Chelsea’s mother died of breast cancer when Chelsea was eight, and I was left to raise her on my own. Fortunately, her mother and I were both working professionals; she had been in real estate and I was an architect, and we had been able to spend a great deal of time at home raising our daughter. She was the spitting image of her mother, with bright strawberry blond hair and just a very light dusting of freckles on her nose. She was extremely smart and tested almost off the charts on intelligence tests.
When she was a baby, we took turns taking care of her such as changing diapers, bathing and powdering her and reading her stories. At about five or six years old, she started taking baths by herself, but about once a week, her mother would sit with her; sometimes bathing her, but mostly just talking. A few weeks after this ritual started. Chelsea asked her mother if I didn’t love her anymore. Her mom was shocked by this question and assured her I loved her very much, so Chelsea asked why I never gave her a bath and talked with her; after all, she related, she had things she only wanted to talk to dad about! So the next week, I gave Chelsea her “bath”; there was absolutely nothing erotic or sexual about it, and Chelsea really didn’t have anything earth shattering to discuss with me, but we talked and she giggled and it was a fun evening.
After her mother passed, I didn’t bath Chelsea for a couple of weeks; she took her own bath, but she acted very depressed and unhappy, but I didn’t realize what was wrong. Finally, after the third time I asked her what was wrong, she told me it was because I hadn’t given her her bath, and we didn’t “talk” anymore! Of course we talked all the time, but she apparently felt the baths were the only time we “really” talked. So the next weekend, I resumed the bathing ritual. I even fancied it up by lighting a candle or two, feeding her grapes and warming her towel in the clothes dryer before she got out. After a few weeks, I bought some bath oil and bath bubbles to put in the water, occasionally. We talked about a lot of things; originally, about her mom and how much we both missed her, but as the pain died away, she told me all about school, about the boys that were such jerks, the girls who were very silly, and other things that pre-teens like to talk about. Occasionally, she would ask me something very adult or serious and we would have a serious conversation.
One such question had to do with sex and babies. She already knew (from her mother, I think) that a boy put his “thing” into a girl’s “thing” and she got pregnant and had a baby. She wanted to know if I had put my thing into mommy’s thing and mommy got pregnant and Chelsea was born. How and where this question came from, I’ll never know, but I told her in adult terms; yes, I had put my penis in mommy’s vagina, mommy had gotten pregnant and Chelsea was our beautiful baby daughter. I didn’t tell her that her mother had an extremely difficult pregnancy and as a result, we had decided Chelsea would be an only child.
When Chelsea was about six, her mother had observed her rubbing herself on her vaginal area, so during their weekly bath discussions, her mom had told her that stimulating herself in that way was OK, but that she should only do it in private and not where others could see her. They talked a long time about this, with her mother trying to explain the “why” and “why nots” to a curious and precocious little girl. Later on, her mother told me all about it and we had a good chuckle. Childhood masturbation is normal, we both knew, and as long as it remained private, we saw no harm. Lord knows, her mother and I were extremely sexual people ourselves and enjoyed masturbatory games as a regular part of our sex life.
After my wife died, I kind of lost interest in sex and didn’t date anyone; mainly because I was too busy raising Chelsea and because I worked a great deal out of my home office, I didn’t have the opportunity to meet women. When Chelsea was ten, during one of our bathing rituals (which I had tried to stop, but Chelsea insisted), she asked me about touching herself “down there”. I asked what her mother had told her. She repeated what her mother said, and I assured her it was “normal”, but should be kept private. I started to drop it, but then asked her if she was still doing it and if it felt good. She told me she did it “once in awhile” and it felt OK, but she thought something was “wrong” because she never felt like it was at the “end”. I told her that when she was older, her body would fix that problem and not to worry about it and we didn’t talk about it anymore.
Chelsea started to have periods when she was twelve, and with help from the school nurse, I was able to buy the right sanitary pads and small Tampons, and the nurse explained to Chelsea what was happening and how to use the new items. She was bleeding lightly during one of her baths, and we discussed her periods and her body changes (not too graphically, but enough that she understood) and that was about the end of it. At no time, during these years, did I thing of Chelsea in a sexual way. Yes, she was very cute and very smart, but my mind was simply turned off about sex.
Then one day a year or so later, I walked past her room and the door was open about a third of the way. Chelsea was lying astraddle one of her pillows and was humping away as hard and fast as she could go. She was wearing little white panties with pink polka dots and a tee shirt that was pulled up around her middle. I heard her grunting, moaning and whispering something into the pillow, but I couldn’t make out any words. Then, her body stiffened and she ground as hard as she could into the pillow and it was obvious she was in the throes of orgasm. I watched as she stiffened and arched four or five times and then began to relax. I quickly stepped away from the open door, and slipped down to my room and into my bathroom. I was almost ashamed that I had stood and watched my daughter cum, but the erection in my pants was as hard as I’ve ever been, and I needed relief in the worst way. I stood over the sink and stroked my throbbing cock fast and hard and in less than a minute, I shot a stream of jism into the wash basin and onto the back of the sink and onto the lower part of the mirror. It was the hardest orgasm I had had in years.
I was shocked, amazed and a bit ashamed that I had gotten so aroused; in fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I had masturbated. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy it or thought there was anything wrong with it; I just hadn’t been in the mood. And now my lovely daughter had given me an erotic memory that would stay with me forever. Once I had regained my breath and composure, I cleaned up the mess, straightened my clothes and walked back through the house to my office, making sure I wasn’t being too stealthy. I had no intention of letting Chelsea know what I had seen; even during her bathing ritual, which I was now determined to end. Her door was fully open when I passed, but she was not in sight, and I returned to my work.
The following Saturday, her normal bath night, I told her we needed to stop doing this because she was becoming a young woman and was too old to be naked in front of her father. She reminded me that nudity had never been taboo in our house, and that I had seen all of her parts and she had seen some of mine and besides, this was the only time we “really” talked. As usual, I gave in and drew her bath water, put some bath oil in, and she came in completely naked and her skin literally glowed. She stepped into the tub, and for the first time in all our time together, I began to notice her feminine charms. Her breasts were just beginning to form small cones; her nipples and areola were just beginning to develop as little puffs and her vaginal area had a fine, light dusting of the strawberry blond hair that matched the color on her head. She lay back in the tub, closed her eyes, put her feet up on either side, spreading herself open and asked me to wash her with my hands instead of the washcloth I usually used and to tell her a story.
I had no idea what she was up to, but I started to worry. I was becoming aroused at the sight my young daughter was presenting me and I wasn’t sure what my reaction would be to rubbing her body all over with the slick bath soap and the feeling I would get from her pale soft skin. I almost refused, but then proceeded to lather her up and wash her from the feet up each leg to just below her crotch. I avoided touching her vaginal area and instead switched to each arm, her shoulders, chest and tummy. I had her sit up while I did her back, and as I finished each area, I carefully rinsed it off. I do not remember what we talked about or even if I told her a story; my mind was a blur, and I was very aware of a growing erection in my pants. When I told her that I was through, she looked at me and said “But Daddy, you haven’t done my bottom”, and with that, turned over and got on all fours so I could wash her bottom, front and back, which she seemed to enjoy because she wiggled and giggled as I did so. I gave her a slap on her bare butt, and told her it was all done, and retrieved her warm towel from the dryer. As she got out and I wrapped her in it, she turned and kissed me on the lips and said “Daddy that was one of the best baths ever!” and smiled as she went off to her room.
I cleaned up the bathroom, trying to ignore the painful hard-on that I had developed, and finally made it to my own room and into my shower where I used the slick soap to take care of my own problem. The image of my daughter’s ripening body and the feel of her soft skin had driven me wild. I remembered as I washed her bottom, the feel of her crevice and the extra slickness that seemed to be present. I couldn’t be sure, because of the bath oil and soap, but I would swear my daughter was secreting vaginal fluids as I was bathing her. I exploded in orgasm in my shower, and almost passed out from the pure pleasure! This would have to stop!
But it didn’t.
A few days later, I knew Chelsea was in her room; she had come home from school and fussed around the house for a bit, as I worked in my office. Then she announced she was going to her room for awhile, which was a bit unusual, as she normally did so without announcing it. I waited a bit, and then headed for my own room, intending to use the bathroom. As I came to Chelsea’s room, I tried to be as quiet as I could; her door was open halfway, and she was splayed out on her bed, humping her pillow, groaning softly, but this time, she had no panties or top on. I couldn’t see much of her little pussy, but her rectal rosebud would briefly come into view as she raised her hips and then would disappear as she ground back down against the pillow. I noted that her body was more diagonal across the bed so that her bottom was directly toward the door and this gave the best view of her private area. I briefly wondered if she had intended it to be this was. Then she started to stiffen and jerk in the throes of her climax. She groaned, and muttered “oh…goddd…fuckkk” as her body tensed and released, again and again. My cock was absolutely throbbing and the fronts of my jeans were wet from my pre-cum, but I couldn’t look away from this sight; one of the most erotic sights I’ve ever seen. Her mother and I used to masturbate for one another to watch, as part of our sex play, but I don’t recall it ever being this erotic.
As she started to relax and come down from her pleasure peak, I slipped away to my room, and again, headed for the bathroom and in less than a minute, unloaded my wad into the sink. I had tissues nearby that would have prevented the mess, but watching in the mirror as the cum squirted from my cock made it more sensual and seemed to make it last. I cleaned up, and headed back to my office and Chelsea came in wearing her swimsuit and told me she would be out by the pool. She had to be careful in the sun, because her very light complexion would burn easily, and I reminded her to use suntan lotion. A few minutes later, she stuck her head in the door, and asked if I would come do her back, so I joined her and began spreading lotion on her neck and shoulders and then on her legs. As I was rubbing it on her legs, she spread them slightly and raised her hips to give me access to her inner thighs. I couldn’t help but notice the slightly wet spot on the crotch of her bikini bottom, right where her pussy would be. If I hadn’t known better, I might have thought she wanted me to see it.
Later that same week, Chelsea arrived home from school in the early afternoon, which was a little surprising, because she often wanted to be with her friends during that time. But she would come in, tinker around downstairs for awhile, then announce she would be in her room “relaxing” for a bit, and go upstairs. God help me, I tried to resist the temptation, but the urge overwhelmed me; I had to see what she was doing! Sure enough, her bedroom door was open, now all the way, and she was on her bed, her butt up in the air, pointed directly at the doorway, and her head and shoulders were hunched in her pillow as her fingers rapidly played over her clitoris and Mons. Her hips pumped in rhythm and her slit was glistening from her fluids. I could not only see her rosebud clearly but also into her pink opening and could almost make out the tiny clit peeking from her slit. It didn’t take long until her orgasm began, and this time, I could see every twitch and pulsation in her pussy, but especially as her anus twitched open and closed; open and closed. That was the sure sign of how deep her orgasm reached. I almost didn’t make it to my bathroom before I shot my load. Lord, how long was this going to go on. I wanted to stop it, but couldn’t.
Friday, before “bath night” Chelsea showed up early afternoon, and once again, the ritual began. She went up to her room; I tried to resist going, but failed, miserably. I was feeling ashamed and depressed over my wonton feelings. It wasn’t as though I wanted to have sex with my daughter; I didn’t, but the sight of her pleasuring herself and the desire to “help” her was irresistible. I had never been aroused so much in my life, and as good as the sex life with her mother had been, this was even more erotic. As I approached her room, I heard something slightly different from her door, but couldn’t identify the sound. The door was fully open, Chelsea was again displayed with her ass toward the doorway, no clothes at all, but this time, she was masturbating her clit with one hand and the other hand was sliding something in and out of her opening. I couldn’t quite tell what it was, but she was using it as a dildo as she frisked her clit and the strange sound I had heard was a soft squishing sound as she plunged the toy in and out of her opening. She had been going very fast when I first came to her door, but now she slowed down; not stopping, but simply slowing the stimulation, almost as if she were trying to make it last. It also allowed me to see every detail. After a minute or so, the paced picked up, and I could see juices running down her thighs and onto her hand with the toy. She slowed once more for a minute or so, then quickly picked up the speed and this time moved right through to orgasm. I could tell the power by the spasms of her body and the deep, guttural noises she was making. I would have heard her, even if I had remained in my office. The thought again crossed my mind that she intended for me to “catch” her in the act because she was making absolutely no effort to remain concealed or to keep quiet as she climaxed. I couldn’t take it anymore and rushed off to take care of my own business. It almost seemed as if each new load I shot was heavier than before. Of course, other than these sessions after watching my daughter, I had not been masturbating, so perhaps the body was producing more semen.
Chelsea would soon be fourteen, and although she didn’t date yet, her interest in boys was becoming obvious. As bath time approached, I was nervous and trying to think of a way to halt these little sessions but the “other” part of me wanted them to continue. I had quietly checked Chelsea’s room while she was out, looking for the “toy” she had used during her last masturbation. The only thing I found that seemed to fit the bill was a lipstick tube, about four inches long and about a half inch in diameter. Nothing else looked to be the right size of the thing I saw. I knew that many women used dildos, and in fact, her mother had had several toys during our marriage, but I had gotten rid of all of them after her death. I briefly wondered if that had been a mistake, but then shook that thought away.
I drew Chelsea’s bath, and waited for her to arrive. I normally wore jeans and a sweatshirt, but for some reason, tonight I was wearing swim trunks and a tee shirt because it wasn’t cool enough for a long sleeved shirt. Later, it occurred to me it would be difficult to conceal my reaction to her charms. Chelsea walked in completely nude and I couldn’t help but notice her breasts were noticeably filling out and the down around her vaginal area was definitely pubic hair. She stepped into the tub, taking her time before sitting in the hot water, and she leaned over and kissed me then straightened; from my position sitting on a short stool beside the tub, her crotch was at my eye level and I saw droplets of moisture on the hairs around her opening. My daughter was aroused!
I didn’t add any bath oil tonight, because I didn’t want to hide any feeling of slickness I might discover. We began talking and I started soaping her feet and working up one leg. Chelsea started to tell me about how several boys were flirting with her at school and she wondered when she could start dating. I had told her on a couple of occasions that she could date when she was sixteen, and not before, although before then, she could go to group events such as school dances and games, but I would be taking her to and from these events. As I reached the top of one leg and started to move to the other foot, she raised her hips out of the water and asked me to wash her “bottom”, as she itched there. I soaped the area, and slowly started to wash and massage her cunny lips and lower. I didn’t go too long, as she seemed to be enjoying it a bit too much, and it was obvious what she was up to. She sighed and smiled and slipped back into the water. I washed the other leg, and again, as I got near her crotch, she said “Daddy, can I ask you a personal question?” Our rule had always been to allow any question, no matter how “silly”, but this was the first time she had wanted to ask a “personal” question.
“Of course, sweetheart; what did you want to ask?” I was worried that I thought I knew.
“Daddy, do you enjoy watching me play with myself?” She had a big smile on her face, and I could feel my own face flush with embarrassment. I wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it, but Chelsea saved me the trouble. “I hope you like it and don’t think I’m ugly. I wanted you to watch me and it was exciting for me to think you were pleased by it. I finally started to be able to ‘finish’ when I play with myself, and I finally understand what you meant when you told me my body would tell me when I was ready.”
I stayed quiet a moment more, then told her that yes, I did enjoy seeing her pleasure herself and to see her growing into a beautiful young woman. I asked her how long she had known I was watching. She told me since last year, and described the first time I had seen her. She told me she had actually planned it, but it wasn’t until the third time that I finally came to see what was going on. I asked her about what she had inserted into her vagina, and she confirmed it was a lipstick tube; “but that isn’t very good because it isn’t big enough” she told me. I asked when she first started to orgasm, and she told me “I had my first cum about two years ago, over at Stephanie’s house. Steph showed me how to do it right, and I have been cumming every time, since then.” I was shocked at her language, but guess I shouldn’t have been; after all, I knew worse at her age.
“Daddy, I really itch down there; please wash me again” as she raised her hips and crotch out of the water. I was going to refuse, but I couldn’t take my eyes off that little cunny, and I began to soap it and massage it, letting my finger slide up and down her slit. The tip of my finger caught the tip of her clit, and I gently massage and tweaked it and in almost no time, her hips began to buck and she had a powerful orgasm, right on my hand. I let just the tip of my finger slide into her opening, and I just pulsed it gently, in time with her spasms, and that seemed to prolong her climax. She was giggling and groaning, all at the same time, but I was pleased that it was bringing her so much pleasure. I felt a wave of shame, but it was quickly overcome by lust. My erection was about to rip through my trunks and I wanted to excuse myself and retreat to my own bathroom to take care of business, but I could hardly stand because of my hard-on.
I tried to get up and get her towel, and Chelsea, coming down from her glow asked me another question. “Daddy, do you masturbate after you watch me cum?” I almost lied, but then realized that it would do no good. She knew the truth, and I had always been truthful to her.
“Yes, sweetheart; I can’t help it because you turn me on so much watching you do it I have to relieve myself.”
She got a huge smile on her face and told me she was glad. She knew I missed mom, and now she understood part of what I missed about her. “Do you want to masturbate now?” she asked. Then she looked at my crotch and smiled at the huge lump that showed.
“After we get you dried off and warm, I’ll go take care of myself” I told her. She frowned, and then said “No fair! You watched me, now I want to watch you! Please, Daddy, do it here into the tub where I can see…PLEEZE!” I had absolutely no intention of following through, but once again, lust and the thought of having her see my cum shoot into the tub made me even more aroused. I kneeled up and my cock was just above the edge of the tub. Chelsea, sat back and I began pumping my cock over the water covering her crotch…imagining what it looked like earlier when she was cumming. In no time, I began to squirt, and Chelsea reached out and stroked the underside of my cock with her fingers and that only intensified my orgasm. She swirled the goo I had shot into her bathwater, then stood and carefully rinsed it off her skin, then stepped from the tub and asked me to dry her off. My cock shriveled back into my swim trunks and I was able to get up and retrieve the towel and carefully dry her off, taking special care to dry her cunny, her bum and her lovely little breasts.
We didn’t openly speak about that bath for a couple of days, but then Chelsea came home and soon announced she was going to her room to “rest”. “Would you like to come help me rest?” she asked with a smile. I smiled back, but part of me wanted to stop this right now! But again, the other part of me would let me stop. “I’ll be up in a few minutes. Get ready…but don’t start without me.” I embarrassed myself with that last moment. What in hell was I thinking?
When I reached her room, she was almost completely naked except for a scarf that she had wrapped around her neck and draped across her stomach and covering her crotch. She had the lipstick tube in one hand and smiled when I came in. I walked to the side of the bed, and took the tube away from her and set it on the nightstand, explaining she wouldn’t need that tonight. I leaned over and kissed her, and then gently began stroking her skin, making goose bumps rise. “You can start, now.” I told her, and as I watched she began to slowly masturbate her clit. I could see she was already wet, and I told her to spread her legs and put the soles of her feet together, open like a butterfly, so I could see her pussy. The words seemed to shock and excite her, because I always use the proper term, such as vagina, when I had discussed sex with her. Her movements became faster and more frantic and when I knew she was close, I leaned over and kissed her stomach and blew gently on her open vagina. “Cum for me baby!”, I told her and it was enough. She exploded into a series of orgasmic spasms that continued for almost a full minute, and she was completely breathless and spent at the end of that time.
As she recovered, she looked up at me coyly and said “You know what I want for my birthday next week?” I told her I did not know. She said “I want one of those sex toys that ladies use to put in their pussies when they play. I think they are called dildos.”
“Yes, that’s what they are called. Where did you learn about that?” I asked her. She told me they were regularly advertised and shown in women’s magazines, and sure enough, she showed me several pictures and ads. I told her I thought that could be arranged, and perhaps we could pick one out together. She thought that would be a great idea “But first, we have to take care of another problem” as she reached out and stroked the outline of my cock in my shorts. I pulled my shorts down and slowly began to stroke while Chelsea, carefully watched every move, and then used the tips of her fingers and nails to gently scratch my scrotum and tease my cock. Just as I was getting close to cumming, I asked her to get a tissue to catch the mess, and she pulled one and held it at the ready to catch my load. As I felt it start and let out a groan, she quickly leaned forward and licked the tip of my cock, which sent an electric shock to my nuts and the first spurt squirted from the tip of my cock. Chelsea caught part of it with her tongue, and let the rest shoot into the tissue. She continued to stroke my scrotum, and occasionally lick the tip of my cock until I was completely emptied.
I’m not sure if this is the way her mother and I would have raised her together, but I’m doing the best I can. I would make certain that she got an extra special birthday present from one of the “toy” catalogs I picked up.