After my wife and I were married, we had a little girl. We named her Sandra, and she was a joy to us. Sandra and her mother were so much alike. My wife emphasized the similarity and went everywhere with our daughter dressed in matching outfits. We both spoiled Sandra, but neither one cared.
We put off having another child again and again, and the years passed. My wife told me she was pregnant again. Suddenly, she was gone, killed by food poisoning at a local fast food place. I couldn’t believe it had happened. In the morning she had been her usual lovely self, and by the next dawn she was gone. Only my obligations to our child helped me keep myself together. When my little girl and I came home from the hospital that morning, I knew my purpose in life was to make our little girl happy. Over the next nine years, we became very close.
It was hard to see my little girl become a woman, and even harder to see her change into a beautiful, young lady, so reminiscent of her mother. I began to have dreams of my wife, who appeared very young, very nubile, and very innocent.
One night I was looking for a book and found that some sex manuals my wife had purchased had been re-arranged on the shelf. Well, I thought, I guess I don’t have to tell my little girl about sex. I felt a bit relieved by that.
Before going to bed at night, Sandra would always come into the family room to say good night to me. As my daughter became older and more mature, the flimsier her nightwear became. By fourteen she was wearing only panties and a thin top. I caught myself staring at her virginal, perfect body and had to force my eyes away from her and drive the impure ideas from my brain. I could not help but notice how her young pussy filled out the space between her legs and how her young breasts stretched out the sheer fabric of her top, barely holding back her sharp nipples, which appeared ready to rip through the taut fabric.
After she kissed me chastely on the forehead and turned around to walk to her bedroom, my eyes would follow the flow of her young hips, and I would watch her tight ass sway. Now older, her pelvis had flared out like a little lady. As soon as she was out of sight, I would notice my cock was straining for release. I would then wait until I was sure she was asleep and stroke myself off, not needing any porno video or smutty magazine.
I was always looking in on her sleeping form, seeing how her sleep had twisted and disarrayed her clothing, revealing the plumpness of her labia and part of a pink areola. Once or twice an entire breast was visible to my wanton eyes. How much I hated myself for thinking evil as I looked upon her.
One evening as I was walking down the hall toward my bedroom, I looked in on Sandra once again. After I had watched her for a while, I suspected that she was not really sleeping. My daughter’s breathing was too audible and her eyelids seemed to be quivering. I made a pretense of pulling her blanket straight and quickly left the room.
After that my daughter seemed to change into a even more seductive and enticing young lady. When I walked down the hallway, the bathroom door would open, and my daughter, wearing only a towel, would suddenly squeeze past me on her way back to her room. Almost always she would brush against me with only the towel tightly wrapped around her body. Now and then her towel loosened and fell open, giving me a glance at her smooth flesh. Then one morning she stopped in front of me clad in a small, damp, and clinging towel.