Family bath time
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!
It is a rare privilege for a father to bathe his daughter. I felt
very strongly that Sophie was allowing me an intimacy that placed
all the onus of trust on me. Should my touch become too intimate
she would giggle and say 'it tickles!' and it would be expected
that I should not trespass further. If I ignored her warning she
would gently but firmly remove my hand to some less sensitive
area. Her ticklishness varied from bathtime to bathtime so that I
never really knew where the boundaries were but tended to go in
search of them. On this occasion she allowed the most intimate
washing of her vulva that heretofore had always proven far too
ticklish to allow even an external caress, far less the gentle
parting of her labia and caressing of the small protuberance of
her clitoris, the sweet tight mouth of her vagina and her little
pursed anus.
Sophie lay with her legs wide apart and eyes closed, a slight
smile and the flick of her tongue being the only sign of
enjoyment. When I gently touched her clitoris she bit her lip and
moved slightly as if to make herself more accessible. I told
myself to stop, but didn't: it excited me too much. I began to
massage her vulva, gently touching her clitoris from time to time
and it was obvious now that her breathing had changed slightly.
At the next pass I allowed my finger to linger at the entrance to
her vagina and, very gently, probe. She took a deeper breath as
my finger entered this silky little orifice but I stopped myself
from going further than the first finger joint and withdrew, my
heart racing alarmingly and my throat dry and constricted. I
wanted to stop but Sophie's acquiescence was a greater temptation
to continue.
I'm not sure how long I spent gently stroking her beautiful,
silky soft vulva and its pearl of a clitoris but Sophie just lay
there, legs in 'frog' position, her belly rising and falling
until, just as I was convincing myself that it was time to stop,
her belly sucked in and she clamped her thighs on my hand,
shuddered gently and then exhaled slowly.
"Time to wash you hair" I croaked, withdrawing my hand from
between her tightly clenched thighs and reaching for the shampoo.
Sophie sat up but neither spoke nor looked at me. I felt wildly
excited and at the same time tormented with guilt for having so
completely enjoyed the amazing privilege Sophie had allowed me.
Testing the temperature of the water I got on with the business
of washing and conditioning her hair, a ritual that required my
full attention and allowed me time to calm down.
The second part of our bath-time hair-wash ritual since Sophie
had been a baby was a massage before reading to her, but this
time, as I carried her from the bathroom and laid her on the
towel, I was torn again between the temptation and the guilt. But
when she lay down, her legs slightly apart, the sight of her soft
vulva and labial crease meant temptation won.
I tend to lose myself in massage, closing my eyes and
experiencing the other person through touch. It had always been
like this with Sophie and it had always been an erotic
experience, but never so intensely as I smoothed the lotion onto
her thighs and firm buttocks, gently allowing my hand to cares
her labia and slide up the crease of her bum and over her tight
little anal rosebud. She murmured quietly, wriggled slightly and
parted her legs just a fraction more in an unmistakable signal of
invitation.
My heart thumped against my chest and my throat went dry and
tight as I fought a monstrous carnal urge to tear off my clothes
and thrust myself on her small supine body. It brought to mind a
memory from when I was about twelve of Sylvie, who was then about
Sophie's age, daring me not to wear a swimsuit on the beach one
summer's day a long time ago as she pulled off her tee-shirt and
kicked off her shorts and stood there in her pink and white
knickers pulling teasingly on the waistband. I was torn between
fear of the imagined consequences of getting caught and the fear
of being teased further by this girl that I so often dreamed
about having sex with as I masturbated and afterwards brutally
castigated myself for having had such obscene thoughts.
"Don't stop!" murmured Sophie and I was brought back to my
present agonisingly tempting predicament.
As I massaged Sophie I thought a lot about Sylvie and that
afternoon on an empty beach. If only I had known then even a
fraction of what I knew now. But there was an irony in that as
even now, years and much experience later, I was still being
tormented by the guilt of my secret desires, which had
intensified over the years. I was conscious of the straining
erection in my pyjama shorts just as I had been back then though
now I was fighting a desire to get naked and then I had been
trying to resist Sylvie's teasing torment.
When I finally got down to my underpants the state of my
excitement was obvious and Sylvie's 'oh come on, let me see it'
simply brought me closer to the boil so that, when I finally
stepped out of my underpants and she had taken off her knickers I
was dribbling a long silvery skein of precum.
Sylvie had giggled and grabbed at my erection and said something
appreciative like 'its lovely' whereupon the touch of her hands
precipitated a violent ejaculation that spurted over her belly
and chest and dribbled over her hands.
Sophie murmured and sighed as I let my hand brush her inner
thighs, vulva and anus and I gently asked her to turn over. She
complied and said 'this is so nice' and spread her legs
invitingly wide as I began to smooth the lotion into her legs and
belly noting as I did that the her labia seemed to have parted
slightly so that instead of the neat groove the lips were puffier
and revealed the soft pink inner lips and the small protuberance
of her clitoral hood.
I closed my eyes and focused all my attention on gently massaging
her firm smooth body, working up her legs, over her mons and
belly to the tiny firm nipples and back again to her mons and the
soft vulva with its pinkishly swollen lips invitingly opening, on
to her rosebud anus, then along her delicious thighs to her feet
and then back. But each time lingering longer and longer on the
enticing softness between thighs that were now spread wide in the
'frog leg' pose that I had always assumed meant complete
relaxation.
Sophie's labia were widely parted, blush pink and clearly
swollen, exposing the darker pink of the inner labia, the pea
like protuberance of her clitoral hood and the small dark pit of
her urethra with just below it the slightly puckered mouth of her
vagina. I could not control myself as I kissed first one small
nipple and then the other and ran my tongue down to her belly
button and further on down to the mons and into the dear sweet
gaping vulva.
I fully expected Sophie to push me away, or even scream but
instead her thighs relaxed outwards as I moved to apply my lips
and tongue to her most intimate places. I had never tasted a
young girl before and was surprised how freshly sweet she tasted;
quite excitingly unlike the sharper more aromatic taste of a
woman. I kissed and caressed with my tongue all these velvet soft
places from the the lightest of tongue-tip touches on her
clitoris to a probing entry of my tongue first into her rosebud
anus and then, when I could control myself no longer, into her
vagina itself.
For quite some time I was unsure of what, if any, effects my
cunnilingual efforts were having. After a gloriously long time
her breathing grew deeper and shorter I sensed she was very
excited but, as in so many similar previous situations, I began
to become worried that I wasn't doing enough to bring her to
orgasm. Since I could not ask her,
I continued until my jaw ached and still there was no sign of the
'Sally moment'. So I eased a finger into her anus and kept on
kissing and licking her clit and pushing my tongue as deep into
her vagina as I was able until, just when I thought I'd probably
done enough, she clamped my head between her thighs, arched her
back, shuddered alarmingly, sighed and fell back.
She watched me smokily as I slipped off the bed and stood up.
"Read to me?" she suggested with a wry, sly smile.
Keys: Mg intimate bathing incestuous thoughts
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