Harriet and Michelle jumped and wiggled in the living room, their flailing limbs occasionally punctuated by a triumphant shout. They were playing New Super Mario on the Wii. Every few minutes, they would pause the game to take a bite of Lucky Charms that was turning to mush in their cereal bowls. The two sisters, exceedingly competitive under normal circumstances, only became cooperative when playing Super Mario.
“Go ahead, you can have that fireball mushroom,” Michelle told her younger sister.
Harriet didn’t take her eyes from the screen. “Thanks!”
“Oh no!” Michelle shouted, reacting to swarm of piranhas.
“Hold on, I’m coming to help!” Harriet cried. Unable to help herself, she ran in place, moving her own feet in sync with her onscreen avatar.
“Look out!” At ten years old, Michelle was only a few inches taller than Harriet despite the age difference of two years. Both girls were gangly but Michelle’s sandy blond locks, pulled in a long ponytail that fell halfway down her back, contrasted sharply with Harriet’s deep brown hair that was neatly trimmed to a shoulder length bob.
“I need a cereal break!” Harriet announced. The game was paused as the two sisters took a moment to slurp the sugary milk from their respective cereal bowls.
“It’s almost ten o’clock.” Michelle sighed. “I have to go to piano lessons soon. I better go get ready.”
Harriet made a disappointed noise. Michelle took her empty bowl to the kitchen and carefully rinsed it out. Harriet dutifully followed suit. “Where’s dad anyway?”
“In the garage,” replied Michelle.
“I’m going to see what he’s doing.” Harriet slid her feet into some flip-flops and bounded out the door. The first garage stall was deserted but she found him in the second stall.
“Hi daddy!” she said. She bounced from foot to foot after all those Lucky Charms. “What are you doing?”
“Hmmm? Good morning, Harriet,” he said, extracting himself from under the hood of the car. She gave him a hug but his eyes remained fix on the greasy spark plug in his hand. “You’re up early for a Saturday morning.”
“Um, actually, it’s almost ten o’clock,” Harriet informed him.
Her father seemed surprised as he regarded her for the first time. “Really? I guess I lost track of time. Did you have breakfast yet?”
“Does Michelle know she has piano lessons at ten o’clock?”
Harriet nodded. “She’s getting ready.”
He chuckled and disappeared under the hood again but Harriet noticed the slight grimace when he laughed. “I just can’t believe how fast you girls are growing up,” he said. “Pretty soon you won’t even need me around anymore.”
“Don’t be silly, of course we will,” Harriet told him. Noticing his glumness, she thought for a moment. “Daddy… are you sad because Patricia isn’t here any more?”
His head jerked at her in surprise. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, leaning against his workbench and setting down the distributor cap. He wiped his hands on a rag.
Harriet moved close, wrapping her arms around his midsection. The top of her head barely reached his chest but she hoped it was a comforting gesture nonetheless. It had been almost a month since her step mom Patricia filed for divorce and left them. Though they had been together for three years, neither Harriet nor Michelle particularly warmed to their step mom and were subsequently less-than-heartbroken when it was announced she would be leaving. But they knew they could never tell this to their father.
“I wish you could be happy,” Harriet told him.
He tousled her brown hair. “I am, sweet pea,” he reassured her. “I still have you and Michelle, don’t I? The two sweetest girls a father could ever have?”
On cue, Michelle’s voice rang from the house. “Dad? I’m going to piano lessons now.”
“All right, sweetie,” he called back. “I’ll see you when you’re done.” He hugged Harriet even harder. “See what I mean? You girls are so responsible. You know exactly how to take care of yourselves.”
“But we still need you to take care of us sometimes, Daddy.”
“I will,” he promised. He took her by the shoulders and gazed solemnly into her eyes. “I’ll always be here to take care of you two. You know that right?”
Despite his words of assurance, Harriet could still detect the sad lines around his eyes, lines that weren’t there a month ago before Patricia had left. “Okay, Daddy,” Harriet answered. Rising to her tiptoes, she tried to kiss him on the cheek but he surprised her by lifting her off the ground completely and cradling her in his arms. Harriet responded by wrapping her legs around his waist and clamping her arms around his neck. They hugged tight for a long moment.
“I wish I could help take care of you,” Harriet whispered. His body felt nice against hers: warm, strong, and reassuring. The eight year old girl fiercely wanted him to be happy and wondered if he would be if she hugged him hard enough. They had been happy before Patricia, she reasoned. Surely they could be happy after as well?
Her father remained silent, but his hands stroked her hair softly. After a minute, she felt him loosen their embrace. But instead of putting her down, his father shifted his grip so his hands were cupping her bottom, lowering her until her face rested against his chest instead of his neck. Glad that the embrace wasn’t over, Harriet pressed herself tight against him again.
This time though, she felt something strange poking against her.
Harriet thought she was imagining it at first. Perhaps it was his belt buckle. But no, her father was wearing sweatpants. Then she felt it again, pressing hard against her, blunt and insistent. Pushing right against the spot where she peed, it wasn’t unpleasant but the mystery of it puzzled her. Slowly putting two and two together, the little girl realized the bulge originated from her father’s midsection. It was his… thing.
“Um, Daddy?” she began. “What’s… that?” The hardness throbbed once more against her. Only a few layers of thin cotton separated them from each other.
“You’re growing up so fast, Harriet,” he murmured. “Some day you’re not going to be my little girl anymore. That’s why I want to show you how much I love you. Do you understand?”
She nodded, somewhat bedeviled by his logic. He swiveled and, holding her securely with one arm, he cleared an area on his workbench to set her down on. “Don’t be afraid,” he told her. “I’m just going to show you how much I love you, all right?” Harriet was astonished as he slipped his hand, still stained black with engine grease, inside the elastic waistband of her blue striped pants.
The eight year old girl sat innocently with her knees spread as her father began fondling her. Harriet tensed when he made first contact. First it felt strange. Then it tickled. And finally, she felt a sensation that she couldn’t quite quantify. Harriet wanted to ask her father what was happening but he wasn’t looking at her face. Instead his eyes were riveted at the spot between her legs. Remembering their earlier embrace, she peered at his midsection and noticed a funny bulge in her father’s sweatpants.
“Do you like this, Harriet?”
He whispered was so soft that her ears strained to hear him. Not knowing why, Harriet whispered too. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. It felt new. Unique. Strange. But she couldn’t say for certain whether she liked it. She almost felt embarrassed that he was touching her there.
“Does it feel nice?” he pressed.
Nice. Harriet pondered the word. If anything, it was starting to feel strangely wet, making her wonder if she had peed herself. Suddenly, despite feeling quite warm, Harriet shivered uncontrollably.
“Well, sweet pea?” her father asked again. “Does this feel nice?”
“I… I guess so,” Harriet affirmed.
“This is how adults show their love for each other,” he told her. “But you’re old enough to understand, aren’t you? Do you feel how much I love you now?”
Unable to speak, Harriet nodded. The extraordinary feelings inside her body were starting to blossom into a sensation she recognized as pleasure. How strange! It had never occurred to her that touching down there could feel like this. But then her father abruptly withdrew his hand, ceasing his attention to her. The building pleasure instantly stopped and a disappointment filled the void.
“Did you like that, Harriet?” he asked, finally looking her in the face again.
This time, she answered without hesitation. “Yes, Daddy.”
He took her by the shoulders, lifting her off the workbench and setting her on the ground. Harriet teetered for a bit, not realizing how jelly-like her knees were. “Could you do the same thing for me, sweet pea? Could you make me feel nice too, just like I did for you?”
Harriet nodded. Wordlessly, her father took her hands and guided them to his own sweatpants. She stared him uncomprehendingly as he hooked her fingers around the elastic waistband. Harriet felt a mixture of excitement and alarm. Surely he didn’t mean for her to… Experimentally, she gently tugged down on his waistband. Their eyes met again and she saw him give the slightest nod. The eight year old girl blinked to herself and paused, hardly believing what was happening. With trembling hands, she tugged his sweatpants down. Down. Down.
His erection sprang free, startling her. She stepped back in surprise as his gray sweatpants fell into a heap around his ankles. Harriet had seen illustrations of penises but they had never looked like this. The tip was an angry red and it pointed straight at her menacingly with its dangerous-looking veins adorning the thick shaft. The little girl could hardly believe that such an intimidating object belonged to her gentle father.
He must have sensed her fear for he took her by the shoulders and pulled her nearer. “It’s okay, Harriet,” he told her. “Don’t be afraid. Go ahead and touch it. It wants you to touch, you know.”
It. Harriet wondered for a moment if this… thing… was really just an “it” and not part of her father at all. Tentatively, she let her fingers caress the shaft and was alarmed when it jerked in response.
“It’s all right, it’s okay,” her father encouraged. “Go ahead, touch again. That’s good. Wrap your fingers around it. See? It’s not scary at all, is it?” The eight year old girl’s hand shook as she awkwardly touched her father’s penis for the very first time. She was surprised how warm it felt in her hand. The skin was soft too, although there was a hardness underneath.
Harriet was overwhelmed with conflicting feelings as she cautiously explored him. The sight of the erection was a little scary, but also somehow… intriguing. Despite her apprehension, Harriet couldn’t understand why she also felt oddly drawn to this throbbing organ in her hand. Embarrassment of seeing her father like this held her back, but a burning curiosity pushed her on.
“Make a fist around it,” he instructed. “Use both hands. Now gently rub along the length of it just like that with your fists.” Harriet docilely did as he directed. “See, this feels nice to me when you touch me like this. Remember how nice it felt for you when I touched you? It’s the same for me now. Do you understand?”
Harriet nodded bashfully. “This is how… it’s how adults show each other that they love each other?” The words stumbled out in a flustered stream.
Her father smiled. “Yes, Harriet. This is a special thing just for the two of us. I love you. I knew you were old enough to understand.” She felt a hint of pride at his praise but it wasn’t enough to cancel out the embarrassment she felt. It confused her, this strange sense of impropriety.
“Can you kiss it?” her father asked. Harriet stopped her ministrations, shocked. Put her lips on it? The very idea sent her into a spiral of mortification. Sensing he had gone too far, he quickly backpedaled. “Maybe not today.” Before Harriet could say a word, he pulled his sweatpants back up.
“Come on, Harriet,” he picked took her by the hand and led her back to the house. “I know you said you already had breakfast, but don’t waffles sound good?”
Hand in hand, father and daughter briskly crossed the garage. By the time they reached the kitchen, Harriet noticed the bulge in his sweatpants had disappeared. She gave a surprised squeal as he lifted her up and parked her on the countertop. Planting a kiss on her cheek, he turned to the cupboard and began extracting ingredients for pancakes. All as if the incident in the garage never happened.
After Saturday’s incident in the garage, Harriet felt unsure about what happened but her father carried on as if everything was normal. The eight year old girl had questions but she wanted to talk him one on one, which was difficult since their house was so small. She had briefly considered confiding in her sister, but it seemed too embarrassing. Harriet implicitly understood that this was a private matter with her father and, besides, part of her enjoyed having this special connection to her father. But then why did she blush so furiously whenever she remembered the incident?
Since her father was taciturn on the matter, the little girl had no other choice than to carry on as usual. On Sunday, they went to church and she had her violin lesson afterward. Then she alternately played and bickered with Michelle until it was time for bed. School was endured on Monday, meat loaf was enjoyed on Tuesday night. By Wednesday afternoon, Harriet had largely forgotten the incident.
“Oooh, I don’t think I’ve seen this one yet,” said Michelle. The two sisters were enjoying an after-school snack and watching old episodes of Tom and Jerry.
“I have,” Harriet said, stuffing a handful of pretzels in her mouth. “It’s okay, but not that funny. Can we watch a different one?”
“No,” Michelle answered. “You got to choose the last one. We should start this one now or else I won’t be able to finish it before my piano lesson.”
Harriet made a face. “It’s an episode where Tom and Jerry are friends,” she told Michelle.
“Goody. I like the ones where they’re friends better than the ones where they’re fighting.”
“I think it’s boring when they’re friends,” Harriet stated. “It’s funnier when they’re fighting.”
Michelle, engrossed in the show, didn’t answer. Despite her disinterest, Harriet finished watching the show until the end. “I liked that episode,” Michelle said, turning off the TV. Moving to the piano, she gathered her lesson books before sitting down to warm up with a few scales. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have piano lessons three times a week.”
“Too bad. I’m glad I only have violin lessons twice a week,” Harriet said. “How come you’re always practicing piano if you don’t like it?
“I guess I do like playing pretty songs,” Michelle told her, continuing to play the piano. She began to play a lively waltz. “But sometimes it’s more fun to just watch TV.”
Harriet watched as her fingers danced across the black and white keys. Michelle was definitely more musically inclined than she was and Harriet envied the effortlessly musical sounds that came from the piano. While her sister willingly sat down to practice each day, Harriet had to be cajoled and threatened into picking up her violin twice a week. Michelle played a medley of wandering songs for twenty minutes before finally closing the lid to the piano. “Tell dad I left for my piano lesson, okay?” she told Harriet as she left.
Harriet lazily slid off the couch. She found her father in the kitchen, dressed in an apron as he chopped onions and tomatoes. “Michelle just went to piano lessons,” she informed him. “What’s for dinner?”
“Spaghetti with homemade sauce,” her father answered, dumping the contents of the cutting board into a stockpot.
“Yum!” Harriet watched him add some spices before partially covering the pot.
“All done,” her father said, adjusting the heat. “It’ll take a few hours but this should be ready for dinner.” He untied his apron and tossed it onto the counter. “I’m tired. Want to go take a nap with me?”
“Well, okay,” Harriet answered as he took her hand. “I’m not really tired though.”
He led her to his room and closed the door. Harriet snuggled up next to her father on the bed but her mind immediately recalled what happened on Saturday. He must have been thinking the same thing because he quietly asked her, “Harriet? Is it all right if I show you how much I love you?” His hand was rubbing her behind, squeezing and caressing in a manner that told her what he meant.
“Can we just snuggle for a little bit?” Harriet asked to buy herself some time.
“Didn’t you like what I did for you?” He sounded offended. “Didn’t it feel nice when I touched you?”
“Well… yes,” the little girl conceded. “But…”
“I don’t know,” stammered Harriet. She groped for words. “It was… I felt… it was just… embarrassing… somehow.”
“Oh, sweet pea,” her father pulled her onto him so that she straddled him as he lay on the bed. “Maybe you’re too young for this. Are you shy because I’m showing you how much I love you? Is that it? Are you ashamed by how much your dad loves you?”
“No!” Harriet exclaimed. “I’m not. I’m not a… little kid anymore.”
“I don’t think so either,” her father stroked her shoulders and arms. “I want to do something special for you. Okay?”
Harriet nodded. Her father took her hands and guided her into a standing position on the bed. She was unsure of what to do until he moved her fingers to the clasp of her jeans. Harriet realized she must have had a funny look on her face because he said to her, “Go on. Don’t be bashful.”
Self-consciously, Harriet undid her jeans and wiggled out of them. Her father gazed at her expectantly so she removed her t-shirt as well. Wearing nothing but her underwear now, Harriet paused as she stood awkwardly on the bed. Her father had seen her in various stages of undress over the years, but this was different. She could feel his eyes watching her, devouring her, in a manner he had never done before. His eyes moved from her head to her toes, then back up before settling on her white underwear, her last remaining hint of modesty.
Feeling quite embarrassed, Harriet pulled her underpants down inch by inch. Part of her went slow because she wanted him to change his mind and stop her. Another part, however, felt the tiniest bit excited about what was happening. He didn’t say a word. Now she was naked, with nothing at all hidden from her father. He took one ankle and repositioned her so she was standing with a foot on either side of him as he gazed at her. The eight year old girl stood with her hands at her sides at first, but that felt so unnatural that she crossed them on her chest. That too felt contrived so she returned her hands to her sides where they fidgeted.
“You’re a beautiful girl, Harriet,” he said holding out his hands. She took them in her own. “I can’t stop thinking it. You’re so beautiful.” He gently pulled her forward until she was standing directly over his head, her feet grazing his ears. His hands moved to her waist, urging her downward. “It’s okay. Don’t be shy. I love you.”
He pulled her closer until she was squatting directly over him. Harriet felt mortified now. His face was mere inches from right where she peed. Embarrassing! But nothing could prepare her for what happened next as her father cupped her buttocks and planted his mouth between her legs.
“Daddy!” breathed Harriet. “What are…! What are you doing?”
But he didn’t respond. She could feel his tongue wiggling against her like a little wet worm. Harriet was surprised by the fuzzy warmth that began emanating from between her legs. With a start, she recognized it as the same sensation from the garage when her father had slipped his hand in her pants.
Peering between her legs, Harriet could only see the top of his head. His nose and mouth were concealed by the gentle curve of her bare pudenda as he orally manipulated her childish labia and clit. His eyes were closed. A shiver rattled Harriet’s spine and she succumbed to the sudden urge to shut her eyes as well. Her self-consciousness was dissipating, pushed aside by a delicious pleasure that seemed to surround her.
The eight year old shuddered. It felt so good! She had never imagined anything could feel so good. Another shiver ran across her body, boomeranging across her chest. Harriet suddenly realized her legs were trembling as she squatted atop her father’s face and she couldn’t make them stop.
“… Daddy?” Harriet began. “Daddy, I… oh!” Something exploded inside. Desperately off balance, Harriet blindly reached for the bed’s headboard to steady herself as a torrent of unimaginable pleasure throbbed across her body. Her father was looking directly at her now and their eyes locked as Harriet experienced her first orgasm. It was a heady. It was thrilling. The sensations were so powerful that they scared her a little but Harriet felt a measure of assurance from her father’s steady gaze.
When it could push her no higher, the pleasure ebbed away, bringing both relief and disappointment to the little girl. It slowly evaporated leaving her feeling weightless. Harriet became aware of her father’s strong hands on her bottom and realized he was supporting her entire weight for her legs felt weak and useless. He was gently guiding her back so she gingerly released her grip from the headboard. Harriet woozily settled into a sitting position on his chest. The puffy flesh of her hairless crotch smashed against his stubbly chin but she was too spent to be self-conscious now.
“Did you like that, Harriet?”
“Yes!” Harriet answered with no hesitation. “But what was it?”
Her father grinned and planted a kiss on her slit that made Harriet giggle. It was ticklish. “It was a way of showing my love for you,” he told her. He paused. “You love me too, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, Daddy.”
“Can you show me?” He slid her off his chest and onto the bed. Harriet’s eyes slowly traveled to his crotch where she could see a distinct bulge in his jeans. She gave the smallest nod.
Harriet felt a little awkward as her father undressed. She didn’t know where to look with her eyes so she ended up staring at her hands in her lap. Finally, he was laying on the bed wearing nothing but a white undershirt. On the periphery of her vision, she could sense his penis standing straight up like a flagpole. She smiled shyly at her father.
“Do you remember what to do?” he asked, taking her hand. Suddenly she felt it throbbing hot in her hand. Once again a shy little girl, Harriet held it in a light grip as she helplessly looked at her father for guidance.
“Here, why don’t you sit between my legs?” he suggested. He spread his legs, making room for Harriet to sit back on her heels. It was a new view for her, seeing his coarse hair and fleshy manhood like this. His erection still reached for the sky but the funny sack of lumpy skin hung loose between his thighs.
“Use both hands,” he directed. He taught her how to rub up and down the shaft.
“Is this… Am I doing it right?” Harriet asked as she clumsily handled him.
“That’s good,” her father encouraged. “Remember how nice it felt when I put my mouth on you?”
“Yes,” Harriet responded warily. She could see where this was going.
“You can do the same for me, can’t you? Can you put it in your mouth?”
“Oh, Daddy…” Harriet faltered. “I don’t know…”
“Maybe just a little?” he proposed. “Just a little taste? I promise it doesn’t taste bad or anything.”
Harriet was unable to keep the distaste from her expression. She couldn’t explain why but the idea of putting this in her mouth was wholly unfathomable. The strangeness of this hard organ, the incongruity of seeing her father exposed… It all added up to a great discomfort in the eight year old girl.
“Do I have to?” pleaded Harriet. With a gust of relief, Harriet saw a flicker of sympathy from her father, the only paternal signal she had been able to recognize from him since they laid down together in the bed.
“It’s all right, sweet pea,” he told her. “I understand if you don’t want to. Maybe you can just keep touching me like you were before? Up and down?”
Harriet nodded. Her father closed his eyes as if he were going to sleep. She obediently continued the motions he taught her. This thing she presently held certainly was not asleep though. If anything, it felt undeniably alive in her hands. Now that he wasn’t looking at her, Harriet felt less embarrassed about exploring him with her eyes. It was strange, this part of him. Underneath felt hard like bone but the skin on top seemed loose and pliant, completely different from the skin on her arm or leg. The red tip of it reminded her of a helmet except for the little slit at the top.
The young girl mechanically continued the motions on his erection but her arms were getting tired so she briefly used just one hand before switching to other rested one. But that one eventually became tired so she had to switch back. Harriet wondered if her father had truly fallen asleep. After all, hadn’t he suggested they take a nap to start with? Soon, no amount of hand switching was giving her relief.
“Daddy?” Harriet ventured. “My arms are getting a little tired.” His eyes opened at the sound of her voice. “Can I stop?”
He smiled ruefully at her. “Yes, Harriet, you can stop.”
Harriet could tell from his tone that he was humoring her. “I’m not sure if… did I do that right?” she asked. “Did it feel good?”
He pulled her close to embrace her against his chest. “It felt very nice, Harriet.” Any misgivings about her performance were forgotten as Harriet pressed her naked body against his. It felt nice. Unbidden thoughts filled her head and she remembered how nice it felt when she squatted over his face. The little girl would have liked to do it again, right now, but she found herself too embarrassed to say anything. So instead she cuddled closer and thought about how wonderful it was to be in love with her father.
Harriet lay in bed, staring at the dark shape of the bunk bed atop her. Michelle’s light snoring signaled her peaceful slumber and made Harriet jealous. She squinted at the clock. Almost midnight. It was Friday night, but Harriet didn’t like turning restlessly in bed even if she could sleep in the next day. Outside her window, the wind picked up and made the curtains flutter in the darkness.
Her ears perked up at a small noise from downstairs. She recognized it as the sound of her father’s electronic toothbrush. He was getting ready for bed. Soon, he would be asleep in his own bed too. Then Harriet would be the only left awake, waiting all night by her lonely self. She consoled herself by imagining how everyone would feel sorry for her the next morning when she said she slept terribly. Maybe her father would take them out for breakfast. Maybe she could order a big waffle with whipped cream and maple syrup.
Harriet sighed and pushed the thoughts of food from her head, lest they make her hungry. In all likelihood, her father and Michelle would shrug their shoulders in the morning and they would sit down to boring old cereal. At least it was Saturday. She and Michelle could watch cartoons during breakfast. And then it would be time for Michelle’s piano lesson. And then…
It had become a ritual. On Saturday mornings, Monday afternoons, and Wednesday afternoons, Michelle would leave for her piano lessons with Mrs. Reynolds three doors down. Tomorrow, Harriet imagined, she would skip through the house and look for her father. Maybe he would be working in the backyard shed. Or in the basement, as he sometimes would. Wherever he was, she would find him he would drop the task at hand and dedicate his full attention to Harriet. Sometimes they would remain in the garage or on the couch, but usually they walked hand in hand to her father’s bedroom.
She had initially been uncomfortable, but Harriet had begun looking forward to these encounters. She began to daydream about them at school, or during long car rides, or even sitting in church. The little girl would get that funny sexy feeling whenever she imagined her father slipping a knowing hand inside her underpants or, her favorite, when he lay down and she squatted on his face. Even lying in her bed now in the middle of the night, she felt a tingle of anticipation for the next day.
Harriet sat up to adjust her sheets. It wasn’t until she rolled over that she sensed the wetness between her legs. She blushed, unable to help it. Sometimes thinking sexy thoughts made this happen. Harriet thought it was strange that her body would react like this but her father had reassured her that it was normal.
Suddenly, a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room. Startled, Harriet held her breath and listened. There was no thunder but she now noticed how the strong wind was making the bedroom curtains ripple like flags. Another flash of lightning lit the room and a threatening rumble of thunder accompanied it this time.
Making up her mind, Harriet quietly slipped out of bed. By the time she reached her father’s bedroom, the rain had begun falling in a steady pitter patter. His door was only partially closed so she peeked inside. The mere sight of the lumpy figure under the sheets gave her comfort. Casting aside her pride, she crawled into bed with him.
“Daddy?” Harriet whispered. A crack of loud thunder interrupted her. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
“Mmm? Harriet?” He rolled over. Not waiting for an official answer, she slipped under the sheets with him and wiggled close until he spooned her. “Are you afraid of the storm, sweet pea?”
Too gratified to answer, Harriet took his sturdy arm and wrapped it around herself. Happy to be safe in her father’s arms during a thunderstorm, Harriet contentedly closed her eyes. A moment later she opened them in delight. He was gently easing her underpants off her slim hips.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Harriet was very cross. “I hate Sundays!” she announced to no one as she stomped along the sidewalk. Her heavy violin case swung in her hand as she walked, bumping against her knees with every other step. “I hate Thursdays too! I hate violin lessons!”
She wondered how mad her father would get if she told him this. He would probably be even angrier if he discovered she hadn’t been able to perform to Mrs. Reynolds expectations for the fourth lesson in a row. In a fit of exasperation, the music teacher sent her home early from her lesson. “If you’re not going to practice violin at home, there is really no reason for you to come each week,” Mrs. Reynolds had unfeelingly told her. “Go home and learn this piece. Practice.”
In Harriet’s defense, she had been feeling quite tense and wound up. Michelle had been ill for the past week with a stomach ailment. Harriet, however, had been perfectly healthy and was forced to go to school each morning while her sister stayed home and watched cartoons. This unfairness of this situation grated heavily against the eight year old girl’s sensibilities.
Moreover, Michelle had been allowed to skip her piano lessons all week. This normally would not have made a difference, but it deprived Harriet and her father of the “alone time” that they enjoyed with each other. Being so innocent, the young girl had previously been completely unaware to the concept of sexual frustration but she now knew all too well what it felt like to be denied. To make matters worse, she had tried to initiate a session with her father before her violin lesson today but he had gently rebuffed her.
No wonder it had been impossible to practice violin this week. It didn’t help that Michelle had diligently practiced a little every day despite her illness, thereby making her younger sister look bad. Harriet wondered how to explain to her father that she was 45 minutes early. Then she had an inspiration. “I’ll sneak into the house,” Harriet thought. “He’s probably working in the garage, or maybe the basement. I can just sneak into my room and he’ll never know I came back early. Michelle can keep a secret.”
When she arrived at the house, however, the open garage door revealed no one inside. “Maybe he’s in the kitchen,” Harriet realized, her heart sinking. Seeing no other choice, she crept close to the side of the house, slipping next to the large evergreen bushes that obscured the foundation of the house. Standing on her tip-toes, Harriet carefully peered in the dining room window. It was empty, as was the adjoining kitchen.
That was an encouraging sign. “If he’s not in the living room either, then I can definitely sneak into the house and go upstairs to the bedroom,” Harriet reasoned. She crept further along the hedge, the soft pinelike needles tickling her bare legs. A strange sound startled her. Harriet froze. The living room window was open. Did someone hear her approaching over the broken twigs and rough earth? Hearing nothing now, Harriet slinked to the living room window and got up on her tip-toes again.
Her world screeched to a halt.
Her father was sitting in his favorite armchair. He wore nothing. Michelle knelt on the floor before him. She too was naked. Harriet felt her knees go weak. Feeling suddenly dizzy, she dropped into a crouching position in the pine shrubs. The young girl felt confused at the array of emotions erupting inside her.
“Michelle…” she heard her father’s disembodied voice drift from the window. He said something else but he murmured so low that Harriet could not catch it.
Harriet stumbled to her feet and peeked through the window again, though part of her dreaded what she might discover. Her sister was now hunched over her father’s midsection. Wide-eyed, Harriet watched Michelle’s mouth close on his erect member. Her father moaned. Harriet was horrified. Was she hurting him?
This continued for several minutes. She couldn’t understand why her father was letting Michelle do this to him. She imagined her sister’s sharp teeth biting into him, causing him pain. Her suspicions were confirmed when her father suddenly groaned again, loudly this time. “Oh!” he grunted. Harriet’s heart leapt in sympathy. She was injuring him! He was crying out in pain! Her white fingers gripped the windowsill as she watched her father hold Michelle’s head tight as he cried out again and again.
“Oh Michelle!” he moaned. “Oh! Oh!”
Harriet felt sick to her stomach. Finally her father leaned back in his chair and Michelle took her mouth away from him. Standing up, she crawled onto the armchair and positioned herself on his lap. Harriet expected him to be angry but instead he cuddled her in his arms and stroked her hair.
Completely confused now, Harriet watched as her father stood up, cradling Michelle in his arms for a moment before leaving the living room. Harriet felt a dull pain in her stomach. Retrieving her violin case where it dropped onto the dirt, Harriet stealthily made her way into the backyard. Her father’s window was higher off the ground than the living room or dining room window but she solved that by standing on her violin case.
Michelle was positioned in a manner that Harriet found most familiar. She was squatting over her father’s face, her buttocks firmly cupped by his strong hands. The events in the living room were foreign to her but Harriet had no difficulty in comprehending the situation here. The bedroom window was open as well and she could clearly hear Michelle’s gasps and sighs as she sat on her father’s face.
Harriet felt a wave of nausea. She understood now. Michelle wasn’t hurting their father in the living room. Quite the opposite. She was giving him pleasure. Her father made funny noises. Michelle was making funny noises now because he was giving her pleasure in a way that Harriet was quite familiar with. Harriet, who had always been silent during her orgasms, didn’t know until now about funny noises.
The scene was breaking her heart but she couldn’t look away. Michelle was now writhing wildly. Harriet saw her sister suddenly grasp the bed’s headboard as she violently shivered. “That’s what I do when…” Harriet realized, reeling from the shock of self-recognition. Michelle’s back straightened, then arched as she leaned backward, reveling in the wash of pleasure. A series of soft yet distinct high-pitched yelps escaped Michelle’s lips and the sound of them struck like daggers into Harriet’s heart.
She turned away from the window, sinking to the ground. Being eight years old, Harriet may have been physically immature but her feminine instincts were fully formed. Just as young girls do not need to learn to play with baby dolls, she did not have to be taught the natural reaction of a woman scorned.
Envy. Jealousy. Inadequacy. Rejection. Betrayal.
These feelings overwhelmed her. Despite everything her father had done for her, she had never really mastered touching him. She never wanted to kiss him down there like her father so often suggested. But Michelle did. And all the love he had proffered so generously to Harriet was secretly being given to her sister as well.
She didn’t realize she was crying until her tears blurred her vision. Logically, Harriet knew that he loved both her and Michelle but she had always secretly believed she was his favorite. Their special time together had only confirmed her feelings. But discovering him with Michelle shattered that illusion.
She scrambled to her feet, brushing off the dirt stains on her knees. Picking up her violin case, she glanced through the window one last time. Both oblivious to her presence, her sister was nestled inside the crook of her father’s arm and her head lay tenderly on his chest. Frowning, Harriet saw her hand playfully fondling the flaccid member between her father’s legs.
Harriet curtly turned away and stalked into the garage, taking a seat on a rusty bucket. She had to wait at least half an hour before she could enter the house, or else they would know she had been dismissed early from her music lesson. She sat perfectly still for a long time.
Harriet muddled through dinner that Sunday evening. She slept fitfully, her strange dreams seeming to wake her every quarter hour. A playground song played repeatedly in her head each time she closed her eyes. It was driving her mad.
Ring around the rosie Pocketful of posies Ashes, ashes We all fall down
She had little appetite for breakfast. The school day was just something that had to be endured. Harriet had even forgotten what day of the week it was until late that afternoon when Michelle reluctantly turned off the TV and gathered her piano books.
She would be alone with her father. Or rather, Harriet thought ruefully, it was her turn to be alone with him. Lounging on the couch, she was vacantly staring at her open book when her father sat down with her.
“Hi there, sweet pea,” he said, tickling her feet over her socks. “You’ve been awfully quiet.” Harriet didn’t answer. “How come you didn’t change out of your school clothes?”
“I don’t know,” Harriet replied, pretending to read her book. Her father began massaging her feet. He wasn’t tickling her now. It felt nice, despite the burning resentment she felt in her heart. She ignored him, but his hand soon wandered upward. Past her knees. Past her thighs. Past the hem of the plaid skirt of her school uniform.
Harriet finally lowered her book so she could see him. “Don’t!” she told him.
“What’s the matter, Harriet? You usually like it when I do this.” He was touching her underwear now, tracing small circles.
“I don’t want you to,” Harriet said, not really meaning it. What he was doing now felt even better than when he was massaging her feet. Summoning her willpower, Harriet closed her legs. “Don’t!” she told him again.
Surprised, her father pulled his hand away. “Did you have a bad day at school, sweetheart?”
“No,” Harriet answered, burying her face in her book again. Her father began rubbing her kneecaps. This felt nice too but Harriet instantly thought of him doing the same to Michelle. She shifted position, moving away from his touch. Lowering her book just a tiny bit, she was able to see her father’s confused expression. It made her glad.
“Well, all right,” he said, standing up. “I guess I’ll go… get started on dinner. Or something.” He waited a moment to see if Harriet would react. Instead an awkward silence filled the room. Harriet felt a small measure of satisfaction as he meekly shuffled out of the room.
Michelle’s next piano lesson was on Wednesday. Her father came into the living room where Harriet was playing Wii by herself. Usually, Harriet came looking for him during her sister’s piano lessons and she hoped he was hurt that she had not.
“Hi,” Harriet said, paying him no attention.
“Did you have a good day at school?”
“It was okay.”
“Scoot over. Mind if I sit with you while you play Wii?” her father asked.
Harriet was surprised. She was sitting in the armchair and there was only room for one. Seeing her hesitation, her father lifted her up by the shoulders. Before she knew what was happening, he sat down in the armchair and plopped her down on his lap. “There!” he said, pleased with himself.
Slightly annoyed, Harriet continued playing her game on the Wii. Her father wrapped his arms around her midsection, hugging her tightly. Not letting go, he leaned back until she was reclined against him. She tried to concentrate on her game, but it was difficult because he was nuzzling her neck.
“Don’t, daddy,” she protested. She tried to sit up but he held her tight. “You’re going to make me lose!”
“No, I’m not,” he contradicted. His hands explored her flat chest as Harriet tried to ignore the conflicting feelings inside her body. The icy bitterness of his betrayal was melting against the pure heat of his lips kissing the back of her neck. He shifted her on his lap ever so slightly, his erection making its presence known by pressing hard against the eight year old girl’s leg.
Without meaning to, Harriet shivered, an uncontrollable shiver that started at the base of her spine, racing upward to her reddening ears before boomeranging all the way to her ten wiggling toes. Her father must have felt it too because he instantly moved between her legs, lifting her schoolgirl skirt and slipping a knowing hand inside her underpants. Harriet clamped down to prevent another shiver as his finger delved into her hairless slit.
“Don’t, daddy,” Harriet murmured, the Wii controller forgotten in her hand as all pretense of game playing was forgotten. He was rubbing her tiny button now. It felt good. But…
“DON’T!” Harriet said with more force than she intended. Her father’s hand withdrew imperceptibly and she took advantage by closing her legs to him for the second time in three days. She yanked his wrist, pulling his hand out from her underwear.
Sliding off his lap, Harriet quickly turned off the TV and the Wii. As on Monday, her father’s face was one of confusion but she could plainly see he was hurt too. Maybe even a little… fearful? Harriet was pleased with herself.
“What’s wrong, Harriet?” he asked. “Usually, you like…” He trailed off.
“I don’t feel like it,” Harriet answered as firmly as she could. Spinning on her heel, she went to her room and shut the door before doing a gleeful dance. Harriet remembered the feel of her father’s hardness against her leg. She was somewhat comforted by the fact that he still desired her but she was happier that she had successfully denied him. His sexual frustration was her emotional gratification.
Michelle’s next piano lesson was Saturday. The morning passed without incident. Harriet felt pleased that her father didn’t even seek her out this time. He must know now how upset she was with him, she reasoned. Harriet started sleeping a little better each night. She no longer felt as emotionally fractured as that terrible day when she discovered him and Michelle together.
While she may have been recovering psychologically, the eight year old girl was still riding a hormonal roller coaster. Her father must have awakened something in her young body. She dreamt frequently of sexual encounters with her teacher, with the teenage boy at her bus stop, even with her step mom. With everyone, it seemed, except her father.
She always awoke from these dreams feeling not only embarrassed for having such thoughts but also embarrassed for feeling so excited. She could do nothing, however, but push the thoughts away and get ready for school. The dreams would return later, unbidden, as misty daydreams while she was at school or watching TV.
It wasn’t until two weeks later that the house of cards she had carefully constructed began to totter. It was Wednesday night and Harriet’s turn to wash dishes. Her sleeves were rolled up and the young girl was up to her wrists in sudsy water, busily cleaning while her father and Michelle cleared the dinner table behind her. Since she was facing the kitchen sink, Harriet had her back turned to them but she could clearly see their reflections in the darkened window in front of her.
Michelle was rubbing her father’s shoulders as he sat reading the newspaper spread on the dinner table. This would not usually be out of the ordinary but Harriet instantly noticed how her sister’s movements seemed… different. There was a gentleness and attention in her motions that Harriet could recognize as sensuality, even at her young age. Her suspicions were confirmed when Michelle ran a hand along her father’s chest which made him glance up cautiously at Harriet. Even though her back faced the two of them, she saw her father reproachfully take Michelle’s wrist and move it away from him.
What happened next almost made Harriet drop the heavy frying pan into the sud-filled sink. Michelle slapped his hand and began kissing her father, starting at his neck and moving to nibble his ear. Her father immediately stood up, silently pointing to Harriet who made sure to lower her chin and pretend to concentrate on doing the dishes. It was clear what he was silently saying. “Your sister is in the room, Michelle!” his eyebrows bounced up and down, pointing at Harriet again.
Michelle shrugged her shoulders. Harriet stared with wide eyes as she saw her sister’s hand move to her father’s crotch and give it a squeeze. He didn’t stop her this time so she slipped a hand inside the waistband of his sweatpants. Harriet began to tremble. Unable to look anymore, she plunged her hands into the hot, soapy water and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t even dare to breath because she knew the sobs would be impossible to stop once they started.
Her father rescued her, clearing his throat. “Michelle, why don’t you get started on your homework? Run along now.” Harriet silently counted to five before daring to open her eyes again. Warily peering at the reflection in the window, she was relieved to see her father sitting alone at the kitchen table again. It was awkward but she managed to use the rolled up sleeves of her shirt to hastily wipe away the stray tears that had rolled down her cheeks. The young girl finished doing the dishes and then retreated to her room to finish her homework.
The next morning, Harriet woke up cross and red-eyed. She hadn’t slept well at all and the first thing she thought of was Michelle and her father last night at the kitchen table while she washed the dishes. Dark thoughts filled her head so she tried to push them side by visualizing her upcoming day. But the thought of going to school made her even more cross. Remembering, Harriet realized it was Thursday. Her violin lesson day. Michelle and her father would be alone this afternoon.
The thought was too much for her to bear. Alone in her room this time, she let herself cry. She was still curled into a ball when her father knocked on her door. “Harriet? Are you awake? It’s time to get up, sweetie.” He cracked the door and poked his head inside when she didn’t respond. He sat down on her bed and noticed her streaky face. “What’s wrong, Harriet?”
“Daddy…” Harriet’s voice trembled. She wavered a moment, not knowing what to say. Part of her was very upset with him but another part deeply wanted her daddy back. “Daddy, I don’t want to go to school today.”
To her surprise, her father nodded. “All right, that’s fine,” he told her. “Are you not feeling well?” He put a hand to her forehead to check her temperature. “You don’t seem to have a temperature.”
Harriet rolled over miserably. He would change her mind now, she knew. Instead, he surprised her again. “Missing one day of school won’t hurt anything,” he reassured her. “I have to go make breakfast for Michelle. Are you hungry?” She shook her head. “I’ll check on you in a little bit,” he said, leaving the room. He gently closed the door.
Harriet blinked, wondering if she had imagined the entire exchange. Nevertheless, she pulled the sheets close and stretched on her soft bed. She must have fallen asleep again because she awoke to her father gently touching her shoulder.
“Hey,” he said, smiling at her. “There you are. Feeling better?”
“A little,” Harriet said, rubbing her eyes.
“It’s almost eleven o’clock,” he told her. “Are you hungry? I can make you some tomato soup and a cheese sandwich.” Harriet nodded. “Do you want to eat in bed?” She nodded again. He ruffled her hair and left the room again.
Harriet stared out the window. Staying home on a weekday was always a special experience. The normal neighborhood sounds of kids playing or garages being vacuumed were replaced with new noises. She heard delivery trucks arrive and depart. Lawn care workers chattered in Spanish up and down the block. Even the weekday sun coming through the trees seemed different.
Her father returned carrying a wooden tray with small legs. Harriet sat up to let him place it over her lap. “I’ll be back in a bit to take away the dishes,” he told her. Realizing how hungry she was, Harriet gratefully made quick work of her soup and sandwich. The food was gone by the time her father returned five minutes later.
“That was fast,” he whistled. He moved the tray to her desk so he could sit next to her. “You doing okay?”
“I guess so,” Harriet answered. Her father began stroking her hair. It felt nice. Harriet realized how wonderful it was to be taken care of by her father. “Daddy?”
“What is it, sweet pea?”
Harriet hesitated, dreading his answer. “Is it… is it okay if I skip my violin lesson today too?”
He chuckled. “All right, all right,” he relented. “Everyone needs a day off now and then, right?”
Harriet didn’t answer, but instead cuddled up close, pulling her father’s arm around her. After two weeks of slighting him, the close contact felt incredibly reassuring. Harriet curled up on the bed again, but she didn’t release his arm so he was forced to join her. Soon, father and daughter were comfortably spooning one another.
The eight year old girl’s entire body sighed in relief. The warmth of her father’s arms were matched only by the cozy security he offered. Harriet could feel the tension drain from her tight shoulders as all her pent-up resentment from the past two weeks melted. “I love you, daddy,” Harriet whispered impulsively.
He kissed her tenderly on the cheek. “I love you too, sweetheart.” He paused. “No matter what.” These last words struck a chord deep in Harriet, causing an array of harmonizing emotions to swell within her. She realized that she felt the same way. No matter what, she would always love her father.
Harriet snuggled closer, wanting to feel as close to him as possible. She was surprised, though, to feel something pressing against her bum. Something that emanated from her father’s midsection. Harriet suddenly understood. Despite her youth, she instantly made the connection between love and physicality, emotions and pleasure, need and desire.
Gathering her courage, Harriet sat up. Pushing on her father’s shoulder, she made him lay down on the bed. “What is it, Harriet?” her father asked, puzzled.
Boldly, the young girl pulled at the waistband of his pants. Two weeks ago, Harriet would have been at best uncomfortable in exposing him like this. But now she was different. Harriet felt an innate desire to see his penis, to touch it. Removing his underpants, she was rewarded by the sight of his large erection bouncing free.
Harriet’s eyes made contact with her father’s. He was merely watching her now. He made no movement to encourage or dissuade her so Harriet took his penis in her small hand. It was very warm to the touch. She stroked the length of it once or twice before leaning over and putting it in her mouth.
Harriet was surprising even herself. She couldn’t explain why, but she felt almost… hungry, for lack of a better word, for her father. She hadn’t meant to take him in her mouth. She merely meant to kiss his penis but for some reason it simply felt natural to put it in her mouth instead. He was much too big for her, of course, so she was only able to fit the red helmet into her mouth along with just a bit of his shaft. Harriet let her lips and tongue work on him, basing her movements somewhere between sucking a lollipop and a baby nursing at its mother’s breast.
The look on her father’s face confirmed that, despite her inexperience, she was doing something right. His eyes were closed but his face was one of deep contentment. She heard him murmuring low words of encouragement to her. Though she had seen it several times, she had never tasted his penis until now and she almost regretted waiting so long. It was musky, pungent, and undoubtedly male. Harriet liked the taste of it. She was already associating the taste with giving her father pleasure. The thought of pleasing him was deeply pleasing to her as well.
Suddenly remembering that day she spied through the window, Harriet used her hands to stroke the length of his shaft that was beyond the reach of her small mouth, mimicking the movements she had seen her sister doing. The results were immediate. Her father sighed loudly and his hands moved to her head, stroking her hair in delight. Harriet’s jaw was getting a little tired but she was determined not to stop. Thin threads of her own saliva had seeped from her lips pursed around her father’s throbbing organ but they merely served to lubricate the way for her fingers and palms that gripped his hardness.
“Harriet,” her father began. His breath was short. “I’m going to… I’m about… almost…” His spine tightened. Harriet’s breath pounded in her ears as she saw her father arch his back. She was not prepared for what happened next. His erection pulsated in her hands and she was amazed to feel something squirting into her mouth.
“Don’t stop! Oh god, Harriet! Don’t stop, don’t stop!” Had her father not said this, Harriet surely would have withdrawn in disbelief. Instead she continued stroking him while her pert lips remained tightly wrapped around his cockhead. Her mouth was filling with the foreign substance, however, and since he told her not to stop Harriet had no choice but to swallow it. Salty with strange mineral flavors, it wasn’t like anything she had ever tasted before but it was not wholly unpleasant.
She felt him deflating in her mouth and hands but Harriet didn’t stop until her father told her so. Meekly, she did as she was told. Her father still lay with his eyes closed, a bead of sweat on his brow. “Are… are you all right?” she asked tentatively.
Her father smiled at her. “I’m fine, sweetie. That was wonderful.” He held his arms to her. “Come here…” Harriet happily tumbled into his arms. He held her close for a long moment.
“I love you,” Harriet said for the second time.
“I love you too,” her father said kissing her forehead. He hugged her again before his hands began lovingly caressing her. Harriet felt so perfectly content that she was almost stunned. She didn’t notice her father’s hand snaking up her nightgown until it was tugging on her white underpants. He pulled them down only to her knees before his hand returned between her legs.
“Oh…” Harriet murmured. She hadn’t realized how wet she was until he began touching her. He immediately found her pink button and began massaging it in slow circles. It felt delicious. After a long two weeks of deprivation, Harriet’s eight year old body was aching for release. He had been touching her for less than a minute when the pleasure unexpectedly skyrocketed.
“Daddy!” Harriet shrieked. “Oh! Oh!” The orgasm shook her from head to toe, pulverizing every nerve ending with unimaginable bliss. She lost all precise feeling in her extremities, aware only that her arms and legs were flailing about in pure sexual heat. At last she slumped against him, panting but satiated. Harriet felt a warm satisfaction that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Sharing her father with Michelle was not the ideal solution, but she decided it was much better than nothing.
Harriet snuggled contentedly against him. She noticed his penis was no longer standing tall but instead was limply splayed between his legs. The eight year old remembered what she had done for him and felt proud for having given him such pleasure. His penis was her friend now, she decided. Harriet began caressing it.
“Daddy?” she ventured. “I want to make you feel nice again.” Without waiting for a reply, she scrambled to position herself between his legs and took his flaccid member in her mouth. It was easier now that he wasn’t so hard. A slimy drop of something remained on the tip, but Harriet ignored it as she engulfed him with her mouth.
The young girl gamely suckled her father for a few moments. “That feels very nice, Harriet,” her father told her. “But I don’t think you’ll be able to give me that nice feeling right now.”
“I’ll need to rest for a few hours first.”
“Sometimes you make me feel nice two times in a row,” Harriet reasoned. “Why can’t I do the same thing to you?”
Her father laughed. “Girls and men are very different,” he explained. “Girls… well, I could probably make you feel nice over and over until dinnertime.” Harriet’s eyes bugged out at the thought of this. “But it’s different for men, especially older men like me. Sometimes I need to even wait overnight until I can do that again.”
“Oh,” Harriet said, disappointed. Her father held out his arms again so Harriet returned to cuddling him. Nestling herself in the crook of his arm, she placed her head on his chest.
“I’m glad you’re not mad at me, anymore,” her father told her. Harriet blushed just a little. She realized how childishly she had been behaving for the past two weeks. “Why were you mad? Was it something I did?”
Harriet shook her head shyly. “It was nothing.”
“I was surprised that first day when I came to you but you made me go away.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“You looked so pretty in your school uniform,” her father confessed. “I wanted to eat you up right then and there.”
His praise made her blush some more. “Really? You thought I looked pretty?”
“I always think you look pretty in your school uniform,” her father told her earnestly.
“And it makes you want to…” Harriet trailed off.
Her father grinned at her and pulled her onto him so she was sitting on his chest. “Let me show you,” he said. He pulled at her nightgown. Harriet obediently raised her arms to let him remove it. She was completely naked now. Then he slyly scooted her forward until she was straddling his face.
“Oh… daddy,” Harriet breathed in delight. “Oh!”
Sunday morning. Michelle was studiously practicing on the piano as Harriet gathered her things in preparation for her violin lesson. Her stomach growled. She usually had a snack before her violin lesson but not today. Even though she had thirty minutes to spare, the young girl was following a different script today. Her books were ready in her backpack and her violin case was waiting next to her shoes.
“Hey,” Michelle said, seeing Harriet pass behind her. She looked away from the piano even though her fingers never missed a beat on the piano keys. “Why are you wearing you dressed for school? We’re not going to school today.”
Harriet just shrugged. She went to the kitchen where her father sat reading the paper and drinking his coffee. “Harriet?” He was as surprised as Michelle. “Why are you dressed for school, honey? It’s Sunday.”
“Daddy,” Harriet whispered urgently. “I want to… Can we…” She trailed off and put a hand on her father’s crotch, giving it a squeeze.
“Harriet,” he rebuked her. “I don’t like doing this if we’re not alone. You know that.”
“But daddy,” Harriet pleaded. “I really want you to. Please?” She took his hand and led it under her plaid skirt, between her legs. She saw her father’s eyes widen in surprise when he realized she wasn’t wearing underwear. Harriet took his finger and mashed it against her hairless slit, letting her hips sway so she was grinding against his digit.
Harriet bit her lip. She didn’t know if her gambit would work. She had no idea how her father would react. It did feel nice though, rubbing his finger against her like this. The eight year old shyly smiled at her father. “It feels really good when you do this,” she confided. She saw his eyes shift in the direction of the living room where Michelle still practiced piano. “As long as we hear the piano, we know she won’t come over here,” Harriet told him. She had practiced this line in her head.
Harriet noticed the slightest hint of moisture between her legs. Glancing at her father’s crotch, she was thrilled to see a large bulge where there had been none before. Boldly, she dropped to her knees on the cold kitchen linoleum and freed his cock. Her father didn’t protest.
Exactly twenty minutes later, Harriet was cheerfully walking down the street to Mrs. Reynolds house, ready for her violin lesson. Even though she knew her father and Michelle were alone at home now, it didn’t bother her too much since she knew her father wouldn’t be fully capable.
She rang the doorbell. “Hi, Mrs. Reynolds,” Harriet greeted her violin teacher. Her stomach was still rumbling a little, but it wasn’t completely empty anymore.