I have a problem. I’m not going to tell you straight out what it is because I think some of you would stop reading right away if I did, and possibly rightly so. Instead, I’ll tell you how I got into this situation.

I’m thirty-two now and I’ve been divorced for two years from Marina. We were high school sweethearts and we married when we were just eighteen. Which, as anybody who knows what they are talking about will tell you, is far too young.

Everything was more or less fine until soon after Denise was born. It was probably not related, but that was about when Marina started to get mean. When she drank she got even worse, and she was drinking a lot. Looking back on it I think maybe she was playing around even then and tried to pick fights with me to give herself an excuse.

A friend of mine saw her all over some bloke in a hotel bar in the next town over and I decided enough was enough. I confronted her about it and she tried to make it all my fault. I won’t bore you with the details but it all got very ugly and I moved out that night.

I found an OK apartment not too far away. and spent a lot of time and money fighting for custody of Denise who was twelve at the time. I really didn’t think that Marina was a fit mother, but the decks are stacked against the father, and we ended up with joint custody on a 2-3-2 plan.

Denise is fourteen now and she coped with everything remarkably well, all things considered. In some ways I see more of her now than I did when Marina and I were together and, because we make more of an effort, it’s normally quality time too.

I’ve had several dates since we split up, always when Denise was with her mother. Many only got as far as me telling them that I had a teenage daughter before their attitude changed completely. A couple had gone further, and I’d had a few nice fucks but no serious relationships. Mostly I took care of my needs with the internet and a box of tissues, not ideal but not as bad as living with Marina.

I went into the kitchen one day and Denise was standing looking out into the garden. At least that’s what I thought she was doing when I first saw her. Then I noticed that she was pressed up against the washing machine, which I could hear was on its spin cycle, and her ass was moving in little circles.

I smiled to myself; my little girl’s definitely turning into a woman, I thought, with a lump in my throat. I honestly thought it was more adorable than anything else. Then she turned around and saw me standing there. Her face turned bright red and her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh God no,” she squealed and burst into tears. She covered her face with her hands and fled from the room, barging past me as she went.

None of us are religious, and we had never, to the best of my knowledge anyway, given Denise any reason to think there was anything naughty about pleasuring yourself. Although, now I came to think of it, I hadn’t said anything to her on the subject, I just assumed Marina would have handled that years ago.

I gave her five minutes to calm down and then went to her room, where I guessed she would’ve gone. I knocked on the door.

“Go away!” I heard from inside.

“I’d just like to talk honey,” I said to her through the door. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, it’s perfectly natural. Everybody does it.”

“Everybody?”

“Pretty much,” I told her. “Can I come in baby? I think we need to talk about this.”

“OK.” I went in and she was sitting on the bed. Her eyes were red but she wasn’t crying anymore. I sat down on the bed next to her and put my arm around her shoulders.

“Are you OK, honey?” I asked her softly, trying to get her to look at me, without much success.

“I’m so embarrassed. I can’t even look at you.”

“Did Mom never talk to you about this stuff?”

“I tried asking her but she just said ‘You’ll have to work it out for yourself like I did’” I cursed fucking Marina under my breath; as I said she could be mean as a snake.

“That wasn’t very helpful of her,” I told her quietly. “I’d like to talk to you about it, but there’s no hurry. Whenever’s good for you.” She finally looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite place.

“Do you do it?” she asked me. Wow, talk about getting to the point, but I saw no reason at all to lie to her.

“Yes, I do,” I told her. She looked a bit happier.

“Masturbation is a normal healthy part of being a human being. It’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, and, in fact, I’m really proud that my little girl is becoming a woman and exploring what makes her feel good.” She actually managed a little smile.

“I think I may be doing it wrong,” she told me. I was a bit surprised by that I must admit.

“Does it feel good, what you’re doing?” I asked her.

“Yes ... but ... God, I don’t know how to describe it.” She was starting to get upset again, and I squeezed her gently.

“Take your time baby, there’s no hurry.”

“You know when you’re going to sneeze and it gets closer and closer and you think you might explode, then eventually you do.”

“Yeah, sure...”

“It’s like that, and the feelings are nice and everything, but the explosion never happens.” I thought my heart might burst with fondness for my darling daughter, and I held her tight and kissed the top of her head.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. That explosion is called an orgasm. It will happen, you just need to be a bit patient and try not to force it.” God, I thought, has she found her clit yet? should I try to explain techniques to her?

“Can you show me Daddy?” The expression of her little face tore at my heartstrings. In her eyes, I had always fixed everything and she really wanted me to fix this.

“I can’t baby. It’s against the law. I could go to prison.”

“Why?”

“It’s just the law. If people have babies with their close families they could end up being deformed.” I saw a flash of anger in her eyes.

“I’m not asking you to give me a baby,” she said, somewhat bitterly. “Just for you to show me how to play with myself properly.”

“I’m really, really sorry darling, I just can’t.” I tried to think of some other way I could help her, but pornography was out of the question, maybe there was stuff on the net that might help? I thought. I even wondered if I should offer to let her have some alone time with the washing machine, but I figured she might freak out on me if I did. I was just thinking that I could buy her some sort of toy online when she told me about Emma.

“I’ve talked to my friend Emma, she’s fifteen, and she’s told me some things, but I still can’t ... you know ... get there.”

I knew Emma’s mom, Sienna. She was also divorced and she was about the same age as me. When I first met her, through Denise and Emma, I thought she was really hot and I’d considered hitting on her. But, what with the girls and everything, I figured it would be just too complicated. In the end, I’d decided against.

I wondered whether there was some way we could get Emma to help Denise.

I saw Sienna the next morning while dropping Denise off at school. I said hello but I didn’t have the first idea how to raise the subject without it sounding totally weird and/or perverted.

That evening Denise was obviously still unhappy and I resolved that, somehow, I would talk to Sienna the next chance that I got.

I saw her the next morning and we waved to each other. After we’d seen the girls off, we got together and I was plucking up my courage, but luckily she got in first.

“I was talking to Emma and I think we should organize a sleepover. Let them explore, practice things with each other, it’s got to be better than them doing it with boys...” I couldn’t have put it better and, coming from her, it sounded perfectly reasonable.

“Great idea,” I told her. “when works for you?” After a bit of toing and froing, we finally agreed on the following Friday.

On that first night, as I went past Denise’s door, I heard them giggling inside.

Emma was like a mini version of her mom. Gingery blonde wavy hair, slightly freckly cute face, amazing big tits, and a spectacular ass. Sorry that was Sienna but, as I say, Emma was probably going to be the spitting image of her pretty soon.

Thoughts of what Emma might be up to with Denise kept me awake for hours.

“Thanks very much for letting me stay over Mr Johnson,” Emma said sweetly to me the next morning and, standing on tip-toes, pecked me on the cheek.

Denise seemed much happier as well.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said and gave me a big hug then a firm kiss on the lips then she whispered in my ear. “Emma showed me everything.” I gulped and tried desperately not to imagine what a fifteen-year-old’s ‘everything’ might entail.

I didn’t see Sienna on Monday morning, but managed to catch up with her the day after.

“The girls seemed to have a lovely time,” she said to me. “Should we organize another sleepover for next Friday?”

“Denise is with her mom on Friday,” I told her. “how about Saturday?”

“Done.”

“This would be easier if we had each other’s phone numbers,” she said, so we swapped cell numbers.

When Saturday came around I was anticipating having trouble sleeping and had a couple of large bourbons before going to bed. It helped a bit.

At breakfast, both girls come down in their nightwear and Emma’s was pretty revealing, it was just an oversized T-shirt that barely covered her bottom. Both of them insisted on giving me a big hug and kiss. I tried to do that kiss where you keep your groin well away, but that little minx Emma still managed to press her crotch against me. I felt myself start to get hard and I had to pull away.

“Can we do it again next Friday, please Daddy?” Denise was almost begging me.

“It’s OK by me,” I said. “but I’ll give Emma’s mom a ring later to check it’s alright with her.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr Johnson, I’m sure Mom will be fine,” Denise told me. She seemed to be about to go for another hug so I backed away a bit. If she’d pressed herself against me now she would definitely have felt something.

After I’d had my breakfast I rang Sienna. After the normal pleasantries, I told her the girls wanted to do another sleepover that Friday.

“I’d like to do it here but Emma’s bed is just too small,” she told me. “If this is going to be a thing I’ll have to look into buying her a bigger one. But yes, it’s fine by me. Emma seemed to have a great time. I think they were playing boyfriend and girlfriend; so adorable.”

This time I had more than a few drinks before going to bed, and took a nightcap with me as well.