Confucius said, "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." I beg to differ. I can disagree because I speak from experience. My journey started not from a single step but from a slip . . . and gumballs.

Now, theoretically, a step must have been taken, for, if one doesn't step, how can one slip? My argument is simple. If a foot never actually touches the ground, a step has not been taken.

By the way, just so you're not confused, it wasn't my slip. It was Karen's, my daughter. It was her slip, not mine . . . although I did slip, too.

Perhaps if I explained.

Karen was twelve and storming towards maturity with denial, sass, and attitude. She was that wondrous and mystifying creature we called a preteen. She regarded the newly formed petite growths on her chest as an inconvenience and when her first training bra was introduced to her, she left it in the dresser drawer, worn once. "Jeez, Dad, talk about uncomfortable," she complained when, after my embarrassing shopping trip I presented her with the soft cotton, appropriately plain and chaste white bra. She'd tried it on and passed judgment. "I don't think so," she'd stated with determined resolve, reaching under her T-shirt and, through pure magic, removed said offending piece of underclothing without removing her tee.

It made me wonder how she developed the skill to make such a manoeuvre. Was it pre-programmed in the female genetic code? Idly, I considered the pure mechanics. How did shoulder straps get loose without taking arms out of the sleeves? It was a true mystery that included much wiggling and hands reaching under the tee. Perhaps, like a true magician there had been some legerdemain? Did prestidigitation come naturally to girls? The mystery kept me preoccupied for some hours.

Where was I? Ah, yes . . . the journey. Well, Karen was perhaps not the neatest daughter. She was a ball of energy, a storm of enthusiasm, and swirled around me like a tornado leaving me dizzy and stupefied most of the time. As a father I tried to maintain law and order, given that was my God-given right and duty. But God had a real laugh, creating daughters to remind us fathers of how useless we really were and, even worse, just how little authority we truly had. Then, to punish us even more, God created us fathers with fatal flaws; weaknesses only daughters could see. They - daughters that is - proved Machiavellian in exploiting our weaknesses, too; a loving hug or soft eyes staring into our hearts or a sweet "Thank you, Daddy," were all unfair attacks on our authority. A little giggle, a smile, pout, or batting of eyelashes would crumble the sternest of resolve. God, I thought, had to be a female. At least God was nice enough to make us men saps. If men reacted to women as they did daughters, the world would come to an end, wouldn't it? Of course it would. Women in charge?

Sorry, I'm digressing. Where was I? Ah, yes, the slip.

So, as I was picking up Karen's backpack she'd thoughtfully left for me on the kitchen table after school, a stream of gumballs poured out of a side pocket and rattled to the kitchen floor. As one has wont to do, I stepped forward and stupidly reached out to try to stop the multicoloured cascade, slipped on a gumball and crashed to the terra cotta floor. "Goddamnit!" I yelled as I landed hard on a hip and an arm. "Ow! Fudge!"

A hot lance of pain tore through me.

Driven by the sudden pain, I swore at my daughter. I didn't mean it. Really, I didn't. Karen was a lovely daughter. It was the pain talking. Nevertheless, Karen came rushing into the kitchen.

You'll never guess what happened. "Dad, what's . . ." and, okay, you've guessed it. Karen's feet shot out from under her, just like I'd seen in cartoons. She flipped, her arms reaching behind her and landed on her back. I actually heard her head crack against the tile floor. It was sickening.

I won't go into details. Suffice to say it involved abject horror, a terrifying amount of blood, intense fear, the crushing worry of a father, a panicked call, two ambulances, one fire truck, three police cars, and, if memory serves, an opportunistic lawyer offering his services, for what I wasn't quite sure. Maybe he envisioned suing the terra cotta tiles for assault, a carefully crafted cross-examination of said red tile in court leading to a resounding verdict of guilty, his name in history, the first man to successfully sue inanimate fired clay.

I kid now, in hindsight. At the time it wasn't quite that amusing. I believe I might have questioned the commitment and humanity of St. Joseph's Hospital staff in my desperation to see Karen, likened them to some rather despicable Germans from the 1940s as they restrained me to X-ray my arm and sore hip, and even threatened them with an enterprising lawyer I had recently become acquainted with. Luckily they were very understanding.

God, but Karen looked so small and helpless in the hospital bed, her head swaddled in bandages, one arm in a cast with a fractured elbow, the other sporting a smaller cast over her hand and forearm; a simple broken wrist I was told. Her short dark hair was messy and I must have found that unacceptable as I constantly brushed it with my good hand as I sat at her bedside whispering my love . . . and the occasional apology for the name I had called her when I'd fallen.

Karen looked so young and innocent as she lay unconscious, the effect of severe concussion and strong painkillers I was told. It didn't help that my hip hurt. It didn't help that I too sported a cast, my forearm fractured. I lived ten lifetimes waiting for Karen to come around and was in the process of promising to dedicate myself to helping lepers when her eyes opened. "Daddy?" she said. My heart broke at her smile. I cried, too; a manly cry, wet eyes and silent tears. What a sap.

I learned that the sight of both Karen and I getting out of the taxi two days later and hobbling up to our front door provided a week's worth of speculation for our neighbours. I'm sure it looked odd, the injured helping the more injured. It was much later when I was told of the more inventive speculation; I had apparently caught a boy sneaking into Karen's bedroom and accidentally hit her with the baseball bat as she pleaded on her knees for the life of her boyfriend, who, according to Ben Mason three houses down, was the star quarterback at the University . . . which explained his sudden departure from the football team.

His incompetence, weak arm and cannabis caused that, not me, I told Ben.

Ben didn't believe me.

And so, my journey of self discovery began. Gumballs and a slip. Just as I said.

Our predicament didn't reveal itself at first. In the intense joy at being home, realization hadn't occurred. Just how were we to live with only one fully functioning arm between us? A left arm at that.

The depth of our conundrum was hinted at when Karen asked for a Coke. I found the simple act of getting ice into a glass a challenge, and pouring left-handed with my uninjured arm, a disaster. At least Karen was laughing her ass off as Coke foamed up over the lip of the glass and flooded the table to the sound of some rather descriptive religious words coming from my mouth. Our conundrum became clearer when she tried to drink. She was unable to get a firm hold on the wet glass with her broken wrist. She could hold the glass with her other hand, which she did with a grin of satisfaction. Unfortunately, with a cast from forearm to just below her shoulder, she couldn't bring said glass to her mouth. She could bring it up to her opposite shoulder, though.

I laughed my ass off. We were a happy pair, I thought. Then she frowned at my amusement, dark brows scrunching delightfully, crystal blue eyes throwing annoyance my way.

"Not funny, Dad," she claimed.

I found a straw. The catastrophe was averted, a father redeemed, a daughter smiled sweetly, and this father's heart fluttered. What a sap.

Then nature took over. Ten minutes after slurping up the Coke, Karen announced, "Gotta go."

The complete depth of our conundrum was revealed in all its complexity.

"Dad?"

"Yes my love, my delight, my angel?" I joked as she called from the downstairs powder room.

"Um . . . Help?"

"It's under the sink."

"What is?"

"Toilet paper," I answered.

"Um . . . Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Come here," she ordered with force. "Quick."

Worried, I hustled . . . actually, I hobbled.

At least I had the grace to blush. Karen had managed to open the button on her jeans and pull one side partially over one slender hip. That was it.

Her eyes pleaded with me. "I need help. Fast, Dad," she said, moving from foot to foot.

She had light pastel pink cotton panties, I casually observed. Small panties, sort of bikini-cut. I didn't remember buying that particular pair, my preference running more towards white granny-style full-cut under things for her. Her jeans seemed to be caught up by the swell of her rear, and probably an inability to reach across and . . .

"DAD!"

"Hmmm?"

"Jeez, Dad, help me with my jeans!"

"Oh. Right."

I reached out with my good arm, took the waist of her jeans in my fingers and, closing my eyes, tugged. Jeans slipped to the floor. At least it felt like it.

As I started backing out of the powder room Karen spoke again.

"Panties, too, please. Hurry."

Bloody hell. Reaching out, my eyes tightly closed to protect her modesty, I found a rather silky thigh.

"Sorry," I mumbled as I yanked my hand back. I tried again. "Oops. Sorry," I mumbled again as I found more bare flesh.

Karen giggled. "Lower. That's my waist."

"Sorry."

With a finger sliding over a slender hip, I finally found the elastic and tugged quickly, withdrawing and closing the door behind me. I think she sighed, sounding pleased, or maybe relieved.

Back at the kitchen table I waited in case she needed me again. I could still feel her warm silky skin on my hand. A toilet flushed. Some thumping echoed around. What was she doing?

"Phew. I almost peed my pants, Dad," Karen announced as she strolled into the kitchen.

It was lucky I wasn't drinking or I might have choked. Karen had left her jeans somewhere. Those light pastel pink things were far too small. In fact, studying them, they were far too tight, too.

"Um, Karen," I said, nodding at her privates, still staring. Why was I embarrassed? At least she had the grace to blush, too.

"I couldn't pull my jeans up," she told me, adding in a quieter voice, "too tight."

Now, in all fairness, I have to confess that I've always been a panty man. I've always found women in lingerie far, far sexier than when naked. It's not an excuse for how I stared at my twelve-year-old. It's just, well, my God! And, daughter or not, those were still skimpy little pink things that hugged and . . .

"Uh, Honey. How about I get you some sweat pants?"

Karen's blush intensified. She smiled and sat down at the table, too cute for words. "Okay," she agreed.

Climbing the stairs, heading to her bedroom, I was a bit confused. My daughter had never, never blushed around me, and I had to admit, she looked gorgeous with it. She'd also never smiled at me with such a sweet, shy smile, and it was extremely attractive. Did she use that smile on boys? Hmm. Suddenly I didn't like that sweet, shy smile so much.

On top of that, I had an image burned into my mind. I'd forever have that image with me. It was the sight of a light pink, cotton-clad pussy. I couldn't remember ever finding anything quite so absorbing. Remembering it was my daughter under the pink made me feel worse. I was obviously a bad father.

The situation was clearly untenable. Then, I opened the wrong dresser drawer and found myself staring at a collection of Karen's panties.

There was some time lost, I think, before I realized what I was doing; standing studying my daughter's underwear. Lordy, lordy! My face grew hot. I'd better find her sweats and figure out another solution, I decided, quickly closing the drawer with unnecessary firmness.

Karen sat at the kitchen table staring at the empty glass of pop, her face still warm from blushing. Embarrassment still flushed through her. Dad had seen her in her panties and she'd had no choice about it. It wasn't him seeing her in her panties, though. What made her blush was the way he looked at them.

His attractive blue eyes seemed to grow wider and a look of wonder appeared, as if he'd never seen panties before. If any boy had seen her in her panties she'd have died. But Dad's look felt different. Why?

She heard Dad thumping down the stairs.

"Okay, Honey," I said, handing her some navy blue sweats, "I think we need . . ."

"I need help," Karen interrupted, holding them by the fingers of one hand.

"Let me." I knelt, holding the sweats, watching her slender legs slip in. Scrunching them over her feet, Karen stood, one arm on my shoulder to steady herself as I pulled them up. My view filled with pastel pink, mounded, edges pressing deep accentuating . . .

I slammed my eyes closed, the image projecting onto the back of my eyelids. I felt soft, warm and silky skin slip along the back of my fingers as I pulled the sweats up.

Karen giggled and patted my hair. "Thanks, Dad."

Dinner was no better. Pizza delivered, Karen managed to use her fingertips to eat, just. It was a messy affair. A straw was again employed with much success.

"Listen, Karen," I said between mouthfuls of deliciously greasy pepperoni, "I've decided we need to get a nurse to come and live here until you're better."

"No we don't. We'll manage." Karen shuddered at the thought of a stranger seeing her undressed.

"No. We won't manage," I answered. "Have you considered what's ahead? More bathroom visits, showers or baths? Dressing? I think you'd be better off if we had a nurse to help you until the large cast is removed. It would only be for six to eight weeks."

Karen blushed. Yet, she couldn't imagine a stranger seeing her naked. At least if it was Dad, well, it's Dad. That would only be a bit embarrassing, wouldn't it? "Why can't you help me instead of a nurse? It would be cheaper."

"Listen, Honey. I can't. It wouldn't be right. I can't help with my eyes shut all the time and if I didn't close my eyes, well, um . . ."

"But I'd rather it was you than some stranger," Karen immediately answered. "Besides, you're my Dad, so it's okay, right? I'll be a bit embarrassed, I know. But . . . please?"

That little pout appeared. I actually cursed God for the weakness she created us fathers with. "Fine. Okay," I said with apprehension.

"Good!"

And so life became complicated. Immediately. That night.

I was perfectly behaved as I helped Karen remove her T-shirt. I averted my eyes when, lifting the T-shirt, I saw her little breasts. They were remarkably real; espresso-cups, perfectly formed with pink areolae and soft little nipples. I mentally raced a Nascar around an oval to distract me; except the oval was pink for some reason.

Then, when the T-shirt got tangled in her cast, while studiously avoiding looking at her diminutive boobs, I lifted her arm. Mistake.

Spotting several small stray black hairs in her armpit my mind immediately wondered if my little girl had pubic hair under those pink panties. That thought gave me an immediate erection. The old Peter stood at attention, flag running up the flagpole with military efficiency. Embarrassment flushed through me like hot lava and there was nothing I could do to stop my physical reaction. The simple idea that my little girl was no longer so little, that my little girl was going through puberty, becoming a sexual being, a . . . female, was too much.

Ah, I hear your thoughts; father, sexy daughter, a raunchy story about to begin.

Nope. Sorry.

I may have had an erection and, being fair, I may have actually looked at her petite breasts again and, yes, even glanced at her pastel pink cotton panties to see if I could detect any pubic hair, but I did no more than slip one of my large, roomy T-shirts over her head, the suggestive scenery disappearing under a white cotton v-neck tee.

"Thanks, Dad. That wasn't too bad," Karen said with a shy blush contrasting nicely with her grin.

Yes it was. "No, not too bad, Honey. You'll be okay in the bathroom?" I asked as I made a bee-line towards my bedroom, some rearranging being needed rather desperately.

"Yeah. I'm good," Karen answered.

Unfortunately, I agreed. Yes she was good. This whole pubescence thing was quite disturbing. Never having had a sister, I had not been exposed to developing sensuality in young girls, my sexual awareness of the opposite sex kicking in when I was thirteen and coveting Playgirls.

With Karen in bed, medicated with some painkillers, I went in search of relief, finding it in the kitchen; a twelve-year-old Scotch. Appropriate, I thought pouring myself a hefty dose.

Sitting in the den with the TV on low, I considered my many transgressions of the day. At first I tried chastising myself. That didn't work. It only made me think of my daughter's attractiveness. I sat quietly sipping a twelve-year-old, thinking of a twelve-year-old and my reactions through the day.

As the silky smooth, smoky Scotch slid down my throat, I decided I couldn't be blamed for a physical reaction. The important thing was I'd behaved with fatherly restraint and helped my twelve-year-old when she needed it.

With another sip or two of the twelve-year-old, I came to the conclusion it was only natural to appreciate the amazing gift of puberty. It was nature's way of announcing the arrival of fertility, of creating allure to attract the opposite sex, and really quite magnificent, I decided. With another sip of my fine twelve-year-old, I nodded to myself; I was a male. My reactions were entirely normal and, as long as it didn't lead to anything inappropriate, I shouldn't feel ashamed. I mean, I got a boner at thirteen when I saw mom naked in the bathtub and nothing ever happened . . . except for some rather vigorous masturbation.

Another sip of a smooooooth twelve-year-old and I remembered silky skin, crystal-clear blue eyes, gently mounded pastel pink panties, two conical little breasts with soft pink nipples.

A final sip of my twelve-year-old and I let my mind appreciate my twelve-year-old, my cock joining in the appreciation. I glanced at my lap. Down boy. That's my daughter you're . . .

A loud thump followed by an "Ow" preceded Karen walking into the den, two arms in casts leading the way and a cute frown of frustration on her pretty face. I felt a rush of love at the sight.

Karen had lain in bed wondering why she was so restless. Her arms hurt. She couldn't find a position in bed that was comfortable and, despite being a bit horny, she was too tired and uncomfortable to do anything about it. Her frustration grew to the point where she crawled out of bed and went looking for Dad. Maybe he could help with more medication?

He wasn't in his bedroom. She found him sipping a Scotch in the den. Bright blue eyes looked at her when she entered. Her heart skipped a beat or two at his smile. Jeez, Dad's so handsome when he smiles, she thought. But she was still annoyed at having knocked her arm against the stair railing. The jolt of pain was still throbbing.

"I can't sleep, Dad," she complained. "I can't get comfortable. I can't find a position where my arms don't ache. I can't sleep on my front like I always do. Help?"

My trials and tribulations were quickly forgotten in the face of my daughter's plea, my heart aching just a bit, her face so cute as she frowned. The twelve-year-old was forgotten, too; Scotch that is.

Turning the TV and lights out, I gently guided her out of the den by the shoulder. "Come, Honey. We'll figure something out," I reassured her.

I led her to my bedroom. She looked up at me with those big blue questioning eyes.

"Go ahead and get in," I said nodding at my bed, pushing her shoulder slightly. As she moved towards the bed I left, going to her bedroom and grabbing a couple of pillows.

Karen looked small and lost and utterly gorgeous in my bed, her dark hair a halo around her pretty face. I smiled, but that didn't really help her. She still seemed grumpy. I then tried all sorts of positions, with pillows supporting her at various places and none of them eased her discomfort. I grinned to myself when she suggested "lots more medication, Dad."

"Wait a sec, Honey," I said, before slipping into the bathroom to brush my teeth, my breath still heavy with Scotch fumes.

With the covers lifted, I slipped into bed and lay on my back next to Karen, arm around her. "Okay, now, put one arm under the pillows and roll carefully and put your arm over my chest," I suggested.

With two pillows supporting her head and her broken wrist safely tucked up under the fluffy pillows, Karen rolled to me, her arm cast landing with a thud across my chest, her head in the crook of my shoulder. "Oops. Sorry." She sighed. "Better. Thanks, Dad."

I kissed her brow and turned the TV on. Forty-odd minutes later Karen moaned slightly, shifted, pressed closer to my side, and her knee slipped over my leg.

I watched TV.

Half an hour later, as my eyelids were beginning to droop, Karen sighed in her sleep, shifting again. This time her restless shifting continued. At first I thought she was in pain. When I realized what was actually happening I got an erection. Who wouldn't?

Karen was gently humping my thigh in her sleep, pressing her crotch against me, her rear flexing as she rubbed her pussy on me, her slender leg hooked over mine tightening and relaxing, small sighs being emitted in her sleep. I didn't do anything.

Okay, that's a complete lie. I did let my hand rest carefully on one small buttock so I could feel the flex and clench of her petite bum. But that's all. I swear.

Okay, that wasn't all. I did in fact caress her small bum slightly . . . but only slightly, sort of in a calming way; to comfort her. That's all. Promise.

Nevertheless, it was a very, very difficult time for me. With the exception of wayward dogs, I'd never actually had anyone hump my leg and I found my daughter's actions sweet, sexy, and highly arousing, my erection straining to escape my boxers, crying out to be stroked. I almost came when she moaned gently, pressing her pussy extra hard against me, twitched, shivered and sort of melted. My little girl had cum in her sleep and I was quite sure I'd never experienced anything quite so beautiful or arousing.

The next day started with a crash, a yell, heart palpitations, and an erection; in that order.

The crash and yell sounded from the en suite. The heart palpitations were mine. I scrambled from bed in a panic, raced to the bathroom and that's where the erection came into the picture.

Karen was bent over the lip of the bathtub scrabbling for grip, my tee riding up her back, and pale pink panties stretched across an exquisite little rump. Pink cotton gently outlined a remarkably plump pussy between her slender thighs. In the second it took me to absorb the sight, I noticed how pink cotton had formed like a second skin to her privates, outlining her bum crack which flowed in one smooth line to merge with her cleft. My erection was immediate, the details of her little pussy too obvious to avoid, too full and plump, filling a sexy gap between her slender thighs. Her compact bum curved with . . .

"Help?" A head moved, hers, not mine. Bright eyes pleaded as water flowed out of the spigot.

I didn't. Not immediately anyway, somewhat blinded by shapely pale pink, admiration and pride filling me. I felt like a sculptor admiring my work. I'd made that angel.

"Dad?"

"Hmmm?"

"Help?"

I sprang into action by reaching down around her torso to lift her out. Unfortunately, I found myself with two hands holding a couple of unfettered little breasts that were surprisingly warm and, hmm, firm, too. I lifted her upper body out of the tub. My fatherly side was abhorred by the action of touching my daughter's breasts, my erection fascinated by their remarkable shape and resilience, two rather perfect youthful mounds pressing against my palms, so delightfully petite but quite real. As I straightened her, Karen's lovely bum pressed back into my groin, a pair of buttocks gently forming to my erection.

Heat flushed through me from my toes to my face, embarrassed that I'd reacted so strongly, so sexually to the feel of my little girl.

Karen turned once she was standing again, her eyes going nowhere near my face.

"Is that . . ." Her voice faded away.

"Look, Sweetheart," I said tilting her face up, away from the tent at my groin, "I'm sorry. But there's a certain physiological reaction when a man sees a beautiful lady. It can't be helped. Just ignore it. Eventually it'll go away." I added a grin, trying to make light of my tented boxers.

Pretty eyes grew wider. "You think I'm beautiful?" she asked in a hushed, surprised voice.

"Well of course you are. Extremely."

I was quite amazed at the intensity of her blush, quite stunned at the sudden emotion in her beautiful eyes. Why was she surprised? My daughter was an exceptionally pretty girl.

There was some shuffling around and I beat a hasty retreat, somewhat bemused by the sexual reaction she'd stirred in me. My perspective was changing from Karen, my little girl, to Karen, a developing little lady; a very attractive little lady.

Karen rifled through her dresser searching for fresh panties and new sweat pants, her mind furiously processing what had happened. She tossed the sweats on her bed and, with one hand, tugged her pink panties off. She could still feel Dad's erection against her bum and the heat of his hands on her breasts. Dad's erection had felt so big against her. She wondered how thick it was. Suddenly the thought that she had turned Dad on excited her. She sat on her bed, a pulse of arousal making her pussy ache, moist, horny. Her boobs felt heavy. Reaching under her T-shirt, Karen let her fingers trace her tightly closed cleft. The dusting of new soft, silky pubic hairs brushed against her index finger as she traced her slit, a shudder shaking her when the tip of her finger passed over her clit.

She wanted to hold and squeeze her pussy, but the cast got in the way. Frustrated, she used the tips of her fingers to diddle her clit, her boobs aching. What would it feel like to hold an erection in her hand? Would she be able to circle it in her fist? Karen wondered what it would feel like to actually have a penis inside her. Would it hurt a lot? How deep would it go? Dad's erection felt huge against her bum. It looked long inside his boxers.

A twinge of pleasure coursed through her, her cleft becoming moist and slippery as she caressed her clit. Pressure built, yearning, a need for something, a need for release. Breath huffed through her nose as her hips twitched, her eyes closing. She imagined holding an erect penis, squeezing it gently, parting her legs to guide it to her slit. Would she stretch? What would it feel like to have it inside, deep inside where it ached so much? What would it feel like to hold Daddy's erection? To have sex, Daddy making love to her? Breath exploded, Karen's climax storming her body. She shook, her small finger tickling her aching clit, hips twitching. She came imagining holding Daddy's erection, parting her legs, "Here, Daddy, put it here."

She fell back on the bed as her climax crested, heat and perspiration flooding her body. Calm descended, her heart pounding, residual climactic twitches making her body jerk. Suddenly heat flushed through her, feverish heat. Her face turned beet red. Oh God. She'd just masturbated to thoughts of Dad! Her embarrassment intensified when she admitted it was one of the best cums she'd had, too. But Dad?

Yet he was so kind and considerate; that blush this morning so attractive. And the way he'd been holding her when she woke up this morning, in his arms, his hand on her bum, the smell of Dad so comforting. Karen decided Dad was sorta cute.

Breakfast was difficult for me. Embarrassment and a tinge of shame made it hard to look Karen in her eyes. I still couldn't believe I'd masturbated to the memory of her rear pressing against my erection and the feel of two perfectly formed little breasts in my hands. It was Karen! My daughter! But I had. With the bathroom door closed and locked, I'd stroked my painful erection while replaying the feel of my daughter until my orgasm had hit, semen jetting out into the toilet in exquisite bliss.

Now I felt like a dirt bag. I felt like I'd sullied Karen.

I put my spoon down. "Listen, Honey," I began, forcing myself to look into her hugely attractive blue eyes. "I think we need a nurse to help . . ."

"No! Please, Dad." A blush suffused her face. "If it's because of you getting a . . . you know, I don't mind." Taking a deep breath, Karen continued, "I know it's just a physical reaction and . . . I sorta like that you think I'm beautiful."

"Well you are," I mumbled as I started to eat the Raisin Bran again. The problem was, Karen was also remarkably attractive.

Her smile made my heart thump.

That first breakfast broke whatever shyness or reserve existed between us. Karen's grins started appearing without a blush as I helped her do everyday things. Yet, despite frequent eyefuls of her petite breasts, or panty-clad rear, or her remarkably prominent pubis pressing against cotton, my physical reaction didn't diminish. It was always the same, a damned erection forming. After a couple of days, I just stopped worrying about it, although I did notice Karen eyeing it surreptitiously.

Karen slept in my bed every night. I grew to like her presence, her warmth next to me, her intoxicating scent, and the sound of her gentle breathing. She humped my leg again in her sleep a few nights later and I loved it, thrilled by her gentle orgasm. My little girl really was a sexual being and I relished it. She was, because of her condition, giving me a peek into young sexuality and I found it fascinating and very appealing. The third time she humped my leg, I was ready, carefully stroking my erection with one hand and holding her flexing bottom with the other. My climax washed over me and into a hand towel as Karen clutched and shook through her orgasm. I found it intensely erotic. I loved seeing my twelve-year-old daughter's sexual side.

As the weeks passed and her aching arms calmed, Karen began to roll away from me during the night and either sleep on her front or press back against my side. I'd wake up in the morning with an arm resting on her back or, quite frequently, spooned to her, my morning erection comfortably nestled to her bum crack. Nothing was ever said, but I knew Karen was aware of my condition as she'd squeeze her buttocks experimentally every so often, sending intense pleasure to my groin.

I managed to deal with the erotic side effects of the forced intimacy between us through discreet attention in the shower, my arm wrapped in a plastic bag to protect the cast, and eventually getting to the point where I didn't feel guilt about masturbating to images and sensations of my daughter. Not once did it occur to me that Karen should go back to sleeping in her own bed once the aches had passed. At night I would lie quietly with Karen gently sleeping against my side. I'd stare at her long dark lashes as they rested on her soft cheeks and listen to her quiet little snores that sounded like a kitten purring. My heart would ache, my little girl so, so pretty. It felt so good having her next to me in bed, waking up to her addictive scent, her wondrous smile, her heart-achingly delightful, "Morning, Dad," said with a smile, bright blue eyes blinding me.

As the weeks passed, as we spent so much time together, I found myself appreciating Karen for her personality, not just because she was my daughter. I discovered a charming, impish angel. In Karen, I found a person that, had I been in my teens, would have been impossible to resist. And somewhere along the way, I think I fell in love.

All-in-all, I was impressed with how well I was coping, though. Somehow, even with both arms restricted, she managed to be a storm of enthusiasm, sass and attitude; it made me feel rather proud, actually. And, as we neared the time when her casts would come off, I was beginning to feel confident we'd make it through this little event without too much damage.

We did. Well . . . we didn't. Not really. I didn't.

I couldn't help it.

In the hospital public bathroom Karen wrinkled her nose. Eight weeks from the day of the gumballs, she decided she didn't really like the smell of industrial disinfectant, a dash of lemon unable to mask the chemical stink of disinfectant. It wasn't very pleasant. But she didn't care. She was in heaven, utter, utter heaven.

She sighed with pleasure as she peed, the hiss echoing through the bathroom. It had become such a hassle trying to lower her panties and sweats, wipe and pull them back up with two casts on, that she had started holding off peeing as long as possible. Now, with the casts just removed, she bent her arms, wiggled her fingers and scratched herself, finally getting satisfaction from the impossible-to-reach itches. She smiled as her bladder emptied.

She wanted to swim, and shower, and take a full bath. God, she'd missed those things.

The past two months had been eye-opening for her. Dad was really cute! He seemed to get embarrassed every time he saw her partially naked, averting his eyes, but only after looking. She liked his shy grin when she caught him peeking. Despite the embarrassment, she saw his reaction, his eyes staring in wonder. It had made her feel good. She liked his attention, too. Before this whole event she'd loved Dad because he was Dad, her Dad. But, over the past few weeks she discovered how funny he was, as playful as a little boy at times. His sneaky grin and sparkling eyes seemed almost magnetic. And sometimes Dad would get this look when he didn't know she could see him. It would make her heart skip beats, her breath catch in her throat. He'd look at her with such love, such adoration, she'd feel pressure inside as if she needed to cry.

Karen wiped her pussy absentmindedly with toilet paper and bent, reaching for her panties.

She'd started wondering what it would be like to kiss Dad on his lips, a proper French kiss, not the pecks she gave him. And, when she'd felt Dad's erection pressed against her bum in the morning, she'd wondered what it would feel like to hold it, or even stroke it. A few times she'd clenched her bum to feel how hard it was and, jeez, it was hard, and big. Dad's erection had become an integral part of her fantasies when she'd masturbate in her own room. She absolutely loved how he'd peek at her body. She started loving seeing him with an erection inside his boxers, thrilled at the idea it was her turning Dad on.

But, what she really, really liked was sleeping with Dad in his bed. She got the best sleeps. Some mornings she woke up feeling so, so good, Dad's musky aroma all around her, his big, warm body next to her, or cuddling her from behind. It was her favorite time of the day; waking up and laying absolutely still in Dad's arms, just sensing him, relishing his closeness.

She knew all about sex and how boys jerked off, but she'd wondered for the first time if Dad masturbated. That thought had excited her. And, whenever she got horny, she wondered what it would feel like to have sex; have Dad making love to her, that thick erection inside her, Dad loving her, Dad caressing and kissing her breasts, whispering he loved her. She'd wrapped herself in those exciting thoughts and used them to masturbate to intense orgasms.

Standing, Karen pulled her sweat pants up, flushed the toilet and washed her hands, frowning. Now the casts were off, she'd go back to sleeping in her own bed. Damn. It felt like she'd just broken up with a boyfriend; depressed, saddened.

The drive back from the hospital was subdued. I noticed Karen was quiet, unusual for her. As I scratched my forearm with orgasmic delight leaving long red welts and not caring, it felt so good, I glanced across at Karen. She seemed pensive.

"You okay, Honey?" I asked.

Bright blue eyes turned towards me, a weak, half-hearted smile appearing. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"How does it feel to have the casts off?"

"Okay."

My pleasure at being free from my own arm cast faded in the face of Karen's apparent melancholy. I didn't understand why she was down. But I decided we'd celebrate. Perhaps that would improve her spirits.

"Tonight," I announced, "we're going to have a real homemade dinner. What would you like?" I asked. Since the gumball incident Karen and I had eaten nothing but home delivery or frozen meals for dinners. I'd been quite incompetent at cooking with my left hand.

"Meatloaf and mashed potatoes, Dad. And apple pie and ice cream. Ribs. I want ribs. Or roast beef."

I saw enthusiasm emerge and breathed a sigh of relief. I didn't like seeing my daughter's spirits down for any reason.

Grocery shopping was a riot. While I dutifully hunted for the makings of a succulent dinner, Karen would disappear and miraculously reappear with some food item. She grinned as she dumped a single box of Kraft Mac and Cheese into the grocery cart, "Yum, Dad," and disappeared only to return with a box of Oreos, "Cookies, Dad!" She frowned when I sent her packing to return a bag of gumballs. "No way, Honey," I stated firmly. But she was all smiles when the bag of Sour Jelly Beans fell into the shopping cart without objection.

Just for the fun of it, I put a large plastic bag of Brussels sprouts in the cart, chuckling when Karen spied them on her return, frowned, eyebrows crinkling together delightfully. "I don't think so, Dad," she stated, picking up the plastic bag with her fingertips as if it carried the plague. She dumped it on the nearest display, smiled in pleasure and went off to hunt again.

By the time we hit the checkout lane I had a cart full of unhealthy eating and a gorgeous daughter grinning from ear to ear, her bright blue eyes sparkling with pleasure. I did the fatherly thing; paid without saying a word. I think I was grinning rather broadly as well. Damn I loved her.

Dinner, meatloaf and mashed potatoes, was consumed in front of the TV with much "Mmm," and "Good, Dad." It made me smile with pride at my culinary skills. I even liked the meatloaf. After dessert, Karen announced she was going to take a shower, "or maybe a long bath, Dad," and disappeared, leaving me to clean up. I did, serving myself a dram of twelve-year-old Scotch, which I took back to the TV.

Watching the evening news, I could hear the shower in the background. I felt good, if vaguely dissatisfied. My heart filled with pleasure at Karen's return to good spirits, her joie de vivre returning. I hadn't realized how much my mood was influenced by hers. But there was no question when Karen was down I would feel as if I was in the dumps, the sky dark and foreboding. I liked her smiles and optimistic enthusiasm.

The sound of a hair dryer interrupted my thoughts. I scratched my forearm absentmindedly again, sighing with pleasure and started flipping through the channels to find a good movie. Settling back to watch Sigourney Weaver in Aliens, motion distracted me.

Karen stood in the doorway, her short dark hair shining, bright blue eyes twinkling. She looked fresh and clean and, wearing one of my T-shirts, incredibly attractive. The neck had slipped over one shoulder. The T-shirt fell to mid thigh, long slender legs emerging below, her feet bare. It was one of my old white V-neck T-shirts, one of those that grew softer with each washing. It draped on her, gently conforming to her hip, mounding gently over her small breasts.

Karen's shy smile shook me to my core. Standing, as if she was waiting for my approval, Karen was utterly gorgeous and one of the sexiest females I'd ever seen. I reacted physically when I imagined holding her in my arms, hugging her slender body. I could picture myself staring into those endlessly deep blue eyes and bending to kiss her lips. I felt like a shroud was gently wrapping around me, isolating me from the world. A cocoon was forming filled with me and my daughter, a stunningly pretty girl.

Shaking myself, I smiled. "How did the shower feel?" I asked, extending my hand in invitation.

Karen ran across the room and jumped into my lap. "Good, Dad. Incredible. Look. I scrubbed my arms so much they've turned red!"

She snuggled into me, worming her way tighter into my arms, pressing herself against me. I reacted physically again, my penis, already slightly tumescent, thickening and hardening in my pants. When she turned her face and looked up at me with a sweet smile I could no more prevent my reaction than stop a charging locomotive with a finger. I lost myself in that moment, that one incredible moment, Karen's adoring blue eyes growing to encompass me, her sweet lips slightly parted. I felt the magnetic pull, a deep desire to kiss my daughter, feel her small lips on mine, and I succumbed.

Staring into her eyes, my lips touched hers. Her lips were silky soft and warm. They didn't move. I pressed against them gently, fascinated by the emotions playing through her eyes; surprise, pleasure, joy, and, as her arms reached up to circle my neck, excitement. She grinned as I kissed her and I found it amazingly attractive. I felt her lips curve, saw a glint appear in her eyes.

Then my little girl sighed, her eyes closed, her head tilting slightly. She pulled on my neck and pressed her mouth to mine. It was a wonderful kiss, both chaste and sexy, full of promise, intensely arousing. When it ended, Karen snuggled her head under my chin, sighed and pulled my arms around her.

"Nice, Dad."

"Mmm." Yes indeed.

We watched the movie in comfortable silence. Karen felt small and petite in my arms, her body so light in my lap. Shampoo and soap scents wafted up at me. Every so often Karen would turn her face up to me. "Again?" she'd ask, and we'd kiss gently.

Occasionally I'd lift her chin, smile, "Please?" I'd ask. I loved the smile that appeared before we'd kiss. I loved how she nestled into me after with a sigh of pleasure. It came as no surprise when I realized I'd fallen in love with her. She was the most beautiful person I knew, inside and out.

When the movie ended I lifted Karen off my lap. "Bedtime," I said.

A brief expression of disappointment passed over her face accompanied by a small, sad smile. Standing I took her hand, so small in mine, and, turning the TV and lights off, led her upstairs. Out of the corner of my eye I watched her face as I led her to my bedroom. I saw a smile emerge that lit up her face.

Turning, I bent and kissed her cheek softly. "I need a shower, Honey. I'll only be a few minutes." God I loved the small blush she graced me with.

"Okay."

Karen heard the shower start as she slipped under the covers. She was shaking with excitement. Kissing Dad had been amazing. But the way he looked at her made her heart flutter. Her small breasts felt heavy and ached, and she could feel the damp spot in her panties from where she'd leaked. Squeezing her thighs together sent sharp jolts of pleasure through her pussy. She replayed the look in Dad's eyes, the adoration that made her feel like a queen. She shivered as she replayed his gentle kisses, so full of love.

Suddenly Karen wanted to be close to Dad again. She wanted another kiss, wanted to be held in his strong arms. Grinning, she wondered what he'd do if she jumped into the shower with him. Huh. Let's see!

It was a waft of cooler air in the glassed-in shower that alerted me. I'd been letting warm water stream over my face and down my body as I scrubbed my forearm. Wiping water from my eyes, I turned and inhaled sharply.

Believe it or not, through the last eight weeks, despite everything, I had never seen my little girl completely naked. She took my breath away. At five feet tall, she was willow-slender, puberty just beginning the transformation of her body. Karen's petite breasts rode high and proud, spaced widely apart on her chest, perfect breasts; small, topped with delectable little roseate areolae and tiny nipples. She was slender, her body showing a very slight narrowing at her waist. Her hips were slim, almost boyish, yet the subtle swell at her sides from her bottom and beautiful thighs was highly attractive. But the sight that had my heart pounding was my daughter's pubis. Seductively filling a gap between her thighs, Karen's pussy mounded out, a delicate vee with deep side creases narrowing at her groin. Her pubic mound was slightly dusted with small jet-black pubic hairs, so sparse I could have counted them.

Below her plump mound, two sexy labia formed a tight cleft that plunged down between a gap at the top of her thighs. Karen was one of the sexiest sights I could ever remember seeing. The hint of maturity was intensely alluring, the youthfulness of her petite body so, so attractive. I reacted to her beguiling beauty, her flowering pubescence, her innocent sexiness, my penis, already partially tumescent, rising into a full erection, a heavy, blood-pulsing erection.

Karen's eyes were riveted on my penis as it grew, thickened, lengthened and erected. As it stood at attention her eyes glanced up at me, a smile gracing her face.

"Big, Dad," she said reaching out, her fingertip touching the crown.

I didn't bother asking what she was doing in the shower. Quite honestly, I didn't care. Instead I reached out and gently cupped her small breast, a petite breast barely able to cover my palm. It was perfect. It was soft yet resilient, yielding seductively to my caress. I saw her tremble slightly when the pad of my thumb rasped across her tiny nipple. Her eyes seemed to lose focus and Karen moved into me.

My erection poked her in her navel and slid across to her side as I drew my little girl in, wrapping her in my arms. She felt wonderful, all naked soft skin, petite and warm. My hands slipped down to cup her small buttocks, two cheeks perfectly filling my hands, rounded, seductively curving out from her slender back, dipping in to meet youthful thighs, absolute perfection.

She glanced up at me, blue eyes expectant, seeking.

"You're gorgeous, Sweetheart," I said softly, bending to brush her soft lips with mine.

"Daddy," she sighed, resting her cheek on my chest, her arms circling my waist, her slender adolescent body pressing hard against my erection. Water beat down on my back, the sound suddenly loud. I let her go and turned the water off. Grabbing a big fluffy towel, I knelt and started drying Karen. She watched me as I dried her arms, her face and hair, her torso, being careful when drying her little breasts. I let myself relish drying her, enjoying feeling the seductive curves of her body, the swell of young buttocks, the delicate shape of her slender legs and, with mounting excitement, the sensual shape of her remarkable pussy. I couldn't resist, the attraction too strong. Bending slightly, I kissed her mons, pressing my lips into the deep yielding pad of sensuality and feeling the slight tickle of a few pubic hairs.

"My turn, Dad," she said softly, taking the towel from my hands. I let my daughter dry my body as I knelt. Starting at the top, she rubbed my hair and I stared at two little breasts jiggle seductively, my erection straining as I imagined kissing them.

She dried my face, smiled at me, bent and kissed me gently with a little "Mmmm, delicious."

"Stand, please," she instructed after drying my arms and shoulders. There was an unusual expression in her face as she dried my chest and back. I realized she was staring at my erection, studying it intently as she dried. Then, with a seductive little smile, Karen gently held my penis, drying the shaft then my balls. She bent, grinned and kissed the crown quickly with a giggle before moving onto my legs, my erection bobbing from the touch of her lips, a groan of agony echoing in the bathroom.

I didn't think I'd ever had a more sensual experience. It was remarkable, sweet innocence blended with intense sexuality, my little girl! My Karen!

There was no resistance when I took her hand and led her to bed, my erection waving in front of me. There was no resistance as I pulled my little girl close under the covers, bare skin against bare skin. For a few minutes we cuddled. It was heaven. My heart was racing. I knew what I wanted. I knew I wanted to make love to my little girl, to be her first. Yet I was slightly hesitant despite all her signals. Could an adult even have sex with a twelve-year-old girl without causing pain? Was this moment in time one that we'd regret forever, one that would drive us apart, ruin a beautiful relationship? It didn't feel like it. I loved Karen rather fiercely. I couldn't imagine regretting. But I also knew it was intense, intense arousal that was shading my perspective.

"Sweetheart," I started, rising onto my elbow, gazing down on her pretty face.

Her finger touched my lips, deep blue eyes penetrating into me, "I want to, Dad." Her hand slipped around my neck and tugged at me. "Please?"

My thumb caressed her soft cheek. "Love you, Sweetheart," I murmured, bending down to kiss her. A shock of arousal hit me when Karen's eyes closed and the tip of her tongue touched my lips hesitantly. I believe I groaned. I know my erection pulsed strongly, pushing into her thigh. I parted my lips and touched my daughter's tongue, felt her shudder and grip me tight, her little tongue pressing, twirling and exploring in growing excitement. I played along, thrilled with French kissing such a young girl, her inexperience seeming to fire my pleasure. I led her back into my mouth and sucked gently, a phenomenal feeling. Karen moaned and clutched at me, her mouth opening wider. I tasted her, probed carefully. My hand slipped up her side from a slender hip until a thumb found a turgid nipple. When I gently took her petite breast into my palm, Karen moaned and sucked on my tongue, her breath whooshing through her nostrils.

Our kiss, a wondrous kiss, broke when I tweaked her little nipple and squeezed her breast, Karen dragging her mouth from mine.

"Oh, Dad," she gasped, her eyes opening. Intense blue stared up at me, heated, aroused, a preteen in heat and stunningly beautiful.

"Nice, huh?"

She nodded, a smile emerging then fading as she watched my head move down. Her fingers slipped though my hair, pressure needlessly guiding me. I gently kissed her chin and then kissed the center of her chest, my heart rate picking up at the prospect of kissing my twelve-year-olds stunning little breasts.

"Yesss," she whispered when my lips softly made contact with a small nipple, a little hard bead, my darling's succulent breast.

I kissed her nipple, gently cupped her petite breast, used my lips to tweak her nipple then opened my mouth and, with a groan of pure delight, took my daughter's entire breast into my mouth, so young and firm, so damned sexy. Karen's hand curled gripping my hair. Her chest rose from the mattress to press herself into my mouth. My erection pulsed hard, cool precum oozing out onto the sheets.

I kissed her other breast, cupping and gently massaging the first in my palm, a perfect little handful. Karen's quiet gasps and sighs were driving me crazy. Nothing had prepared me for the sensuality of an aroused adolescent girl, how small and delicate she felt, how slender and attractive, how her petite physique and innocent youth inflamed me.

Her hands clutched at me. "No, Dad," she whispered when I kissed her sternum and navel, heading down.

"Shhh, Baby. Just relax and feel," I said quietly, rising and kissing her gently on her lips. "Trust me."

Wide blue eyes watched me as I moved back down.

I discovered soft baby hair on her lower stomach, hair that felt like down against my lips. As I lowered the sheet I saw the magnificent rise of her mons, a mountainous upsweep that had me throbbing in painful arousal. Viewed from her flat tummy, my daughter's mound was perfectly shaped, a peak looming higher than any other part of her lower body. Silken skin curved up and, at the peak, a few stray black hairs.

Conflicting desires stormed me. I wanted to cup that perfect mound in my hand, feel its soft resilience and the tickle of new pubic hairs. And I wanted to kiss that pad and feel it yield against my mouth. But what stopped me in my tracks was an aroma, a scent. Inhaling slowly I drew the intoxicating scent of my daughter's arousal deep into my lungs. My body physically reacted, shaking at the light, delicate musk. My little girl smelled delicious, my little girl's arousal so intensely exciting. I wondered what she'd taste like and almost came, a strong, strong throb passing through my body.

Reaching out with a trembling hand, I gently cupped Karen's perfect little pussy. Blood roared in my ears when Karen slowly parted her thighs and suddenly I felt the silky moisture of her arousal against my fingertips. I could have climaxed with little effort. Just holding my little girl's pussy and feeling her aroused, my preteen moist, my daughter sexually excited, was enough to make me cum had I relaxed and let go. Instead, taking in a deep, bracing breath, I squeezed her pussy gently, letting my fingers find their natural grooves, my middle finger pressed to her cleft, ring and index finger slipping into the deep creases at the side.

"Beautiful, Honey," I whispered as she arched up from the bed with a moan. I pressed the pad of my middle finger in, soft labia yielding, slick moisture coating it. Curling my finger I drew it through her tight little cleft. Karen gasped and twitched when I rubbed across her hard clit. My erection was leaking, precum a wet stain on the sheet. It was throbbing rhythmically at the intense excitement I was experiencing, touching my daughter's pussy, feeling her moist, my little girl so aroused, such a sexual being.

Rising, I moved down between her legs.

"Daddy?" she whispered.

"Shhh. Trust me, Sweetheart."

God but it was a spectacular sight. With her legs parted, Karen's adolescent pussy seemed to fill her groin, a plump, mounded pad of pure sexuality. In the light cast off from the bedside lamp, I could see the glisten of her arousal at the base of her labia. Her cleft was reddened, inflamed and, nestled halfway down her slit, I could see the tip of her little clit peeking out, a dark shadow below.

I was mesmerized by the sight as I lay down, my hands slipping under her compact buttocks to hold her bum. Her pussy looked so young, so immature, so child-like, so, so attractive. Yet, with the few sparse jet-black pubic hairs that graced her thick labia and the glint of her arousal, Karen's pussy seemed slightly more mature. The combination was stunningly sexy and irresistible. I wanted nothing more than to have sex with my little girl, see if I could actually penetrate her. I wondered what it would feel like to push into her, how tight she'd be. I wondered how it would feel to have sex with such a young girl, how she'd feel under me, so petite. It was intensely exciting.

The fog of arousal made my erection ache. I leaned in and kissed my daughter's pussy, soft labia against my lips, her moisture rubbing off on my chin. My little girl tasted like heaven, soft and subtle, a light musky flavor that went straight to the pleasure center of my brain. I sucked her little pussy gently, Karen arching her pelvis up off the bed with a groan. Her hands reached down to grasp my hair.

"Daddy!" she cried out.

I slipped my tongue out and caressed her hard little clit, my thumbs gently parting her cleft. She hunched against my mouth.

"Daddy!"

Licking and sucking her gorgeous pussy, I probed her tiny, tiny vaginal opening, caressing it with my thumb as I teased her clitoris. Karen started undulating, pressing her little pussy against my mouth, scraping her clit on my tongue, pushing her vagina against my thumb. I helped her, slowly adding pressure and intensity, my erection pulsing and throbbing against the sheet as I listened to my darling moan and grunt.

I knew Karen's orgasm was near. Her hands curled, fists gripping my hair. Her legs started clenching as if she wanted to close them, while her pelvis started hunching rhythmically, almost jerking against my mouth. I could hear her breathing hard, whispering "Daddy," as she moved. It was incredible.

But then it became spectacular. Karen arched off the bed, a loud cry piercing the silence. Her legs snapped together around my head, little fists tugging painfully. She cried out as she climaxed, shoving her pussy against my mouth and thumb. Her pelvis heaved, her body jerked. "Daddy!!" she screamed and suddenly, as she hunched in a wave of orgasmic bliss, I felt my thumb penetrate her tiny vagina, a velvet grip squeezing it. I pulled it out and held her heaving buttocks, licking and rubbing her pussy, helping her through her climax until she collapsed in exhaustion.

I discovered something. When I moved back up and cuddled my little girl, the scent of her arousal in the air, and her little heart beating hard, I found heaven. I found the intense joy of holding my daughter to me, knowing she'd just experienced an intensely pleasurable orgasm. I found heaven holding my naked girl to me, one soft relaxed buttock in my hand as I gently brushed the perspiration soaked hair from her brow and stared at her beautiful face, relaxed in post-orgasmic peace. It didn't matter that my erection was painful and aching. I didn't care. I'd have happily stayed like that for the rest of the night.

But I didn't.

Karen stirred. Her eyes opened. Intense blue peered at me, studying me. A smile blossomed on her gorgeous face.

"Dad," she said softly, "that was amazing."

"Mmm. It was." I wondered if she knew she'd broken her hymen when she'd shoved herself on my thumb. It had taken me by surprise and, in some ways, I felt regret that my little girl had lost her virginity that way, rather than from penetration. "How do you feel?" I asked.

Karen cuddled close. "Gooood, Dad. Really good."

For a few moments we relaxed and Karen's breathing gradually calmed. I briefly wondered if she'd fallen asleep but a small hand curling around my shaft answered my question. I felt a slight squeeze and she let it go.

Her hand pushed me onto my back. "Can I see?" she asked, her face turned up towards me.

"Of course you can," I answered with an encouraging smile.

Karen rose onto her elbow and slid her hand across Dad's flat stomach. She stared at his large erection as it bobbed gently, the crown hovering an inch above his tummy, a clear bead of liquid oozing out. Carefully she reached out to hold his shaft, thick and pulsing in her hand. When she gently squeezed the hot shaft, it twitched.

Glancing up at Dad's face, she asked, "Is it okay?"

He nodded, his hand gently forming around hers. "It feels wonderful, Honey."

With his guidance, she gently stroked it, amazed at how rigid it was. Her fist slipped up over the flared head and she felt silky smooth warm liquid, the clear liquid leaking from the tip. Testing with her fingers she discovered how slippery it was. Dad's quiet moan when she spread it on his shaft with her fist made her smile. His penis swelled in her hand.

Rising to her knees, she studied it. Playfully she held it with both hands, surprised that she couldn't completely cover its length. Even her fingertips wouldn't touch. She explored, tracing the long ridge that led from the crown down the shaft. Below, she studied Dad's testicles, a wrinkled sack. Holding them, they felt almost hot, soft pubic hair dusting it. Probing carefully, she felt his testicles, two heavy kidney-bean shapes. She squeezed.

Dad grunted. "Careful, Honey," he said softly, "they're sensitive."

Moving back to his erection, Karen stroked it gently. She looked up at Dad's face and melted at the intensity of his expression, love, heat, desire. Amazing, she thought. Dad wants me. Me! A flush of arousal hit, her clitoris tingling. She remembered the intensity of her orgasm, harder than she'd ever experienced in her life. If it felt that good to her, wouldn't it feel as good to Dad?

"Would you like me to kiss it?" she asked, holding his erection, suddenly feeling slightly bashful.

I almost came spontaneously. Karen's small blush was such a contrast to her kneeling naked at my side, her hand holding my shaft. God, she was sexy, desirable, cute as hell, and I wanted her to kiss my erection, suck it, have my young daughter give me oral sex. I wondered what it would look like to see her lips stretched around my erection, the crown ensconced in her mouth.

But what I really wanted was intercourse. I wanted to try to have sex, my feverish arousal tamping down any fears or concerns. I wanted to fuck my little girl, feel myself penetrating her small body.

"No. Don't, Sweetheart," I answered, reaching to pull her hand off my erection. "I'm too close."

Karen slipped to my side, her crossed arms resting on my chest, her chin on her arms. Bright blue eyes twinkled at me. She grinned. "Can we try, Dad? You know, to have sex? Would you like to?"

I groaned. Reaching for her sweet face I pulled her up and kissed her gently. "Yes, Honey, I'd love to."

Karen smiled, excitement sparkling. I felt her leg straddle me and watched as she rose to sit on my stomach, a slender young angel astride me, her small perky breasts standing flushed and proud, her plump pussy pressed against me. A storm of arousal hit.

"Move down, Baby," I said softly, taking her slender hips to guide her. I inhaled sharply when her little pussy scraped over my crown. Karen shuddered and froze. I felt her knees at my side clench, felt her press her pussy against my erection. Slowly, she scraped her cleft down my shaft, the inflamed crown emerging between plump labia. She moved up, rubbing herself against my erection, then, shaking, reversed, slowly masturbating on my erection.

"Lift," I suggested, my heart pounding, erection straining. Karen rose, her hands resting on my stomach to support herself.

Reaching down, I grasped my shaft, pulling the tip through her slick little cleft, rasping it across her clit. I felt her labia hugging the crown. Karen started moving her pelvis in a circular movement and slowly I felt my crown slip into the natural indent leading to her little vagina, her hot labia sliding over the crown.

My eyes were riveted to the sight. While I couldn't see everything, I could see how thick my erection was compared to her twelve-year-old pussy. Karen's labia were stretched. It looked as if my erection was completely filling her little cleft, an intensely arousing sight.

Karen's head dropped. She stared at where we were joined. I felt her push slightly as I held my shaft upright.

"Slowly, Honey," I urged. "Just take your time. Stop if it hurts too much."

"Okay," she breathed out, pushing gently.

It was exquisite torture to feel myself at the entrance to her little vagina. My erection was pulsing, aching. I was harder than I ever remember being. Precum was flowing. And then, that miraculous moment arrived, that moment in time when I felt her tiny, tiny vagina dilate. I felt her squeezing down, oozing over my crown, her hands trembling on my stomach.

"Easy, Honey."

She rose up slightly. It must have spread slippery precum because when she reversed and gently pressed down, my erection literally popped into her tiny vagina. Breath exploded from her, she squeezed and moaned in pain, her tiny vagina clamping painfully on me.

"Hurts, Dad," she whined, collapsing forward onto my chest. I wrapped Karen in my arms and desperately tried to stop my erection from pulsing and swelling, the crown lodged inside her velvet grip.

"Shhh. Relax, Baby. Just relax."

For agonizing moments we held still. I couldn't believe how tight my little girl's pussy was. I'd never experienced anything so tight. As I basked in the sensation, Karen moved slightly, an exploratory move, pushing back gently. Amazingly a little more of my pounding erection slid into her. She sighed, her arms slipping around my chest.

"Better, Daddy," she whispered, pulling off slightly, pressing back.

I held her with one arm around her body, one hand on her little bum. I held her as she moved gently, undulating her sweet bum up and down, gently pressing back against my erection. I felt my daughter's vagina, every velvety millimeter of it as she slowly, slowly worked it into her. To the sound of groans, and the feel of little twitches in her body, I felt my daughter work my erection deeper and deeper. It was unbelievable. Yet before I knew it, Karen had sheathed almost my entire length inside her tight pussy, a velvet glove pulsing around my shaft, the tip pressing against her cervix.

"God, Karen, this feels so good," I whispered, flexing my erection.

Karen moaned, curled her bum up, slipping off my erection and, before I emerged completely, reversed, slowly sliding me deep, surrounding me in her silken warmth, the tip nudging against her womb. She moaned, "Gooood. Again, Daddy."

Before I knew it, Karen and I were gently fucking, slow, exquisite strokes, tight, so tight. I was in heaven, my erection throbbing, gently fucking each other, sighs, moans, joyous sounds to my ears. But the excitement, the exquisite sensations flooding me were too much, the build-up too much.

Holding her small body tightly with one arm, I gripped her little bottom, pressing it down as I curled up off the bed, fucking my little girl deep. She was exquisitely tight on my erection, her velvety vagina gripping and massaging my shaft with every desperate thrust. I could feel my crown bumping into her cervix with each stroke. Her grunt, as I buried myself inside her adolescent body, made me even hornier, even more desperate to flood her with my cum.

Karen's breath puffed hot against my chest, her cheek resting on me. She held on to me and then I felt it. Karen started curling her bum, shoving her tight, tight vagina down on my erection with urgency. I heard her moan as she started fucking me, riding my thrusting cock. The combination of her moisture and my precum made us very wet, slapping noises filling the air as we fucked each other in increasing frenzy. I couldn't believe how good it was, how incredible it felt to actually be fucking my little girl, to hear her moans of pleasure, feel her tight, tight pussy gripping me.

I couldn't believe I was actually fucking a twelve-year-old, my twelve-year-old, my little girl, my daughter. The eroticism was too much; Karen's tight, velvety clasp, too much; my crown thumping into her cervix, too much. The idea that I was going to shoot my cum into her immature womb was too much.

Pressure built suddenly in my groin. I felt my penis swell painfully, growing thicker inside her tight pussy.

"Gonna cum, Baby," I gasped, "Gonna cum."

A storm tore through me. I gasped and shoved my aching cock deep, pressing it tight to Karen's little womb. I froze, pain tearing into me. Then merciful release, glorious release. Semen charged up my shaft and exploded into my little girl. I cried out with pleasure and relief, hugged her little body tighter, withdrew and shoved again, semen burning up to jet into her womb in an intense, intense burst of pleasure.

The dam burst. Holding my darling tight, I fucked her hard, spurting in exquisite, beautiful agony, semen flooding her little pussy, hot cum bathing my crown. I fucked my child, exploding in an intense climax, my crown swelling with each heavenly, blissfully pleasurable pulse of cum. I came so hard it felt like my insides were emptying out, my stomach cramping, toes curling. I came into my little girl until nothing but dry heaves were left and then collapsed, hot, sweating, satiated, exhausted. I hugged her tight, my love, my little girl, my Karen.

Several minutes later the sound of soft purring made me smile; Karen had fallen asleep on top of me and was snoring quietly. Incredibly cute, I thought, my heart aching from the love I felt. My penis softened even more and slipped out of my little girl's tight pussy. A flood of warm semen fell to my groin. Gently I guided Karen to slip off to my side. She mumbled something, but didn't wake up. I held her close, my arm around her small body, a hand gently holding an amazing buttock. I pulled the covers up over us.

With a smile on my face, total relaxation making my muscles feel like liquid, an image of multi-colored gumballs cascading from a backpack came to mind. Idly I wondered how she could get those large balls into her mouth, they seemed so big. As I imagined her eating one, I had a vision of Karen holding my erection. Sleep crept over me as, with a smile, I decided to ask my twelve-year-old if she'd be willing to give me a blow job; maybe in the shower. That would be fun.