Just be a Good Girl

I was blessed in life. I had a beautiful wife, Ashley, and she gave me a gorgeous little step-daughter when the two of us were only twenty-one. Like her mother, Emma had light brown hair, blue eyes and a thousand-watt smile.

My perfect world ended ten years later when Ashley left us without warning. Part of the reason I had been able to wed such a beauty was the fact that my family had money. Ashley had found someone with more. I had been fooled into believing our love was true all along. Ashley’s new millionaire wanted her as a jet-set companion, but ten-year-old Emma didn’t fit the plan. Ashley wasn’t so cold that she didn’t break her own heart to leave Emma behind; she was just too weak to resist the chance to lead the glamorous life.

In the year that followed, I began to realize how weak I was on my own. I was depressed and bitter. Only Emma’s indomitable spirit buoyed me and kept me sane. She had been sad that her mother had left her, but she still had her daddy, and she wasn’t going to let him slip away. She hugged and kissed me back to the realization that just having a step-daughter like her was reason enough to be a happy man. By my baby girl’s 18 birthday I was once again a happy man, but I had become too dependent on her.

Emma was my everything, and I began to slowly fall in love with her. Of course I had always had a doting father’s adoration for her, but I began to see her as more than a step-daughter should be. I stopped dating. There was no one I wanted to hold and to touch like I did her. There were no lips I wanted to kiss like I did hers. And, I finally admitted, there was no one I wanted to take to my bed like I did her.

I began to become more and more cuddly with her. I began to sniff her hair as I held her in my lap when we watched TV. Football games were our favorite thing to watch together. She would wear her little jersey and her cut-off shorts. I wore my jersey and my old gym shorts. We would hug and kiss at touchdowns and interceptions. It was all thrilling to me, the warm contact of her slender legs against my bare thighs, the feel of her little breast buds against my chest when she hugged me, the press of her warm little lips to mine.

But the thing that began to make football different from anything else was something I did very deliberately. When the games got tense, I would rock my hips back and forth beneath her as if I was nervous. Soon, I began to hold her hips in my hands as I did it. She was not yet twenty, but she began to understand that there was something going on that wasn’t happening before. She turned to me after I had just basically ground my cock into her little bottom. She stared at me for a moment and there was a sadness in her eyes, almost pity. Emma was beginning to realize that I was feeling the wrong kind of love for her. She just didn’t know quite what to do with that. She placed her hand on my cheek and then turned back around toward the TV.

I think that she had hoped that looking in my eyes would remind her that she was my teen-girl and not just a warm feminine body. It didn’t work. I did it again a few minutes later. I felt a little shudder run through her body. I was giving her physical pleasure even if she was unsure how she felt about the entire incident. Actually she probably was pretty sure that she didn’t want it to happen; she was just torn because it was coming from the person she loved most and it felt good. She arched her back and leaned her little head on my shoulder. I kissed her neck and she nearly purred.

Suddenly, she shot up from my lap. “The game’s a blowout, Daddy. I’m going to go… take a swim.” She started from the room and then suddenly wheeled back toward me. She kissed me on the lips and then ran quickly down to her room to change.

It was early October, and a warm day even for New Mexico. I was tempted to join her, but I didn’t want to chase my teen-girl around the house trying to touch her. If she needed a little while on her own, I had to respect it. Besides, I needed to cool down a little as well. There was no doubt in my mind now, that I was seducing my step-daughter. But I also knew that I couldn’t finish the job today.

The next few weeks saw the pattern continue. We hugged and cuddled and I held on too long or patted her bottom. Our goodnight kiss got a little longer as I held my lips to hers. Emma was not initiating the more intimate contact, but she wasn’t putting a stop to it. And as we edged toward her twelfth birthday, she continued to sit on my lap during the football games. I pulled a bit of a trick on her. I swiped every last pair of denim shorts from her drawer and threw all of them into the washer to keep her from getting a pair out of the hamper. She was left with nothing but her thin little cotton shorts. And being a leggy middle school girl who didn’t mind the boys admiring her gorgeous stems, those shorts were all pretty brief.

Emma sat way out on my knee as she took her place on my lap. But as the game progressed, I worked her back toward me. Finally, she gave up and just slid into her old position. Soon, I began to rock my hips and press my rock-hard erection against her thinly covered bottom and pussy. I could feel her heat more clearly than ever before. And there was no doubt that she could clearly feel my shaft pressing against her sex. She arched her back and put her head on my shoulder. I kissed her neck and she moaned slightly. “Daddy, please,” she said, asking me to stop, but not putting any edge in her voice.

“I need this, Emma. I love you, and you’re so beautiful. It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No, Daddy, it feels good. I just don’t think we should.”

“Trust me, baby. Just be a good girl and let it happen.”

After that, Emma didn’t speak anymore. She moaned softly from time to time and silently accepted it when my hand began to slide over her almost flat little chest buds. That extra stimulation was the thing that changed the situation for her, though. She began to move her hips as well, accepting my push against her and reaching back when I rolled away. I snuck a peek over her shoulder and saw the tell-tale dark spot on her tight gray shorts. I was losing control. I pulled her tightly to me, but she continued to try and rock to meet me. Her little wiggles ground her onto my cock and I felt a pull at the base of my balls. Spurts of cum leapt from my twitching cock and soaked the front of my shorts. Emma’s eyes flew open wide. She stopped moving.

I slipped a hand inside her shorts. She began to protest. “Just be a good girl,” I said with a little more intensity than I meant. She allowed my hand to probe her hot, soft folds. She squeaked as she tried to suppress what she felt building inside of her. My palm was resting on the downy hair of her pubis, giving her a surface to grind against. She couldn’t help doing it. My middle finger found her little clit. I only had to flick it twice.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed in a mix of pleasure and horror as she came all over my hand. It was a very wet orgasm, not exactly a porn film gusher, but her pubescent body produced a few waves of fluid. She trembled for several seconds and then looked down at her soaking wet shorts. She leapt from my lap. “We shouldn’t have done that!” she exclaimed. She began to run from the room, but once again turned back and kissed me before she made a hasty exit.

Emma did try to avoid me a little bit for the week after that. For the first time in her life she had begun to feel an intense pull toward letting things escalate. I didn’t chase her. I believed that she was going to come to me for hugs and kisses pretty soon, and she knew what would follow. She would be torn between her fear and revulsion over my incestuous desires and her need for the comfort of my arms. I knew which would win out. Her own desire was probably the thing that scared her as much as anything else. Emma had been confident in the beginning that I wouldn’t use brute force to make her do anything beyond what we had done. She was right about that. What she hadn’t counted on was the fact that at some point her resolve and ability to stop things might begin to crumble.

On her twelfth birthday, she had friends over for dinner and cake and ice cream. The girls all watched movies and gossiped in the basement rec room while I went out and worked in the garage. I was actually surprised at how little interest her friends held for me. I was afraid I was becoming a hebephile, attracted to girls just reaching puberty. I wasn’t. I thought they were cute and wondered what they might look like in a few years, but I didn’t feel a deep attraction toward them. I guessed I was just an Emma-phile.

By ten o’clock, the girls’ parents had come and taken them home. Emma was ecstatically happy. Her friends had all had a good time, and they were of an age where they were starting to be impressed by the nice house and the pool. They were especially fascinated by the indoor hot tub. “Daddy?” Emma asked as she sat on the couch with about a foot of space between us.

“Yes, honey?”

“The girls wanted to know if they could come over next weekend and use the hot tub.”

“Anytime, sweetie. No boys, though.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Well, ready to turn in after your busy day?”

“Yeah. I’m kind of bushed. Thanks for this little party, Dad. It was awesome.” She got up to leave and then turned back and kissed me on the lips. Things were almost back to normal, and that meant I might get another opportunity to explore Emma’s blossoming sexuality with her again in the near future. Then, much to my surprise she turned around and looked at me for a long time. She didn’t say a word, just stared at me with a troubled look, kissed me again and left the room.

The next morning, Emma got up before me and started to cook breakfast. She was about to start dishing up when I walked into the room. I slid my arms around her from behind, and she leaned her head back on my shoulder. I patted her little bottom as I turned to go to the table. She swatted me in the ass with the spatula. I turned and smiled. Her jaw dropped in surprise. She hadn’t meant to do it. She had simply responded to flirtation with flirtation. It was an instinct.

We chatted all through breakfast, and Emma’s thousand-watt smile never left her face. We spent the morning working on the yard. The warm October was continuing. Daily high temperatures were consistently coming in about ten degrees above average. By noon it was over 80 degrees and headed toward at least 86 or 87 by mid-afternoon. “Let’s swim, Daddy,” Emma said as we finished a light lunch.

“Alright, baby girl. Let’s swim.”

Emma couldn’t have been completely unaware of the danger of wearing a swimsuit in front of me, but it had been almost two weeks since we had humped and fingered our way to orgasms. I think she thought I had gotten it out of my system. She didn’t yet understand that boys were never truly satisfied until they possessed the object of their desire completely.

Emma showed up in one of her more conservatively cut one-piece suits. It had a wide crotch and not much of a plunge in the neckline. The only problem was that it was a year old, and she had grown taller. The pink fabric crawled its way up into her crease in both the front and back, giving her a bit of a double cameltoe. She hadn’t changed much up top, but the bottom of her suit clung so tightly that even her light coating of pubic hair was outlined against the fabric.

Emma didn’t really catch on until we were about ready to leave the pool. When she looked down and saw what she was showing me, she swam to the deep end and then climbed out and went right to the chaise with her towel. She wrapped the towel around her waist and headed inside. I didn’t rush, but I made sure I wasn’t too far behind her. My legs were much longer, and I caught up to her in the hallway. I reached out and touched her arm and she froze. She turned and saw the hunger in my eyes. “I-I wasn’t trying to tease you, Daddy.”

“What would you know about teasing, Emma? You’re a sweetheart. You’d never be mean enough to tease.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’m glad you understand.”

I pulled her to me and kissed her. This time I put everything I had into it, slipping my tongue into her mouth. “Daddy, no, please,” she said as I finally let her breathe.

“Just be a good girl, Emma. I need to make us feel good again.” She wanted to run, and she wanted to stay. She was already in my arms, and running would involve very pointedly breaking away from me. I kissed her again, and repeated the efforts with my tongue. Slowly, she began to let her tongue touch mine. I backed her toward the wall and dropped her towel away from the front of her swimsuit. I began to trace the length of her little pussy lips with the side of my finger. Emma pressed her forehead to my shoulder and looked down, watching her father’s hand stroke the front of her suit. She could see the way the pressure spread her lips. She moaned softly.

I began to kiss her bare shoulders, and she silently accepted it when I slid the straps down and exposed her tiny breasts. Once again, as soon as I made contact with them, she began to respond with movements of her hips. Emma never would have made a play for me, but she seemed unable to muster the will to resist me if I pressed the issue. I still hold her completely blameless in everything that happened. I had every advantage. I could push her physical buttons. I knew that she had always wanted to please me and be my good girl. And, I could speak in the voice of trusted authority.

While her hips continued to move against the hand pressed to her suit, I continued to lower the wet garment further and further down her body. She held my head to her chest as I kissed and licked the puffy nipples on her tiny breasts. I managed to get the clingy material past her slender hips and she whimpered as the wet suit slid down her legs to her knees.

I still held her hips to the wall as I knelt and began to kiss her pubis. “Oh, Daddy, this has to stop soon. It’s too much.”

“Too much because it’s awful, or too much because it’s good?”

“Both,” she whispered. “Just like you.”

That one stung a bit. I was her last refuge in the world, the parent who stayed. But now I was also the man who plundered her little body for pleasure. I had turned the purest love I had ever known into love-hate. I marshaled the last bit of strength of character I had left and ordered my body to quit. The order had no effect. I was lost. So too then, was Emma.

I began to lash her tight little pussy lips with my tongue as I brought a thumb to her clit. I needed to break her resolve with lust; lust had certainly done that to mine. I penetrated her folds with my tongue and touched the warmth within. I swirled the thumb and felt her body tense as the last bit of common sense in the house urged her to run. The action on her clit had been too much, though. Her tender body overpowered her mind. She moaned in pleasure and ground her pussy against my face. Less than a minute later, she began to grow frantic. Her desire to take things back to the way they had been a few months ago fought with her desire to embrace the pleasure of the moment. She had managed to suppress her vocalizations somewhat during the first orgasm I had given her during the football game. This time, she couldn’t. She squealed girlishly and then grunted like a grown woman. Her lusty grunts came rapid and close together for a few moments and then she began to whimper “Oh! Oh! What are we?” She released far more violently than last time. There was some anger and feelings of betrayal mixed in with her pleasure. Her body jerked and she clubbed me across the back of the neck with the inside of her forearm. Then after a cascade of warm juices flooded my chin, she momentarily collapsed over my shoulder.

I picked up her naked form and hauled her right into the master bedroom. She swung a few more lazy clubbing blows against my back, but she was somewhere beyond quite realizing what she was doing. When I dropped my wet swim trunks and followed her down onto the bed where I had placed her, she pulled me in for a hungry kiss and let her tongue dance with mine. Then, when we broke for air, she slapped me in the face. Her eyes went wide and then she kissed me again. “I hate you,” she whispered. “Make me love you again.”

“How, Emma?”

“I don’t know!” she howled in frustration. “Make me something. I’m not your teen-girl anymore, and I don’t know what that makes me now.”

“The love of my life,” I said. She broke into sobs and kissed me over and over.

“Always love me, Daddy. Promise me that no matter what you do to me you’ll always love me.”

“I have never loved anyone more.”

“Then don’t fuck me, please.”

“Honey, I have to. That’s what men do with the women they love.”

“Please, Daddy, please. I’m not a woman, I’m a girl.”

“What you just did in the hallway… the way you ground at me and made those sounds of pleasure… was that something a teen-girl does or something a woman does?”

“But I’m not supposed to have those feelings.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone! I’m supposed to be a good girl.”

“You are a good girl, Emma. That’s why you let your daddy make you feel so good, and why you make him feel so good.”

“But–”

“Enough, Emma. Be a good girl and help Daddy show how incredible we can make each other feel. Once you get used to it, you’ll understand everything.”

“And you’ll still love me?”

“Always, baby girl, always.”

She kissed me again. It finally registered in my thick skull that the kisses meant more to her than the pleasure. I took her in my arms and kissed her over and over again. She nestled her tiny form into me and I could feel her begin to relax and accept the moment. Finally, I turned her to her back. I kept kissing her as I positioned myself between her legs. “Will it hurt bad?” she sniffed as tears began to flow.

“Every girl is different, honey. It will sting at first, but with some girls only for a moment. With others, it lasts for a while.”

“Can’t we wait?”

“No.”

“Okay, Daddy. Just love me, okay?”

I kissed her for a while and then lined myself up with her little opening. She was still wet from her little ejaculation and the continued kissing, and I was pretty certain that her fluids would help make it easier. Of course, she was very small and I was a grown man. She whimpered as I began to press into her. Her slender frame shook with fear. She yelped and then bit her lip to silence herself as I popped the head into her tight little snatch. She relaxed for a moment. I think she thought the worst was over.

When I pushed through her cherry, she shrieked in shock and pain. “It’s too big!” she cried. “I’m too little!” I kissed her face over and over as she cried. I slowly began to work my way in and out, stretching her virgin pussy with each penetration. She began to pound on my back with her forearm again.

“Harder!” I said. “Hit me harder! Let it out!”

Emma began to swing the arm with everything she had, and I used the distraction to continue to work my way ever deeper into her. Each time I pushed forward I made a little headway. It took me a full minute of beatings and tears to get myself all the way into her. Finally, she stopped swinging. I was able to move more freely into her and establish a rhythm. Her body began to supply even more of the fluids it needed to allow our movement. I scrunched down and managed to flick her nipples a few times with my tongue. It always brought the same response. She began to move her hips.

Instinct began to take over for her then. Her body sought a better position to take me in. Within another minute, she was seeking ways to take me as deeply as possible and meeting my thrusts. “Love me, Daddy!” she whispered urgently. She genuinely meant “love,” not “fuck.”

I kissed her again and again as I continued slowly trying to help her find pleasure. I didn’t have to seek pleasure for myself. It was everywhere: her warm tender skin, the scent of her sex, the feel of her desperate kisses, the slender arms wrapped around my neck. And then there was the incredibly tight little pussy that hugged every square centimeter of the surface of my cock. She was wet and warm and wonderful. Her little legs slid up and down the outsides of my thighs. Her heels sometimes pressed into the backs of my knees. “I love you, Emma,” I whispered. “I will love you forever.”

“I can’t take much more,” she moaned. “But I’m okay, Daddy. I’m okay.”

“You’re such a good girl, baby.”

I increased the speed at which I was taking her. Part of me wanted it to last forever, but I knew in my heart that this would be far from the last time that I would enjoy the pleasures of her blossoming body. I wanted her first time to not leave her any more sore than it had to. I let my hips fly. “Daddy, you’re doing it so hard!” she groaned in surprise. “Oh god! Oh god!” She wasn’t about to cum, but she was genuinely feeling pleasure as I cut loose on her.

I felt the pressure build inside me and knew I was about to explode inside of her sweet, sweet pussy. I came so hard that I thought I was going to give myself a double groin pull as I forced my shaft deep, deep inside of her. She moaned in ecstasy as the warm gobs gushed into her and I slowly fucked the last of it out of my cock. I had done it. I had become the man that took his child’s virginity. I would have felt awful if it all didn’t feel so damned good.

I kissed her neck and shoulders as I lay next to her. I told her I loved her at least a dozen times. Finally, finally, I heard what I feared I might never hear again. “I love you, too, Daddy.” I held her tight. “But I really have to pee,” she added.

I scooped her off of the bed and carried her to bathroom and kept her balance for her as she found her seat. She looked up at me and realized I wasn’t about to leave. She shook her head in disbelief and then let her stream of clear piss tinkle into the bowl. She even stayed in the room when I took my turn. She looked hard at my cock. I realized that she hadn’t had much of a look at it before. Now, she really saw it for the first time and noticed that her virgin blood had tinted it a bit red. She turned on the shower and stepped inside, offering me her hand. I tilted my head with an unasked question. “Not much point in fighting things anymore,” she said. “I am whatever it is I am now. It makes me sad, but it makes me feel good in some ways, too.”

“Just like me?”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding a little older. “Just like you.” I stepped into the shower with her. “I still wish it never happened, Daddy. I don’t completely trust you anymore.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes, Daddy. I will love you forever. And what we did… I’ll do it with you again.”

I held her naked little body in my arms as the warm water cascaded over our tired muscles. She leaned her head back onto my shoulder and I kissed her. We took a long hot shower and then made some supper. That night when I went to bed, Emma came into the room and scooped out the contents of one of my dresser drawers. She wordlessly left the room and returned with an armful of her pajamas and nighties. She changed into her One Direction PJ’s and crawled into my bed.

In all the lusting for my step-daughter, I had never even considered what it would be like to simply hold her in my arms and drift off to sleep. For all I had taken from this teen-girl, she still had her tender soul and her desire to be loved. I didn’t know if I would ever fully recover the part of my soul I had given up to do what I did to her. But if anyone in the world could ever help me get it back, it was the girl in my arms. “Such a good girl,” I whispered as I put my arm around her and she wrapped her own arms around it and spooned into me. “Such a good girl.”