex...with her own Daddy?
Suddenly, her father began to stir. She came to her senses and knew that
if he opened his eyes and saw her there that he would realize that she
had been staring at him. She quickly and quietly back out of the bedroom
and closed the door.
Standing in the hallway, her head was spinning. In only a few minutes,
there were unanswered questions in her brain that demanded to be
answered.