Chapter 1

“OK darling you’re in the right place now. I’ve got your list and I’ll bring this stuff back at lunchtime when I can next be allowed in,” I told my beloved wife Helen, kissing her and being fussed away. I turned to leave the admittance ward, glancing round at the other five beds in the General Hospital, as another doctor homed in on Helen and a bossy Polish nurse ushered me away. I got to the entrance to the corridor and Helen called out. “Jim, sorry I forgot but Lou’s just started her p ... er ... you know, call mum she’ll help, but she’ll need help before she goes out. Sorreeee...” I waved back smiling and nodding as if I understood, but I didn’t and Helen didn’t need me to worry about trivia when in pain in her nether regions or down below as she and her mother June called it, threatening things more serious. She’d thoughtfully compiled and written a list of stuff in the ambulance, she would need for a few days while being treated. I’d followed in our car, having gathered a few obvious essentials, luckily at 5.45am on a school morning before the traffic increased dramatically. No doubt the ambulance would have got through later flashing Blues and Twos, but I wouldn’t have.

Before driving home I sent a text to her parents, advising them of the situation and her whereabouts.

Lou was up and getting her breakfast already when I got back, such a thoughtful kid, a bit wayward in learning and common sense, not being able to pick up stuff like housekeeping, cleaning, clothing, shopping and cooking. Give her a smartphone, which we hadn’t but I let her use mine, Lou was a whizz at games and social media, which Helen and I detested. As usual at that time Lou was part dressed, wearing the top of ScoobyDoo pyjamas, which just managed to conceal her bum cheeks. Her slender legs were bare and she wore no slippers.

I made a pot of leaf tea, we hate tea bags, and made some toast and sat with Louise and chatted about of all things - the ambulance men, Lou giggled saying her mummy had commented they were dishy. Men in uniform ... yes. We had loads of time, being alerted so early, so while plundered the keyboard on my Samsung, I switched on the TV catching early news, nothing dramatic, just the fucking silly antics of the BBC Breakfast presenters who make the news a bit like Jackanory. One of their guests however was a 34 year old black jazz player Yolanda Faye Brown. Never heard of her, but what a stunning saxophonist, who was the first female black jazz performer at the Royal Albert Hall Proms.

I ogled her for a while, she was just my perfect main lust, guessing she wasn’t tall and elegant, but had a nice pair of tits ... and legs, dressed in a one piece, skinny, clinging, lace topped, carefully cut, shiny black dress and sat discreetly to one side, but showed the viewers a lot of light brown bare thigh. Lou passed through the lounge to the downstairs toilet, glancing at the 34” screen and not commenting. I switched it off and wandered upstairs to sort out Helen’s list. It was then I spotted the spots of blood on the bed sheets which had alerted her, then me, hence the ambulance. Helen knew what her problem was, being a doctor. I stripped off the sheets, including the under-sheet and bundled them ready for a wash cycle ... Ooh I must remember to try and clean off the blood before hand with a stain remover. It’ll be somewhere. I attempted to stuff the sheets into the wash basket in the bathroom and caught sight of more blood ... then...

“Daaaadddyyyyyyyeeee!” came the anguished call from below. It was fairly normal for Lou to shout for us, she was often struggling with simple things, like cupboard catches, replacing toilet rolls, finding fresh bottles of shampoo – like I said, simple everyday normal things and common sense. I guessed this could be a toilet roll knowing she was in there and sauntered onto the landing. “What?” “Please come and help me daddy,” “Help you? You know how to do toilet darling.” “No I need help, honest.” I decided it wasn’t that urgent and went back to the bathroom, the soiled sheets were a big king sized bed pile. Again I glanced into the basket and realised the small stain I had seen wasn’t on a sheet or a towel, but on a tiny pair of panties. I knew Helen didn’t have a problem before her self diagnosis, which was when she’d woken to go to the toilet and showed me the mess. But these weren’t her smalls. They were Lou’s ... fuck me, that’s what she’d been trying to advise me as I left the hospital, the kid had started her periods. Oh shit, another awkward female session in the house.

“Ddddaaaaaaaaaddddddddddeeeeeeeeee!” “Coming sweetie,” I answered, starting downstairs, wondering what I would face. I knocked on the toilet door and she opened it, leaning forward from where she was sat. I could see her current knickers round her ankles, the gusset clearly very bloodied. Tears were streaking down her plain, snub nosed face, her straight shoulder length fair hair, plastered to her face. There’d been a lot of tears. “What’s happening daddy, Mummy told me but I didn’t understand,” she wailed, the tears back in full flow as she pointed at her panties. Shit! This is not a dad’s job, for fucks sake Helen. I could call Helen’s mother, but she would be annoyed about waking her, then getting her to drive 40 miles and she hated my guts since my early dalliance with one of our neighbours, which Helen had dismissed as trivial. Right Jim get on with it, I told myself putting aside the usual thoughts when June comes to mind...

I told Louise to pull up her knickers and follow me up to the bathroom, which she did, although I noticed the panties weren’t hauled up as tight as they should be, they looked a little like a nappy the way they hung. She held her pyjamas up high as I knelt and dragged the soiled cotton garment down and she stepped out. She happily – wrong word, although she did acquiesce in letting me swab her genitals with a cloth and warm soapy water. My – her pussy was a sweet thing. It’s soft fluffy down covered her slit well and extended into quite a large vee shape up over her pudenda. Making sure I removed all bloody marks, I had to venture into the slim folds of her protruding inner labia and accidentally touched her clitoris, making Lou jolt. I murmured a sorry and continued, with clean water and minimal soap.

A trail of her pubes filtered a cute line up to her button navel and just for a giggle, getting one, I twiddled the knot. Lou turned and bent forward over the bath edge, opening her legs, my daughter was so obedient and uncomplaining, and I sluiced her arse crack and her pink rosebud of a sphincter, which I noticed, it was the first time, was framed in quite a definite area of darker brown skin. It reminded me reading an article somewhere how glamour models are going in for very localised bleach round there – stupid bitches. The thin delicate glaze of fair hair that carpeted her inner buttocks was truly delightful spoiled only by one small red spot near the top of her crack.

My mobile trilled in my pocket and I studied it, while Lou dried her privates – there’s a laugh. It was Judy. I left the message to answer for later thinking we would probably meet later at the visiting times in hospital. She was an ex matron in a private hospital, now retired, only fifty. Her old man Trev was loaded. Judy was a buxom, thick waisted, bleached blonde with poor legs, no ankles but always wore tight fitting clothes revealing a distinct VPL which betrayed her choice of knickers for the day, sometimes biggies, sometime not much more than thong. Judy’s cleavage was always on show and I must admit to thinking about wallowing amongst her big sumptuous knockers.

Louise stood motionless before me, peering down at her crotch, still holding her ScoobiDoos high. Unconsciously I flexed my cock and chastised myself, but it was after all a beautiful female showing me her sex. Gathering myself, I stood and checked into Helen’s bathroom cabinet, we have our own and luckily, no Jim it wasn’t lucky, I found the packet of Boots Pearl tampons. Lou gazed at the blue box as I extracted the tampon and it’s applicator.

“Now darling, this has to go inside your ... er your...” “Thingy? In there?” “Yes inside your thingy, hasn’t mummy told you the proper word?” I got a shake of her head as I unpeeled the wrapper. “Let me show you ... you’re sure mummy hasn’t showed you?” another shake. I got Louise to open her legs and probed her vagina slit carefully, pushing gently until I found her entrance. I pushed the tube in, ready for a reaction of some sort, maybe some resistance, but there wasn’t any. Fuck she isn’t a virgin, but there again not unusual. Soon my two fingers were inside her young cunt. It was strange, both exciting yet weird to be poking about in my offspring’s twat. Give me the chance anywhere, with anyone and I’d be first in line, but this... “Now once you’ve ... you’re going to have to do this each time darling ... once a month, you push it right in like I have,” the heat round my fingers was incredible. “Then you pull out the outside ... sort of tube thing and it leaves the towel kind of thing inside your er ... thingy like that.” I showed Louise the outer casing and bade her to look between her legs to see the pristine white string dangling. Lou stared and peered lower and closer, then snuck a hand and grabbed the striing. She gave it a sensitive little tug and I feared the worst – was it the worst – having to do it all again, but she seemed satisfied the alien object would remain. She grinned at me.

“That’s clever daddy, will it stop the blood?” “No it won’t stop it, just soak it up and keep your knickers clean and your clothes of course. It’s OK yeah?” “Yes and it doesn’t hurt.” “No it won’t. I’ll speak to mummy later and tell her what a brave girl you are. She’ll be pleased,” I chuckled, washing my hands and dealing with the tampon wrapper and then the carton. Helen will also be amazed that I did it too.

We got properly dressed and my daughter and I went our usual separate ways. I visited Helen in the afternoon just after lunch and bumped into Judy, she going in, opposite to me. Fuck! She looked both stupendous and formidable, like a ship in full sail as she swept across the rather ornate foyer of the ancient county hospital. Judy had to make a statement wherever and whatever she was doing and her bright red designer horn rimmed spectacles announced her presence before anything else. Her hair was styled immaculately, with just the right amount of curls to one side. It was a hot day and she had chosen a navy blue, form fitting, above the knee length skirt. A habitual sun lover, her shapeless legs were bare and tanned. On her feet there were preposterously high heeled, navy blue stilettos, which improved her legs tremendously just by pronouncing some muscle tone. Her bounteous bust was clad in a pale lemon, silk, blouse, with buttons all the way down the front, but open enough to make sure men ogled four inches of dark brown cleavage and a carefully structured bounce and sway. Under that I could clearly make out the lines and shape of a skimpy black brassiere ... what a tart and me a voyeuristic perv, for noticing.

After chatting briefly, she marched in and I took the opportunity to swivel and leer at her retreating vista, catching both the lines of her panties and a grin from a hospital porter pushing an empty bed who had swivelled too. Outside in the car park, luckily Trev who was leaning against his Bentley Flying Spur V8 on his mobile, wouldn’t have seen my ogling. I approached him and he finished the call and we chatted too, then he followed the dragon as I called her to Helen.

My wife was doing fine, tests had been made and medication prescribed and a couple of nights rest and recuperation would sort her. I took Louise out to her favourite KFC. In the car one the way back home she took out her earpieces, which had been treating her to the charms?? of Olly Mers. “Daddy ... That thing in my ... er my thi ... my vagina, it’s still there.” she told me. I glanced down at her bare legs which were curled beneath her, knees towards me, she was wearing a blue patterned pair of summer weight all in one shorts. As usual with me and I hope not with other males – of any age, she didn’t bother to sit demurely, so I could see the botJago and inner curve of her buttock and a wisp of pink panty. My cock lurched guiltily. “Of course it is sweetie, I told you that. Not causing any problems is it?” I responded, thinking maybe since the insertion she’d been fiddling with it. “No but maybe you had better check it’s in properly later...” One of my two mobiles warbled and I stopped to check it, being my work device. I am a pilot employed by a billionaire, who demanded instant action. Helen and I understand that I have to disappear instantly when he calls me in. It pays extremely well, we are well set and have loads of spare time, only disturbed when I was needed on duty, which could be several days

It was Ben Menatray and he needed me at Blackbushe airstrip within two hours. Arrangements were needed in my life. Judy and Trev came to the rescue as they do when not on their many vacations, but always our first call in emergencies, Helen had decreed being close family. Trev would collect my wife and take her to their place. Helen rang round and secured a few nights stops for Louise with one of her close pals.

Four days later I arrived at Trev and Judy’s palatial residence. It was early evening, they were expecting me. The road back home was closed due to an overturned articulated truck and the alternative route was horrendous in terms of adding about 50 miles in distance, road surface, tiny hamlets to thread through and quite frankly I was knackered after a lot of flying time and demands. I decided I would stay the night. Helen was up and about, taking it gently, but threw a meal together for her and I, our hosts were dining out. Judy fussed about helping her, incongruously dressed to the nines in a black evening gown. She had changed her eye glasses to a severe black executive style pair. The satin dress was off her robust shoulders and yes with a plunging neckline. A back line plunged even further, I loved the flow of meaty skin tones of her rear torso, then realised there was no evidence of a bra strap – wow! But these women have many devices and Helen answered my innocent query saying Judy would be using tit tape.