Her soft cheek felt good against my chest. Small nostrils on her button nose flared gently in peaceful sleep, her warm little breaths stirring my chest hair. I felt a flush of love looking at her cuddled to my side, her slim arm thrown over my chest, knee over my thigh and a perfect little buttock in the palm of my hand. Knowing her small womb carried my semen thrilled me. I was at peace, muscles relaxed, and satisfaction permeating me in a post-orgasmic glow as I pulled my little lover, my nine-year-old daughter closer. Smiling, I thought back; so many changes in such a short time. Who knew she'd be my saviour?

"One step up, Leah."

"Okay." Leah raised her foot and tentatively found the stair. "Thanks, Dad."

My heart was heavy watching her bravery, something I thought I wouldn't have in her situation. Three months in and there was no improvement, although the doctors assured us the optic nerves were only severely bruised and there was a reasonable chance her sight would return. Three months since I'd buried her mother and the hole in my heart, the hole in my life, was still gaping, painful and debilitating.

"Another step here, honey," I said, holding her small hand as she felt with her raised foot.

"Got it, Dad."

Three months of tests, hospital stays and specialists, and Leah's constant positive outlook, her brightness and optimism, could not displace my depression. It hurt seeing her disabled. I worried constantly that she'd never see again; the thought adding to my pain. I had a burning hate in me, an evil that churned oily in my gut and blackened my perceptions of everything; a hate I had to fight every day to hide from Leah. I couldn't let the anger go nor forgive. The thought of revenge plagued me night and day. My child was hurt and she'd lost her mother. Someone had to pay.

I watched Leah manoeuvre through the front door towards the kitchen, her white cane banging and flailing with inexperience. I hated it. It represented acceptance; it felt like we'd caved to her blindness as a permanent condition.

"Dad, can we have some ice cream?"

"Absolutely," I answered with a light heartedness I didn't feel. "After dinner."

"Aaw Dad! Why not now?" Leah whined, then grinned an impish grin, "And after dinner, too!"

I smiled at her attempt to sway me, knowing full well I'd do anything in the world for her even if it included unhealthy eating habits. There was time enough in the future to reinstitute nutritional discipline.

"Okay. But only one scoop, Leah."

"Yay! Hurry Dad, I'm hungry," she declared as she banged into the kitchen door frame. "Oof. Oops!"

Sitting at the kitchen table, Leah probing around her bowl with a finger to find the last of the ice cream and then sucking her chocolate-sauce-covered fingertip, I felt my heart thud heavily. Leah was a wonderful daughter, more than I deserved. I couldn't understand how she maintained such a cheery and optimistic outlook. At nine years old she'd shed all remnants of baby fat and grown into a tiny lady. Her long, straight, ash-blonde hair fell just over her shoulders and she constantly pushed it back behind cute little ears.

I noticed the fringe at the front was getting a bit long and falling over her eyes. I felt terrible when I considered it didn't really matter; she couldn't see anyway. The unbidden nasty thought brought on a wave of self disgust.

"Hair cut tomorrow, Leah," I advised as she sucked the chocolate sauce off another finger. How she got chocolate sauce up high on her cheek I couldn't fathom. "You have chocolate on your cheek. No, the other one."

I liked her grin, but her swipe only spread chocolate to her ear on both sides. "Here, let me, honey."

"Can I get it cut short?" she asked.

It took me a second to get back on the subject; I'd been distracted watching her pretty face. It was hard to accept those beautifully expressive eyes were not actually seeing anything. Her long thick lashes made them loom large in her elfin face.

"How short?"

She pulled her hair over the front of her small shoulder, fingers combing through the fine hair to find the end. I smiled when she backed her finger up all of half an inch. "This much, Dad."

"Sure. We can do that. Are you sure you don't want it a lot shorter? It would make it easier to manage."

"Nope. Just this much," she said with conviction, now showing me an inch and a half.

As she departed the kitchen, "Gotta pee, Dad," I again agonized over moving, while watching her feel her way to the guest bathroom. Every time she got near the stairs I worried. I had visions of her tumbling down and breaking her neck. Yet, selling the house and moving to a single-story ranch-style home felt like another admission of defeat, acceptance that she wasn't going to get better, that her condition was permanent, and I just couldn't accept that. I couldn't!

Yet the constant worry that she'd fall, that she'd trip into the pool, and countless other potential disasters that ordinarily I'd never thought twice about, made me nervous and on edge all the time. I'd never realized how many possible hazards there were in the house. We'll move I finally decided, knowing full well I'd change my mind as soon as I saw something that reminded me of Mandy.

"DAD!" Leah shouted.

Following her voice I stood outside the downstairs bathroom, door closed. "What honey?"

"I need toilet paper."

"Okay. Hold on."

With a new roll in my hand I reached through a gap in the door. "Here."

"Where?" Leah asked calmly.

Remembering she couldn't see my hand I opened the door and put the roll into her small hand, looking at her sitting on the toilet with her jeans and panties around her ankles. She grinned.

"Thanks."

I beat a hasty retreat when I found my eyes taking in her slim legs.

After dinner, with the TV on mute, we sat in comfort on the couch as I read a book to Leah. I'd found it difficult to find things to entertain her aside from the TV, and that angered me too. I'd never considered how visual entertainment was. With her loss of vision she'd lost a big part of the world and everything we'd taken for granted was no longer available to her. Now everything I looked at, I looked at from the perspective of harm it might cause, or worse, with a deep regret Leah might never see it. I was constantly angry. I felt like I was becoming a bitter old man and helpless to stop my slide.

Her giggles at my character voices made my heart warm. I loved having her cuddled to my side. If anything I pulled her closer and hugged her more fiercely these days. She was all I had left in the world. Watching her smile, I hoped fervently she'd regain her sight. Had I believed in God, I'd have prayed.

Bedtime routine had changed. After seeing Leah with a T-shirt on inside-out and backwards, wearing mismatched socks, I had taken to selecting her wardrobe and laying it out on her bed for her. It was not unusual for her to wander into her room from the shower while I was about to leave. However, this night when she came in, hair still damp and dripping, she started drying her hair with one end of the towel, her head tilted to the side.

It was a completely innocent action on her part and intensely feminine. I just stared as her towel opened and partially exposed her young body. It was something in the innocence of her actions that made me suddenly feel like a voyeur, as if she didn't know I was there even though she did. I just couldn't help but study her small body, her flat chest with tiny pinkish areolae very slightly mounded from a hint of pubescence, little beads for nipples, her slimness, and flat tummy with a gentle curve below her belly button. When I saw her pubis, a soft thick V-shaped pad between her bony hips and thin thighs, I felt a flush of shame flow through me. Seeing the top of her tiny cleft had elicited an involuntary reaction that was entirely un-fatherly.

I turned and left her room, blushing. "I put your nightgown on the bed, Leah," I called over my shoulder.

"Thanks, Dad."

That night I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable and unable to get to sleep. I wrestled with demons I never knew I had. Despite all the rationalisations I could come up with, too long without female companionship, a moment of weakness, being close to Leah all the time, stress, and many more, the truth, when I was finally honest with myself, was that I'd found Leah's immature body appealing.

The demons inside punished me, voices in my head screaming disapproval; it's your daughter, she's a child, you're a monster, you're a paedophile, you should be sent to jail, she's BLIND, you're her FATHER! And as I tossed and turned agreeing with every one of the points my conscience was articulating, I couldn't get the sight of her partially naked body out of my mind. I felt terrible, as if I was letting my daughter down.

It surprised me when sunlight woke me in the morning. I'd evidently fallen asleep without realising it. The memory of Leah as I had seen her last night rushed back at me and, before I knew it, I had an erection.

I castigated myself and called myself every name in the book, but I masturbated in the shower to visions of Leah's sexy little body nontheless, semen spurting out hard as I pictured her tiny cleft wondering what it would feel like. Immediately after cumming I felt bad, ashamed, disgusted, and angry. Guilt rushed in. I saw my shame staring at me accusingly in the mirror as I shaved and, in that post-orgasmic guilt, resolved never to do it again.

The day started out badly for me and my resolution. A crash from Leah's bathroom brought me running, underwear on and shaving foam on half my face.

"Are you okay, Leah?" I asked urgently as I ran into her bathroom. I was greeted by Leah in little pink panties at the wash basin, a sheepish grin on her face.

"Sorry Dad. I think I knocked something over."

"It's just a washcloth holder, honey." As I picked it up from the floor, I couldn't stop my eyes from admiring the beautiful shape of her bottom inside pink cotton, such an alluring curve from her slim back with buttocks sweeping out and in sharply to her thin legs. I quickly left the bathroom.

Through the day I managed to forget my transgressions of thought and simply enjoy Leah. I found my interaction with her was so, so much more involved than before she'd lost her sight. I talked to her constantly, describing things, telling her what was going on, guiding her and generally tried to keep her mind from dwelling as we shopped. I began to see the world differently. She asked questions constantly and the occasional unconscious tilt of her head when listening to me was cute. Her stoic acceptance of her blindness, never letting it bring her down, tore at my heart. My child was injured and it seemed I hurt more than she did.

Over time our constant communication had a curious effect of bringing us closer. She became more reliant on me but, for some reason, I was becoming more reliant on her, too. I needed her near me. I needed to hear her sweet voice and I needed to touch her; rest my hand on her small shoulder or her slight back to guide her, or simply hold her small hand. I needed the contact; it comforted me, kept ugly thoughts at bay and calmed the dark anger that lurked inside me. It helped me as I tried to recover from losing a wife. I realized Leah was helping me battle depression, the inky black cloud that hovered so close and threatened to descend and overwhelm me.

"Dad, can we go out today?" Leah asked, slurping her morning cereal, Frosted Flakes liberally spilled on the table as her finger chased the last of them floating in milk.

"You bet," I responded. Outings were one of the distractions we'd found helped us both. It kept me busy and Leah and I would have a constant dialogue going. "Where would you like to go?"

Leah grinned. "My choice?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Okay. Paris."

"Paris? As in Arizona?"

Leah laughed, a lovely tinkle of music. "No, Dad. Paris, France!"

"What's in Paris?" I asked, intrigued.

"I don't know," she answered, then grinned, "but they speak French."

"Maybe, but you don't."

"Oui! I do!" she exclaimed smiling.

"Well then we must go immediately. Do you want to get dressed before we leave?" I asked, grinning.

Her giggle was heart-warming. "Can we go to the beach today?"

We did. A day at the beach.

"Over here," I called out as Leah splashed out of the surf, her one-piece swimsuit plastered to her body. As I guided her with my voice, talking continuously and calmly to her so she could follow it, I looked at her carefully. Her swim suit, despite being a modest one-piece, outlined every curve, every muscle and every bone on her thin body. I felt some pride at how pretty she was. Her ash-blonde hair was dark, wet and plastered back over her head making her face the centre of attention, a remarkably pretty face. Pubescence was about to explode with tiny little bumps on her chest the first sign of a dramatic change that was about to take her body by storm. As she walked towards me I noticed a slight waist forming which gave a soft, gentle flare below her hips and accentuated their movement, an intensely feminine side-to-side motion.

I felt a sudden tumescence and averted my eyes when I saw her plump pudendum, her small cleft outlined by a camel toe and water dripping from her vulva between the gap of her slim legs. Un-fatherly thoughts sneaked back in uncontrollably. I chastised myself and studiously avoided looking at Leah anywhere except for her attractive face. But despite my intentions, it was hard and I felt bad when I caught a glimpse of her little bottom bouncing joyously as she ran back to the water, one bum cheek exposed as the swim suit slipped between her buttocks.

That night, I sat on the side of Leah's bed with an eagle ear out for unnatural crashes or thumps from the bathroom while she showered. I realised Leah was a balm to my fractured soul. She gave my life meaning; she graced me with her joy and personality. I realised that, when I was with her, I was actually happy at times. It was a miraculous gift and, remembering my un-fatherly thoughts at the beach, I was absolutely determined to let nothing, nothing jeopardize the gift she was bestowing on me; a gift of healing and pure unconditional love.

"You're still here, Dad?"

Leah had come out of the bathroom while I was deep in thought. I hadn't noticed. "How did you know, honey?" I asked intrigued.

She smiled. "I smelled you, Dad."

"Oh. Well, I do apologize. I'll take my shower before we watch the movie." I loved Leah's giggle.

"No Dad. Not that. You don't smell bad. I smelled you. You know; you."

I sniffed my arm. "Nope. I can't smell a thing."

"Well you smell, Dad. Kinda nice."

I took great care to avert my eyes while Leah put on her panties and night shirt. It wasn't until I was leading her by the hand down the stairs that I realized that was the first time I'd stayed in her room while she dressed. It was odd. She knew I was there but said nothing.

Leaving her in the den, TV turned on to a well known and much repeated sitcom, I hurried upstairs and showered. Returning, I sat next to Leah, wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, bending to kiss the crown of her head. "I love you, Leah," I murmured to her. I felt unusually emotional, tears prickling the back of my eyes.

She wiggled even closer. "Love you too, Dad."

I sat at peace with my daughter close to my side as we started watching a Disney movie, elated by her giggles and laughs, and the body wiggles that accompanied them. I felt lucky. So lucky I kissed her crown again, inhaling her clean aroma. My daughter.

Our routine was set. I'd wake her in the morning, select her clothes for the day, and despite her not being able to see them, she directed my fashion selection as if she could. In fact, I found she had an uncanny ability to tell what I had put out.

"Dad, I said the blue skirt."

"How do you know it isn't?" I asked intrigued as she held her yellow skirt.

She grinned. "It's the material, dummy. They feel different."

So there. I was caught. I tried to follow her orders. But every so often I'd grin and substitute something completely wrong, something that would clash with her other clothes, carefully selecting a similar material. Leah was sharp and caught me every time. It was mystifying how she did it. But like all magic tricks, the answer was remarkably simple.

"How do you know?" I asked in wonder as she giggled at another of my attempts to fool her.

"Dad, I hear you grinning," she said.

"No you don't," I countered. "You can't hear a grin!"

"No silly. You breathe differently when you're grinning."

Well blow me down. Who knew?

We gradually came to accept the situation as it was. Our visits to the specialists gave us constant hope Leah's eyesight would return; swelling of the optic nerves had subsided and now we'd have to wait patiently. But our behaviour was affected by our situation. The constant touches started growing as if by mutual need. Leah would seek me out and hug me, she'd hold my hand longer than necessary, walk closer to me as we strolled through the mall, and eventually she'd worm her way onto my lap on the couch in the den, cuddling close; a warm delightful bundle in my arms.

The constant touches affected me as well. I'd reach for her at odd moments almost as if to reassure myself she was there. I'd miss her when she wasn't in the same room as me and inevitably would go searching for her. I found such tremendous comfort in feeling her; she was an anchor, keeping me sane and healing my soul. I started picking her up and hugging her with an inexplicable tightness in my chest. And I was never more comfortable than when we were lying on the couch together, her cheek on my chest and a leg thrown over me as I read a book out loud. Her giggles would shake my body, a powerful sedative indeed.

Over a period of two months, we subtly became ever closer. I held Leah tighter when I'd kiss her cheek or the top of her head. Leah sighed more as she cuddled on my lap, trying to burrow into me. But it was an inadvertent move by both of us that began to change our relationship.

She was sitting on my lap, giggling at Two and a Half Men on TV when I'd felt a strong pulse of love for her. It was an involuntary surge inside when I recognized just how much I loved her, how she'd become the most important person in the world to me. I felt pain in my chest when I imagined life without her; how desolate it would be. Leah had become my world, my entire world.

The strong feelings temporarily overwhelmed me and, as I bent to kiss the top of her head, my emotions running high, Leah turned her face to me. I couldn't help myself. My lips touched hers before I could pull back; soft little lips against me.

My world tilted when she murmured. My world tilted again when she reached up and wrapped her small arm around my neck. My world changed, irrevocably changed when Leah hugged me tighter, her small lips warm against mine.

It was a seminal moment and, while I might have expected shock or horror, I felt good, as though everything was right in the world. The kiss didn't last and Leah sighed again, wiggling and cuddling into me afterwards. But the world was different; I was different.

As I held my daughter in my lap, a feeling of peace settled over me. I loved Leah. But I loved her not only as my daughter, as her father, but as Leah, the saviour, the one person in the world that made me whole; the one person that soothed me and calmed the demons inside me. I loved Leah.

It was almost surreal when I held her in my arms, a small, slight, warm and cuddly girl, and carried her to her room. Putting her down softly on her bed she smiled, a gentle curve of sweet lips.

"Brush your teeth, honey. I'll set out your night clothes," I said softly with far too much feeling in my voice. I changed and returned to tuck her into bed, kissing her forehead whispering, "I love you, honey. Sleep well."

But much later, as I lay in bed, stunned by the strength of the attraction I'd experienced, I saw Leah standing in my doorway.

"Is something wrong, honey?" I asked.

"Can I sleep in your bed, Dad?"

"Of course you can. Having nightmares?" I asked holding the quilt open as she felt her way to the bed.

"No. I just need company I think. Feeling a bit down," Leah answered as she crawled in and nestled to my side. "Thanks, Dad."

We lay in companionable silence. My mind was completely filled with this new experience, having my daughter cuddled to me in bed. She felt so good, a warm bundle emitting an intoxicating aroma of shampoo and little girl. I hadn't had anyone in my bed for far too long and had forgotten how nice it was to have a warm body next to me.

I was quite surprised to wake up the next morning. I'd thought I would have trouble falling asleep. But Leah was a powerful sedative; the sound of her gentle breathing as she slept had lulled me into sleep. Nevertheless, waking up with my daughter spooned to my front, my arms holding her, her small exhalations stirring the hair on my forearm, and my nose buried in her hair, I could not stop my body's reaction.

The feel of her petite, firm bottom against me while holding her small body aroused me, my penis waking up, thickening and extending. I felt guilty, guilty because it felt so good, because I liked it. I gently extracted myself from the bed, quietly closed the bathroom door and stroked myself thinking of my daughter's small bottom, her scent, her little body. Semen surged up my shaft to shoot into the toilet as I visualized her tiny cleft. I masturbated hard enjoying each blissful pulse of semen, dreaming of Leah.

When I came down from my orgasm I fully expected guilt and shame to rush in and displace the feeling of satisfaction, as it had before; it didn't. I'd done nothing wrong I rationalised. Having brushed my teeth, shaved and done my business I paused in the bathroom doorway. Leah was still asleep in my bed, a small form curled on her side under the quilt with fine ash-blonde hair splayed over the pillow.

Simply watching her made me feel warm inside; having Leah in my bed felt exciting and comforting at the same time. I liked her there and wished she'd sleep with me every night.

I recognised how calming it was to have Leah in bed with me; I'd slept better than I had since the accident and felt refreshed, almost optimistic. I actually looked forward to the day and the sun shined brighter too, all thanks to Leah.

"Dad?"

"Here, honey." I watched her stretch and yawn.

"I slept good Dad, really good. Can I sleep here again tonight?" she asked as she pulled the quilt back.

Yes, I thought, forever if she wanted. "Sure, if you want to."

She grinned. "I do. Thanks, Dad."

And thus, with one short and simple conversation, Leah moved into my bed. She slept with me every night, comforted me and let me sleep restfully. She started me on the road to recovery, my deep depression fading more night by night.

I was quite satisfied with masturbating in my bathroom in the mornings. It relieved me and did no harm to my daughter. I began to hold her at night, pull her to me and hug her or let her cuddle to my side. I felt no guilt when my hand would hold her small bottom over her nightshirt and I enjoyed caressing her small back, feeling each knob of her spine and small shoulderblades.

As life progressed over the following month, I accepted that I was attracted to Leah. But the satisfaction of having her with me every day, of doing things together and becoming closer and closer was enough. I loved her deeply, not just as my daughter.

We made our first foray into dining out. We'd avoided it previously since Leah had some issues eating. With blindness being so new to her she'd spill food all over creation as she tried to eat. I found it hilarious.

"Leah, honey, left side," I advised as a chunk of lasagna slipped off her plate onto the table.

"Oops."

I loved her grin and watching fingers feel around to find the spilled food. But with patience and guidance Leah became more adept at eating. She learned how a slight touch of her fingertips could tell her where the food was on her plate rather than forceful poking. She learned to wipe her mouth after every bite so she wouldn't leave food all over her cute cheeks.

Our first restaurant experience was wonderful. It started well before dining.

"Dad, I said the red dress," Leah advised with a cute stern voice.

"It is, honey," I replied. It was. One red dress.

"No, Dad. The one with the lace collar."

"Oh. Sorry." I fetched the 'red dress with the lace collar' and handed it to her, sitting on her bed to watch her dress.

"You're watching, Dad," Leah said with a grin as she dropped her jeans to the floor.

"I am not, Leah. I'm looking the other way. My head is turned so I don't see. Your modesty is protected. I'd never look," I said with a grin. But of course I was. Seeing her in her panties was sexy. Why wouldn't I look?

"Dad, you're looking. I can tell." She smiled as she said it, no embarrassment or shyness.

"Am not," I stated firmly.

"Are too," she countered as she pulled her sweat shirt over her head, long blond hair falling down her back.

"Am not!"

"Dad," she said with a giggle, "you are! I can tell from your voice. You're speaking right at me."

Caught. Her awareness was developing some remarkable talents as she learned to compensate.

"Fine. I'm going to change," I stated with mock indignation, rising and pausing in the doorway to look back. She had a wonderfully sexy little bottom.

"I hear you, Dad. You're still there." A giggle followed her comment.

"Fine. I know when I'm not wanted. I'm going now." I grinned all the way to my room and all the way through dressing. The ease that existed between us was precious and my time with her wonderful.

Holding Leah's hand as we entered Mario's Fine Italian Eatery, I was rather proud. I had the prettiest girl with me, prettier than any of the females in the restaurant; and I checked carefully, too. I was enchanted by and in love with my daughter as we ate. Conversation flowed with no awkwardness or sudden silences. We had a lot to say to each other despite spending almost all day, every day together. I loved her laughs, sometimes deep belly laughs, sometimes amused giggles.

"She's angry," Leah said with a grin. "He spends more time with his friends playing golf than he does with her." She giggled. "She said he was hopeless in bed!"

"What? Who are you listening to?" I asked.

Leah nodded her head to the right. "Over there, Dad. They're arguing," she said, smiling.

I looked over. Leah was talking about a middle-aged couple three tables over, the man sporting an obvious comb-over and woman with too much lipstick on her pencil-thin, pursed mouth. I strained but couldn't distinguish a thing they were saying, although their facial expressions, frowns, glares and all, supported Leah's observation.

"How do you hear them?" I asked, surprised.

Leah giggled again. "He said she's frigid. What does that mean, Dad?"

"Cold," I said carefully.

I laughed when Leah logically suggested she might want to wear warmer clothes.

I was tremendously proud of Leah as she ate like a little lady, fingers delicately touching food. She ate daintily, yet somehow managed rather big bites. I didn't really care about people watching her. My entire focus was on the movement of her mouth, her soft small lips and the tip of her tongue as it emerged to clean them. It was quite mesmerizing.

"Dad?"

"Mmmm?"

"Why did you kiss me on my lips?"

It took a moment to remember when I'd done that. "Oh. It was an accident, honey. I bent to kiss you right when you turned to me."

"It was nice. Do you think we could do it again when we get home?"

That was all it took for me to feel blood flow south and my penis wake up. Kissing Leah? Yes, I definitely wanted to do that. "I'd love to. In fact there's nothing I like more than kissing a pretty girl. Since you're the prettiest girl around, I guess you're the one I should kiss."

Her blush was endearing, as was her giggle. Perhaps not surprising, dessert was declined and I held Leah's hand as we left Mario's. Her hand clutched mine a little tighter. My mind was playing what if games. What if she wants more? What if it progressed past a kiss? What if? What if?

As we entered the front door and I considered picking her up and kissing her right in the entryway, she asked, "Can I change first, Dad? I want to get out of this dress."

I found it remarkable for two reasons. First was that she'd been thinking of kissing me and that excited me quite a lot. Second was the thought of Leah kissing me in her nightshirt. The potential excited me more. It was different from kissing her in her dress; somehow more exciting, more intimate.

"Why don't we both change?" I suggested.

I helped her up the stairs. Well, not strictly true. She was fully capable of climbing the stairs. I just liked holding her hand. Changing and brushing my teeth to get rid of some of the garlic aroma, I was surprised to see Leah enter and walk over to the bed. I'd expected us to go down to the den, watch TV and essentially repeat the last time despite it being quite late. But Leah clearly had other ideas as she climbed under the quilt.

In an odd way I was rather thankful Leah could not see the straining erection that tented my shorts. I don't know why but it seemed like it would be too sordid if she did.

"Why the bed, honey?" I asked as I slipped under the quilt, reaching down to tuck my erection between my legs and hide it.

"Cuz."

On my back Leah cuddled to my side, her head on my shoulder and my hand resting lightly on her small bottom. The TV cast a bluish light over us, volume on low. I watched her fingers move to my face and felt them as they traced my lips. Leah raised herself on an elbow, fingers still touching my lips, and, scooting up and bending forward, her small mouth touching mine. Warm soft little lips pressed gently and sent a surge of arousal through my body. Leah's kiss was soft and chaste and young and innocent and sexy as all get up.

She lay back down against me. A comfortable silence ensued as I replayed that kiss.

"Can I kiss you again, Dad?" Leah asked quietly after a few moments.

"I would very much like that, honey. Your first kiss was fantastic."

A smile graced her lips and, before she could move, I rolled her onto her back. "Can I kiss you this time?" I asked.

"Okay," she said with a nod and a smile.

I drank in the sight of Leah as I leaned on my elbow. She was such a pretty girl, so sweet and trusting. I was intensely aroused at the thought of kissing my daughter and my erection was throbbing rather hard as I leaned over, my hand holding the side of her small chest. I kissed her beautiful lips. It was an exquisite kiss. Leah's soft lips moved under mine. I felt her arms reach up and slip around my neck and, when I felt her little mouth open slightly and our tongue-tips touch I almost had an orgasm, such was the sensuality of her kiss.

She murmured, almost purred as our tongues tentatively explored. I couldn't stop my thumb from gently rubbing her nipple and felt it bead up under her nightshirt. I had to stop. I had to break the kiss. I was too excited, too aroused and worried I'd take things too far.

"Good, Dad," Leah sighed cuddling into my side, her small arm over my chest, knee on my thigh. I held a perfect little buttock in the palm of my hand as my heart raced. I was feeling a bit lightheaded.

I was shocked when I heard Leah's soft breathing. She'd fallen asleep. I wondered how she could sleep. I certainly couldn't. I held my sleeping daughter for half an hour, inching her nightshirt up so I could hold her panty-clad bottom. My erection, freed from between my legs, throbbed and leaked, rigidly pointing up to my stomach. Eventually I slipped from the bed, closed the bathroom door and furiously beat-off to memories of my daughter's tongue caressing mine, semen exploding from me and splattering against the raised toilet seat. Pure pleasure flooded me with each glorious spurt.

Our relationship had changed irreversibly. That touch of our tongues took us firmly into the realm of sexual contact. I felt no shame or guilt. Quite the contrary; I relished it, I loved it. It brought a new dimension to our relationship that we both enjoyed, and enjoyed freely.

I got to kiss my nine-year-old daughter again the next morning. I woke with a painful erection which I quickly took care of in the bathroom. Coming back into the bedroom I leaned over my sleeping daughter, inhaled her intoxicating sleepy girl scent and kissed her gently on her sweet lips. It was so erotic watching her arms lift and circle my neck while her eyes stayed closed. Feeling her small mouth open and tongue touch my lips almost had me erect again. We toyed with each other as she murmured until I broke the kiss, reluctantly.

"Morning, sweetheart. Time to rise."

Leah graced me with a high-watt smile. "Morning, Dad," she said slipping from the bed. "Nice kiss, Dad!" she yelled from the hall, heading to her room. The giggle that followed brought a big grin to my face and the day brightened even more.

Before the day was out, Leah became an accomplished kisser and, perhaps, the most exciting kisser I'd ever experienced. At breakfast she climbed into my lap after finishing her cereal, arms wrapping around my neck. Pulling me we kissed, tongues touching and caressing lightly with a sweet taste of Frosted Flakes.

"Nice, Dad," she said climbing down.

Sitting in the den she wandered in, felt her way to me, climbing up and straddling me on her knees. "Again, Dad," she smiled, leaning in.

We kissed deeply, slowly, with heads tilted slightly as I held the back of her small head in my palm. I felt a strong pulse of arousal when her little tongue pushed into my mouth. Sucking it gently was amazing and she was breathing slightly faster when our lips lost contact. "Good Dad, real good."

Preparing dinner she came up and hugged me from behind, her arms around my waist. "Again, please," she said.

Turning I picked her up. The simple act of Leah wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck brought on another erection. But her smile, the tilt of her head and pulling me to her was erotic. Kissing my daughter was becoming an addiction. Hearing her murmurs, kitten-like purrs as my tongue gently probed into her warm delicious mouth and holding her petite body to me had me achingly hard.

Perhaps my favourite was sitting on the couch that evening watching a sitcom with Leah at my side. Leah turned her face up to me, "Again, Dad", and I bent down, our lips touching and tongues caressed each other lightly. As the kiss lingered, Leah's tongue started moving with more force, almost an urgency to it. And, as Leah moaned into my mouth I knew right then that I wanted to make love to my daughter. I had to. She was the sexiest and most desirable person I'd ever known.

I broke the kiss. "Leah sweetheart, I love you. I really want to do more. Maybe kiss your body, touch and . . . love you," I said softly, hesitantly, understanding full well what I was asking.

After a slight pause she smiled. "Okay, Dad."

"Do you understand what I mean, honey?"

"Of course I do Dad. I wasn't born yesterday," she said smiling broadly and reaching for me.

I turned the TV and lights off with my small daughter in my arms and carried her upstairs to our bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. My penis was rock hard as I contemplated Leah on the bed; petite, nine years old, my daughter, and so desirable.

I stripped quickly before lying next to her. Her hand felt my chest.

"Can I feel you, Dad?" Leah asked softly.

"Of course, honey."

It was a uniquely arousing experience to have her feel my body. Kneeling at my side she started at my face, tracing my smile. She smiled and bent over to kiss me, small tongue flitting over my lips before sitting up. "Nice, Dad." Her soft hands played with my chest hair. "Soft," she whispered, and felt my nipples before feeling her way down my stomach and probing into my navel. My erection was straining, the head lifted up with precum oozing over the crown.

Leah's small hands traced down my sides and in across my hips. She paused when her hands touched my erection. I could see her concentration as she gently felt my shaft, fingers curling and explored its length. "Big, Dad," she whispered, both hands holding my shaft softly. She explored my wet crown spreading precum. Her palm slipped down the shaft and little fingers felt my sack, gently feeling the outline of my testicles before her two hands slid along my legs to my knees.

Apparently satisfied, she smiled a sweet smile and lay down, arms up on the pillow. "Your turn."

Rising to my knees I could feel small tremors shake my body. I should have felt bad, even guilty. I didn't. I felt intense love, even more than I'd felt for my wife. I wanted to make love to her. I wanted Leah as close to me as humanly possible. I wanted to have sex with my daughter and nine years old suddenly seemed okay, even exciting.

An electrical charge shocked my body when her cotton bikini panties were revealed. I pulled her nightshirt off staring at the seductive pout of her pussy, marveling at how her panties, so snug, enhanced the shape of her chubby pubis. Seeing her in panties was far more erotic than I'd thought.

I let my thumb-pad trace her mouth and felt her smile. Leaning over I kissed Leah's small mouth, my tongue touching her lips. As her arms circled my neck and her mouth opened to play with my tongue I caressed her nipple, feeling the hard little pad underneath that gave shape to her areola, tiny little breasts just beginning to develop. The onset of puberty was very attractive.

Still kissing her, my hand slid down across her tummy to rest over her prominent mound. A thrill hit me when Leah parted her legs. Gently, carefully, I held her delicate little pubis in my hand, sensing how plump it felt, so small in my palm. It filled her crotch with a sensual prominence. Rubbing her gently I heard a murmur. Excitement surged as I thought of slipping her panties down, touching my little girl's bare pussy.

Breaking the kiss, I shuffled on my knees to her feet. Hooking my fingertips into the waist I watched Leah lift her bottom for me, her pussy mounding up, pressing seductively against the cotton and a tiny camel toe forming. I pulled her panties down, slipping them off her feet, my eyes glued to her immature pubis. It was incredible, a hairless peach filling her groin. Before I could move, Leah parted her legs, knees rising. My heart was pounding as I bent down between them. Leah's little pussy was beautiful, its immaturity sexy and alluring. Her small cleft hugged a long clitoral hood and the bump of her clitoris rose seductively half way down. Her labia were thick, almost plump, tightly closed.

She moaned softly when I caressed the bump protecting her sensitive clit. I let my fingertip slip between plump lips and drew it down, watching the fat labia form around me. A strong, strong shudder racked my body when I felt the tiny entrance to her vagina. It hit me how much she'd have to stretch and, while I should have been scared at the thought, I wasn't. It thrilled and excited me.

Using small circular movements I rubbed her vaginal opening as I kissed, licked, and then sucked her clitoris. Feeling moisture on my finger, a sign of her arousal I stopped, rose and gently leaned over her small body. Lowering myself I felt her thighs separate and push down flat to the bed. Face to face, my erection didn't quite touch her, her pussy a seductive mound against my stomach.

I kissed Leah, my erection pulsing and bouncing as I realized I was going to have sex with my little girl. Her arms held my chest as our tongues intertwined and arousal built.

"It might hurt, Leah," I whispered when the kiss ended.

"Can we try?" she asked, pushing her pelvis up at me.

With excitement pounding through me I held my weight on one elbow, moved my body up and reached down to hold my straining penis. The top of Leah's head tickled my chin and I sighed as my erection touched her little pussy. Precum made it slip deliciously along her closed cleft, so soft against me. I took my time guiding the tip of my penis up and down her slit. Precum made her slick and, as minutes passed, her labia gently parted, hugging the side of my crown while I moved it up and down. I wanted Leah to enjoy this. I wanted Leah to love this. And, if it meant taking less pleasure for myself, then so be it.

Gradually I felt the tip of my penis sink deeper into her little slit. On every down stroke I felt it lodge at the entrance to her tiny vagina; it was catching at the dimple where her labia ended. Each time precum seeped out as I pulsed strongly thinking about my penis being at my daughter's tiny, tiny vagina.

Slipping my erection up and down caressed Leah's clit. I heard her murmur every time I dragged the tip across it. Her body started to move subtly and arms hug me tighter as arousal built and, all too soon, Leah was moving with me, helping me slip up and down by moving her small pelvis, pushing her little pussy at me.

My pulse was thrumming. I started worrying I might not even last I was so turned on. But at that moment, when my erection slipped down to nestle against her entrance I held still, stopping all movement. Leah continued moving her pelvis, undulating her sexy little pussy against me. As she did, she wormed herself onto my tip until I was firmly pressed to her vagina. It was agony not to thrust, but I didn't. I let her undulate beneath me. Her soft breathing sounded loud to me as she moved her small pussy up and down then started moving it in a circular motion.

Leah's hands slipped down to my waist and, as she kept up her rhythmic undulations, she pulled at me, pulling herself against me. Blood was roaring in my ears as I felt her impossibly tiny opening dilate slightly. I was beginning to penetrate her. God, I was beginning to penetrate my little girl! With exquisitely sensual circular motions Leah slowly, slowly worked herself onto my erection, her entrance a tight ring working its way over my crown.

I felt and heard her lose her virginity. She gasped softly, shuddered and paused. My crown was part way into her and stretching her. Somehow I'd expected a loud cry of pain. But never having had sex with a virgin I really didn't know what was normal. We held our position, me on my elbow and holding my aching erection in place. Not thrusting was pure agony. It felt like a couple of minutes passed before I felt Leah start to move, her motion and rhythm returning. I knew from the strong pulsing of my penis I had leaked a lot of precum into her and it helped as, applying a slight pressure, my erection slipped into her velvety warm grip, almost a popping sensation, her entrance a tight ring around my shaft, my crown grasped tightly inside her.

"See? It did fit in," Leah whispered.

God, I was. I was fucking my nine-year-old. The head of my erection was held in a tight moist sheath as it throbbed hard. I was penetrating my daughter and it felt amazingly good. I let my straining, rigid erection go and held Leah's small shoulders, weight on my elbows. Leah's body felt so small and delicate under me and I loved the feel of her small legs spread to my sides. That moment, lying on my little girl with my erection lodged in her tight vagina, was one I wanted to remember for the rest of my life. It was unbelievably erotic and arousing. If anything, her smallness under me inflamed my desire even more; so young, so excitingly sexy.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart," I asked softly.

"It feels really, really big."

"Does it hurt?"

"Uh-huh. But just a bit."

"Okay. Don't move. Let your body adjust. Tell me if you want me to take it out." I bent my head and kissed her hair, completely content with the position I was in. I knew without any effort I could cum just like this. That thought, me cumming in my nine-year-old daughter, made me swell and throb.

Leah started to move under me, little pelvic movements. I felt her clit, a hard nub, rubbing the top of my shaft. Joining her movement, I pushed my erection lightly, pulling back slightly. In tiny, tiny increments I felt her warm, incredibly snug, velvety vaginal wall part against my crown and the tight ring of her opening slip down my straining shaft. Tiny movements let me slowly sink deeper into my little girl's pussy, my erection held in a tight, tight grip. I sighed when the tip of my erection nudged against her cervix, one inch shy of being completely buried in her. My penis was held tightly by a satiny soft sheath that moved on me, massaging, stimulating; her little pelvis undulating rhythmically against me, squeezing my erection and rubbing the tip against the rubbery entrance to her womb. It was excruciatingly erotic.

Leah undulated, pressing up at me, relaxed, pressed up, lodging my erection against her cervix, relaxed and sinuously undulated again. It was intensely exciting. My little girl was actually fucking me, exquisitely fucking me, her pace slowly increasing. She started moving more, her tight, tight pussy slipping off my aching erection, plunging back as she curled up, pressing me deep, deep. I felt my climax stir. I wouldn't be able to take much more of this.

Reaching down with one hand I held her tiny bum, two sexy little buttocks flexing in my palm. I guide her and started fucking her gently, moving my hips, withdrawing, thrusting gently, so gently, her tight, tight pussy gripping me. She felt wonderful under me, her body so small, her little bum a perfect handful. I fucked my little girl, gently, gently, slow erotic strokes and an ache developed in my groin, need suddenly strong. Then heaven opened.

"Daddy," she cried out softly, her hands on my waist tugging me insistently. God, but Leah was cumming, my little girl was climaxing, her body jerking gently, her tight vagina gripping and releasing as if milking my erection.

I groaned at the sudden intense jolt of joy flushing through me. I stroked firmly into her once and, with my tip pressed against her the entrance to her tiny immature womb, my climax hit like a freight train, cum tearing up my shaft and erection expanding as I spurted hard and deep into her. A groan escaped as I pulled out half an inch and pressed back in, sealing myself to her womb as another more intense wave of pleasure hit me, cum exploding into Leah in a huge, aching pulse. My eyes closed and I lost myself. With short, short thrusts I fucked my little girl hard, holding her, pulling her little bum to me. I came explosively inside my nine-year-old daughter with each glorious thrust, semen flooding her little pussy, thrusting and spurting deep into her tight vagina as pleasure thundered through me in the most intense orgasm I'd ever felt. I came completely, aching and cramping until, collapsing on her small body, the last weak spurts drained from me.

I was exhausted, totally relaxed and intensely satisfied. When Leah moved under me I rolled off her little body, reluctantly pulling my deflating penis from her and already thinking about making love with her again.

Holding Leah I asked, "How are you feeling, honey?"

"Good Dad. A bit sore, but reeeaaaly goooood," she said sleepily, snuggling close in my arms.

We fell asleep, naked with a large wet spot on the sheets, my daughter cuddled to me. I slept the sleep of angels. My journey of recovery was at an end. Our journey of discovery had just begun.

Her soft cheek felt good against my chest. Small nostrils on her button nose flared gently in peaceful sleep, her warm little breaths stirring my chest hair. I felt a flush of love looking at her cuddled to my side, her slim arm thrown over my chest, knee over my thigh and a perfect little buttock in the palm of my hand. Knowing her small womb carried my semen thrilled me. I was at peace, muscles relaxed, and satisfaction permeating me in a post-orgasmic glow as I pulled my little lover, my nine-year-old daughter closer. Smiling, I thought back; so many changes in such a short time. Who knew she'd be my saviour?

She'd taken to sex with enthusiasm, an otter to water. It was a wonderful, exciting and sexually satisfying month and a half. But today was the best of all. Today she'd seen my erection for the first time. I'd loved her giggle, absolutely loved it.