I didn’t know until ages later but my mom died giving birth to me and my dad had to raise me pretty much on his own.

I think it sort of all started when we’d be out and one of us had to use the loo. He would take me into the gents, careful to make sure they were empty first of course, and sometimes he would pee in front of me. He tried to cover himself up but I really wanted to see. It wasn’t anything sexual, just natural curiosity.

When I was a bit older I could go to the toilet on my own which made me feel grown up but I missed seeing him. One time when he was in the shower I knocked, very quietly I’ll admit, and then I went into the bathroom. He was in the shower and I saw it once more. It was nice to see it again but then I got scared and ran away.

I think I was about eleven or so when I first noticed I was getting breasts and I rushed to show him. He seemed pleased and said we’d have a chat when he got home from work.

I wasn’t sure why we had to have a chat about them but I was very excited all day knowing that he wanted to have a special talk with me.

When I got home he sat me down and put his arm around me, which was always lovely, and started to explain what was happening to my body. That ladies needed breasts to feed a baby. Then he started to tell me how babies were made.

“When a man and a woman love each other very much the man’s penis--” he began.

“What’s a penis Daddy?” I interrupted.

“Well, honey, where you have your coochie boys have a penis. OK?” he explained. I knew exactly what he meant but I thought I’d be a little naughty.

“What do they look like. Can I see yours?” I asked him, keeping my face very serious.

“Now Emma, I know you peeked when I was in the shower that time. You did didn’t you?” he said but with a little smile so I’d know he wasn’t angry. My face went really hot - I never realized that he’d spotted me watching! He tickled under my chin until I looked up at him and then grinned and kissed me on the forehead.

“It’s OK baby, I understand. You were curious is all,” he said, and I gave him a big smile. He always knew just the right thing to say to make me feel better.

“Anyway, when they love each other a lot the man’s penis gets hard--”

“Does it get bigger?” I had to ask him. Daddy’s penis was already very big and if it got even bigger I really wanted to know.

“Yes sweetheart, it gets a bit bigger too,” he said, and I could tell he was getting a tiny bit cross with me keep interrupting him. “Now do you want to hear this or not?”

“Sorry Daddy,” I said and tried to look sorry.

“When it’s hard the man puts it into the woman’s coochie, or vagina, as grown-ups call it.” I knew I had a hole below where I peed but how on earth would it fit if it was even bigger than Daddy’s?

I think he could see me bursting to ask him a question, but he held up a finger and carried on.

“A special liquid called semen comes out of his penis and finds an egg inside the woman and together they make a baby. It grows inside the woman for nine months until it’s ready to come out.”

Now he pointed the finger at me to let me know he’d gotten to the bit he thought I was waiting for.

“A woman’s vagina is very clever,” he told me, “it has to be able to let the baby out so it’s very ... stretchy.”

I gulped as I thought about that. I could tell he wasn’t joking but it seemed a bit ... far-fetched.

When I got older, about fourteen I think, I started having sexual thoughts and feelings, and I would remember back to those times, how he looked and what he’d said about it getting bigger and harder. I wanted very much to see it again. I especially wanted to see it when it was hard!

It was at about that time that I learned how much pleasure my body could bring me. I delighted in the sensitivity of my nipples and, when I discovered my clitoris, it was one of the happiest days of my life, although I didn’t know it was called that at the time. That first orgasm, as I imagined it was his fingers stroking me, was so powerful, so overwhelming, that I actually got a little frightened.

The older I got the wilder my fantasies got: not satisfied with dreaming about seeing it again I wanted to touch it, and later to lick it. Finally, my mind was full of imaginings of what it would feel like filling up my little stretchy vagina.

I wasn’t stupid: I knew it was never going to happen, but that doesn’t stop a girl from dreaming. It doesn’t stop her from substituting the handle of a hairbrush to get an idea of what his big cock might feel like inside her.

Of course, I considered showing him my body, being careless about keeping my legs together when wearing skirts, or leaving a few too many buttons on my blouse undone and leaning over in front of him.

I thought about doing all those things and more, and fantasized about him losing control and taking me, ravishing me like an animal ... But the alternative was too awful to contemplate: him ignoring me, or worse, telling me to cover myself up because he didn’t want to see it. That would destroy my world and I just couldn’t do it.

The idea that he might think of me badly was awful. If he thought I was a slut ... it didn’t bear thinking about.

So I did what I could without making my feelings for him obvious. I wore clothes that showed off the shape of my developing body, if not too much of the actual flesh. At times I thought I caught him looking at me, but either he was very subtle, or it was just my imagination. I couldn’t ever be quite sure.

And I showed my affection for him in ways that I thought were normal for a girl of my age. I would snuggle up to him on the couch as we watched TV and my heart would beat faster as he put his arm around me and I could rest my head on his powerful chest.

Often, but not too often, I would throw my arms around his neck and get him to lift me up so that I could kiss him, if only briefly, on the lips and tell him that I loved him, but only in a light, childlike way, not in the raw, sexual way that I really felt, full of longing and desire.

In that way, I learned to live with my obsession although it was very far from perfect.

On the morning of my sixteenth birthday, he gave me my presents. I’d been dropping hints for a while of course, and he’d picked up on all of them. I was kind of hoping he might have bought me something that he’d thought of for himself, but he hadn’t. I was very happy with my gifts though and thanked him lots.

I also kissed him for a little longer than usual and was thrilled when he seemed to enjoy it. I felt warm all over and the tingle in my pussy that it caused was gorgeous.

Fridays were one of the days that he worked from home so I knew that he would be there when I got home. That day at school seemed to drag on forever and I was overjoyed when it was finally over.

He was sitting at his desk and I went to him and put my arms around him.

“Thank you so much for my presents, Daddy. I love them all!” I told him, and gave him another ‘thank you’ kiss. This time I was determined to let it last as long as he would allow it.

He put his hands on my waist and we kissed for ages. I was so excited I was trembling all over.

Eventually, he moved me gently away and chuckled. “You did like them didn’t you sweetie?” he said fondly. “Actually I bought you a few more things, they’re up on your bed.”

I squealed with excitement and started to run to my room. Then I stopped, ran back, kissed him again, and said “I love you so much Daddy.” before my curiosity got the better of me and I scampered to my room.

There were six boxes and bags from what I knew were some of the best clothes shops in town.

Suddenly something that had happened about three weeks earlier made sense: Dad had measured me. He’d taken great care to measure all the bits that you needed to buy clothes. He wouldn’t tell me why and, to be honest, when he measured around my hips and then my boobs I wasn’t thinking about the why anymore, I was too busy committing every last touch of his to memory.

I was so excited by what he’d bought that I thought I might wet myself. I opened the big box first and it was wrapped in soft tissue. I folded it back and gasped: it was a dress. A beautiful cream-colored dress.

I lifted it out and held it by the tiny straps and it fell to just below my knees. It was a creamy color and was made of some gorgeous silky stretchy material.

I went through the other packages and there was a dark brown shawl called a pashmina that was made out of cashmere. I’d never even touched it before and rubbing it against my cheek it was the softest thing I’d ever felt.

There was a pair of shoes: strappy, sparkly ones with heels! And lingerie, not underwear, lingerie. It matched the dress perfectly and was made out of an exquisite mix of satin and lace. It was also very, very sexy. And then I found some silk thigh-high stockings.

The last bag contained a tiny, brown clutch bag that matched the pashmina perfectly.

I had to sit down and try to calm myself. Dad must have imagined me wearing all of these sexy things when he chose them. The idea of him touching the little scrap of silk, which was pretty much all the panties consisted of, and wondering what I would look like in them made me quiver all over.

I laid it all out on the bed and stood looking at it. I knew if I wore all that I would look incredible - not like a schoolgirl at all, like an incredibly sexy woman. And Dad wanted me to dress like that!

I could have danced on the spot and I desperately wanted to try it all on and see how it looked on me, but I couldn’t bear the idea of putting those gorgeous clothes on my dirty body so I grabbed my robe and ran off to the bathroom.

I showered and, thinking about those stockings, I borrowed Dad’s electric razor and shaved my legs for the very first time. I even thought about shaving my pussy, but I only had a light scattering of hairs at the top of my mound, and, looking at them, I thought they were lovely just as they were.

I was very, very excited and thought about playing the shower head over my little clit and giving myself a nice cum, but I wanted to try on those clothes even more than I wanted that.

The bra fitted perfectly and managed to make my little B-cup breasts look amazing. The tiny satin ribbon on the G-String felt so sexy between the cheeks of my bottom, just teasing my little bum hole, and I loved them too!

I put on the stockings and looked at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t believe it, I looked like a model on the Victoria’s Secret catwalk. The idea of Daddy seeing me looking like that made my pussy so wet I worried about my new panties, but I had to see the dress!

It was incredible! It clung to my skin all the way down to just above my knees.

The dress was perfect but the straps of the bra showed and ruined it. I didn’t need the support so I tried it without, and it looked so much better. But, now I looked, I could see the slight lines made by the panties.

I frowned as I looked at them in the mirror. Could I? Should I? It was such a thrilling idea it made me tremble as I took them off. Now the dress looked absolutely perfect.

You couldn’t really tell that I was naked underneath except for the lack of panty lines. Well, you could see my nipples showing through the material - they just wouldn’t go down! I stroked them fondly (which didn’t help!) but thought they looked gorgeous, as did my little breasts.

I put on the shoes, wrapped the shawl around my neck, and held the handbag before looking in the mirror again. I looked sooo sexy! I loved it!

I’m not sure why, but I opened the handbag and inside was a little note:

“Happy Birthday darling. I hope you like it. All my love always. Daddy. XXXX.”

My little pussy was tingling madly as I skipped along to show him.

I laughed as his mouth dropped open when he saw me, and I spun slowly on the spot so that he could see how perfect it all looked.