1. Annie and Me


    Date: 11/20/2015, Categories: First Time Taboo Voyeur, Author: brianbigdogsmith, Source: xHamster

    It began innocently, I thought. I just cared about my daughter when she began to have growing painsfrom her onset of puberty. One night I checked on Annie in her bedroom, to find her quietly crying and holding her hands across her chest as she lay on her little canopy-bunk bed. &#034Ohhh, daddy,&#034 she whispered. &#034my chest hurts so much, can you make it better?&#034 I sat down on the edge of the bed and like all parents, tried to figure out what would help make the pain go away. Eventually the pitiful look of my young daughter's suffering led me to pull her up in my lap and fold her in my arms and try to rock her to sl**p. All the while she snuggled in my arms she whimpered and refused to be still. Annie was just a little string bean of a gangly eleven-year-old, a little taller than most, but not too much different from any other normal, athletic schoolgirl. The small little mounds of her proto-breasts were not as large as hen's eggs at that point. In my mind I knew that all k**s go through this period of real &#034growing pains&#034 and that the discomfort was short-lived. But not knowing what else to do, finally I put my hands over her tiny breasts and pressed gently with my palms, my hands cupping and protecting her little boobs. I gently kneaded the barely noticeable lumps, massaging and warming them through her pajama tops. At first she whined and wiggled a little at the unfamiliar touch, -- probably any squeezing was at first painful -- but she seemed to quieten ...
    ... down after a minute. I kept up a gentle, totally non-erotic massage of my daughter's chest until Annie had a deep, gentle rhythm to her breathing. Then I tucked her in and quietly left her room, a thousand conflicting thoughts running through my head. I swear to everyone reading this that I had not even considered any sexual implications until afterwards when I thought of where my hands had been and what I had done -- with a thought to explaining it to my wife, Janet. The next night Annie and I participated in our Thursday night ritual. After dinner and homework, she'd plop down in the recliner with me and snuggle up while we watched all the TV sitcoms. We both enjoyed being together and laughing together, and Annie particularly liked the idea of staying up a little later with her dad. I loved the way Annie smelled, fresh from the bath and slightly damp in her PJ's. It was a heady little-girl smell -- wet hair, strawberry shampoo, soap, and toothpaste. She laughed and giggled and I tickled her during the commercials. Janet, who always liked the couch to herself, would bring us popcorn, half of which ended up on the floor or under us in the recliner cushions as we tossed it at each other. This night Annie was sl**pier than usual and snuggled up close by 9:00. I covered her with a throw blanket, letting her slump across me, her gangly leg crossed over me as she watched the tube. Quietly she reached for my hand and guided it under the blanket to her chest. &#034Still sore there, ...
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