Daddy's Big Girl Now (III)

(continues story of my life with my dad)

My dad spent more and more time with me sexually. When I had my first orgasm while dad fingered my pussy, he told me that I was "his big girl now". By age ten, I was doing sexual things with my dad that many grown adults have not done with their spouses. Save one...He never took me vaginally with his manhood. Like a line he refused to pass. He did everything else.

Dad spent so much time with me that he did less and less on his job until finally they fired him. I remember crying when I first heard. I thought they had literally somehow put fire on him. I was relieved later to find out it was just an expression. Dad got really depressed...he still did school work with me but he was more than a little self-absorbed and didnt pay as much attention to me.

When I told him I was done, he wouldn't check it over like he normally did. I just went straight to sex. Usually taking a nap on the couch while he watched a prono movie and I mouthed his powder suger covered man thing. Hed cum, made sure I swallowed and then dismount my face and pet my head and tell me what a good girl I was.

On day I broke something, I think it was a mug dad got from a former job. He was really upset and I was a lil scared. He marched me up to his and mom's room and had me strip naked. He put some cream on his finger, with the other hand held my wrists to the bed over my head. He inserted his finger into my pussy and rubbed me like normal he normally did.

Only this time it started to burn. He had used bengay and I screamed, writhed and bucked. It hurt so bad, I just wanted it to stop burning to wash it off...anything. Dad just held me there, watched impassionately, maybe cried a little. It seemed like forever, at least 5 minutes, before dad finally let me go and told me to go wash up. I tore for the bathroom and washed my pussy roughly, sobbing.

After washing, which seemed to help, dad called me in to him. I obediently came. He held me naked at arms length and asked me if it hurt. I nodded and said "yes sir". He asked me if I had learned my lesson. I nodded again and said "yes sir". I could barely keep from sobbing. Then he told me that he was sorry, that he didnt intend for it to hurt so much. Tears rolled down his cheek just like they did mine. What hurt most though is that he hadnt hugged me, he still held me at arms length.

Finally he opened up his arms and I fell into them sobbing "I'm sorry daddy, I'm sorry daddy" again and again while he held me. At last he told me it was ok, the words I needed to hear. I know he could feel me tremble while he held me in his arms.

Eventually dad got a new job. and it left me alone a good part of the day. I had to have my homework done by the time he came home in the early afternoon. He had much less time to molest me before mom got home. Wasn't too long before mom got a new job too, calling people in the evening which gave dad a renewed opportunity.

Dad always arrived home in a blue pick-up with a bunch of co-workers in it. usually they'd drop him off and ride off. From time to time they'd come inside and watch a game or play cards. They all called me Lil Honey, which is what dad told them my name "Pamela" means in greek...don't ask me why greek Im Scottish-Irish-American.

One evening they were drinking around the table playing cards. I was 11 but still verry naive and isolated from normal social interaction so this was a treat. I watched them play cards quietly. They started teasing me like asking me to go spy on my dad and tell them what cards he had. Of course it was all in fun since they said it out-loud. I told them that I would never tell on my dad - they all roared in laughter. Dad saw my eyes follow them drink ... so dad laughed and asked if I wanted some. I nodded yes. He poured a glass and told me I had to drink it all down.

I drank it down quickly then grimaced. I remember thinking it tasted awful. Dad's friends roared with laughter as they watched my reaction. One of them offered me a cigraette but dad told them that I couldn't. I didn't like the smell anyway and crinkled my nose at their offer, which made them break out laughing again.

It wasn't long before I was the child equivalent of tipsy. Daddy told me to give him my clothes so he could wash them. Faithfully I did, right in front of them, stripped naked. I had never done it in front of strangers but I'd done it for dad so many times it just seemed natural, Id never been told it was wrong.

He had me parade around the table for them and do sumersaults, show them all my body parts, even touch myself, but he absolutely forbade them to touch me. They told me to say things and I did.I can remember parroting what they told me to say: "I'm a slut", "Fuck my pussy", "Im a slut" or "Please let me suck your cock".Dad laughed at how enthusiastically I said it, they all did. They would tell me to sit on things, hump the love seat arm, or position myself a cerrtain way, I did happily. It was fun to do while I was tipsy and they enjoyed watching me while I was tipsy.. And I, well I loved the all the attention but best of all I could tell I made dad happy.

After they'd had their fun watching me perform for them naked, dad would tell me to go take a bath and go to bed. And I would. They would stayed up until the wee hours; I could hear them downstairs long after my bath and just before falling asleep.

At age twelve I remember mom running through the front door. She was crying. She made a phone call and I overheard that dad was in the hospital. I came to learn that he had fallen out of the back of the pick-up truck while driving to the work site. He had landed badly on his head.

Mom dropped me off at a neighbors and left. The neighbors kept acting like my dad died. They kept being overly nice to me. I didn't mind much but I was very afraid for my dad and missed my mom. They let me sleep on a couch in their living room. The grandfather clock kept me up all night. It kept ticking loudly. I kept imaging that it was alive and every hour it would chime.

When I woke up, I could hear mom talking to the neighbors. She told me that dad was going to be ok. That he just hit his head really hard and that he was home.
I was glad. I missed him. I even missed resting my head in his lap.

He never touched me again. He died the next day from swelling, clotting caused by the initial fall. It was about a week from my 13th birthday. I was so lost and depressed. He was really gone forever. I cried all day I didn't want to eat or bathe or anything. Dad had taught me how to touch myself sexually so he could watch and for the next two weeks I constantly touched myself just to feel like I was close to him.

Then mom did something unexpected. Two weeks later she brought home a man I'd never met before. He was a lot of fun. He tickled me just like dad, but not where dad did. When I offered by picking up my shirt to expose my breasts, he turned his head and laughlingly told me that I should keep my shirt down. I didn't know how to respond, he didnt react like Dad did so I put it down.

The next day mom bought me my first bra, long overdue but my breasts were late bloomers. He must have spoken to mom. I even sat on his lap while we had family movie night wearing nothing but a nighty - Dad would have known and fingered me discretely but this man pretended not to notice. I witnessed a different kind of true love and I liked it. It was fun, honest and I still got attention but it was not the same - not bad or better in my young mind, just not the same.

Soon after, we all moved. Across the street of my new home was a girl about my age, just about two months older than me. We are to this day the best of friends. She saved my life once in a very bad situation and I may get up the nerve to tell you about it in a later letter. Heaven help me this will be the hardest part to tell.