Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ADULT STORY (c) Susan England - 2008-11-13 "Wendy's Story - from Child to
Woman" is just that.  A Story.  I have written it at the request of a few
loyal readers who have often asked me to pretend to be me in a story!!! 
What follows is, I hope, what they asked for.  I hope it pleases you
because you know who you are.  No part of this may be reproduced at any
site without the express permission of the author at
englander1961@yahoo.co.uk

   Wendy's Story- from Child to Woman

   Prologue

   I address this to you, Dear Reader, yes YOU who are reading it now. 
Readers ask continually, in responses to my various stories, to tell more
and more about the real ME.  "Is there any truth about the events in my
stories?" Did any of the events happen to the real Me?

   I have thought long and hard about revealing the truth about my history
and I have decided to share myself with you, you who have been so loyal to
my scribblings and so kind and complimentary in your comments.  I have
concealed only one thing - my maiden name.  As you can imagine I have no
wish to be identified in my real life, and so the name I use is false. 
But, I am Scottish/English and all the rest is true.

   My real first names are Susan Wendy and I'm now aged 47.  Since so many
of you ask about my early life I have tried to remember as best I can, as
many of the events and significant dates that have made me the writer you
have come to know.  Can any writer tell a 'story" without his or her own
experiences becoming included or at least influencing some part of the
tale? Evidently I cannot: I have come to realise that I do not have that
special ability called creativity, which is the prerogative of truly
excellent and innovative storytellers.  Several of the happenings in my
life I have already written into my stories although I have contrived to
tell them a little differently and in most cases in different situations.
Some, however, are as they actually happened, and in these cases, I have
taken them from my previous stories and included them here for the sake of
completeness.

   Chapter One

   I suppose that two key factors had a huge influence on me.

   Firstly that my parents were both nudists during our holidays in France
and I grew up in an atmosphere accepting the physical differences between
my dear daddy, mother and me.  In the privacy of our home, as well as on
beaches in France, nudity was normal, natural and healthy.  Inevitably, it
led to me at a very early age asking questions about why mother and I were
different from him.  My parents were honest and open and told me in a way
which neither pushed the boundaries of my curiosity beyond what I could
understand and relate to, nor did it erotisize those differences in a crude
way.

   Secondly I absolutely adored my father and still do.  He was a driver of
a 12 wheeler-articulated lorry (truck?) delivering and collecting
foodstuffs to and from Europe.  He was a senior driver, very well paid as
he was totally trusted by the owner of the business and deputised for him
if he became ill or was on holiday.  However, it did mean that he was
frequently away from home from late Sunday/very early hours Monday.  He
always wanted to get to one of the various English south coast ferry
terminals so that he could get mileage under his wheels in France.  He was
generally, but not always, home on Friday evening, although if he was held
up and couldn't get to the return ferry terminal for a Friday sailing, he
would have to lay up and stay the weekend.  Truckers could not use French
roads over a weekend.  If he didn't make it to the ferry on Friday he had
to wait until the following Monday.  I missed him dreadfully when that
happened.

   I totally accepted that my mother gave me 'quality time' with daddy by
popping me in the bath with him, when we would laugh and sink toy ships,
blow bubbles and generally have fun with great watery delight.  Nudity was
normal and accepted without a second thought as he soaped me, bathed me and
washed me.

   Mother had always stressed the need for personal hygiene.  "Wendy" she
told me from an early age "we girls have lots of intimate folds that men
don't have.  It's very easy for us to be a bit smelly unless we are
scrupulous with our personal and very private hygiene, and you don't want
that do you?  So always be sure you are clean in your private folds between
your legs.  Soap thoroughly and rinse clean."

   When bath time was over, I would stand for either her or daddy to wash
between my legs, using hands and fingers, then clean warm water would be
poured over me.  Daddy of course sat there and watched while mum dried me,
then he would wash himself.  It was accepted.  It was normal.  No big deal.

   I think looking back, that it must have been when I was 9 years old when
mum first said that it was time for me to stop bathing with daddy.  She
said she would trust me to bathe myself now I was becoming quite a big
girl. "Unless you want me I shall leave you to bathe in private in future,
she told me.  Now do remember to wash very thoroughly in the way I've said,
and not just on the outside but in between as well.  You might find it a
little bit embarrassing as you begin to mature, but you will be going
through a lot of physical and emotional changes quite soon."

   I was devastated.  NOT bathe with daddy any more?  But I loved him and
it was MY time with him.  MY TIME.  I yelled and I cried and said she was
cruel.  She hugged me and comforted me and said I would understand soon.  I
ran to my room shouting "I ALWAYS want to have my bath with daddy, ALWAYS"
and lay on my bed sobbing.

   I think she must have spoken to daddy about it somehow, as he would ring
from France to let her know his schedule and whether he would be able to
get a Friday ferry sailing.  There were no mobiles or cell phones so I
assume she had spoken with him because she told me later that daddy would
be home as usual.  She had thought it over and I could still have MY TIME
with him.  Of course I was hugely pleased and hugged and kissed her and
thanked her until she was laughing and saying "well we will just have to
see how things go, but sooner or later young lady you will bathe alone.  Do
you hear me?"

   When I was 10 things changed.

   I began to feel tight in my chest muscles, my nipples began to itch,
underneath them my chest began to thicken.  There were odd feelings in my
tummy and my nipples suddenly became like small cones.  They would itch and
when I scratched them I had sensations inside me I didn't understand. 
Mother said it was puberty.  "I'm getting puberty under my nipples?" I
wondered.

   I knew about "the monthlies," or "periods" or "the curse." Not only
mummy had warned me of their approach and why, but naturally we girls at
school whispered the things we were each told by mothers ...  and I later
suspected by older males too.  Brothers?  Fathers?  Uncles?  Of course, the
girl repeating it kept the source of this exciting and forbidden
information secret.  Speculation was rife about what men had but we didn't
have, but more particularly what men DID with it and WHERE they put it! 
One girl turned out to be the fount of all knowledge and as I got older I
began to wonder WHO it was that provided all the graphic information she
whispered to us, and not least HOW she knew!  She used words which shocked
us then excited us.  About the man putting his COCK in our CUNT and pushing
in and out and FUCKING us and CUMMING in us.  WOW I thought.  She also told
us it hurt going in the first time but after a couple of times it was
WONDERFUL.  She said the man's CUM made us have babies so he ought to wear
something to catch his stuff when he CUM in us.  We shivered in excitement
and had strange feelings inside, licking dry lips and looking, flush faced,
at each other hoping no-one else had noticed.

   I suddenly wondered if the noises I heard from mum's room on Friday
nights might be what this girl had described.

   My mother again told me I should not now be bathing with daddy, but I
was adamant it was MY TIME.  "But darling you really are becoming a big
girl now and daddy ......"

   "Mummy anything I'm getting I will get anyway and daddy will see me when
we are on the beach in France so what's WRONG I complained?" Once again I
got my way.  I hadn't the slightest idea of how tantalising we could seem
to many men at this pubescent stage as we left girlhood behind and stood on
the threshold of being Woman, with all that implied to men.  It may seem
strangely innocent and naive today, but 40 years ago many of us were very
innocent.  I certainly was.

   That Friday night, that very special Friday night when I undressed in my
room and ran naked to my daddy who was already in the bath, he looked at me
all over in a different sort of way.  His eyes fastened on my nipples and
his face reddened.  When I lifted my leg and climbed in the bath with him I
could see his eyes dart to my cleft.  When mum called me to say my time was
up, he rubbed soap on a flannel and gave it to me to wash myself.  His
voice sounded strange as he said "Wendy you had better wash all over by
yourself now."

   I sat with my back to his front as usual, my mind spinning as mentally I
replayed what the girl had said about a man and a girl.  Daddy didn't want
to wash me that special night.  Was it because ...  could it be that ...  I
wiped the soapy wash cloth over my nipples, seemingly huge, bigger and more
sensitive than ever.  As I washed between my legs, sitting in front of him,
I began to tremble.  My mouth went dry.  The itch in my nipples seemed to
spread to the folds between my legs.  I knew I had to get out of the bath
but didn't know why.  I knew I needed something but didn't know what.  I
stood.  My legs were trembling.  I held the side of the bath and lifted one
leg over.  Daddy was looking between my legs again.  Saw my heated stiff
nipples.  Saw the flush that spread from my tummy to my face.

   I picked up my towel and ran to my room.  I flopped on my bed, my mind
in a whirl; mentally I could see daddy's soft COCK, not a penis but his
COCK.  Had it gone hard.  Oh god did he want it in me!  I reached down to
where I itched.  Scratched on my nipple.  Sensation flashed down between my
legs and I reached lower to scratch at that itch.  There was a lump.  Hard.
Oh God it was making me ...  making me ...  I rubbed it and the itch
suddenly filled me.  I cried out.  My hips lifted and I felt the tight knot
of feeling spread through my thighs and fill my tummy and expand.  I was
convulsing, shaking without control, my hips lifting, back arched.  I cried
out loud again and again.  Then daddy was there with me.  Anxious.  Looking
at me with one hand on my nipple and the other still between my spread
legs. He was naked from the bath.  I looked at him and saw his softness
lengthen, fatten, harden.  "Baby girl" he said in a choking voice.  "Baby
girl are you ok?" I was panting heavily, incapable of words.  I closed my
eyes.  I could feel dampness on my lower fingers.  My mind shrieked
"ohmygod have I peed myself?"

   When I next opened my eyes he had gone.  I lifted my fingers to my nose.
It wasn't pee.  But what was it?  There was a delicate odour.  Very faint.
Nice odour.  The moisture was thin and slippery, not like pee.  Where had
it come from?  Had I injured myself?  Should I tell my mum?  Should I ask
her if I was ok?  But it started when daddy looked at me like that in the
bath.  No, better not tell mum.  Ask the girls at school."

   The Girl Who Knew Everything laughed and said you had a cum you stupid
girl.  You had an orgasm.  I do it every day.  It's great I love it.

   At home that evening I turned up 'orgasm' in mum's big dictionary
"violent excitement, a paroxysm of excitement, excitement in an organ
accompanied with 'turgescence' (?) the height of 'venereal' (?) excitement
in 'coition' (?)" --- 'venereal' connected with SEXUAL INTERCOURSE.  I
turned up turgescence, becoming swollen.  Wow yes something had been
swollen that I'd never noticed before.  'Coition?' - going or coming
together, sexual conjunction, copulation.  WOW.  I had sex with myself?  I
knew I cried out when I had my strong feelings because dad had come in
anxious about me.  He must have heard me.  So I bet the cries my mum makes
when daddy comes home are because of him doing sex to her.  MMMmmmm.  OH
HOLY WOW.  But what was the lump I felt that itched?

   Back to my school friend.  "Don't you know anything Wendy?" she asked.
"Hang on I got a little book at home you can have it for ONE day but you
give it back before end of school OK?" Next day before school she gave me
in secret in the playground, a much thumbed and marked book and at the
first break I was in the girls' lavatory, turning the pages.  It had
pictures of cocks hard and soft and all the insides men have there and the
testicles (balls??) Then I came to females.  There was a cut away picture
of what we girls have between our legs and at the top of the slit was
"clitoris." It said it was like a miniature man's cock and very sensitive
with a lot of nerve endings that produced sexual excitement and hardened if
stimulated !!!.  I had found her.  My very own clitoris.  My friend for
life.

   Chapter Two - 1972 - 1973

   It's amazing how quickly we girls physically develop.  Within a few
short weeks I had noticeable but small breasts.  My nipples stopped looking
like maroon horror nipples from hell, something to hang a coat on, and
became pink and tiny and more like a normal young girl's.  I was immensely
and indescribably proud and happy when I saw the first few hairs on my
mound.  They began to spread up from just above the '\|/' of my crotch,
what my husband calls my camel toe, and quickly developed into a soft brown
covering.

   Soon I was 11 years old and moved from junior elementary school to what
we then called ''big school' or 'secondary school' (Junior High?) which
covered ages 11 to 16.  The mandatory school uniform now included in the
girls' list a brassiere (so as not to overheat the older boys and male
teachers we giggled between ourselves!) but we learnt that it was cool to
describe the plain dark blue knickers as 'passion killers.' None of us
liked them.  But to risk wearing sexy ones was too dangerous as our school
had second floor classrooms and we KNEW that boys walked on the lower
stairs behind us as we changed classes, desperate to catch a glimpse of
female posteriors!  In this and in other small ways we became aware of both
our sexuality and femininity.

   At age 12 I was physically becoming an immature young version of my
mother.  At first I had been shy in front of my dad, knowing that I was now
visually FEMALE, after all I had breasts that were real breasts, not just a
thickening, and of course I had pubic hairs.  I began to wonder if I was
attractive to a male.  I wondered if I was attractive no longer as a
'little girl' but instead as a young woman capable of I wasn't very sure
what!  When my dad and I passed in the corridor from bathroom to bedroom I
would drop my eyes and blush, now conscious of my body being female.  If I
peeked under my eyelashes at him I would seem him looking at my new hairs
and breasts.  If he were naked too, I would see his cock (I was VERY happy
with this word now!) stir and I knew it was a man's reaction to a woman. 
It never did that when I was his 'baby girl.' When I saw it stir, I had
warm feelings inside me, low in my tummy.  The early signs of the sensual
woman that I now am and delight in with my husband.  Needless to say, I was
no longer allowed to bathe with my dad.  We had no shower in those days, 35
and more years ago; simply a bathroom with a separate toilet.

   We went on holiday to our usual French resort with my mother's brother
and his wife (Ron and June) and their 17 year old son named Bob.  The
adults had hired a four-bedroom villa with its own swimming pool.  Not a
big pool, but very nice for lounging by with cool drinks to hand.  We used
the same small and quiet nudist beach although I was very shy and told my
mother I didn't want to go nudist.  She smiled and said something like
"well Wendy it's your choice and I won't make you if you don't want to. 
But the rest of us will be on the beach and we will be nude.  I bet no-one
even notices and even if they do, it's simply us, how we are, how we are
made.  If you think men might be offensive to you, they won't be.  Real
nudists on our beach are not voyeurs thinking only about sex, but they are
conscious of beauty.  Wendy you have to understand that men can't help
getting erections any more than we can help our monthly cycle.  It's the
way they're made and after all it's what keeps the population growing" and
she laughed.  "Just ignore them if they do get a bit appreciative of you
... if they get a 'biggy' ...  it's because you are a beautiful young woman
and of course they can't help but admire you.  They cannot help what
happens to them, and really if you think about it, in a way it's a
compliment to how lovely you are."

   So I steeled myself, walked round the cliff and into the nudist area. 
Some couples were sunbathing, some throwing frisbees, some in the sea.  I
asked if we could lie next to the cliff, well back, and mum and dad smiled
and there we all went.  We were close to a tiny, hollowed out portion of
the cliff that was a shelter from rain, without being a cave.  I put down
my beach towel, taking time over it, aware of my mum and aunt just peeling
off then lying on their towels, on their back, ignoring everyone.  We
females had hairy mounds, dark brown (my mum and me) and quite fair (my
aunt.) The two men as they slowly undressed were chattering about some wine
they had ordered the previous evening, and my cousin Bob had turned his
back on me and was slowly, oh so slowly stripping off.  I think he was
aware of me and just as shy as I was now I had my new figure.  I quickly
took off my bikini bra and panties and lay on my tummy, my front safely
covered and my face turned away from where the men were.

   The sun was warm on my back, I began to relax, then dozed off.

   ((((((((((((

   "Wendy.  Wendy wake up you will burn soon." My dad's voice - his big toe
poking on my shoulder.

   I lifted my head, looking round, slightly blurry eyes.  "Where is
everybody?" I asked.

   "Mum and your uncle and aunt have gone in town shopping, your cousin is
way down the beach with a gang of lads he's playing beach ball with.  I've
stayed behind so as not to leave you alone wondering where everybody is. 
The cliff's sheltering you now from the sun but your back's a bit pink and
you'll soon get burnt if you aren't careful.  Where's your sunblock?"

   He rummaged in my beach bag, found it and said "would you like me to do
your back?"

   I made mmmm noises as he knelt beside me, his fingers moved slowly over
my shoulders and neck, moving down my back.  He reached my waist and
continued to cream my back, gently smoothing it into me.  I suddenly
realised that he hadn't touched me since I matured, and was heart
stoppingly conscious of his nearness and the nudity of us both.  My memory
was flooded with the feel of him in the bath, bathing me, intimately.  I
shivered.  My arms began to tremble and my breathing became shallow and
irregular.  His fingers slipped gently from my shoulders down my sides
between my arm and my chest.  Down, down, along my hips, moving inch by
inch along my buttocks.  Over them.  More cream.  My legs were trembling.
His fingers moved gently on my thighs, suggesting more than insisting that
I open a little more.  My thighs tensed.  Muscles taut.  Again the
suggestion that I open.  My mouth dry.  Licking my lips.  Gasping now. 
Again the tiny tug on my thighs.  I relaxed.  I opened.

   My mind was a chaos of incoherent thoughts.  The fingers smoothed oil on
my lower thighs, moving higher by tiny degrees.  Again the tug.  I opened
more, my body responding without any conscious thought.  He moved so that
he was sitting by my ankles.  I knew he could see the once hidden part of
me.  Fingers higher.  Almost touching me there.  Touch me.  My only
thought. Touch me there.  He stopped and moved away onto his own towel, lay
on his tummy.  I heard my mother call out "Hiiiiiiiiiii we got ice cream
for us all." I tried to breathe deeply, to relax, I could feel my intimate
wetness and closed my thighs.

   I lifted my head and saw them walking slowly in the soft sand, my uncle
carrying a cold box.  I tried to stop shaking and trembling.  I pulled my
beach towel over me, round me, and said "I need to pee" and dashed through
the sand, stumbling, reaching the edge of the high water mark, dropping the
towel and running into the cooling waters of the sea.  The tepid waters
calmed me, I cupped my hand to wash seawater against where I was so hot and
wet.  I was leaking.  My wet different from the sea wet.  God I hoped
nobody would smell me.  My breathing steadied and at last I dared to walk,
as steadily as I could to where the others were now undressed and eating
their ices.  Dad was still on his tummy and I wondered if his was hard like
that schoolgirl told me and couldn't get soft again.  Could it only get
soft again if it went in a girl first I wondered?  Dad suddenly stood,
keeping his back to everybody and said "I'm going in the sea are you coming
Wendy?" Mum said "give him a minute Wendy if I know men he needs a pee
first."

   I sat and ate my ice cream, grateful for its coolness taking away the
croaking dryness in my mouth and throat, and put the wrapper in the waste
bag.  My hands had stopped trembling.  I didn't go in the sea with daddy. I
wanted to.  I was afraid to, knowing the feelings I had as he touched me,
so close to where I wanted him to touch at that moment.  Needed him to
touch.

   ((((((((((((

   The following day one of those warm winds blew that whipped the soft
sand along the beach, so we decided to have a day at the villa by the pool.
Uncle aunt and cousin all trooped off into town to get picture postcards,
postage stamps and souvenirs ...  plus some food goodies.  Mother wasn't
keen on swimming and although she liked the pool and of course went in the
sea up to her waist every now and then as everybody did (!!) she preferred
her lounger, a nearby stool for her drink, and a good book.

   We three started on our loungers, reading and talking but soon it became
quite hot in the protected pool area and mother said she was going to sit
in the shade and read.  "I might even have a little nap" she said and off
she went.

   "Come on Wend' lets have a dip" dad said and dived in.  I immediately
leaped to my feet and followed him and we had a great time for a few
minutes just fooling around and splashing and seeing how many lengths we
could swim under water.  Dad climbed out and got a small plastic ball then
dived back in and said "Wend' I'm going to put this on the water behind me.
You have to swim between my legs and get the ball, without surfacing if you
can, then swim back and come up in front of me.  OK?"

   "OK easy peasy I said."

   He tossed the ball over his shoulder and I couldn't quite see it, but he
spread his legs and under I went, swimming breast stroke between his legs,
then turning on my back looking for the ball.  The surface water above
shimmered in the sunlight and I couldn't see it.  I had to surface, grab
the ball, then dive back under and swim back through his legs again.  I
surfaced holding the ball up.

   "Rubbish" he said.  "Hopeless.  Tell you what Wend' three goes each and
see who wins."

   "You're on" I said and tossed the ball to him and he dropped it over his
shoulder.

   "Got him" I thought "its just behind him he thinks I don't know that"
and again I dived down but as I came to his legs I turned on my back so
that I could see behind him.  As I got through between his knees I was
looking up and saw his cock floating in the water, moving with the tiny
eddies of water from my swimming.  My mind did a mental gulp - I had never
seen him from this angle.  I spotted the ball immediately behind him,
reached up still under water, grabbed the ball and turned and swam back.  I
hadn't got deep enough and felt the little bag below his cock scrape along
my back.  Up I popped, flushed beetroot red and eyes dropped as I handed
him the ball.  Obviously he had felt my back slide along him.  I peeped up
and he too was red but with a smile on his face.

   "I did it that time" I said, a bit shaky in my voice.  "I KNOW you did"
he said and I could hear a slight tremble in his too.

   I threw him the ball and he caught it one handed, the other below the
surface.  "Want to try again?" has asked.

   "Of course" I said, "you aren't going to beat me.  I'm not chickening
out."

   "Right here you go I bet you don't get this one" and he walked further
away, making a longer swim as we had to start from the edge of the pool. 
He threw the ball firmly back and I caught a glimpse of it as it landed so
I knew the direction to head for.

   Down I went, looking ahead and seeing his spread legs.  As I approached
and was about to go through, he stooped slightly and I saw his hand hold
his cock, now hard and pointing.  As I passed through he held it down so
that it rubbed from my shoulders to my bottom.  I nearly choked and popped
up like a cork immediately behind him.  "YOU ROTTER" I said.  "That was
CHEATING." But inside me I felt the familiar quiver of excitement that I'd
had on the beach the day before.

   "I knew you couldn't do it ...three goes and only one success ... 
RUBBISH like I said."

   "You, you, you beast you.  You put me off on purpose."

   "Why what did I do?  All's fair in games you know.  One out of three and
don't you forget it."

   Well I bet you don't even get ONE" I said.

   "OK try me"

   He threw me the ball, I took my stance, threw the ball well back and
down he dived.  I stood naked in the water, seeing his naked body swim
towards me, I opened my legs and as he went through he seemed higher in the
water.  I felt his outstretched arms brush along my inner thighs, his man's
bottom rubbed along me and then he was through and I felt my trembles
again. He retrieved the ball, his arm reaching up, turned under water and I
saw him swimming back towards me.  As he passed between my thighs his body
twisted and I felt his arm run from shoulder to hand all along my slit.

   I felt so hot I thought the water would steam.  The tension was back in
my tummy like yesterday.  The hard lump low down seeming to start to tie
into a knot.

   He stood and threw the ball to me.  I was so shaken I missed it.  I swam
to it, turned and said "OK again then."

   "OK Wend' are you sure you want me to go again."

   Scarlet faced and red down to my breasts I said "yes of course you
haven't won yet.

   "He smiled at me, a huge loving smile, and said "Good girl, that's my
big girl."

   I made a rude noise, stuck my tongue out in a rude gesture and threw the
ball behind me, once more standing with legs spread wide.  He dived, and
swam towards me.  He seemed slower in the water.  Just before he reached me
I saw him turn on his aside and my mind shrieked - I knew what he would do.
I was right.  As he reached me he was moving very slowly and his arms
deliberately brushed along my slit, his fingers finally trailing inside my
lower lips.  For a split second that seemed to last minutes I felt his
fingers in my private female place, feeling to find me as a woman.  I was
breathing heavily, feeling my inner tension, feeling the heat of myself
flow from me.

   I was aware that he was standing and that he hadn't reached the ball.

   "Wendy, Wendy my little love.  Are you OK.  "

   "Of course I'm OK " I croaked from my dry mouth.

   "Are you sure.  Please tell me.  Please be honest.  Are you OK?"

   "Yes" I stammered and you've not won yet it's one each now."

   "You want me to go again?" he asked and I thought I detected admiration
and love and tenderness and emotions I couldn't understand in his voice.

   I stiffened my back.  "I might only be a girl but I'm MacReady" I said,
Beat me IF YOU CAN even though you are a cheater.  Here's the ball for your
third try its one each right now." I threw it behind me as far as I could.

   He looked at me.  A smile of admiration on his face.  "Girl you are
MacReady and I love you and admire you and I'm proud of you, I want you to
know that."

   He dived.  He was slow coming towards me and I spread as wide as I
could. I knew what he would do.  And he did."

   His arm trailed along my slit but to my surprise he came up immediately
behind me, his arms circling my waist.  I could feel his warm breath on my
neck, on my ears, his hands moving softly on my tummy, then one went up and
the other down.  I felt him cupping my breasts, moving his thumb over my
straining nipple.  The other was riffling in my maidenhairs.  I felt the
hard lump that was man poking me in my back.  He reached further down and
round and found my own lump that was woman.  His finger moved on my little
wendy in her nest and she stiffened for him.  Then he went round further
and I felt him seeking me, feeling for the centre of where I was woman.  He
felt the special wet of me under the water and rubbed it round my entrance,
feeling for me gently, not wanting to hurt me.

   "Please let me" he whispered, please let me know you." I opened more and
he recognised my submission and pushed at me, entered me, and for the first
time I felt a man's finger in my cunt.  I gloried in the word as it zipped
round my mind.  My cunt.  A man, fingering my cunt.  My legs began to shake
and buckle and he held me up in the water as he pushed in further and
further.  He felt me flinch in discomfort and knew he had found my virginal
maidenhead.  He withdrew, but used his finger in me, just at the opening of
me, in and out as his other hand dropped to my little wendy and he played
with her as a man does.

   It was coming for me.  It was growing in me.  "Daddy" I gasped as I
trembled in his arms.  He knew what was happening to me.  "Yes my darling,
beautiful brave MacReady cum for me" he whispered.  And I did.  Shuddering
and shaking in the water as he held me, as I had never shuddered or shaken
before.

   He moved one of his hands between us and I felt him take his cock in his
hand and rub it, as he later taught me to rub it.  I was still standing
with my back to him and suddenly he held his cock down, thrust it between
my bottom cheeks and I felt it throbbing and jerking and spurting, again,
and again and again.  I knew it was a man's cum.  I knew it was what that
school girlfriend had told me.  The stuff that made babies.  Now I knew I
was attractive as a woman, not as a girl.  My birthday had been a week
before.  I was 13 years old.

   I vaguely remember my mother felt sometimes tired that holiday and not
up to joining in as she used to do, then she would pick up and be her
normal self.  It didn't strike me as significant.  Just not quite her
energetic self.

   ((((((((((((

   Chapter Three - 1974 - 1975

   Christmas came and went, then the New Year was past and gone.  When
daddy arrived home on a Friday evening, sometime during that weekend we
might have a very private short time together and he would make me reach
pinnacles of absolute pleasure and shaking delight that left me panting and
weak.  It wasn't possible every weekend but when it was, I could tell when
he would take care of me in our intimately special way.  He never asked me
to touch him or do anything more; it was all for me, all to give me
pleasure.

   My mother's lassitude became more noticeable and when I became worried
and asked her if she was feeling ill, she told me her periods were very
heavy and rather erratic and she was sure it was due to that.  I suppose it
made sense as my own could leave me feeling a little below par so I
accepted it.

   I think it was sometime during February of 1975 (when I was 13,) maybe
March, when she went to see our doctor, and when she came home she was pale
and tense.  She had a worried look around her eyes although she tried to
smile later, as she told me to sit down for a chat.  Simply put, her doctor
had said she would have to attend hospital later that week for a check up
"to see why I'm bleeding so heavily and why I'm so erratic and tired" she
said.  I had an uneasy feeling that she was holding something back and
begged her to tell me.  "Yes, but honestly Wendy there's no point in
anticipating anything is there?  Let's cross any bridges when we come to
them darling, but I want you to know that I go in on Thursday first thing
but it does mean I stay in on Thursday night.  If daddy rings to say
whether he will catch a Friday ferry, let's not say anything to him just in
case he gets worried when he is driving.  So this is just between you and
me for the moment, OK?  Woman to woman?"

   I had the most horrible feeling that she was really ill and just didn't
want to frighten me.  I had been trying to be natural but suddenly I flung
myself at her and hugged her and clung to her and when she patted me and
said "there, there, Wendy.  There's nothing to cry about you know.  Fancy
crying because mummy needs a check up in hospital" it made me cry more.  I
said I wanted to go in with her and be with her and not leave her - I
rather think I was babbling!  "But sweetheart if you come in with me, which
isn't allowed anyway, who would look after things at home and if daddy rang
in the evening and couldn't get a reply, just imagine how worried he would
be.  I depend on you to make sure daddy isn't made unhappy when he's
driving all that way to be home for us both."

   That weekend mother didn't come home, she was kept in hospital.

   I had to tell daddy she was unwell and that he must call the hospital
and ask to speak to the Ward Sister (the senior nurse, highly qualified and
capable, who was responsible for around 30 patients.  She had three Staff
Nurses responsible to her and several other qualified nurses.) I stood
beside him when he phoned and saw him stiffen, ask questions, and actually
saw the colour drain from his face.  My stomach fell and my heart was in my
throat.  I think I only had one thought in my head - mummy had said she
would be home on Friday and they wouldn't let her out.  People died in
hospital.

   Daddy put down the phone and looked at me.  "Daddy?  Daddy what did they
say?"

   He took me in the living room and we sat, me on his lap as I had so many
times when I was a 'little girl' and I again said "Daddy TELL ME.  I've got
to know what they said."

   He cleared his throat and told me she was quite all right, nothing to
worry about, but there were possibly fibroids in her uterus, her womb, that
were causing the bleeding.  She needed an exploratory procedure to be quite
sure.  Mummy had already agreed and signed a consent form, and he had to go
tomorrow and sign more papers.  The procedure was already scheduled for
Monday morning.  I remember as if it were yesterday how my chest seemed to
contract, my tummy now was a hard ball inside me.  I wanted to be sick.  I
wanted to burst into tears and my cheeks hurt with trying not to.  Mummy
had told me to be sure I didn't make daddy unhappy.  I had to be a big girl
like mummy and not cry.  I clung to him.  We clung to each other.  I
sobbed.

   I learnt later the procedure involved a biopsy, taking cells from her
womb.  An urgent pathology culture and microscopic examination indicated
not a benign fibroid cluster, but an active cancerous growth.  No one
mentioned cancer to me.  I was simply told that the fibroids would always
cause mum to be unwell, and that the safest thing to do was for her to have
a full hysterectomy.  I accepted this; I was unaware that in removing her
ovaries, it also removed her body's ability to produce our feminine
hormones, oestrogen and progesterone.  Mum was in hospital for two weeks
before we had her home, armed with a list of prohibitions such as no
lifting, not too long on her feet, plenty of rest, no vacuuming and so on
and so on.

   Dad was given time off so he could be with her but after she came home
he had to go back to work.

   When he was home at the weekends, I don't remember ever hearing the
noises from their room that I used to listen for, knowing they were making
love.

   He continued to touch me and feel me and it became more frequent.  He
always brought me to my climax but asked nothing for himself.  It remained
all for me.  He told me about boys and boyfriends.  He explained that
dating would almost certainly lead to the boy wanting to touch and feel,
and following that after a short while he would want full sex with me.  He
said that touching was ok; it was all a part of growing up and curiosity
and learning; all young people wanted to do that.  The danger for the girl,
he said, was that full intercourse when a boy and a girl were very excited
and got carried away, could easily (almost inevitably) lead to pregnancy.

   "Wendy," he said, "boys and some men will promise anything, say anything
to persuade or even blackmail a girl into full sex.  They will tell you
they 'love' you.  Some might say you don't love them as much as they love
you.  That if you love them you will let them be intimate with you.  They
will promise not to spurt their semen inside you when they climax.  They
will say all the other girls allow it and why won't you, and if you don't
let them, they don't want you any more as a girl friend.  Boys especially
are desperate to know what a girl looks like, intimately, and to see and
touch the girl.  When they do touch, they want to put themselves inside
you. "Boys" he said, "have no brakes and men have few!  Never forget,
Wendy, that when a man and a girl are alone together, the man's brains are
firmly in his trousers!" He gave me advice that it was much better for the
girl to climax first as she could then control the boy better when he
became desperate.  Much better to be able to make him cum after she became
more calm he told me.  If she did let him penetrate her, she needed
protection available IN ADVANCE, and he talked to me of different kinds of
protection, from condoms, to creams, to caps, to the pill.

   ((((((((((((

   My first real date was during spring of 1974.  Naturally, I had been out
in a group, either with girl friends or in mixed groups, but this was
special.  He asked me to go in town on a Saturday when we went in a café
and he bought me coffee and a cake.  We held hands as we left the shop, my
heart beating strongly at this first dating contact!  His name was Dominic,
and he was three years above me at school and was 16 to my 13.

   It was a lovely Spring day and we walked from the town centre to a
nearby park, where there was a play area for young children, benches to sit
on, toilets, and a pavilion for people who played bowls.  Part of the park
was laid out for two football pitches and was bordered by a small woodland
walk.  We sat on one of the benches by the woodland area, still holding
hands, then he let go and put his arm over my shoulders and gently pulled
me to him.  I looked at him to smile and before I knew it, he was kissing
me.  I was startled; it was my first real kiss and I think I went a bit
stiff and tried to pull away.  His arms wrapped round me and he turned
towards me as I sat.  After a few minutes of being glued together, I
decided it was quite nice and started to kiss back!  He pulled me to my
feet and led me into the wooded area and when we were away from people, he
turned me to face him, held me close and again kissed me.  As we kissed I
was conscious of something prodding me.  Of course, I knew it was his cock.
He dropped his hands to my bottom and pulled me firmly to him I felt the
hardness pressing and releasing, pressing and releasing on my tummy and
tried to push him away.  Eventually he gasped and tensed and I wondered if
he had cum in his pants, but in any case he released me and went into the
men's toilets.  When he came out he took my hand quite naturally and on the
way back to town, he asked if I would like to come to his home on the
following day, Sunday, and hear some of his records.  I said I would.

   I arrived there soon after lunch and he had the door open before I could
knock.  He led me upstairs to his room and put on a music disc; There were
no chairs (why no chairs I wondered) only his bed to sit on.  So I sat on
the floor!  Inevitably he sat beside me and pulled me to him and we started
to have that long kiss again.  As he kissed he was stroking my arms and
back.  Although daddy stroked me, I think it was the kissing and stroking
combined that made me relax and lean to him.  I don't remember doing it but
I suppose I must have breathed more heavily, shivered or whatever because
his hand was over my T-shirt feeling for me.  I took his hand and put it
round my neck but after a little while it was again moving down my side and
over my breast.  Again I moved it and again he paused but brought it back.
It was beginning to affect me and when I didn't take his hand away yet
again, it slipped under my T and under my bra finding that my nipples were
hard and tight.  I was now enjoying the touches so he slowly pulled my T
off.  When I raised my arms to let him take it off he fumbled with my bra
clips.  I reached back and undid it for him then put my arms round his neck
again.  I hardly realised that he was easing me back, down, and onto my
back.  It felt so good to be there, naked on top and a man (a youth anyway)
kissing and suckling on my nipples.

   My eyes closed and I was aware that his hand was no longer fondling one
breast while he kissed and sucked the other.  Then I felt it above my knee,
slowly inching up my thigh.  I think I panicked and tried to push him away
and kept saying "no, no, no, not that only my top, no not down there." He
was half on top of me, one of his legs over mine, trapping it, and I was
well pinned down.  He said something like "I only want to touch." I
repeated frantically "not there no not there don't, don't" and I tried to
push his hand away.  His hand was now firmly under my skirt and I could
only try to push through my skirt.  I couldn't grab his hand.  He took his
hand off my breast and gripped my free hand, pulling it over my head.  I
was thinking 'oh god please don't let him rape me' as his hand touched my
brief lacy panties.  I was yelling at him but he ignored me and I wondered
why his parents didn't come to help me.  His fingers were at the leg of my
panties, lifting the edge and slipping inside.  He slid the back of his
fingers down over my slit then back up again.  I was trying to fight him
but he was three years older than I was.  Too strong.  His hand pulled out
and went to my tummy, then down inside my panties at the front and he was
in my hairs.  His fingers went down and round into my slit, scrabbling at
me to find my girl's hole.  His fingernails scratched me in my tender place
until he found my cunt and started to press.  The tip went in.

   It was as if daddy was in my head saying 'Wendy make him cum.  Wendy
toss him off.' I was gasping for breath and getting very tired with
fighting him but I had the sense to reach for his cock.  I found it was
already out.  When he had taken it out I don't know but clearly it was
ready to rape me.  I grabbed it.  I had never ever touched daddy, he had
never asked me to.  Dominic's cock was the first I felt and I grasped it
firmly.  It was hot, hard and as I gripped it, it throbbed in my hand.  He
groaned and eased away from me, and I held onto it for dear life.  "Yes oh
fuck toss me off before I fuck you." I pulled on it and he groaned again.
He liked it being pulled!  I tried to ease from under him and tilt him onto
his back and he went over and lay there with his cock in my hand.  I lifted
myself up onto my elbow while I experimentally pulled the cock up and down,
after all that's what it did inside a girl I knew that.  In and out.  Up
and down.  I was determined to make him cum and kept jerking on it.  He was
groaning and gasping and I knew I was safe while I held his cock.  I
gripped it tighter and he said, "yes, yes, yes I'm fucking cumming." To my
amazement I felt it give a huge throb then it was if he was trying to fuck
my hand as he thrust up and down as I held it.  White stuff spurted out of
him and hit his face and neck, and then more went lower down on his
clothes. Finally, some dribbled on my hand.  I was topless but I grabbed my
bra, my T-shirt and my handbag and hurtled off down the stairs as he lay
there gasping.  I pulled my T over my head and stuffed my bra in my
handbag, opened the door and ran like a frightened deer away from his home.
As I got a safe distance way, I realised there had been no one else in his
home - his parents were away from home and he had tricked me into going to
visit.

   In the open air I slowed to a walk and began to cool off, physically and
mentally.  I caught the bus home and thought and thought about what had
happened.

   Daddy was right.  Make the boy cum.  It had worked for me.

   Boys pinched and hurt me where I was vulnerable, where I was soft and
tender.  Daddy was right again.

   Dominic had only wanted my body for his own pleasure.  He wanted a girl.
ANY GIRL.  He didn't want ME, Wendy.

   Daddy wanted to love me to give ME pleasure.  What daddy did was for me.
Only me.  He asked nothing in return.

   It didn't occur to me then, never entered my conscious mind, but I think
the germ of a different understanding of my much-loved daddy may have been
created.  If it had, it was dormant and may have been stored in a hidden
recess of my mind.  I had a loving kind daddy who wasn't selfish.  A loving
daddy who was man, and who wanted, but didn't ask for let alone demand, an
intimate relationship with me, woman, who hopefully could and would come to
return that sort of total love.  Subconsciously I may also have conceived a
wish to please him for HIS sake and not be selfish and take only my own
pleasure and give nothing in return.  It may have been a dormant seed,
waiting for the right time to grow in the warmth of my slowly emerging
maturity and sensuality.  Waiting for me to want to express total,
unconditional love.

   I cannot be certain.  I am not saying that this was immediately
apparent, nor that it ever became realised until I began to write of my
early life.  I think the passing of decades, deep thinking now about what
happened to me then, and mature reflection has made me wonder if my TOTAL
love for daddy was given and influenced by the distressing event with
Dominic.

   ((((((((((((

   Chapter Four - 1975 - 1976

   The weeks and months passed; 1974 became 1975 and my mother seemed
physically her old self.  I knew there was something wrong still, but I
hadn't the age or experience to put any name to it.  I asked dad about her;
was she really, really better and back to normal?

   Some time later he told me (after I stood, recovering from a panting
shaking climax in the garden shed!) that he had asked our doctor about her.
Then he confided to me about him and mum in a way he had never done before.
Always their love and loving had been personal for them and he never
referred to it in any way.  Of course I had seen affection; the kiss as he
left home; the touch as if to transfer unspoken love to her.  Their private
intimacies were between the two of them, but now no longer.  The doctor had
told dad that her hysterectomy had apparently taken away all of mum's
desires, womanly desires for a man, and he would have to accept her as she
now was.  The loss of her hormones had been devastating for their intimate
life.  Physically she was well, but she might become depressed as she came
to terms with the loss of her essential femaleness, her femininity.  If she
did, and if she consulted him, he would do everything he could to help her.

   Mum did become depressed, less than her usual self emotionally, and was
having sleepless nights.  I found her taking pills and learnt it was for
depression.  She also had sleeping pills so that she could have peaceful
rest instead of sitting agitatedly by herself during the night.  Naturally,
I told dad.  I gather that he had a heart to heart talk with her, and told
her that she must be strong again because of me (it was mum who told me
that.) He also had a word with me, told me he had sworn to mum that he
loved her, would always love her and care for her, and would be there for
her.  If I could make sure that I tried my very best to not be a terrible
teenager and let her know I loved her too, it would help her enormously. 
He laughed and slapped my bottom lightly as he said about me being a
terrible teen!  I did try.  I think I told her often I loved her and tried
to help in different ways about the house after homework, and when dad came
home, he said he was sure he could see a more confident mother.  She
stopped taking the depression tablet thank god, although she still needed
sleeping tablets.

   I don't know what sleeping tablets she had, but an hour after taking
them, she couldn't keep her eyes open.  Dad says she slept like a log,
which must have been good for her.  However, she was still sexually cold
and unresponsive.

   Mother made our usual booking for August and inevitably we went to our
usual nudist beach.  That year my uncle, aunt and cousin didn't come with
us but I can't remember why.

   We now knew the area quite well.  Owners of shops remembered us and
welcomed us.  We all spoke reasonable French, not bilingual certainly but
well enough for conversation and to order food.  We decided to hold my
birthday celebration (31st July) and meal in France as we went early in
August to our villa.  We food shopped for all our favourites and I had
brought some presents away with me to open at the foodfest.  I was 14 and
felt very much the cool teen!  Of course we had wine and this time, for the
first time, I was allowed to drink two glasses UNDILUTED WITH WATER!  A
most memorable birthday meal.  A true occasion with mummy sparkling like
the wine we had been drinking (and which gave me hiccups incidentally.) Dad
threw me in the pool to stop my hiccups.  It worked!  I took my wet things
off and didn't bother putting dry ones on.

   It had been a glorious day.  The sky was a clear azure.  The sun as it
sank to the horizon was a huge ball of fire.  Mum said she would take her
tablets and go to bed and thank god I didn't have a 14th birthday party
every day.  WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL mum.

   The air was warm, the patio and poolside were still giving off the sun's
heat.  I said I was going to dip in the pool and dived in, As I surfaced I
felt the splash as dad followed me.  I lazily breast stroked a few lengths,
daddy beside me.  Night began to draw her curtain on Day and in the
gloaming, I stood and breathed in the scented herbs growing in boxes beside
the pool.  The whole evening is as clear to me now as it was then.  I
wanted softly to cry.  I was so happy.  I turned to my dad, walked to him,
said "Daddy thank you.  Oh Daddy I do love you so much.  I can't tell you,
I don't know the words to tell you how I love you both.  Thank you." I
think I might have said other words like thank you for making me, thank you
for making me, me!  Was it the wine?  I don't know but I don't think so.  I
really felt full of love.

   He reached out his arms and I went to him.  Nothing between us.  I put
my arms round him and held him close.  I kissed his cheek.  I felt his
arousal on me.

   There was the flush of need inside me.  Maybe that secret cupboard
opened in my mind, helped by the wine.  I pressed at him.  Whispered "Daddy
I love you.  Daddy please daddy." I pressed my tummy at him again.  It
throbbed against me and his arms slid down my sides and reached behind me
to hold my taut cheeks in his hands.  He pulled me even closer.

   "Daddy I ...  I ...  please." My head was on his chest and I could hear
his pounding heart inside.  Or was it mine, beating heavily in my ears?  I
knew my need was seeping out of me and as he dipped his familiar fingers to
my privacy, he must have felt it.

   "Wend' are you sure you are ready.  Will you be a woman tonight?"

   I grasped him hard and felt the throbs of his need.  I don't' know what
I said.  I don't even know if I replied, but he led me to the steps, helped
my shaking legs to climb and as I stood in the gathering darkness he took
my towel and dabbed me dry.  He took my hand and led me slowly to my room;
put my towel on my bed.  He eased me back until the edge of the bed was on
my legs and slowly folded me backward to lie there, on my towel, helpless
with need.  Wanting, shivering, afraid he would leave me but nervous,
apprehensive of what I wanted and what he might do.  I closed my eyes and
lay waiting.  When I opened he had gone and I felt sobs of shame and
frustrated need build; the doorway darkened and he was there, a dim glow of
failing light behind him as he stepped towards me.  He lay beside me and
cuddled me in his strong arms, stroking me, soothing me, calming my fears
but building my desires.  His hand drifted gossamer like over my skin. 
Every nerve ending seemed to reach out for him.  My legs were in spasms
with the intense emotions he was creating.  My breasts were swollen and
taut, almost painful.  My nipples straining for his touch.  His hand moving
at last towards the centre of where I was girl.  Fingers pulling on my
thigh.  Thighs falling helplessly apart.  Shameless with need.  A girl's
most treasured innocence of man willingly offered to him.  He pulled me
wider and I looked down and saw him, saw the glory of a man pointing at me,
sheathed protectively for me.  His finger found the place he had so often
touched.  Circled me there, rubbed my soaking welcome onto himself.  Finger
in me.  Two fingers now.  Never two before.  I winced as he stretched my
protective muscle; he paused moving them slightly and gently in and out to
let me become used to them.  I felt him move me wider, wider and I looked
down to see him kneel between my thighs.  I saw the length and fatness, the
sheer awesome power of maleness poised, pointing at me.

   "Wendy my dearest, dearest Wendy, are you ready for me ...  it will hurt
at first and I'm so sorry that I must hurt you.  But it's the only way."

   "Daddy.  Please.  Yes please."

   He placed it at my wet opening and pressed slightly.  I instinctively
clenched to protect myself.  "Relax my little love try to relax."

   Another thrust and I gasped as the fat end of him lodged inside me,
paused, waiting for me.  I was breathing heavily.  "Yes daddy.  Please."
Again the thrust, his hand beside my shoulders to support him and keep my
heaving chest and breasts free from pressure.  Again he paused and I felt a
discomfort somewhere inside me.  Somewhere at the end of where he had
advanced.

   "Wendy be ready this will hurt" and he withdrew pushed violently, a
massive thrust to break through my girlhood and enter my womanhood.  I
cried out and he leant over me to kiss me, stifle me.  He lay still as he
let me recover a little.  Tears were running down my cheeks and glinting in
the pale moonlight he said later.  He kissed them away.  Kissing my eyes,
my lips my cheeks and murmuring as if a mother to her baby "there, there,
it will be better now, shush, shush, That's the worst it will ever be." He
didn't move, just kept his weight off me and comforted me with his voice
and kisses.

   "Daddy I'm ok now." Trembling little voice.

   He started to move inside me.  Slight soreness.  I held his back as he
gently made me a woman, lay still underneath him until he reached down and
found little wendy, half awake in her nest, and stimulated her.  Still he
moved oh so slowly and gently until he felt little wendy stir and waken as
if trying to peek out to see who was rudely invading her area.  I think she
rose in defence!  Soon the sheer eroticism of a man moving between my
spread thighs; the feeling I had of submission and surrender; the
incredible feeling of fullness where nothing had filled me before.  I was
now was stretched; the knowledge that cock was inside my cunt (those
forbidden, taboo, unbelievably erotic words) must have come together and
made me respond.  I was getting a rhythm to match his own, lifting slightly
to his thrust, relaxing back as he withdrew.  My lower tummy was filling. I
knew my orgasm was close.

   "Daddy.  Daddyyy.  Daddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" as I erupted
underneath his thrusting hips.  He was a grown man.  I a 14 year old girl
but as I climaxed I arched.  I lifted his body off the bed.  As I slumped
in convulsing exhaustion, he was pumping me harder, harder.  Inside me I
felt him jerk, and jerk, and jerk again.  Then, still holding himself from
crushing my panting shuddering body, his hips rested on mine and I felt the
fatness inside me lessen.  After I know not how long, he eased off me, lay
beside me, took me in his strong arms, and held me close.  We were both
covered in sweat.  I was still trembling with little convulsions happening
inside.  After shocks.  Daddy put his hand between my legs, cupping me
protectively as he felt the shocks he had created, where he had, minutes
before, been possessing me so demandingly and powerfully.

   I reached in wonder for the part which had caused these incredible never
before experienced sensations.  Reached for little daddy.  He was wet,
sticky, and only half-hard now.  Resting after his hard work?  I felt wet
and sticky between my legs and dad had a cloth and held it to me.

   I held it as I lay in his arms, comforted, safe, and secure in my love
for him.  Eventually I realised that my love was somehow different. 
Previously I had loved him as 'dad,' now I felt that as well as being
simply a girl, his daughter, he now had a claim on me, an ownership now
that I had given him freely, a possession uniquely mine.

   He reached to my bedside light and switched it on.  Wiped me.  Wiped
himself and I saw a strange plastic thing covering little daddy.  He
slipped it off and I shyly asked what it was.  A condom...so that's what
it's like!  It was full at the end with white stuff.  Daddy's cum!  There
was a little streak of blood on the condom and now I saw it on the cloth as
well.  Proof of my surrendered virginity!

   My throbs had stopped now and I began to doze, but daddy stroked me
awake.  Once more he was feeling for me in ways he knew would start my
need. I turned onto my back and (maybe symbolically) put my arms above my
head, my body in submission, a total invitation to be loved again.  I knew
he was hard, I felt it on my thigh.  He spread me, felt for me, found me
still wet.  I expected to be hurt again but I wasn't.  He went in slowly,
gently, without pain, and only discomfort as he slipped over any remnants
of my innocence.

   This fullness was indescribable.  I could not possibly have imagined how
it would feel to have cock filling me.  I knew there was a passage inside
me from what mum and school sex education had told me but I had been
completely unaware of it, as one is unaware of a passage to one's ears, or
down one's throat to ones tummy.  Now I KNEW I had a passage, because it
was FULL instead of empty!

   He brought me to my second full orgasm, much more total in the
overwhelming chaos it brought to mind and body.  I was totally, absolutely
and completely out of control, my body spasming as he continued for a few
seconds to move inside me before he too, emptied his joy and love into me.

   Finally, I calmed in his arms.  Held close.  Comforted.  Loved. 
Replete.

   "Darling.  I think we had better get you clean.  We don't want blood on
your sheet.  Shall we have a final dip or would you like a shower?"

   I was exhausted by the emotions, from fear of penetration, from
trembling knowledge there was no turning back as he knelt between my
widespread thighs, open to anything he wanted, to wincing discomfort, to
sharp pain, to fullness and explosive capitulation to a cock.

   Later we would laugh (well, embarrassed giggle for me) at me saying
"please" for his cock!

   I was 14 years old.  I was a woman.  My daddy had loved me.  I truly
adored him.  Yes and Yes and YES I wanted him whenever he wanted me.

   I felt a compulsion to lift my head as he penetrated me, to see the
wonderful maleness slide in and out, shining wetly with my love and
willingness for his invasion.  Sometimes seeing him plunder me, to see his
hairs meld with mine as he filled me totally, almost made me cum.  In fact
I think it did a few times!  I still feel this compulsion, even today, as
cock possesses me.  Having looked my head would flop back and my eyes close
as I felt the inner warmth and movement, my mind a white mist with no
coherent thoughts.

   ((((((((((((

   My dad had no objection to me dating.  He wasn't jealous of me and
indeed wanted me to have the normal pleasures of growing up.  He reminded
me of the dangers of letting a boy go so far that I could no longer say
'NO' to the final act.  He also told me that it was much safer for a girl
to allow access to her top half than to allow a boy into her panties.  A
boy might be content with that especially if I "tossed him off" or "wanked"
him while he played with my breasts.  "Make sure he has a handkerchief
though, boys can make a hell of a mess on your skirt" and he laughed. 
Mmmmmm the new expressions I learnt!  I now knew, from experience
(ohmygoodness yes, yes, yes, to experience lol) what he meant by losing
control and unable to prevent the final capitulation and be possessed by
cock.  "Keep your panties on whatever you do" he warned.  I knew by then
that leaving them on wouldn't stop a single thing if one surrendered,
because he would have me at times without taking mine off.  Pulling them to
one side and being entered had quite a lot of eroticism to it.  For both of
us.

   I dated several boys and most of them were friends without me wanting to
allow them to become any more.  I agreed to one date with a boy 3 years
older (17) who was due to go to university.  Of course we kissed.  Of
course he wanted intimacy.  I liked him so let him feel under my bra.  Then
it was like Dominic.  The same desperation of trying to get in my panties.
He got TO them but not IN them as I fought much better now.  He realised it
was a 'no go' area and apologised.  In getting to my panties, he had tried
to get under the leg band and once more I felt the scratching pinching of
an inexperienced boy/man.  I still let him feel and suck on my breasts and
I did toss him off (after asking if he had a handkerchief!) so I felt that
he had been fairly treated for not raping me!  We went out several times
and he accepted that although panties were out, my breasts while I wanked
him were in, so he was a happy boy and ALWAYS had a clean handkerchief!  I
can't even remember his name now!

   Naturally enough dad had total access to ALL parts at ALL times
providing he could get me safely alone (except when I was on my period, I
didn't care for it then.) He always wore a condom (a fresh one if he had me
twice.) I did let him have me once (it was actually another time 'he wanted
it twice') when he came home as I had started on a Thursday and wouldn't
finish until sometime on the following Monday when he would be at work. 
The pleasure was basically there for me as it always was (and is) but there
seemed to be a lack of smoothness inside me.  The exciting silky
slipperiness was missing and when he finished, I was in a mess of my juices
and blood between my legs and on my thighs.  He accepted and understood me
asking him not to at those times, although he still liked to feel me, and
for me to toss him off and cum anywhere he wanted to on my body.  I would
wear a tampon now, and he could make me cum (he never failed) so it wasn't
my period making me not want penetration, just the feeling inside and the
mess.  I am still the same.

   ((((((((((((

   Chapter Five - 1976 - 1979 age 15 to 18

   Life continued in much the same way.  School, holidays, educational
exams to determine suitability for sixth form education (Lower Sixth 16-17
and Upper Sixth 17-18) with some uniform privileges and also duties such as
Form (class) Prefect, House Prefect, small attempts at allowing us
responsibilities.  We were allowed to drop some subjects so that we could
intensify study in chosen specialities.  Would you believe that I chose
English?  I joined the House Debating Club in the Lower Sixth and on
entering the Upper Sixth was voted Captain of the School Debating Club, a
mixed sex club.  Quite an honour and privilege.  Mum and Dad were very
proud of me, and mum always attended evening debates.

   Up to entering the Lower Sixth, on dates I still allowed special (older)
boyfriends to feel my breasts while I tossed him off.  When in the Lower
Sixth, I don't know why but even when I dated, those privileges for boys
stopped.  Maybe I was too busy studying (which I enjoyed.) Maybe I felt my
role in school made me less willing to 'demean' myself, and in any case the
older boys were going to universities and I had never allowed anything with
same year boys.  Daddy still took care of me!

   I had good results in my advanced level ('A' Level) National School
Examinations, applied to a northern university (Durham) and to my surprise
and the delight of my parents, was accepted.  I entered as an undergraduate
in October 1979 at the age of 18 years.  It had a high reputation, ranking
academically only marginally below Cambridge and Oxford, although we
student hotly disputed this.  We argued, and convinced ourselves if no one
else, that our University standards were no less high than the two 'posh'
ones.  That almost certainly their reputation was due only to the fact they
had been founded years before ours (some 500 years or so before actually
but we conveniently ignored that.)

   ((((((((((((

   Chapter Six - 1980 to - 1981 age 19 to 20

   I first met my dear friend Samantha at Durham when she occupied the next
room to mine in Halls of Residence during 1979.  We became the greatest of
friends but not lovers at that time.  At the end of our first year, we
looked for a cheap small flat or house that might be available through
undergraduates become graduates and moving on.  We went to our homes where
we revelled in renewing old friendship and being mollycoddled by parents.
In October of 1980 we returned to our alma mater and took up our books and
pens, feeling rather grand as we saw the green new undergraduates as we
prepared to work.

   First, though, we celebrated our friendship and new abode, deciding to
use welcome financial gifts from family and have a splash on a nice meal.
Samantha is a rather good cook so I let her get on with that.  As I was the
girl who had been to France and helped choose wines there, it was my job to
see to that end of our meal.  The day following our arrival we made a
sortie to the supermarket, duties clearly identified in advance as above,
and stocked up.  Instant frozen meals for when we were in a hurry, and
basics for when we (that is Samantha) felt creative in our tiny kitchen.  I
browsed and selected a couple of mixed boxes of red and white wine, cooking
brandy and sherry and oh yes - better get some boxes of beer and lager for
when male students visited.

   That evening Sami decided on a small green salad followed by cannelloni.
She had already prepared the wonderful meat mixture with spices and herbs
and allowed it to cool.  Now, as she had no pasta shells she quickly made
pancakes and then formed the individual cannelloni putting them in the
freezer to stop them softening too much.  All was ready for simply adding
the Béchamel and Bolognaise sauces and popping the dish into the oven. 
While this was going on I sampled the wine, approved it, gave a glass to
Sami while she was cooking (two actually) and poured another for myself.

   "I'm going to shower and get out of these things and into something
nicer - this is going to be a special evening for us Wendy" she said.  I
hadn't the foggiest notion of how special it would turn out to be.

   I had laid the table with napkins and our nice place mats (depicting
cobwebbed vintage wine bottles what else?) I put into place the best of our
student cutlery (those items that hadn't been bent by prising open lids, or
used unscrew difficult screws, or too energetically scrape out dishes.) We
had two "best" crystal glasses that never saw the light of evening when
friends came to call.  Candles were in four empty bottles on which
different coloured candles had dripped as they burned down, and which
provided a harlequin of colour.

   Sami emerged from her room, quite naked and walked unselfconsciously to
the bathroom.  My eyes flicked admiringly over the 34C breasts, the flat
tummy and the dark pubic hair, neatly trimmed, which adorned her mound. 
For a second, a long second, I felt a contraction low in my tummy.  I had
seen hundreds, maybe thousands of naked females of all ages.  Yet, the
sight of her had a disturbing effect, an effect I had now come to recognise
and realise for what it indicated.  I had never, never had any such feeling
when seeing those other females.

   I went to my room and undressed.  What should I do?  Sami wasn't a
nudist.  She really did look wonderful nude - so beautiful.  I would feel a
complete dork, a prude, a complex of neuroses if I enveloped myself in my
favourite worn towelling robe simply to walk to the bathroom.  I looked in
my dressing mirror pulled in my tummy (which was flat anyway) thrust out my
breasts (a proud uplifting 34B) and checked my rear.  Was it too big? 
Another look in the mirror and I nearly pulled on my old robe - my nipples
were hard and thrusting.  Oh god, dare I?  I glanced at my own private
hairs.  They looked as if they belonged to a gorilla I thought, ignoring
that they merely need a neat little bikini trim.  What was I DOING?  Why
did I feel like this?

   I gathered my courage and hurried nakedly to the shower, very much
conscious of Sami's admiring (and searching) gaze and the pointing hardness
of my nipples.  We had occupied adjoining rooms for almost ten months but
never seen each other in this uninhibited way.  Dressed now in a chef's
striped apron covering a pale blue shirt neck blouse (no bra) with a
matching knee length full cotton skirt, Samantha completed the cannelloni
mixture and put it to cook.  The salad was in the fridge, lightly drizzled
with olive oil and topped with tiny flakes of Parmesan cheese.  The wine
was white, chilled, crisp and dry, a simple 'Blanc de Blanc' to drink with
our salad

   I also wore a blouse, mine with a Mandarin collar, but in white with a
lace bodice almost revealing a half bra which gave accent to my more modest
figure.  I wore white linen trousers and, as I continued to glance at
Samantha, picturing her as she had crossed the room earlier, I felt nervous
and surprisingly unsure.  Samantha looked at me as she removed her apron
and poured more wine, a small smile on her face.

   "Bon appétit Wendy." She lifted her glass, clinked it to mine then held
it still as she waited.

   "Bon appétit Sami." As I returned the 'chink' of her glass my response
seemed, even to me, halting, nervous, tremulous.  My eyes flicked to her
blouse where hard erect nipples thrust at the thin blue cotton.  My hand
trembled and a frisson ran down my spine.

   "Drink your wine and take my hand" Samantha said.  I gulped it down and
stood like a rabbit in headlights as my friend took my hand; she must have
sensed the tremors in my muscles.  She held it firmly and gently pulled me
into my own bedroom.

   "You stay here.  Don't move." Samantha darted from my room, padded
quickly into the kitchen, turned off the oven, hurried back, then turned
again and picked up the wine bottle.

   She refilled our glasses, we clinked them and I sipped, or rather gulped
mine down.  "Wendy I've got a confession; to me you are more than a good
friend.  Wendy I love you.  You are my very dearest and best-loved friend.
I'm sorry Wendy if I'm only a friend in your eyes but even if this ruins
that friendship, I've got to tell you."

   I knew I cared deeply for this slightly bossy, wonderfully sweet,
adorable, enchanting, totally trusted, generous, warm hearted, amusing,
sincere woman I had known for almost a year.  Could I love her?  Did I love
her?  But she was a woman not a man!  Was I gay and never realised it?  I
looked up and saw such a look of softness in her eyes.  Such an anxious
look of feared rejection.  I knew she had become more than a friend, but
... but ...  could my deep feeling be a sort of love for a woman?  'Oh why,
WHY did my mouth always go dry, WHY did my throat contract so that speech
was at best a croak' flashed unrealised through my mind.  I licked my lips
and I guess I smiled a little nervous smile.  My hand half reached out to
her and she knew I felt the same.

   "Please don't move.  Wendy don't move ohgod Wendy how I do love you" as
she reached out and took my nerveless hand in hers.

   I closed my eyes, my whole body flushed in a new awareness of my friend.
Fingertips stroked lightly on my face, traced my lips, smoothed on my taut
neck.  My legs trembled violently and my shaking hands were taken and
placed on Sami's shoulders.  "Hold on to me.  Don't fall." "Yes, yes " I
gasped clutching at my friend for support.

   A sweet breath caressed my cheek, a tiny soft kiss anointed my lips then
the corner of my eye as nimble fingers unpicked the buttons of my blouse.
Hands pulled the soft cotton wide then tugged it down each arm in turn. 
Hands reached around me to deftly unsnap the catch of my bra.  A hand threw
it to one side.  Fingernails scratched softly on my swollen breasts,
reached nipples that were already stiff in passion.  Nerves merged,
mingled, and flashed down, down to my most intimate self.  I staggered,
almost falling.  Every tiny hair on my body seemed to be raised, sending
her erotic touch to my growing need.

   Sami took my arms and walked me backwards, pressing me against the door
to help give support.  My shaking hand was taken and put on the door
handle. "Hold it.  Lean back.  Don't fall."

   Samantha stooped and kissed my straining nipples, tender with need, then
nipped and pulled them lightly with her teeth.  Her tiny loving kisses
trailed down my taut stomach, her pink tipped tongue reaching inside the
'innie' of my belly button.  My 'Ahhhhh' of surprised pleasure made my
friend know she was loosening the tension locked inside.  She again
inserted her probing tongue as her hands began to unfasten the buttons at
the waist of my linen trousers.  A gentle tug and they crumpled to the
floor.

   "No.  No.  Samantha I can't.  Please don't.  I can't.  I don't want to.
I don't know how toooooooooo..." but my protests were cut short as fingers
grazed in my gap, over my panties, along my slit.  Fingers now were pulling
down lace panties.  A hand was lifting my unwilling foot.  I was naked. 
Two hands gently but firmly pulled me apart.  As her knowing fingers
stroked teasingly on each side of my dormant clit, the warmth and heat of
Samantha's love for me finally began to melt any apprehension I had for
female love.

   I felt my own heat.  Felt my own flow.  Felt the escape of my submissive
desire onto Samantha's knowing fingers.  The familiar ache was in me, low
down, swelling, building like a too flimsy dam holding back impossible
forces.  I looked down.  Saw Samantha's upturned face.  Our eyes locked. 
Samantha's hand was flat on my tummy, feeling my inner tension.  Her hand
tantalised the most private, the most sensitive parts of my femininity.  My
eyes closed, my face seemed to compress, my facial muscles tautened and
Samantha knew my time had come.  She gently rubbed my awakened clitoris,
hard and demanding the ultimate of love, then I felt the eruption of orgasm
rip through my whole body, my liberation from any fear or shame of feminine
loving.

   My legs finally gave way.  I slid down onto the floor and collapsed,
holding Samantha's fingers in a death grip to the centre of the throbbing
after shocks.  Then, magically, I felt the beat of little wings between my
legs as if butterflies were leaving me to settle in hidden gardens.

   "Samantha?  Please hold me.  Please tell me you love me" I choked.

   "I do love you Wendy, my dearest oh so dearest Wendy, MY girl"

   ((((((((((((

   Samantha re-heated our supper and put an ice pack around the wine (not
much left in the bottle) as I quickly showered and put on clean panties. 
When I re-appeared, still flushed, I looked shyly at my friend.  This was a
new, relaxed ME.  Content.  Happy.  Confirmed in a new love, a different
kind of love, intense, fulfilling and unashamed.  A love as good as, but
very different from, the love I had for my daddy.

   After we had eaten, with me blushing madly every time I looked at her,
we sat in a new intimacy side by side on the sofa, sipping our wine. 
Samantha suddenly said, "earlier Wendy I saw all of your beauty.  ALL of
it. Let's open another bottle then drink to our new friendship.  Wendy even
more than that can we drink to our love?  Do you feel you can do that?  Can
you return what I feel for you?  I'm not a butch lesbian honestly I'm not.
I've had male lovers but I'm real picky and don't go with any man.  Three
I've let ...  I've let know me in that way.  One last year, another student
who's graduated now and gone; two others before I came here.  I had a
special girlfriend in the sixth form at school.  I just want you to know.
That's all.  Only you know that now.  I hope we don't have secrets from
each other - well that's how I feel anyway.  But it's up to you what you
tell me, especially what you DON'T tell me.  Honestly Wendy, you're a
really special person, you know that?  REALLY special.  I hope I can be
special to you as well but I don't ask or expect anything.

   "Sami ...  Sami ...  what you did for me.  What you showed I have inside
me ...  I mean have inside me for you, I don't know any words to tell you.
I don't know yet how to describe what you made me feel and why I felt what
I did when ...when...you know ...  started.  Anyway, I don't know about
lesbians.  I'm not a virgin.  I've let a man have me, a very special man I
love very, very much.  I don't' think I can tell you about him yet ... 
well I'm sure I can't.  Maybe I can soon.  Maybe.

   We continued to chatter generally about men and love, of discovering the
very deepest emotional satisfaction and exchange of tenderness in ways I
think men don't feel, or understand as we females do.  Ours was a new kind
of friendship.  We were building, unknown to us at that time, a solid basis
for a depth of friendship neither of us had known before.  We began that
evening to build a relationship, which has lasted now for 28 years.

   Finally we stood, ready for our beds.

   My heart began a nervous fluttering beat, a pulse throbbing in my neck.
"Samantha ...  errmm ...  Samantha ...?"

   Her face dimpled in a smile.

   "Samantha ...  will it be alright? ...  may I? ...  tonight? ..."

   She pulled me into her arms and gave me a soft kiss.  "Dearest Wendy
it's what I hoped you would want.  BUT, Wendy please wear a pretty nightie.
I will wear my most pretty one for you.  It is ...  well you will see.  And
in my room this time, yes?"

   We re-dressed in our undress for each other and I went through the
darkened living room to Samantha's bedroom.  The faint glow of a bedside
light showed my waiting friend.  We reached for each other.  She gently
searched over and under my skimpy nightie.  The soft material grazed on
sensitive needful skin, increasing the eroticism of touch and discovery. 
There was the edge of the bed on my legs.  I was pushed back, sat then fell
on my back.  Fingers slipped under my nightdress to find me.  I gladly
surrendered once more to my friend.

   Sami gave me my second enchanting lesson, from mutual tender love to an
absolute of feverish and bursting passion.  Afterwards we held each other,
breasts to breasts, throbbing heart to throbbing heart, and slept.

   The following morning in the dawn light I tentatively woke my lover with
light touches and took the lead.  Samantha allowed me to explore, guiding
my hands as her need grew, open to me and unresisting, helping me to find
how and where she wanted me.  As I gained in confidence, she finally
surrendered.  Sami gave me the immense satisfaction, the intense pleasure
of seeing and feeling her finally succumb to my touches, yield to my need
for her, and explode for me as she moved violently under my hands and
kisses.

   Our intimate needs were held in abeyance when the monthly curse caused
us to give each other privacy, but the days of abstinence made the flame of
Sapphic love burn more brightly because of it.  ((((((((((((

   I couldn't help but notice birth control pills in Sami's half of our new
shared bathroom cabinet, bought big enough for two, fitted for us by a
fellow male student.

   One evening as we relaxed after working on course notes, treating
ourselves to wine, I asked about her pills.  I asked whether she took them
'just in case' with a fellow student.  "No", she replied "it's so much a
habit that I take them routinely, although, Wendy, it's nice to know that
IF I get carried away, at least I'm protected.  I can't imagine letting any
of the guys here touch me let alone you-know-what-me" and she laughed. 
"You said you're not a virgin - how did you go on.  Did you risk it
without?"

   We were sitting opposite each other on rather lumpy but cheap
second-hand armchairs and she saw the deep flush in my cheeks.  "Oh.  Sorry
love.  Have I touched a nerve end?  Sorry."

   "He ...  he wore something, a condom.  To protect me."

   "Oh!  He was prepared then?  He knew what he was doing, or expecting
anyway" and she giggled.  "Ermmm ...  were you expecting ...  did you want
him to?"

   Should I tell?  DARE I tell?  I think I trusted her.  Of course I
trusted her.  We were face to face.  It was much more difficult than
telling private things about myself online.

   "Is he your special boyfriend at home?" she asked.

   I suppose I realised our friendship had turned yet another page of
trust. But would she be horrified?  Revile me even.

   I tentatively asked what she thought of cousins marrying, first
cousins."

   "I don't have any hang-ups about that sort of thing.  I know some sad
deformities have been created, but I wonder if they already show up in the
family somewhere, or if they are known about in the past by grandparents
and suchlike.  If there have been, I suppose they ought not to marry, or if
they do, if they really love each other, they should make sure they never
have kids.  I reckon the man should have the snip in that case.  That's the
safest I think.  Not that I know much about it.  Why?  Have you got a ... a
passion for a cousin Wendy?"

   "I just wondered how you felt - so love in the family is ok in your
opinion?"

   "Yes, why not?"

   "How about even closer than that?"

   Her look sharpened and she looked at me in a more intense way.  I knew
that look.  There was a very keen brain in there, working on my words. 
"How close Wendy?  Come on.  Tell me if you want but don't hedge about."

   I knew I was between her sharp mind and a hard place and I knew I had
slipped up.  That when I said 'closer,' she instantly realised I meant
blood kin.  "My father?" I saw the start of surprise as she processed what
I said.  I dropped my eyes, dare not look at her.

   She was kneeling at my feet, holding my hands in hers, her voice soft
with affection for me.

   "Oh Wendy, if it is, how wonderful for you both that you love him that
much.  You don't have to tell me more.  I know its precious for you if it's
your father.  I admire you.  Really I do.  No bull Wendy."

   I gripped her hands and whispered, "I've wanted to tell you since ... 
you know since THEN when we said no secrets but I couldn't tell you, I
couldn't bear you thinking badly of me.  But I do love him and I know he
loves me, not only as his daughter though.  I've wanted to tell you.  You
don't know what a relief it is that you don't despise me.  And Sami, I have
so much wanted to tell some one.  Not to brag but to ...  when people get
engaged or marry and move in with each other, they can tell the world how
happy they are.  The world knows they go to bed because it's normal and
natural and everybody does.  But until you, I've had no one to share with.
No one I've loved enough and trusted enough to tell it to.  I wanted
somebody else to know how happy I am loving him as we do, and I couldn't
... COULD NOT tell anyone.  Now I have you and I can tell you.  I'm so
happy you know about us."

   "I'm taking you to bed ...  no don't argue, I'm taking you to bed
because you're going to tell me about him, as much as you want to share.  I
know it might to be hard to tell, but I'm going to hold you close in the
dark while you share as much as you want me to know.  Come on Wendy ... 
come with me."

   She took me to my bedroom, my bed, my refuge, and we lay together, fully
clothed, and she held me in her arms.  I told her everything.  Nothing held
back.

   After my tale was told she told me of herself, her loss of virginity,
who he was, how it happened and when it happened how often it happened.  I
can't repeat any of her confidences.  She told me in private.  She didn't
need to ask for secrecy, neither of us need ask that of each other. 
Neither of us would even hint of such things to any other person, male or
female.

   {Before I wrote this I spoke to her and asked her permission to tell
YOU, dear Reader, about US.  Do you know what she said?  "Of course it's
ok. Let me know if you get any feedback, Wendy."}

   There is one thing more I must tell you about that evening.  She told
me, almost ORDERED me in her forthright manner, to go to a birth control
clinic and ask for the pill.  She would come with me for support.  Nothing
to worry about.  No embarrassment.  Professional people who knew what went
on at universities, after all they had been there themselves and we both
giggled.  One more thing she said to me.  "Wendy, he has been so thoughtful
and kind and non demanding.  He always thinks of you and wears that condom.
He hasn't said anything but I'm told men hate it.  They lose a lot of
pleasure with their lady; it makes contact less sensitive for them.  Think
about it.  You owe it to him.  If he is going to make love with you next
time you are home, give him that extra pleasure from loving you.  OK?" She
is amazing, my Sami.  Very wise.

   So I did lol.  ((((((((((((

   Chapter Seven - 1980 to - 1981 age 19 to 20

   I capitulated and agreed I should prepare myself for daddy.  I should
consult the family planning clinic in a neighbouring town, as I couldn't
face the embarrassment of sitting waiting with fellow students at the
campus clinic.  After all, they strongly suspected that Sami and I were
lesbians and it would never do to show that I needed the pill!  Sami phoned
and made an appointment for me.  She made me swear on my life to accompany
her; on my father's life; my mother and grandmother's lives; the Union Jack
and anything which, day by day, occurred to her in the week preceding the
dreaded visit.  I was not for one moment to consider deserting her.  The
ultimate threat hung over me.  No visit, no making love with her for three
months!

   I showered the evening before and twice in the morning, once before and
once after breakfast.  I powdered and perfumed, asked Samantha three times
if I was wearing the right sort of panties.  I put two extra clean pairs in
my handbag, after all a girl's last refuge is clean panties.  Samantha
couldn't resist huge grins at my all to evident nervousness.

   "It's all very well for you" I moaned "you've had god knows who in your
knickers." Except that I did know!

   The outside 'face' of the clinic was anonymous and quite respectably
plain.  We entered, me clutching my friend's hand.  "Knock and Enter" said
a sign on one of the doors.  I was frozen to the spot so Samantha knocked,
opened the door and dragged me without ceremony into the office.  A pink
faced motherly female smiled at us from behind her desk.

   "Wendy MacReady, my friend here, has an appointment" announced Samantha,
realising she had to take charge.

   "Yes, I see.  We had her booked in to see one of our lady consultants
but she hasn't been able to get in today.  Ms MacReady would you be willing
to be seen by Dr.  Dennis Braden?"

   I started to shake my head and opened my mouth to reply but Samantha
beat me to it.  "That would be OK for us.  Wouldn't it Wendy?  Wouldn't it
WENDY?" And she gave me a hard stare.

   "Yes" I gulped.

   We were directed to another room and were greeted by another mature
kindly female wearing the white uniform of a nurse.

   "There are just a few questions we need to ask.  Just to be sure that we
can go ahead for you.  Now which of you is Ms MacReady?"

   I opened my mouth but my throat and mouth were dry.  "She is" said
Samantha firmly.

   "Right.  Now your full name is ...  ?  (easy one)" and another easy one,
date of birth.  Then "are you now pregnant ...  ?  (no) " and "have you
ever been pregnant ...  ?  (no)" then "do you suffer from any sexually
transmitted disease ...  ?  (emphatic NO)" and "are you now in a sexual
relationship with a male ...  ?  (blushing yes.)" The intimate questions
went on and were recorded, together with the dates of my last three periods
and their regularity, me frantically consulting my diary to be sure of my
dates.

   The nurse asked us to wait and left the room.  I turned to my friend,
and said "I'm going" and made to stand.  Sami pulled me sharply down onto
my seat.  "Humph, so you think you're going to do a runner do you, well you
damn well stay here" and gripped my hand tightly.

   The door swung open and the nurse said "Come with me Ms MacReady the
doctor is ready to see you now.  Your friend can wait for you in the
waiting room by the Reception Office."

   I must have thrown a despairing look at Sami who merely grinned at me,
then pointed to the waiting nurse and said, " GO!" I went.

   The consulting room was empty except for a bench with some sort of
contraption at two of the corners.  There were a few shining stainless
steel instruments in individual dishes, a bowl, and a jar of lubricant and
clean hand towels.

   The nurse said "Go behind that screen and please take off your clothing
from the waist down.  You will find a white cotton wrap to put round your
waist, and then come back to me here."

   As I stepped out of my panties I was aware only of the embarrassing
humiliation to come.  I did as I had been told and my only comfort was the
thought that when I got Samantha alone I would kill her in the most painful
way I could devise.

   "Lie on the couch please.  A little lower.  Lower still.  Now let me
lift your left foot." My foot was placed in one of the contraptions and the
nurse went to the other side of the couch, lifted my other foot and secured
it in the other contraption.  The cotton wrap was adjusted over my tummy
but my legs were now spread wide, the whole of my genital area exposed and
vulnerable.  "There we are ...  soon done now.  Try to relax.  The stirrups
are so that doctor can examine you properly." I felt like an animal
specimen, pinned down ready for dissection.

   The nurse placed a stool between my legs and close to my shivering body.
A door opened and there was a male face looking down at me.  A handsome
face wearing a beard.  He appeared slim in his white coat with kind eyes
that smiled as he spoke with a cultured American New England accent.

   "Ms MacReady I am Dennis Braden.  I have read your notes.  I see that
you would like to take the birth control pill is that right?"

   I swallowed.  "Yes" I croaked.

   "Very well.  Let me tell you what I have to do to see if that will be
best for you.  I see you have no menstrual problems and are regular.  What
I need to do is carry out a physical examination that will involve an
internal.  Do you understand what I mean?  I shall have to insert an
instrument called a speculum into your vaginal passage, dilate you with it
and look inside to see if there are obvious abnormalities.  I will have to
press on your tummy to see if I can detect anything that you may not be
aware of.  Do I have you permission to do that?  I know you have signed a
consent form, but I would like you confirm it before I start.  Nurse will
be here with you all the time that I examine you.  May I proceed?  I know
you are apprehensive and I understand that.  If you can, please try to
relax as I enter you.  If you become too tense, it will make it more
difficult for me and more uncomfortable for you.  Do you like an occasional
glass of wine?"

   Again the single, strangled word "Yes."

   "Take three deep breaths and slowly exhale and try to imagine arriving
home when this is all over, and relaxing with a nice glass of wine."

   He dipped a small sponge in lubricant and wiped it over my vulva,
parting me skilfully to coat my vaginal opening.  His middle finger found
my clenching tightness and he twisted it to gain entry.  My muscle tried to
repel him and he said quietly "Think of being home.  Try to relax, Think
pleasant thoughts." I relaxed and immediately his finger slipped inside my
warm sheath.

   His finger stilled to allow me to relax around it.  He withdrew,
inserted the speculum and shone a light to carry out a visual.  All must
have seemed well.  He replaced the speculum in its dish and carefully
probed on top of my tummy.  No discomfort.  He made a comment to his nurse
who turned to make a series of notes on the clinical record.

   {Evil thought as I write; Dr Braden must have seen me impaled by his
gloved digit.  My thighs spread wide as if submitted willingly in love.  My
soft brown pubic hair neatly on my mound.  Finger deeply inserted in my now
helpless cunt.  I wonder if Dr Dennis Braden would have envied the man for
whom I was preparing myself?  I wonder, today as you read my history, if Dr
Braden could not have resisted a final look at the gift I would soon bestow
on a man.  Maybe he would have gently reinserted his finger one last time,
seeing it held inside me and wishing he could be that man!}

   "Thank you Ms MacReady that's it.  It's all over now and I am sorry if
this was uncomfortable for you.  I will prescribe the birth control pill
and Nurse will give you a leaflet.  Good luck in your future." Then he was
gone.

   The nurse smiled at me as she released me from the stirrups.  "It's
rather horrid the first time isn't it?  You have been wonderful and very
sensible too, to make yourself safe before anything unfortunate happens. 
Good luck my dear and here is your prescription.  There is a bowl of water
there and a hand towel so you can make yourself feel comfortable after the
examination."

   I bathed myself, still feeling dilated from the instrument used inside
me, just as I always felt daddy's cock, as if still inside me, for some
time after he had withdrawn.

   Everyone had been very nice and tried to make it not too unpleasant.  I
felt huge relief and on a high that it was behind me,

   {As for that Dr Braden "mmmm." I giggled and might have wondered to
myself if he had had any naughty thoughts as his finger entered my cunt and
probed me.  I had lain there helplessly available.  My most private young
womanhood spread wide.  He had my apprehensive but willing permission to do
as he wished.  My cunt had now been fingered by a strange man I had never
met before!}

   ((((((((((((

   Some months after my visit, safely on the pill, a small group of us
celebrated something or other.  I can't remember why, nor can I pin down
exactly when, but it was prior to my 20th birthday.  There were the usual
snacks and naturally enough, wine and beer.  Unusually for me I imbibed
rather too freely, became rather unsteady and one of the men said he would
see me safely home.  He must have been a non-drinker, I think, as he had
his car there.  He told me to wind down my window as he drove slowly the
few miles to our little house and I began to lose my unsteadiness.  When we
arrived at my place he saw me inside, and I thanked him and in a spirit of
'thank you very much' I think I kissed his cheek.  Taking this, I imagine,
as a very good sign he kissed my lips and held me.  The wine must have
caused me to respond and I found myself on my back on my bed with his hand
under my top and bra.  Eventually we were both naked and he had me in the
'ready for action' position.

   I clearly remember him kneeling and seeing him looking down at the two
of us, almost joined.  I do not remember him undressing me nor do I
remember him feeling between my legs.  He held his fat knob in my slit and
rubbed it up and down once or twice and then I felt him push.  I don't
think he was even in the right place!  He immediately exploded and gasped,
lay over me and said what men say when they are cumming, and I felt the
warm semen splatter on my breasts and tummy and dribble into my hairs.  He
flopped down beside me, saying how sorry he was and how bad he felt at
'letting me down.' After all these years I think the only emotion I had was
one of sympathy for him.  I don't remember being excited and needing him
inside me.

   I knew this happened to men (there was nothing we girls didn't talk
about.) I knew that men got terribly upset when they had premature
ejaculation.  I held his half-hard cock with one hand and rubbed the
trickling cum into my skin with the other.  My words must have comforted
him and reassured him because he became hard enough to have another go at
what he so desperately (too desperately?) wanted to do to me.  Once again
he couldn't hold it back and I was covered in his cum.  He was dreadfully
upset now and I think he might have been a bit weepy.  I wrapped myself in
my old dressing gown and tried to reassure him.  He was full of apology,
and I think of shame and embarrassment.  He very quickly left and I
showered and got into bed.

   I suppose that I allowed this to happen because at the back of my mind,
I knew it would be 'safe' to allow him to do what he wanted.  Before the
pill, I would have stopped it from going that far.  The only person I told
was of course my dear Sami.  I noticed the boy avoided me from then on. 
Poor young man.  I felt so sorry for him.

   The following day I saw the telltale stains and I stripped my sheets for
the laundry.  No way could I sleep on those again.

   ((((((((((((

   Chapter Eight - 1980 to - 1982 age 19 to 21

   For the remainder of my time at Durham, I studied hard.  I was
determined to get my degree.

   Tensions and academic pressures were relieved in the most delightfully
satisfying and explosive ways with Sami in Durham, and dear daddy in
Norfolk.  It may not surprise you, Dear Reader, that dad asked me if I was
OK at Durham, and if and how I 'coped!' in non-academic ways.  Realising
what he was hinting at it was entirely natural to confide my feelings for
Sami, and hers for me, and such confessions led to unsurpassed heights of
pleasure for him (and therefore me!) He tried to conceal his delight and
relief that, after tasting the delights of Eden with him, I was NOT going
mad with boys left right and centre while away from home.  Although I
didn't tell him about the poor boy who had premature ejaculation, there's
no doubt he was terribly pleased that he was still the only man that I
loved enough, to allow the closest (or any) intimacies.

   When naked in each other's arms I began deliberately to accentuate the
descriptions and feelings when Sami and I excited each other, and which in
turn so much excited him.  Could this have been the experience which has
given me a lifelong pleasure in weaving truth and fantasy when making love
with my husband?

   I knew from girl (and man) talk that men are VERY turned on by the
thoughts of two girls making love, and even better, for the man to be a
third combatant in the fray so to speak!  As you, (a man?) can imagine, the
thought of Sami and I making love was an immense turn on for the guys at
university who imagined us as lesbians, and we were surprisingly often
asked if they could watch.  We refused.  Always.  What we did together was
an act expressing our love, and sealing the simplicity and ambiguity of
that word with the most open revelations of our minds as well as our
bodies. It was not and could never be a spectator sport.  It was NOT MOST
DEFINITELY mere sex, the simple joining of male and female parts for
temporary relief.  I am quite sure that there was purity in our love for
each other which made any holding back of expression or emotion, quite
impossible for us.  Total openness, total honestly, nothing concealed.  One
touch, one kiss, one shiver, one gasp, one breath in intimate places, said
more than a book of words.

   ((((((((((((

   An event occurred on the evening of Saturday, 6th March 1982 at about
9.30 p.m.  which would eventually have an earth shaking, seismic, universe
spinning effect on me.  It happened at a quite normal, quite unexceptional
birthday party given by a friend of ours named Frederica (Freddie.) It was
her 21st birthday and she had hired a village hall and organised a bus to
transport her 40 or so guests from wherever they lived to the hall.  A lack
of the students' ever-necessary support of alcohol was therefore no barrier
to enjoyment as everyone could imbibe freely, as Freddie had provided most
generously and the bus would return us all to our temporary homes.  No-one
needed to drive.  Dress was informal (which meant that jeans and Uni
sweatshirts were almost 'être de rigeur!' I was doing extraordinary and
sexily lissom dance movements (at least I thought so) to sounds emanating
from a rather substantial SoundBlaster of the period, that now, I find,
leaves me totally unmoved.

   I was panting for breath after my rather too energetic display on the
dance floor.  I was sweating and uneasily conscious that my mascara might
have run a little (visit to the ladies loo in a minute I promised myself to
check and repair any damage) but I went first for a beer at tables holding
essential supplies.  A couple of the guys had volunteered to serve and keep
beer and lager jugs topped up from small barrels, and already had that look
in their eyes of those already on the way to inebriation.  Every jug, they
assured us, had been personally checked for quality by them.  I could well
believe it too!  As both guys were serving other guys, I stood patiently,
panting, sweating and feeling somewhat dishevelled when a male voice from
just behind my shoulder courteously said "Can I reach something for you?"
Obviously not a student I thought.  He would say "what yer want girl?"

   "Yes please a but I haven't got a glass" I gasped.  The man eased
himself between me and the student also waiting, my head turned to smile
and thank him and I saw a blue uniform.  On his sleeve was a single gold
band with a little loop at the top.  He handed me my drink, saying "You can
always count on the navy.  Hello.  I'm Harry.  Freddie's brother."

   "Hi" I said and dashed off to the ladies to check on my war paint!

   I collected my handbag en route, used the facilities, and put my bag on
the shelf below the mirror and fished out my man killer makeup.  Not that I
wanted to attract a man, but a girl must look attractive mustn't she?  I
saw that I was a bit streaky, looking like something from a gothic horror
movie, washed hands and face and did damage limitation stuff.  I took out
of my handbag my portable size cologne spray, reached, under my sweatshirt
and gave precautionary little bursts to mask my exertions.  Satisfied that
at least I had done right to plait my hair into a ponytail, I re-entered
the fray.

   I looked at the heaving, weaving, laughing bodies but couldn't see
anyone in dark blue.  Maybe he was at the gent's?  I wondered what a sailor
was doing at the party, then thought no more about it.

   I sat at the side and watched, cooling off, smiling at some of the men's
contortions, when Freddie sat beside me.

   "Where the devil have you been Wendy?  My brother was hoping to see you
before he had to go.  He's just left.  You've just missed him.  He said you
didn't tell him your name and just ran off."

   "Oh!" I said.  "I needed the loo Freddie and I don't suppose I shall see
him again ...  a sailor? ...  a ship that passed in the night then" I
quipped.

   "If he is he must serve on a fleet auxiliary and mail ship then, which I
know for certain he doesn't.  He asked your name and how to get in touch by
post, and what I knew about you before he had to run.  He said he had to
rejoin his ship before she sailed.  I'd told him I would never speak to him
again if at least he didn't just pop in at my 21st party here and let me
show him off.  Oh and by the way I told him he was a no hoper because you
and Sami are an item."

   Sami and I had deliberately cultivated the myth that we were averse to
men in a sexual sense, and I knew that to disabuse Freddie would be a
mistake because she was (and still is) a bit of a rattlebox.  Even so,
although I had no reason to be disappointed that Freddie had hinted I was
lesbian, I felt an unaccountable disappointment that he had left, thinking
that I was.  The man in blue named Harry was simply an accidental
acquaintance.  It was of no importance.  I would never see him again
anyway.

   I have since learnt that to imagine the Royal Navy will back off in the
face of adversity is to become over confident, which in turn will seal
one's fate, and be sunk without trace.

   Three weeks later a letter came for me with an American stamp on it. 
Now who on earth was this from I wondered?  As far as I knew my family had
no connections there.

   "Dear Miss MacReady, Wendy" it began "I hope you don't mind me writing
to you as I can well imagine that you have forgotten all about me.  We met
very casually and (for me) all too briefly at my sister Freddie's party in
Durham.  I am only afraid that your studies will leave you no time to write
to an unknown sailor but I simply want to say how much I enjoyed your
innovative dancing!

   I serve in the Royal Navy and am a Sub_Lieutenant on board HMS **** and
at this moment we are alongside an oiler in an American naval port.  We are
here only to refuel then will be on our way again, but at least it gives me
the opportunity to entrust this letter to the care of the US Mail.  I hope
it reaches you!

   This is a frightful cheek and imposition but I hope (very much hope)
that somehow you could fit me into your university life and write to me.  I
don't want to take your valuable time, but a scribbled page every now and
then would be a very welcome addition to letters from my parents and
Freddie.  If for any reason you would prefer not to, because of other
attachments, would you be kind enough to tell Freddie to include a line in
her next letter, telling me to go and drop my anchor somewhere else!

   I know we sailors have a bad reputation for having a girl in every port
but for me it isn't true.  I have no other young lady writing to me.  When
I first joined there was a childhood friend who wrote, but she no longer
does and is, I think, in a serious relationship now.

   I hope I can say without presumption, Wendy, I hope you have success in
your studies and in your future life.

   With my very kindest and most sincere good wishes for your future

   Yours sincerely

   Harry"

   I was very impressed.  His handwriting was obviously an educated hand,
much better than my scribbles, although I can write quite elegantly when I
have the time and choose to!  I was impressed with his wording too - the
delicate way he had referred to a possible lesbianism and the way he wrote
'of other attachments.' The apparent honesty in saying her didn't have girl
friends all over the globe.  I was also, at that party, rather impressed
with his commanding way of getting me my drink with no fuss and no
macho-man exhibitionism.

   I decided to consult Sami!  Has she met him I wondered?  She had been at
the party too.

   She told me she had been too busy dancing and chatting to have spoken
with him, and she rather thought he hadn't been there much above half an
hour or so.  If she remembered correctly, he was quite good looking. 
Compared with us pale faced students he was, she thought, quite brown in
his features and slim in his figure.  What it boiled down to was 'go for it
what have you got to lose?'

   Next stop Freddie.  Showed her the letter.  What did she think and what
could she tell me?

   Apparently rather than go to University he had joined as a regular
officer cadet at the age of 18 and was nearly two years older than her. 
(Mmmmm about 23 years old then?) He had a girlfriend for a while on his
leave home (furloughs) but as far as she knew, he had no-one now.  (Good,
confirmed the truth of what was in his letter.) He was kind and didn't come
the heavy brother with her.  He was a good son to her parents.  He didn't
fly into rages.  He didn't swear like the students do.  He didn't get
drunk. That was about it, she said.  After all she hadn't been close to him
since he was 18 and went off to Naval Training College.  She herself had
been at Uni for years so she couldn't put her hand on her heart and say
more than she had already told me.  There was one (I thought significant)
point she mentioned, quite casually with no apparent meaning to it.  He
hadn't danced or joined in at her party.  Just turned up, had a half-pint
of beer, chatted to her and the few male student she introduced him to, and
watched the gyrations on the floor.  He made a beeline for me when he saw
me go to get my drink, then when I disappeared, he asked about me.  Then he
went to rejoin his ship.  No more to say Wendy.

   I wrote back!  Life continued as it had been doing, Slowly we exchanged
in our letters, information as people do when a friendship is building. 
Interests; hobbies; likes; dislikes; food and drink preferences; holiday
venues and so on.  I didn't tell him we are nudists, as I didn't feel on
safe ground there!  It was too intimate, had too many sexual connotations
to risk telling him.  He wrote to tell me his ship would dock at Liverpool
at the end of May, could he drive over, and maybe we could have lunch or
supper together if my studies permitted.  If I could spare the time, he
would book into a local motel.

   I was impressed that he wanted to travel over to Durham, and also that
he put my studies above taking my time away from them.  Very considerate.
Doubly impressed.  Now I would say "Naval Strategy!" LOL

   We met for dinner.  He was dressed in a lounge suit, white shirt and
tie, very smart.  I wore my blouse with the Mandarin collar (yes the same
one!) and the trousers I wore when Sami did her thing to me.  I didn't have
much in the way of outer clothing at Durham.  It took up room and of course
we were normally very casually dressed.

   I was a little shy to be face to face after the passage of letters, even
though they had all been very respectable and non-committal on any
relationship basis.  I began to like him as a person, but had no thoughts
of him as a lover.  He was very courteous and gentlemanly, a VERY nice
change from the slovenly attitude of most students.  After our meal, and
coffee, he called a taxi and went with me to my little home.  I naturally
couldn't just walk away and simply say "thank you," so I invited him in,
knowing Sami would be there because I had told her this might happen and I
wanted her be a chaperon!

   We talked and talked the three of us, on many subjects that I can't
remember now.  He seemed at ease but respectful, amusing and knowledgeable,
and answered our questions about navy life with humour, tending to play
down his own role in anything which involved him.  I liked his modesty. 
Sami disappeared and came back with a bottle of wine.  It must have been
near to midnight when Sami said with what I could see was a blatantly
artificial yawn that she was going to bed, shook hands with Harry and
ignored my eyes, which were censuring her and appealing to her not to leave
me alone with him.

   To his eternal credit and to my heartfelt private thanks, he very soon
said he had better turn in too, as he had to be on duty the following
afternoon and must drive back to his ship.  I saw him to the door and
didn't know what to do.  Did I shake hands?  Give him a kiss?  After all he
had bought me dinner and brought me safely home and hadn't made any of the
moves on me, so common with the guys at Uni.  I decided a chaste kiss on
the cheek would be about right, and put my face up.  He stooped slightly
and as my mouth approached his cheek, he turned his head so that my kiss
landed on his lips.  He put his hands on my shoulders and held me gently,
not in any forceful way.  Just gently.  The kiss lasted several seconds and
as I broke it, my face was blushing and he was grinning like a man who had
won something precious.

   I stammered my
'thank-you-for-a-lovely-evening-and-for-dinner-and-for-bringing-me-home'
and he stood there, Cheshire Cat smile on his face as he listened to my
confused words.  He took both my hands in his and this time kissed me on my
lips, more like a peck than a hungry passion-killer kiss.  I stood and
closed my eyes and didn't pull back from him.

   "Wendy" he said "I don't think I have enjoyed being with anyone as much
as I have this evening.  And thank you for inviting me into your home and
introducing me to your friend." He opened the door and the taxi he had
phoned for a few minutes earlier stood waiting, Then he had gone.

   When I got upstairs, walking on air, a smile on my face, Sami stood
there with a wineglass for each of us.

   "Well?  Did he kiss you.?"

   "Don't be silly Sami."

   She laughed.  "Wendy you are standing there like a Spring Bride with a
blush in your cheeks and sparkle in your eyes ...  and a dreamy mmmmmmmmmmm
look all over your silly face.  I know he did."

   "Why did you ask then?  If we did it was just to say thank you that's
all."

   "Yeah.  Right" was her reply, depressing any attempt of mine to pass it
of as nothing.

   We sat and chatted and I admitted I liked him very much.  I wanted to be
with my closest friend while I talked about him.  Silly isn't it?  Girls do
that.

   Freddie of course had told him when we expected our results to be posted
on the University Notice Board, and I had a letter asking me to ring his
given number and tell him my results PLEASE.  If he was on duty to leave a
message with what I had achieved.  We now wrote at least weekly, me signing
myself "Wendy x x" because we had kissed twice.  He wrote back to me
signing himself (men are such PUSHY BEASTS I thought) "Harry x x" then
underneath "X X X X X X X X X X" with the words here's to the future." I
showed this subscript to Sami, who laughed and told me to make sure I
bought some new sexy undies!

   I rang as requested and had a telegram shortly after.  "COMING TOMORROW.
DINNER AS BEFORE.  WILL RING U ETA HARRY X X"

   I told Sami, but put the telegram in my undies drawer!

   I phoned my parents to say the young man, the sailor, was coming to take
me out to dinner for the second time.  Mother said BE CAREFUL you know what
sailors are.  Dad said, could he get leave so you can bring him to meet us
one weekend.

   I did both.

   Two months later his ship sailed again.  I was then in my home county of
Norfolk, England, after leaving Uni with my degree.  He again reserved a
motel for Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights.  We spent each night there in
bed.  And yes, I had bought new sexy undies!

   Dad completely backed off and said I was Harry's now.  He no longer
looked for any intimacy other than that of platonic Dad/Daughter.  His
final words on that intimacy were, that if I ever needed him, he would
always be there for me.

   ((((((((((((

   Harry and I married in 1984, he was now a full Lieutenant and told my
parents he could at last afford a wife.

   We both wanted children.  My first miscarriage was 1985 and my second in
1987.  I (we) were told that I would never carry a child to term and that
it could be dangerous for me (us) to continue trying, and it was better
that I have a small operation to prevent any future pregnancies.  We talked
it over.  I was totally devastated and sobbed and sobbed.  Harry said he
would have the snip that men have and I refused point-blank.  "After all,"
I said "If anything happened to me he would want to marry again and have
children with her." Harry reassured me and said it didn't matter a jot as
we had each other.  He has NEVER criticised me or blamed me for my failure
to give him a son or daughter, preferably both.  I had my female version of
the snip.  I had my tubes tied.  After I was home and things were ok I
joked with Harry and told him they were tied with pretty red white and blue
ribbon.  "I am NOT amused" he said, and I must face traditional naval
discipline.  He took me to bed!  As he explained after my first punishment,
"It's normal after a ship's armament has been serviced, to subject them to
test firing." So he had me again.  And again.  These Royal Navy men are
DREADFUL (I'm delighted to say.)

   During Harry's many long absences I would sometimes become a little
depressed and sad.  Not excessively so, but what we call down-in-the-dumps.
Dad would visit me if he could, and help me get over being alone in an
empty house.  I wanted and welcomed my daddy's comfort at those times.

   Wendy x x x x x

   ((((((((((((





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