My Daughter, the Gymnast: A Stuck Tale.

My wife Molly was always in a hurry. Everything she did, she did full bore and full-on.

Molly arrived in this world early, some six weeks ahead of her due date. She didn’t even wait for her father to get her mother to the hospital. She was born on the side of the Pacific Highway in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia. Her parents were just short of the exit down to The Princess Alexandra Hospital.

She walked early and talked early. Molly passed through school early. By the time she had finished her final year at high school, she was almost two full years younger than her graduating classmates.

Molly got her car licence on the first try on her 17^th birthday. Her first car was a thirty-year-old Ford Escort MkII Sport. It was a virtual wreck with a blown engine when she purchased it. She spent every afternoon, evening and weekend pestering, bullying and helping her three older brothers and father rebuild the engine, strip the car down to the bare shell, and then fix, repair or replace the rusted or damaged parts.

I have no idea where she got the money for parts from, as her family was poor, and she had begun her Uni course, so money was at a premium.

As soon as the car was ready, Molly painted it lime green with black racing stripes and started competing in the local Rally Events. She got to be pretty good, regularly featuring in the local papers and magazines as a ‘rising star’ on the rally scene.

One of the local car companies offered her a sponsored drive, but Molly refused.

You see, Molly thought it was time to marry, settle down, and start having children. Four of them, she had decided. She loved being the only girl and youngest child in a four-child family, and she would have the same.

That’s where I came in.

I’m her husband, Paul. I’m a year older than Molly and lived a street over. Her brother Matt and I were in the same class all through school and are best friends. I spent a lot of time at the Spencer household as I grew up.

My dad had skipped out on my mother when I was just a baby, and mum never really coped. By the time I was a teenager, mum was a drunk. Some people are nice drunks, I hear. My mother wasn’t. She’d get loud and verbally and physically abusive when she got a load on. She got a load on often.

The Spencers, Dad Pat, Mum Valerie, the boys, Fred, James, Matt, and Molly treated me like a kind of de facto other brother and let me sleep on the couch whenever mum got too much to handle.

Molly didn’t say much to me, but she stared at me a lot. Even when she was only six or seven, I would turn from something I was doing with Matt and find her sitting on something, kicking her heels and staring.

It was virtually the only time I saw her motionless. The rest of the time, she would be doing something, kicking something, writing something, or taking something electrical or mechanical apart.

Molly did most of grade 5 with Matt and me. She had been moved up a class at her insistence and was already way ahead of us by the midyear break.

In class, she never spoke to me even once. But she sat two desks over, and I’d often find her looking at me when I looked over at her.

By high school, Molly had moved up another year.

I didn’t know if I was glad or not that she no longer sat staring at me.

On the morning of her eighteenth birthday, Molly came and found where Matt and I were sitting, waiting for our next class. I was only 19 and doing the first year of my teaching degree. Matt had started a mechanical fitter course at the same TAFE (Technical and Further Education Institute) I was studying at.

“Bugger off for a bit, Matt,” Molly told him. “I need to chat with Paul.”

Molly had a bit of a temper, and all the brothers feared her some. When the boys fought, they’d throw punches and maybe try some ‘kung fu’ kicks they’d seen in a movie, but they fought fair.

Molly didn’t. She usually went straight for the balls. Hands if she could, elbows, feet, knees, even teeth, if she couldn’t.

My wife was tiny. Barely 5-foot (152 cm) and only 99 lbs (45 kg). The boys were all as big as me, 6-foot+ (183 cm+) and more than 185 lbs (85 kg), so Molly had no compunction in evening the competition up by using low blows.

Once Matt was out of earshot, Molly turned to me and said, “Dad says I can’t get married until my 21^st birthday, so you’re going to knock me up tonight. That way, you’ll have to marry me because I’m pregnant, and dad will have to agree.”

Molly hadn’t even tried to give me a kiss or hold my hand up until that point. Other than all the staring, I had no idea she even fancied me.

By 19, and after all the time I had spent with the Spencers, I knew Molly was impossible to refuse. No matter what I did or how I tried to evade or equivocate, no amount of dodging and weaving would save me. I was going to end up married to Molly.

Probably, about six weeks from today when the pregnancy was confirmed.

The Spencers owned a three-bedroom house. Matt and Molly used to share a room until Molly’s 11^th birthday. Pat built an extra room on the back porch. It wasn’t much, but it was dry and warm. Fred was shuffled into there. Matt was moved into Fred’s old spot, and Molly got a room to herself.

“Make sure you’re over at ours sleeping tonight, Paul. I’ll come and get you around 1.00 am, and you can make me pregnant.”

Embarrassed as all hell, I mumbled, “Okay.”

I didn’t have a girlfriend and hadn’t had much experience at even kissing a girl. Helen Martin taught me how to kiss. She says I’m the best boy kisser she knows, but I’m not a patch on some of her girlfriends.

Helen even let me get to ‘second base’ one afternoon when we were ‘practicing kissing’, but her mum came home before we could get any further.

“What did Molly want?” Matt asked after Molly had strode off.

“Nothing,” I replied. I sure as hell wasn’t telling my best friend his sister wanted me to make her pregnant.

“Must’ve been something,” Matt said. “Molly never does anything for no reason. What did she say to you?”

Testing the waters, I replied, “She asked if I’d like to be her boyfriend. What do you think?”

Matt laughed delightedly

“You should marry her, and then we’d be brothers for real instead of close enough.”

“Maybe, I will,” I muttered.

“What? Are you nuts? Molly’s my sister, so I love her, but she’s out there, you know? You can’t even ISD (International Subscriber Dialling) where she is. Only a mad man would marry her, and I know you’re not that mad!”

“Let’s just drop it, okay?”

Matt looked at me for some time.

“Jaysus! You’re considering it. You can date her, Paul, but I still think you’re nuts! And if dad, or my brothers, catch you fooling around with her, they’ll fucking kill you, and you know that, right?

Ick ... you fooling around with my sister, ewwwwww!!!!!! That’s just weird, man. She must be like a sister to you.”

“What if it’s what Molly wants, Matt? What do I do then?”

“If it’s what Molly wants, you may as well go and ask dad if you can marry her now cos you’re screwed!”

“I guess I’m screwed then,” I mumbled as the door to my lecture opened, and I walked inside.

Back over my shoulder, I asked, “Can I come to yours tonight? It’s pension day, so mum will have a belly full of grog when I get home.”

“Anytime, bud, you know that.”

I get a little help from the government to study, a little over $250/week. I spent some to buy a rib roast and some winter vegetables for Mrs Spencer to cook for us all. Pat has a secure job with the council, but it doesn’t pay much, so whenever I could help, I chipped in something. Neither Pat nor Val would take any cash, so I got around that by buying food or toiletries.

Every now and then, I’d buy Mrs Spencer a bottle of the Britney Spears perfume that I knew she liked but couldn’t afford. I never made a big deal of it. I just left it in the bathroom when I was over.

I didn’t bother going home after Uni. I knew what would be waiting for me there. A mouthful of abuse and a violent fit throw.

When I got to the Spencers’, only Molly was home. She didn’t act any differently from how she had done every other time I’d been over. She didn’t talk much, just let me in, and then returned to her studies.

I’d asked her what she was studying another time. Her response was, “Nothing, really. I’m just waiting for the time to be right.”

“Right for what?” I’d asked

But all she did was smile.

Val’s car pulled into the driveway. Molly gathered her stuff off the table and went to her room.

Just as she was almost out the door, she turned back and said, “Don’t be falling asleep on me tonight. I don’t want to have to wake you up.”

I’m a virgin teenage boy. Those two sentences gave me the biggest hard-on ever.

Mrs Spencer had done some shopping, so I helped her to bring the bags in. She saw the stuff I’d bought sitting on the sink bench.

“Hmm. Rib roast and roasted veggies for dinner sounds perfect.”

Val hugged me, “You’re a good kid, Paul. Thank you very much.”

‘She won’t think I’m a good kid after Molly has had her way with me,’ I thought.

I was both excited and terrified of what might happen tonight. I mean, how do you go about making someone pregnant?

Don’t be silly. It’s 1998. I know the theory of what to do to make a woman pregnant. I didn’t have any practical experience, though. The most I’d done is the little bit of kissing and soft petting described above.

It was only around 4.00 pm. Somehow, I had to get through another 9 hours before my assignation with Molly. I spent it in a complex and ever-changing swirl of feelings, emotions, and desires.

The two primary ones were fear and excitement. Fear it would all go wrong, that we’d be caught and I’d lose my welcome place in their home, and that Molly was bullshitting me, and this was all some kind of sick game of hers.

Excitement that I would finally lose my virginity. By the way the guys talked, I was the last virgin left from our high school years. Excitement that I would get to see some boob, and did I dare hope to see some vag as well?

“Bit hard to make someone pregnant without going near the pussy,” I told myself.

But I didn’t know what Molly would be wearing. Would she be naked, as I hoped? Or would she keep most of her body covered and just lift things up far enough, or aside far enough, for us to copulate?

I kept getting embarrassing erections at inopportune times.

Just as I thought my zipper had to burst from the pressure of my erection, Mrs Spencer asked, “Paul, do you mind grabbing the butter from the fridge?”

Luckily, James came in from the bathroom and grabbed it on the way past.

It was a work day in the morning, so we all settled down to sleep around 10.00 pm.

I lay there, wide awake, both dreading and longing for the appearance of Molly to take me to her bed.

If I got any more aroused, I might have cum without even tossing one off. I considered having a quick wank to see if I could ease some pressure, but it seemed wrong, somehow.

It took 4,000 years to make it to 1.00 am. Of that, I am absolutely certain!

Molly slipped quietly up beside where I was lying and took hold of my hand.

“Come with me, please,” she whispered.

I swung my feet to the floor. Once I was up, Molly put some cushions in a line on the couch and pulled the bedding over them. In the dark, to a casual, sleepy observer, it would seem like I was still lying there.

Trembling with fear and anticipation, I followed Molly down to her room.

Molly closed the door and then lay a towel along the bottom of the door. Molly covered the shade of her bedside lamp with a scarf before turning it on.

The room was filled with a soft, gentle light.

Molly had a full-length dressing gown sashed tightly around her. I was wearing my boxers and an old T-shirt.

Molly and I stood staring at each other. I didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to make the first move? Wasn’t I supposed to ask permission first?

Our sex education classes at school emphasised the need for constant and ongoing mutual consent. Was this one of those times I needed to ask for it?

I didn’t know. I was too scared to think.

“Paul,” Molly asked in wonder. “Are you a virgin?”

Miserable, I answered, “Yes.”

Molly visibly relaxed.

“So am I, Paul. Would you like to experiment with me? Maybe we can figure this out between us.”

“I’d love nothing more, Miss Molly,” I told her.

“Would you like to kiss me, Paul?”

I nodded.

Molly is barely 5 feet tall (152 cm). I’m 6-foot 4-inches (193 cm). Molly weighs scarcely 99 pounds (45 kg). The last time I weighed myself, I was almost twice that. It took a bit of figuring out how to kiss her.

In the end, I picked her up so I could stand up.

Molly chuckled with delight, then wrapped her legs around my waist. Something very warm was pressed against my T-shirt covered abdomen.

With her legs around me and with her sitting on my hips, Molly was now a little taller than me. She tipped her head forwards and a little to the right, and her lips brushed mine.

I remembered what Helen had taught me and kept my lips firm, but the pressure soft and sucked lightly in as Molly’s lips locked with mine.

We kissed like that for a long time. Molly eventually came up for air.

“That was so nice, Paul. I’ve only ever been kissed by my brothers and dad before. And they sure as hell don’t kiss like that!”

“That was only a chaste kiss, Miss Molly,” I told her. “There’s much more than that.”

“Oh?” She asked. “Show me, please?”

This time, before locking my lips with hers, I softly ran my tongue around the corners of her mouth. I lightly traced the curve of her lips where the top and bottom lips meet, brushed it along her teeth, and repeated the actions on the other side of her mouth.

Molly moaned softly into my mouth as our lips met. Taking advantage offered by her parted lips, I slipped my tongue into her mouth and touched hers with mine.

Molly lifted her tongue to meet mine, and we played our tongues across each others.

My erection was so extreme that it was almost poking out of my boxers and was very close to Molly’s perineum. I think she must’ve felt it as she let herself sink lower.

The warmth between her legs was now only millimetres from the tip of my cock. Unable to control myself, I came.

Some of my shooting cum spat out of the fly of my boxers and landed on Molly’s dressing gown.

Shamefully embarrassed, I dropped Molly onto the floor and turned away.

I was just going to go home, I was that ashamed at cumming without even being touched.

“Sorry, Molly,” I muttered, red-faced and almost in tears.

“Are you ashamed that you came, Paul?” She asked.

Trying not to sob, I nodded.

“It’s the biggest compliment you can give me, Paul,” Molly said. “That you find me so sexually attractive that a mere kiss from me can make you orgasm makes me feel beautiful and oh so sexy.

Come and lie on the bed with me. We’ll kiss some more, and I’m sure you’ll be back soon.”

She was right. As soon as we kissed, I was harder than advanced calculus again.

Molly had her eyes closed, and her breath came in small gasps. There was a strong smell of something I couldn’t name pouring from her. It was musky, maybe like fresh sweat, maybe a little like incense. It was a delicious scent.

I came to learn that smell meant Molly was aroused and wanted to make love. I loved making her smell like that and spent most of our too short life together trying to make her give off that odour.

“Stay there, Paul,” Molly said, then got off the bed.

She took hold of the ends of the sash holding her dressing gown closed and slowly pulled the bow apart.

My lips dry in anticipation, I watched, fascinated, as the bow came closer and closer to falling apart. The sash came undone, and Molly’s gown fell slightly apart. The rock-hard nipples on her tiny 32B chest flashed momentarily into view.

I nearly lost a second load there and then, stopping myself with the barest of margins to spare.

Molly held her dressing gown closed and did a slow pirouette on tiptoes in front of me.

“Tell me you think I’m pretty, Paul,” Molly demanded.

Shaking my head, I said, “Miss Molly, you aren’t pretty. You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. A Raphael painting has nothing on you.”

Molly smiled widely and then dropped her gown.

The woman who would become my wife, and the mother of my four children, stood gorgeously naked in front of me.

I had never seen anything so exquisite in my life. Never have since, either.

That’s not entirely true. There is another equally as gorgeous. You’ll hear about her soon.

“I want you to make love to me, Paul, please.”

“I don’t know how,” I almost cried.

“We’ll work it out together, honey. Take your clothes off and lie with me, okay?”

I quickly dropped my boxers and flung my T-shirt aside.

Molly walked over to the bed and hungrily devoured my naked form with her eyes.

“So lean and yet so well-muscled,” she said admiringly.

I’d competed in track with some modest success at High School and still ran almost 40 miles weekly. Running is a good stress reliever and a great way to blow your mind clear so you can think with an uncluttered mind.

I had solved many difficult Maths problems on my daily run.

“Your cock is so beautiful, Paul. May I touch it?”

“If you do, I’m probably going to cum again,” I warned.

“Don’t freak out, but I want to try something I’ve heard the other girls talking about, okay?”

I nodded.

Molly knelt on the bed and took my smooth, circumcised cock in her right hand. I’m very hairy, so I like to trim the hair away around my jockey brief area. I’m not bald around there, but the area is cropped pretty short.

I think it makes my dick look bigger. I’m not huge, just around the 7-inch mark. The guys I’d seen in porn movies were much larger than me, so I thought I was probably a little under average.

Molly seemed satisfied with it, though. She gently wrapped her hand around my shaft and gave me a bit of a tug.

As feared, I started to orgasm straight away. To my pleased surprise, Molly bent over and took the head of my cock in her mouth. Cumming copiously, I blasted her mouth full of my semen.

After I’d come down from my orgasmic high, Molly let my softening dick fall out of her mouth.

Wiping the excess spillage from around her mouth, she smiled, then said, “Hmm—interesting taste and texture. I had snails once on a trip to a restaurant for French class. It kind of tastes like that.”

Molly looked at me seriously, “Would you like to taste me, Paul?”

Eagerly, I nodded my head.

Molly climbed onto the bed, gave me a soft kiss, and then lay on her back with her knees lifted and spread.

Nervous, I moved between her parted thighs. Her hairy pussy glistened with moisture in front of me. Moving slowly forward, I brought my mouth closer and closer to Molly’s pussy.

I hesitated just short of my goal as I was scared to continue in case I did it wrong and hurt her.

My arousal was extreme again, though, so my breaths were blowing hot and quick across Molly’s clit.

“That feels so good, Paul,” Molly moaned. “Taste me with your tongue, please, baby.”

Hearing this and smelling her arousal made it easy for me to let my tongue slide forward. I touched it to the entrance to Molly’s vulva and tentatively gave a bit of a lick.

The taste was indescribable. A mixture of a little salty, with a flood of almost honey behind it. It was divine, I decided and lapped some more.

Peach nectar was what I thought Molly tasted most like.

Molly’s hands took hold of my head, and she guided me a little higher onto her clitoris.

Trying to keep her moans to a quiet enough level not to wake anyone, Molly guided me up and down her slit. Sometimes gasping as I tongued her clitoris, other times moaning as I lapped at the juices running from her pussy.

It didn’t seem to take long before Molly put her left hand on the back of my head so she could grind her pussy against me. She stuffed the fleshy part between her thumb and forefinger into her mouth and then bit down on it hard to stifle her orgasm moans.

I almost came with her, it was so hot, but I didn’t quite fall off the edge, thankfully.

“Two for you, one for me,” Molly smiled. “Would you like to see if you can even the score up?”

I was eager to try, of course.

“What would you like me to do?” I asked.

Molly glanced away, suddenly shy. For some reason, she blushed.

“What is it?” I queried.

“It’s a little risqué, and maybe a little dirty,” she confessed.

“What?”

“Will you tongue my butthole?” She pleaded. “The girls in my sex-ed class all say it’s the best thing ever.”

I was hesitant. It didn’t seem wrong, or even dirty, just ... I don’t know ... maybe too much for my first time.

“You think I’m a freak,” Molly whispered, almost in tears.

“I most certainly do not, Miss Molly!” I exclaimed.

“If you call me Miss Molly one more time I swear I’m going to scream! I’m not a school teacher, or your spinster aunt that’s 1,000 years old. I’m your girlfriend and soon to be your wife.”

“Sorry, Miss ... ahh ... Molly. Look, I don’t think you’re a freak, okay?”

“Will you do it then, please, Paul?”

“Of course, my love,” I responded.

“My love, nice. That’s better than that other name.”

Molly lay on her stomach so I could access her rear love hole.

‘Fuck it,’ I thought. ‘Molly wants me to do this, so why not?’

I took hold of her butt cheeks and pulled them a little apart, exposing her soft pink ring. Unable to resist, I took a faint sniff. Molly had done an excellent job at cleaning the area. Her starfish smelt fresh and clean. Maybe a little musky from the juices of her arousal flowing there from her pussy.

Sure that she was clean, I touched the tip of my tongue to her rosebud. Molly quickly stuffed her face into her pillow to stifle her moans.

I’d seen a porn film where the male partner had done this, so I slipped my hand between Molly’s thighs and found her clitoris. As I circled Molly’s ring with my tongue, I ran my finger over and around her clit.

Molly came sooner and harder than she had with my tongue on her pussy. Her juices gushed from inside her.

I didn’t know it at the time, but my soon-to-be wife was a squirter and multi-orgasmic. I was one lucky guy!

“The scores are tied going into the bottom of the ninth,” Molly intoned as if she was a sports commentator. “Time to make love to me, Paul, please. I want to feel you inside me.”

Molly rolled onto her back and spread her legs. Rock hard but terrified, I moved between her thighs. My large body covered her tiny one. Weirdly, given the height difference between us, once I was in position, between her legs, and with my penis close to the entrance of her vagina, we seemed to be approximately the same size.

I was gazing directly into Molly’s eyes, so I kissed her.

Molly moaned, then lifted her hips so that her labia was pressed against the head of my cock.

“Push your hips forwards, baby. As you push forwards, I’ll push up. That should work.”

But it didn’t. Molly gave a sharp intake of breath as the head of my cock slipped a little inside her. But it hit her hymen, and I was so terrified of hurting her that I couldn’t make myself shove hard enough into her to break it.

I didn’t know what to do. My instinctual brain was screaming, ‘fuck that pussy!’, but my civilised mind was warning me in a low cultured voice, ‘Pain is violence. Under no circumstances shall a man commit an act of violence against a woman.’

Molly fixed it.

“Lie on your back, Paul. I’m going to ride you.”

I quickly rolled over.

Molly knelt with her knees on either side of my body. She took my cock in her hand and guided it to the entrance of her pussy. Molly placed her right hand in the middle of my chest for balance, held my extreme erection in her hand, and then slowly lowered herself onto it.

I closed my eyes and concentrated as hard as I could on not ruining everything by cumming too soon again. The temptation to look became too much, and my eyes opened just in time to feel something stretch and then tear across the head of my penis.

I heard Molly yelp softly as her hymen broke and saw a splash of blood spray onto my pubic bone.

In wonder, I felt Molly’s pubis come to rest on my pubic bone. Her perineum was hot against my balls.

Neither of us were a virgin anymore.

It was more than my 19-year-old’s lusts could take. Molly had to hold her hands over my mouth to try to stifle the expansive groan I gave as I came inside her tightly gripping pussy.

Molly held still as I spasmed again and again, and then for a third, fourth, and fifth time inside her.

“You feel so good inside me, Paul,” Molly breathily whispered. “I’m going to try and ride you, okay?”

I quickly nodded.

This time, I hadn’t gone soft at all after cumming. It was like my mind had gone, ‘this is what a man does he comes inside his woman. Now you need to take care of her needs’.

Molly was able to work out how to lift and lower her hips in no time at all, and her hot wet pussy was soon sliding deliciously up and down my cock.

Molly leaned forward to watch her pussy raise and lower on my erection.

“That feels so wild, Paul,” she moaned. “So wild and so very good. Oh my! Oh, my sweet Jesus, I’m going to cum.”

I felt something warm and wet splash over my balls and run between my thighs. It was all I could do to not orgasm again, but I wanted to hold off in case Molly needed some more.

She did.

Molly took my hands from where I was clenching the bedsheets and placed them on her big nippled, tiny breasts. Tossing her head, her dark brown hair flying all over the place and biting her bottom lip to stop from moaning, she rode me like I was the second running horse in The Melbourne Cup, and she was going to drive me to first if it killed her.

I didn’t think I could last another second when Molly fell forward onto my chest, kissed my mouth, and said, “Cum in me, Paul. Cum, and we’ll make a baby together.”

There was no way of stopping it. My nuts squeezed tight against my shaft, and I pumped Molly’s slippery pussy full of semen. As I came in her, Molly stuffed her wrist in her mouth to bite so the groans of her cumming wouldn’t be too loud.

My balls received another washing with Molly’s juices.

Molly slid off me and then lay on her side so she could put her head on my chest.

She sighed deeply, “That was so good, Paul. I think, maybe, you should sleep over again tomorrow night. We’ll make love again, just to make sure I’m pregnant, okay?”

There was not one place, or anyone else, in the world I wanted to be or be with just then!

“What do you think we should name our first son, Paul?” Molly asked.

I smiled. I knew Molly well enough to know she had already decided the names of our prospective children.

“I always liked Albuquerque,” I joked, picking the weirdest name I could think of on the spur of the moment.

“Your need to make jokes at the worst of times can be very endearing, Paul, just not right now,” Molly admonished me. “I’m being serious. What do you think we should call him?”

“How do you know it won’t be a girl?” I asked.

“Because I’m having three boys and then a girl,” Molly told me as if it was already a done deal.

“Boys first because they need the most work young, and the least work old. Then a girl because you will need someone to look after you after I’m gone,” she added in what proved to be an eerily prophetic statement.

We made love three more times that night before, around 5.00 am, Molly woke me and shooed me off back to the couch in time for her father to see me when he got up at 6.30 am to start work.

I couldn’t sleep, so when Pat got up, I got off the couch and made us a cup of tea.

Sitting opposite him at the table, I waited until he had finished his first cup and made him another before I said to him, “I’d like your permission to date Molly, Mr Spencer, please.”

Pat looked evenly at me for a time before saying, “You both have my blessing, Paul.”

He held a finger up, though, “I know you kids are all screwing as soon as you get old enough these days, but I don’t like it. I think men and women need to be emotionally mature before they commit to something as meaningful as sex. Valerie and I were both virgins on our wedding night. I was 23, Val 21. I want Molly to be at least that old and married before she gives herself to a man.”

‘Too late,’ I thought. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to say that now.