I was late home from school. Nicole had been caught talking to me in the middle of English class and we’d both gotten detention, which didn’t seem fair, but what could I say?

I came in the front door and saw Dad in the lounge to my left. As always, I was delighted to see him and turned his way to give him a big smile and to say hi. I was very confused by the look he gave me back: kind of horrified. I heard him cry out my name just before my feet bumped into something and I began to fall forward. I instinctively put my hands out to break my fall, but as I landed there was a horrible cracking noise, and pain shot up both of my arms.

I tried to get up, but as soon as I put any weight on my hands the pain was unbearable. I rolled over onto my side with my hands cradled in my lap while trying not to touch them at all.

“Maria, are you alright?” Dad cried as he came running out of the lounge. He squatted down beside me and gently put his arms around me.

“It’s my hands, Dad. I think maybe I broke something.”

“Fuck. I shouldn’t have left that bag in the hall. I’m so sorry, darling.”

Then I felt a huge wave of nausea. “Dad, quick, get a bowl, I’m going to be sick.” I managed to hold on until he put a bowl under my head and then vomited into it. Just as I thought it might have passed, the world seemed to gray out around me. The next thing that I knew, Dad was carrying me to the car.

Somehow he managed to lay me down on the back seat without disturbing my hands hardly at all. I remember wondering when he got so strong just before everything grayed out again, only regaining consciousness as he was lowering me into a wheelchair outside the hospital.

The triage nurse was fairly sure that I’d broken at least one finger on my right hand and possibly my left wrist.

What followed was a blur of long periods of waiting, followed by bursts of frantic activity as X-rays were taken and an ultrasound done. After I’d been properly assessed, they gave me some pills which took away most of the pain. A very nice Doctor later explained that I’d broken the smaller two fingers of my right hand and sprained that wrist. In my left hand, three of the four metacarpal bones (the ones in my palm) had been broken and it would require a full cast to immobilize all of my fingers. “A very thorough job,” she said with a wry smile. “I’m afraid you’ll be down to two fingers and a thumb for six to eight weeks, Maria” After more waiting, splinting and casting, and then one final X-ray, we were finally allowed to go.

By the time we got home, I was desperate for a pee. I stood in front of the toilet and immediately realized that there was no way I was going to be able to pull my panties down. As I walked quickly but carefully back downstairs I was getting more and more excited.

I’d always adored my dad. We’d become much closer after Mom left us to chase her toyboy back to France, and it had been just him and me. That had been when I was about eleven, and it had been a few years later that my feelings toward him had begun to change. When he held me, as well as the intense feelings of safety and bliss that I’d always had, I’d started to feel a warmth ... spreading out from between my legs.

I still remember the very first time I touched myself there after a particularly lovely cuddling session with Dad in front of the TV. I think I was fourteen then and the tingling that I’d felt had been too strong to resist. I’d lain in bed later, properly exploring myself and the amazing new sensations for the first time.

As I rubbed the little bump at the top, where the feelings were most intense, I found myself thinking about him, dreaming of him looking at me naked or touching me. I vaguely understood that it was wrong, but it didn’t feel wrong, it felt very, very right.

It felt so good that I touched myself a lot in the year or so after that. But I always stopped when I thought that I might pee, or when my heart was beating so hard that I thought it might burst.

I hurried back to Dad, who was sitting in the kitchen looking miserable. He took one look at my face and then stood up, his expression full of worry.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I need your help, Daddy,” I said, close to tears. “I can’t ... pull my panties down ... and I’m desperate.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said his voice full of sympathy. “Come on.” He put his arm around my shoulders and guided me back to the bathroom, standing me in front of the toilet and then dropping to his knees.

Even though my bladder was close to bursting, I still felt a rush of excitement knowing that my Dad was about to put his hands up my skirt and pull my panties down! I shivered as his hands brushed my thighs and then felt them touch my butt as he tried to find the waistband. My clit was tingling like mad and I’d almost forgotten about needing to go, silently hoping that he would keep fumbling around forever.

When he finally got his fingers in the right place and pulled my panties down to my ankles I was literally trembling with excitement.

“There you go, honey. I’ll be just outside the door if you need anything else,” he said, climbing to his feet and hurriedly leaving me to it. I plonked myself down and the relief as I let go was huge. But even so, the thing that I felt most was utter joy that my Dad’s hands had been on my bottom and I’d been almost naked in front of him!

When I’d finally finished peeing I had a horrible moment when I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to wipe! By leaning way over to my left, I found that I could just about manage to dry myself, which was an enormous relief. Then I started to wonder how I would deal with my panties in the future. When the answer came to me it was both scary and a thrill: I’d just have to not wear any!! I kicked them off my feet and stood up.

“Daddy, you can come in now,” I called out.

He came in and saw my panties on the floor. “Don’t you want me to...?” he began looking very confused.

“I think it’ll be easier if I don’t bother,” I explained. “You won’t be around all the time, Daddy. Like when I’m at at school.”

I saw him look down at the top of my legs and my kitty tingled again as I wondered if he was thinking about me being all naked under my skirt. Was he imagining what my pussy looked like? Or was he sad because he’d been hoping to reach up under there again? Either idea was incredibly thrilling.

For the rest of the evening, my lack of panties had me in a state of semi-arousal: partly it was the cool breeze on my pussy but mostly it was the fact that Dad knew that I was bare down there. Every time I so much as moved my legs, his eyes were on me in a flash. A couple of times I nearly giggled, and I was very tempted to open my legs a little and let him see, but I resisted, not sure how he might react.

“I think I’ll go to bed then, Dad,” I said eventually. “Thank you for looking after me.” I gave him a goodnight kiss.

“I’m just so, so sorry that my stupidity got you hurt, Maria,” he said for the hundredth time. “I’ll come and give you a hand.”

I led the way to the stairs, but then he put his hand on my arm. “I’d better go first,” he said with a little smile. Oh God, it hadn’t even occurred to me that he’d be able to see up my skirt! But clearly, he had been thinking about it...

I might have been able to undo the buttons on my blouse, but instead, I just stood in the center of my room with my hands outstretched, more than happy for my dad to take off my clothes in any order that he chose. He made me wait a little by getting my nighty from under the pillow and spreading it out on the bedcover. Then, unsurprisingly, he went for the blouse first and his hands seemed to be trembling as much as I was as he undid the buttons.

As he pulled back the sides and exposed my little pink bra my pussy was going mad. What would he choose next? To see my breasts or my kitty? I turned around, wanting to save the best until last, and my trembling intensified as he struggled with the clasp. Finally, he did it and I shrugged the straps off my shoulders before turning back. My small nipples were as hard as they’d ever been atop my little B-cup breasts and I saw him looking from them, down to my skirt, and then at my nighty.

No, no, no, no! I thought desperately, as he picked up the nighty and began lowering it over my head!

My disappointment soon evaporated as he knelt down in front of me, and his face was just inches from my pussy as he put his hands up between my nighty and my skirt. As he fumbled for the zipper, his face pressed against me! Against my kitty! I had to bite my lip to stifle the moans of joy that I wanted so desperately to make. Eventually, he managed to unzip me and then he pulled the skirt down, leaving me trembling and naked but for the thin material.

He helped me into bed and then pulled the covers over me. “I’ll leave both our doors open so just call out if you need anything,” he said, standing over me. I could see a bulge in his pants that looked for all the world like he had a zucchini or something stuck down there, and my pussy was going berserk.

“Nite, nite, sweetheart,” he said and then kissed me on the forehead. “Sleep tight.”

“Nite, nite, Daddy,” I echoed, wishing fervently that he’d kissed me on the lips.

As soon as he was gone I began to work on the hem of my nighty with my good fingers, managing to pull it up until I could get at my pussy. Then I moaned as I rubbed on my clit, remembering his face pressing against her. Surely tomorrow I’d be able to let him see her! I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remembered was Dad gently shaking my shoulder and it was light again.

He fixed us cereal and we were both quite quiet as we ate. I was buzzing with excitement - I couldn’t go to school without a shower, and surely now I’d get to be naked for him!

We’d been warned about getting the casts and splints wet and it seemed to take forever to cover them with plastic bags and tape them up. I could see Dad looking at his watch, and my heart sank when I thought that he might give up on the whole thing.

“Just time for a quick rinse this morning,” he declared. “You can have a proper shower tonight.” My heart was suddenly fluttering with joy as he reached for the bottom of my nighty. Yes! Yes!

As he pulled it up over my head my whole body was shivering with excitement: My dad could see me! He could see all of me!

I was trembling like a leaf as he helped me into the shower and then soaped up a washcloth. I could see him stealing glimpses at my tiny boobs and my pussy and he was definitely hard again!

“Just the essentials,” he said softly, lifting my hand to wash that armpit, and brushing against my breast a little as he did. I felt as weak as a kitten as he repeated the process on the other side.

“Move your feet apart please, Maria,” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. I held my breath as I did as he asked, my heart now pounding in my chest. And then he rubbed the cloth between my legs! Oh, God! Dad was touching me between my legs! He was rubbing my pussy ... and she loved it!!

And then it stopped, but, before I had a chance to calm down, he began to play the spray from the flexible shower head, first over my armpits and my breasts, and then over my kitty. It felt gorgeous! Too nice, somehow. Like when you’re being tickled and it’s too much and you think that you might pee. Only I didn’t think I’d pee - I thought I might explode with excitement! And then he stopped I thought that I might burst with frustration: I’d felt so close to ... that special something again. Something wonderful.

My legs were so wobbly that I could barely stand as he helped me out of the shower. I stood there in a daze as he wrapped me in a big fluffy towel and rubbed me all over. All over! My boobs, my legs, my bottom, and in between! I’d heard the word ‘swoon’ in books but that was the first time I’d ever understood what it really meant.

I spent most of the day at school with the words ‘proper shower’ filling my head full of visions of Dad and me, both naked in the shower, and his hands soaping up my body. Everywhere!

As I stood and talked to people, a gust of wind up my skirt, tickling my bare pussy, would throw me off what I was saying. And sitting in class, knowing what would show if I allowed my legs to part, made my clit tingle as I kept them pressed firmly together.

At times I thought that I could smell my own excitement, and I studied everyone around me for the least sign that they might as well. It was both thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

By the time Dad picked me up from school, I was a nervous wreck, but just the sight of him made me feel so much better.

All I could think about as I ate dinner was my shower.

We took a clean nighty with us into the bathroom and then I stood there as he stripped me naked again. He was so gentle and obviously being so careful not to take advantage of the situation, but that just seemed to make it more exciting. When he took my skirt off I was almost beside myself: my pussy was there for him to see, right in front of his face! I’d only had a light covering of hair back then and I thought it looked very cute. Dad must have thought so too because he seemed to look at it for ages before he finally stood up.