Prologue:

I was always “... Daddy’s little Princess...” As I recall, I must have been in my late “tweens” when Mom and Dad had left a “Men’s Magazine” on their bed one day, and I stumbled upon it. With much curiosity and relish, I began to peruse the pages that had large color pictures.

Men and women with nothing on lying on top of each other. The woman had her legs straight up on either side of the man, and he seemed to be poking her with what appeared to be something sticking out of his body just below his waist into a spot between her legs covered in hair! They did this in many positions! Sometimes he poked it in her mouth!

Perhaps about a week later, I was awakened in my sleep by what I thought was Mommy moaning in pain! I became concerned and ran down the hallway to their bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and as I approached, I saw Daddy on top of Mommy (much like the magazine pictures) apparently trying to comfort her and soothe her pain. Her legs were straight up on each side of Daddy, and they must have been very afraid because Mom kept calling God very loudly over and over!

At that point, I burst into the room and yelled, “Mommy ... are you alright!...”

Mom and Dad, looking shocked initially, covered themselves in a sheet and both smiled. Dad chuckled a little and reassured me that everything was fine and they were both just trying a new “exercise” as they prayed to God!

Oddly though, all the time Daddy was talking to me, Mommy covered her face with a pillow and went into the bathroom.

After that, I was never woken up again by Mommy screaming to God, but I still heard them together trying their new “exercise” when they “prayed,” albeit a little quieter. Mommy still moaned. I wondered why it was such a tough, painful way to pray to God! I hoped I would never have to do that exercise when I got older!

Whenever Mommy, Daddy, and I were snuggling and watching a movie together in the evening, Mom would invariably fall asleep halfway through, so I often took the opportunity to whisper up into Daddy’s ear,

“Daddy ... can I see your ‘thing’?”

Daddy was quite surprised the first time he heard me say it, but chuckled a little, with a puzzled expression on his face, and half-jokingly asked,

“What ‘thing’ do you want to see, sweetheart?”

I was always much too shy to say any more.

On the night of my eighteenth birthday, my older sister, Carol, and I were getting ready for bed. She quietly came into my room, closed the door, and began talking to me about meeting boys, what might happen when I did. She told me stories about her various experiences with a man’s “cock” (as she called it). It was all so new to me, a little scary, and uncomfortable to hear her words, but I was very curious about it all and wanted to learn as much as I could.

After that first night, we often sneaked up to my bedroom, while Mommy and Daddy were watching TV, and snuggled together in my bed (wearing only our night-time T-shirts and panties) as I listened to her every word ... enraptured by the very descriptive words she’d always include. She explained to me what all those pictures I saw in that magazine years before really meant.

Sometimes, I asked her about a specific word or expression and, with what appeared to be a great deal of relish, she’d go into minute detail as she explained the meaning. Quite often, my little girl slit would tingle as a small amount of a slippery liquid would gather outside of my opening and stain my panties.

One night, I became so wet from the effect of her stories, the scent of my wetness filled the entire room. Carol realized my intense arousal, slowly reached down, and gently felt the wetness between my legs. I gasped and shot her a look of great surprise, but she smiled, held one finger to her lips, and whispered.

“Shhh. I’m wet, too.”

She taught me how to use my own hand to rub the special nub (she called it a “clit”) just inside the folds of my little honeypot, which brought me up to a great explosion of pleasure like I’d never experienced before.