Nightmare Child

This is an entry in the ATF Story Writing Contest 2024/I. The story is posted by the organizer. The actual author of the story will remain anonymous until at least the end of the contest.

Nightmare Child

(M/M, M/g, First Time, Oral, Anal)

Saturday

Saliva coated the swollen head of an engorged penis as it throbbed and twitched. It’s owner sprawled relaxed and pleasantly aroused over the edge of the bed with his eyes closed. Breaths came deep and fast as he revelled in the pleasure of the moment. His long, thick penis stood erect from the base of his torso while it was steadily massaged by practiced hands. They were not his own hands of course, for the hands that caressed and manipulated his manhood belonged to me.

With care and dexterity, I worked those hands along the warm skin of his shaft, dragging his foreskin down so that my tongue could lap at the moisture around the exposed gland. His was a delectable example of a typical male phallus, powerful and muscular like its owner, and extremely smooth, for he was clean shaven all over. The penis belonged to Owen, a well dressed man some ten years my senior, or at least he had been well dressed when we met. With dark eyes and short shaved hair, he struck an imposing figure. He was also taller with broad shoulders, a toned physique and far more confidence than I could shake a stick at. Owen had a charismatic aura about him that had turned the heads of practically every woman in the bar that night. I hated him immediately and envied him even more.

So, how come I was the one in his bed that night I hear you ask. To answer that in truth, I wasn’t entirely sure. You see I had gone to the bar, my local, to watch the football that evening as my favourite team were playing away. I was sat there, nursing my ale alone when he had sat at the next table. I’d seen him there a few times before, but other than noticing the attention he was getting, I didn’t pay him much heed until at some point, somehow, we got talking about the game. He supported the same team, was quite opinionated on their performance and we were still discussing it at closing time, long after the match had finished. By chance we were walking in the same direction, and reaching his house first, he pointed to his door and invited me in for another drink. This had been my first mistake and the beginning of my inaugural post graduate lesson in advanced sexual education.

Call me naïve if you must, but I had no idea of his intention that night until I was sat on his sofa, drinking a bottle of his lager and unexpectedly felt his hand on my leg. For an instant I froze, uncertain what to do as he ran his fingers across my knee and up my thigh. He was almost touching my crotch before I turned to look him in the eye, and that was when he leaned in and kissed me. Nothing of that night had led me to expect it, there had been no clear suggestion of it and thus I was caught totally by surprise. Stunned, and suitably inebriated with beer, I had no idea what I should do, so I let him kiss me. Sat there in his house, his hand between my legs and his lips pressed to mine, I felt so awkward and yet there was something about it that I didn’t mind. I couldn’t say why exactly, but instead of resisting him, I started to kiss him back.

His broad hands were all over me even before his shirt came off and then we were both rapidly stripping as he led the way to his bedroom. The audacity of the man to think that I was the sort to jump straight into bed with a complete stranger was astounding. Yet light headed and giddy in the moment, I followed willingly, flattered by the attention. His tongue teased mine as we rolled onto the bed, free of underwear and totally entwined in each other’s arms. Rough stubble and coarse skin grazed as he kissed my neck, my collar bone and tenderly down. He explored every part of my body. It was strangely erotic. You see, this may all sound quite normal until you consider one quite significant fact. I was a straight single male and that big cock of his was not that different from my own.

“Er, thanks.” I managed to reply hesitantly as he complimented my body, he said it was perfect, that I was perfect. It was surely a lie, for I was already convinced that I couldn’t be. Too much time behind a desk and a podgy beer belly gave me a rather feeble look in my opinion, but it was a gracious comment. He didn’t stop there though, and I literally blushed as he started complimenting my penis, turning red as he claimed of its superiority over his own. I wanted to disagree with him as his firm grasp squeezed my erection, but I couldn’t help but notice how hard I was. I should not have been so aroused. Having a strange man upon me, caressing me as though it was normal, was not the heterosexual relationship to which I had always aspired. Yet, as I lay there, I could not remember my cock ever being that big. It was actually painful, so forceful was my pulse as it pumped fresh blood around my bulging member that it hurt.

His touch upon it was excruciating and yet from its stimulation came physical pleasure in waves that flowed through me. I couldn’t help myself, gasping in pure ecstasy as I felt his lips around my cock. He’d peeled my foreskin back and taken me into his mouth without a second thought, wrapping his tongue around its head. Like sandpaper, his tongue was dry and not at all soft, but it somehow only increased the magnitude of the sensations I was feeling. There was a lingering impression that he was trying to impress me, for once he had licked and tasted every inch of my phallus, he tried taking it as deep into his throat as possible. He did better at the second attempt, but abandoned a third and moved his focus to the testicles that hung below.

October

I woke before Owen. His arm was draped over my torso and his body pressed to my back, spooning me just as he had been when I fell asleep. Slowly and cautiously, I had managed to ease myself from the bed without waking him, silently gathered my belongings and dressed before he stirred. In the light of morning I could see more of the bed, the room and across the landing beyond the bedroom door. It was much larger than I had recalled from the night before. The first floor landing had two other doors leading from it, and stairs leading both up and down. Moreover, the decoration was very modern and stylish. I got the impression that there was a lot more to him than he’d let on. A photo frame on the dressing table drew my attention.

“My wife Anna.” Owen said over my shoulder at the framed photo I was gazing upon. “She’s a psychologist. And that’s Amy, my daughter.” The woman in the picture appeared to be kindly, motherly with the air of a strong, righteous will. She looked younger than him, but I wasn’t a great judge of ages. Besides, it was the young girl that drew my eye to the photo first. A pretty, delicate creature with an energetic glint in her eye and the same long black hair as her mother. There was something else too, something familiar, but at that time I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. “This was two years ago, she’s eight now. Going on eighteen of course. She’s a little madam, but she’s all mine.”

“I see.” Was my only response. It caught me speechless. That Owen was married caught me off guard, wondering if I’d just been party to him cheating on his wife. I felt bad as it was, not just from the hangover, but mostly for allowing myself to be so easily seduced by another man and I could not blame all of it on alcohol. He had a child too. What must they think of their father if they ever knew what we’d been up to. What would they think of me. The thought that I might have wrecked his marriage made my stomach churn. Same gender relationships were still a massive taboo at that time, I should probably make that clear. Although the carnal act had become legal by then, it still came with a considerable social stigma and same gender marriage was still a whole decade away from legalisation.

More to the point though, I wasn’t attracted to men, not even slightly. Having reached sobriety, I woke up with an overwhelming sense of regret. I was too polite to say anything to Owen, but I really had no intention of letting whatever it was between us go any further. It was not that I simply didn’t find him attractive, for in truth he could not have been further from my type if he tried. My preference had always been for short, petite, dainty younger girls with long hair and soft skin. I’d long hoped to date such a woman. Owen though, was the exact polar opposite of every preference I have just described, right down to his gender.

“Goodness, I’m sorry.” Owen continued. “I’m so nervous, I’m sure you could tell, you’re so beautiful, I didn’t think I stood a chance.” His voice cracked slightly as he confessed. “I’ve not done this before, I didn’t expect… but here you are” I turned to face him. I had dressed quickly as I was eager to leave, but he stood there naked. The confidence that he had worn like armour the night before seemed to have been left on the floor with his clothes. He wasn’t exaggerating or trying to flatter my ego, for I could see it in his eyes. Those words were genuinely what he believed.

“It’s fine.” I shrugged. “We’d both had a lot to drink. It was a first for me too and I’m not even gay, so don’t worry about it.”

“What really?” He stepped back, surprised. “No, you’re having me on.” I shook my head. “Come on, you must be.” My head shook again. “But in the pub, you seemed, well… you were giving off all the signals.”

“Signals?” I replied, not really understanding what he meant. “No signals. Probably just the beer.”

“Really?” He seemed completely shocked by that. “You are gay though?”

“No.” I said. “Curious perhaps, but no, I’m straight. It was fun though, trying something new and different. Not what I expected it to be, but sucking your cock was… I should get moving, busy day ahead.” With that I made some additional excuses and he showed me down to his door. I could tell he was angling for a farewell kiss or something, but I dodged it, not wanting to lead him on any more than I already had. Despite sleeping with the guy, I was determined that I wasn’t interested in anything more.

I slunk home, feeling a whole mixture of emotions that I couldn’t readily untangle. My flat wasn’t far, a first floor apartment just a couple of streets away, but that morning it felt like miles. It was a common factor in the morning after a one night stand, where someone inevitably had to make an awkward exit, surrounded by the rich stench of their sweaty sexual activity, hoping not to be noticed. I’d known plenty who had endured that walk of shame before me after a drunken night out, a couple of young women had done so after sleeping with me too, but I could not have imagined myself making such a walk after sleeping with another man. Yet that is exactly what happened.

After

In the days that followed I tried to put Owen out of my mind. Thinking about what I’d done with him, it made me feel sick. It wasn’t that I regretted the sex, well not completely anyway. It had been a lot of fun at the time and as much as I hated to admit it, I enjoyed it. Sucking on another guy’s penis was an experience I’m glad I tried, and although it’s as disgusting as it sounds, when he started licking out my anus, it felt amazing. But I still felt guilty knowing that he was married. He’d tried to tell me that his wife understood, and I knew it wasn’t my fault. It was just that he hadn’t told me before, or if he had, I hadn’t been paying attention. Either way, it did not help how I felt. I even avoided the pub for a while in case he was there. Instead, I focused on work. The thing about being a teacher that everyone forgets is all the marking. Even during the half term break I still had piles of books to mark, and that week my work was the least rushed it had been in years. The peace didn’t last though. It was late on the following Saturday night when the doorbell rang.

“Hi. I…” Owen began as I opened the door just wide enough to see who was there. He was leant against the door frame, soaked through and shivering from the rain. He was also drunk, the words slurring from the side of his mouth as he spoke. “I looked for you, but you weren’t there.”

“I was here.” My response was deliberately dismissive. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” He stumbled through the sentence, swaying as though struggling to stay upright. “It was good, the other night. I hoped we could, maybe…”

What I wanted to say was no. Absolutely no way was I interested in giving him what he wanted, especially because he had turned up drunk on my doorstep. I mean, there was perhaps a slight thrill in knowing someone wanted me. No girl had ever come to my door like that, and it did tug a bit on my ego. But the answer was still going to be no, right up until he slipped backwards on the step and landed in a heap. Thinking he’d hurt himself I opened the door and pulled him inside. That was my second mistake.

Nothing much else happened that night. It was late, wet and I was in no mood to try and carry a drunk man down the street, so I helped him to the sofa and gave him a couple of blankets. It was the next morning when I began to regret my kindness. I sensed him in the room even before I felt him climb into my bed. Owen was making a poor effort to stay quiet, waking me from a pleasant dream. I don’t recall the dream exactly, but I knew it involved me dating a young girl. Most of my dreams were about one girl or another. Even so, I didn’t stop him. In fact, I felt myself smile as Owen touched me, his arm folding over me again, like before. I felt something else too.

“Do you always sleep naked?” He asked in my ear, his body pressing closer to mine and his hands were everywhere. My cock twitched against the sheets, swelling quickly. There was something about being held like that by a tall, strong, muscular man that I had imagined providing to some cute young lady of my dreams, but never thought I would experience my own self. It felt like I was safe, as though in his arms nothing could hurt me. The strangest part of it was that until then, I’d not thought it was something I needed. I wasn’t weak, I didn’t feel vulnerable, I was confident enough to sleep naked, had done so since my early teens, and yet it felt like something I could want a lot more of.

Then there was his penis. I knew the moment it touched the back of my thigh that he was erect and ready to play. Its length against my leg was unmistakable, with a heat that radiated into me. As he angled his cock up towards the nook between my legs, it was obvious what he was after and I could have resisted it. I also could have done nothing, just laid there and waited for him, but instead my body reacted to him in a way my mind struggled to understand. My leg lifted a little and pressed my arse back into him, helping, as if accepting what this man was about to do and consenting to it. I had been drunk the first time, my inebriation had been how I’d rationalised it before, but that excuse was no longer valid. We were going to have sex and I was, at the very least, willing.

Anal penetration was not something I had desired in my life. I didn’t care for the idea of fucking a girl in the arse even if one had convinced me to try it. Therefore, the concept of allowing a guy to force his erection into my anus did not even feature on my sexual bucket list. So why the fuck did it feel like the most natural response when Owen’s dick just happened to rub across my butt crack as he held me. Liking the sensual moment of being caressed was one thing, but suddenly being overwhelmed by the urge to take his manhood inside of me was quite another, and I couldn’t believe how much I wanted that morning to know what it would feel like.

“Ahh. I hate this.” He groaned in my ear. “I want to stay here, but I can’t. Duty calls, you understand.” With that he pulled away and shuffled out of the bed. I rolled to look up at him, but in the gloom of the dark room all I could see was the back of his naked body as he departed. A couple of minutes later, as I sunk deeper into my bed, he reappeared in the doorway, dressed and pulling on his jacket.

“I have a spare seat for the match tonight, if you’re free.” Owen said.

“Thanks, but I’ve got a season ticket.” I replied apologetically, grateful for his offer,

“I have a box.” Owen prodded back. One thing every football supporter knew about match day hospitality, was that no matter how good the view was from the terraces, it could always be trumped by the luxurious comfort of watching from a corporate box. Accepting his offer was mistake number three.

Monday

Someone once said that a person’s future depends upon how they approach Mondays. Whoever it was clearly had not been asked to cover the year nine literature classes on the first day back after the autumn half term break. It was a dismal day, overcast and wet. The students were in high spirits after a week off, and the volume in the classroom kept peaking beyond tolerable levels as I tried my hardest to convey the multiple meanings of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Teaching was meant to be a worthy profession with high rewards for success. But with each passing year many of us had found our hands had been tied tighter and tighter, fighting for control in a comprehensive classroom where discipline was practically forbidden. Increasingly the kids were becoming aware that they could get away with just about anything short of murder and there was almost nothing we could do about it. There had been days when I had come close to packing it all in, and that Monday may well have been one of them had I not had something exciting to look forward to after work.

Educating and nurturing young talent had been my dream ever since I had become one of them. I had been something of a swot at school, bright, focused and intelligent enough to fly under the radar, thus avoiding too much attention from the school bullies. In truth, I would say my school life was unremarkable with decent test scores, but nothing that stood out. There was one lesson at school though, that inspired me more than any other, as I recall. There was one day in my early teens where I really sat up and took notice. The day I was taught sex education.

As weird as it must sound, that one specific lesson when I was fourteen, had stuck in my mind as the pinnacle moment in my life when I decided that I had to become a teacher. In all seriousness, that first and last classroom lesson I received in sexual education was by a country mile the worst, most awkwardly conceived lecture of my otherwise mediocre compulsory schooling. What inspired me therefore, was the belief that I could do a lot better myself. So much so that I devoted countless private hours studying the subject until I felt confident that I could answer any question. In doing so however, I also discovered several of the pleasures associated with the wider topic, specifically pornography, masturbation and the pure beauty of innocent young women.

In my adult life I went on to become a teacher, although at the time when these events took place in my life, calling myself a teacher was not entirely accurate. Despite having qualified from six years at university with a degree in teaching and a second in Performing Arts, I had thus far only achieved the modest role of Teaching Assistant on the grounds that I wasn’t experienced enough to be an actual teacher yet. That meant suffering through my first couple of years employed at the school for minimum wage, until I could get certified with enough experience for a promotion. Three years on and I’d been passed over for that promotion twice.

I struggled on through the day, doing my best to instruct the students who were keen to learn and pacify the ones who weren’t. When the bell finally rang to signal the end of the day, I was tired and most relieved. The outer gate of the school and the bicycle shelter where I’d parked my customary mode of transport beckoned as I made my way homeward, walking straight into someone crossing my path.

“Owen?” I gasped, looking up at him first and then down to the child holding his hand. For an instant confusion befuddled my thoughts and I gaped at them, trying to form a sentence suitable for the moment.

“Dad.” The child moaned impatiently, tugging on his arm. I recognised her from the picture in Owen’s room, but there was something else about her that felt familiar. I had thought as much when I saw her in the photo and I couldn’t place it then. Seeing her in her school uniform though, the classic green chequered blouse and grey pencil skirt over white socks, it clicked. She wasn’t in any of my usual classes, I mostly taught the older students, but obviously I had seen her around the school and probably covered her year group at some point.

“Oh hey.” Owen smiled at me. He tried to turn, but his daughter was pulling him forward. “You’re still coming tonight, right?”

“At the ground for six.” I confirmed as they passed and patted my bag. “I wouldn’t miss it. Got my stuff right here.”

“Darling, wait.” He said, reigning his daughter in. They turned to look back at where I was standing, bag over one shoulder and crash helmet tucked under my arm. “You’re not cycling all the way to the ground like that, are you?”

“Er, yeah.” My response was more of a nod than anything vocalized. I didn’t have the heart to point out that I cycled because on my salary I couldn’t afford a car. Even so, that was mistake number four. “I usually change at the pub before the game.”

“Nonsense.” Owen waived dismissively. “Jump in with me, you can change at mine.”

Amy

I was nervous as Owen drove us back to his place. I had been there before, the first night we had met and I recalled how I’d wanted to sprint away from it as fast as I could. Beyond that I couldn’t remember much about his home. That wasn’t the only reason for my apprehension though. Being introduced to Owen’s daughter was a step in our relationship that I wasn’t prepared for. I had spent two weird nights with the guy, barely knew anything about him, and really wasn’t sure if I wanted to be in any kind of relationship with him at all. Internally I wondered if, had we not had sex and were just two straight guys making friends, it probably wouldn’t have been an issue. But the sex had made it complicated.

My greatest fear was that his daughter would think I was gay, a concept I was still struggling with myself. And if she found out that I’d had sex with her father, how long would it be before the whole school knew. At that point, a dreadful image of being called in front of the school board had filled my head, with them demanding that I explain the circulating rumours of my sexual orientation. Social progress may have come on leaps and bounds in the legal sense, but the trustees of the school board were perhaps the most conservative committee ever to have resented the concept of change. I could only imagine how awkward that conversation would be, should it ever become known.

We reached his home without the topic even being mentioned though, and to my relief Owen seemed equally content to keep it that way for the time being. As I started to relax a little, I let my mind wander onto other, more immediate things, such as the size of Owen’s home. I’m not sure if I had been too drunk before to notice, or perhaps I’d been so drunk that I’d forgotten, but in the light of day the place was impressive. The house had no less than three floors and more rooms than I could think of uses for. It couldn’t be called a mansion as such, but it certainly put my little flat to shame.

“You can change in my room.” Owen declared as I gazed around his sitting room, where a large flatscreen television was mounted on the wall. I’d seen such screens in shops and knew roughly how much they cost, so to me it’s presence in Owen’s home said as much about the man’s wealth as the Mercedes that he’d just given me a lift in. “Left at the top of the stairs.”

“Thanks.” I smiled back at him, grateful for the directions. We both knew I’d been in there before, not much more than a week before, and yet I clearly hadn’t paid much attention that night to my surroundings. I set off up the stairs quickly, eager to grab a moment of solitude as much as the need to get changed. The bedroom was exactly where he’d said it was and looked much the same as it had during my previous visit, which is to say that it was dark. Even so, the essence of the room was familiar, with a sweet musk of an air freshener that recalled to my mind more details of that first visit than I was entirely comfortable with.

With little desire to waste time, I opened my bag and laid out the football shirt and jeans I’d packed in preparation for the big match. Logically I had elected to wear the most recent replica home strip I had in my collection. It wasn’t the current one, for I generally had to wait until the end of season sales before I could afford to buy one. There was also a hooded top in my bag, which I’d planned to wear on the cycle ride home, but as Owen had kindly offered to drive and my bike was resting in the boot of his car, I figured that I probably wouldn’t need it. With that I slipped off my smart work trousers and reached for the jeans.

“Whoa, hey.” I almost jumped out of my skin as Amy’s slender shape slid silently into the room. She had startled me more than a little, surprised as I was that she had entered. I recalled making it quite clear that I needed to change out of my work clothes and get ready for the football game. “I’m changing here.”

“Yeah.” Amy relied bashfully, but she made no attempt to leave. Instead, she shifted nervously from one foot to the other as though something was on her mind. I was stood in just a shirt and my boxer shorts, and instinctively I had covered my crotch with both hands and the pair of socks I had been holding. “Is that your willy?”

“What?” I asked in amazement, thinking and perhaps hoping that I’d misheard the question.

“Please, can I see it?” She asked politely in the sweetest voice she could have mustered. I was stunned, momentarily frozen to the spot and tried to work out if I had somehow fallen asleep and was dreaming some perverse fantasy. I wasn’t though. I was fully awake and glaring down at a young girl repeating a very adult request. As a teacher, I was perfectly aware that being alone in a room with a child was dangerous territory. It may have crossed my mind from time to time, but even though I had no intention of harming a child in the way they often reported in the news, merely having the opportunity was enough to condemn a man. “Please can I see your willy? I just want to look at it.”

“Alright.” My mouth said while my head screamed no. Maybe it was the big, sorrowful eyes she made, or the way she had asked so politely that gave me the urge to concede. In hindsight though, I felt as though I had folded too easily. Once I had verbally agreed to it, there was no going back without causing an upset. I listened for any sound beyond the room as I lowered my boxer shorts down until my flaccid penis flopped out in plain view. It was a stupid idea, exposing myself like that to a child. I could lose my job in an instant, my entire livelihood was at risk, but I continued anyway. My stupidity was rewarded instantly as her bright eyes widened and a fantastic smile spread across her little face. She watched with awe as it bobbed a little and a dreadful thought passed between the nerve endings as I felt it twitch. The rising warmth in my embarrassed cheeks matched the warmth spreading through my swelling manhood. To my horror, I was becoming quickly aroused.

“Can I touch it?” Asked Amy as she leaned to look closer. My head spun around so fast in sudden panic that I almost missed the question, but it wouldn’t have mattered. She hadn’t waited for an answer, Amy’s hand was on it before the last word had left her lips. I couldn’t believe I was letting it happen, especially with her dad just downstairs, it was unthinkable. Her finger passed around it’s sensitive head and she tried squeezing it, before just as quickly stepping back and said. “Come on, get dressed.”

“Wait.” I called through a dry throat. She had watched me dress, just as she’d insisted, with silent curiosity. When I was done, she moved toward the door without a word, so I called after her. “Did you like it?”

“It’s alright.” Amy replied with a cheeky smile. “Come on, you’ve got to meet my baby.” I stared after her as she walked out the door, amazed by what had just happened and confused by what she meant by baby. Owen hadn’t mentioned another child and Amy was far too young to have a child of her own, so it was with curiosity that I followed her from Owen’s bedroom and into hers.

Amy’s room was exactly how I expected an eight year old girl’s bedroom to be. It was pastel pink, with pictures of fairytale princes and princesses along the walls. A doll’s house stood in one corner, next to a large wardrobe, dressing table and queen sized bed. There were paper sheets spread everywhere with crayon drawings, some that I could make out what they were and others that just looked like squiggles to me.

“This is my baby.” Amy announced, holding up a large plastic doll wearing a nappy. It looked like a new born infant and was surprisingly lifelike had I not been able to make out the obvious join between its head and torso. She held it in her arms like a baby though, half wrapped in a knitted blanket and seemed to treat it with as much affection as a mother to her own child. “His name is Sam.”

“Is Sam coming to watch football?” I asked, struggling to think of anything else sensible to say. She shook her head.

“He doesn’t like football.” Amy replied, as though I’d said something very stupid. “He’s just a baby.”

Dating

The game of football was a centuries old sport traditionally played by two teams using a spherical leather ball. The game had evolved throughout history, but the modern game involved a netted goal adorned at each end of the pitch, which were defended by a goalkeeper and ten other men in shorts and tight fitting t-shirts. At the higher levels of the sport, the pitches were surrounded by stadiums filled with rows of seats, mostly exposed to the elements. Such grounds had roofs over each stand, but they did little to keep out the wind and rain. However, for those who could afford it, there were also corporate boxes, luxury rooms high up in the stadium that provided a superb view of the action, but also came with more shelter, heated seats and access to a full bar service.

It was the first time I had been privileged to set foot inside a corporate box before, and I was quite in awe of the buffet spread as much as the view of the pitch. There were television screens on the walls around the interior and glass doors between that and a row of exterior seats looking down on the pitch. It was a far cry from the usual view I had in the stadium. I could see it from there, just about, low down on the opposite end of the same stand where I would be sat almost level with the players, squeezed in shoulder to shoulder with those around me and completely at the mercy of the weather. Up in the box, I had room to move. Owen sat next to me, his hand on my knee as I consumed a sausage roll from the buffet. Amy was the other side of him, excitedly singing along to all the supporter’s songs. There were others there too, Owen’s colleagues and their friends, but that didn’t stop him from holding my hand as we watched the game.

I struggled to focus on the action. Amy kept asking questions and telling me things about the players. I started to wonder if she knew more about them than I did, and I’d not missed a home game in years. Watching from up there, with all the luxury of the matchday hospitality, I found that my mind kept swinging back to what had happened before. If I’d felt guilty for sleeping with another man, you can be damned certain I felt guilty for showing Amy my cock. So much so, that I was trying to work out how I could explain it to Owen. I mean, I didn’t want him to think I was some perverted paedophile, but that was how I felt.

In many ways I knew I was into younger women, I had often fancied and even fantasised about being with girls much younger than me, even those of questionable legality at times. But Amy was only eight, she was still very much a child and even if she had just about started puberty, I doubted that she even understood what she had been asking, or what it really meant. The referee blew his whistle at the end of a goalless first half, and the people around us filed back to the bar, the buffet or the bathroom. Amy ran off in that direction too, and for a moment I had an opportunity to say something.

“Owen.” I started nervously. “When I was changing earlier, something happened. Amy, well…”

“She burst in on you, didn’t she.” He laughed. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you. She’s curious, that’s all. Did you let her see anything?”

“Er, yeah. Kind of.” I confessed, and then tried to talk my way out of what I’d just admitted to. “Not intentionally though. She just…”

“Don’t worry. Honestly, it’s fine.” Owen squeezed my hand and grinned. “I’ll talk to her if you want, but I doubt it will happen again.”

“No, that’s okay.” I replied, feeling rather embarrassed by it all. “I’m sure you’re right. I was really worried what you’d think.”

“No, not at all.” He let go of my hand and patted my leg reassuringly. “Of course, if you hurt her, I will kill you. Just so we’re clear on that.”

With that he got up and went to the bar, leaving me to think on what he’d said. In the end, I hadn’t told him the whole truth, but I wasn’t sure the details really mattered. He knew she’d seen me changing, I was fairly certain he knew exactly what she’d seen and that was enough. Remarkably, he seemed perfectly content with that, as though it happened quite often. My revere was briefly interrupted by a waiter delivering a pint of beer that I’d ordered earlier, and I sipped at it until the football match restarted.

“GOAL” It came so quickly after the kick off, I hadn’t been paying attention. The remains of my beer went flying as I followed everyone else in jumping up to cheer the goal. On the screen, a replay showed that a low cross from the left reached the far post, where it was kicked into the net on the half volley. We were winning, that is to say the team I supported were winning, which didn’t happen as often as I would have liked, but that was the nature of the beautiful game. As I rescued the beer cup, I resolved to put my thoughts aside and get on with watching the game. From then on, I concentrated on every kick, every pass, foul and near miss as I watched my favourite team secure a tense, and very nervous victory.

We talked almost entirely about the match on the way home, and I tried to keep my mind from mulling over what had happened for so much of the time that I didn’t really think about what was going to happen next. Amy was sent up to bed and I was planning on heading home, when Owen insisted that I should stay. He had sat down next to me and once more he had a hand on my leg, with the other draped around my shoulders, so it shouldn’t have been so much of a surprise that he wanted me in his bed again that night. It was just that with his daughter there, sleeping in the same house, I’d not expected it.

“I can take you to work in the morning, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He insisted. I guess it was enough of an incentive in the end, and even though I wasn’t really in the mood for sex, I let him lead me by the hand up the stairs to his room. I’m fairly certain his shirt was off before the door closed behind us, and then he was on me, pulling my shirt up and held it over my head. My arms flailed as they became entangled at head height within the shirt, my eyes covered so I could barely see a thing through the material and he stopped me from falling backwards. Held firmly in his strong arms, I was entirely at his mercy and starting to panic when I felt his lips press against mine. A gentle, teasing kiss across my lips and then on my neck. Owen kissed my nose, my eyes, and then returned to my lips with a passionate snog, when at last I managed to free my head from the football shirt and looked into his eyes. He smiled at me with those deep blue eyes, gripped my torso and threw me fully back onto the bed.

Owen straddled my body and leaned in for another kiss. Having seen him coming that time, I felt compelled to kiss him back and almost as soon as I had, his tongue was exploring its way around my mouth from every angle. Then, when he finally came up for air, he started working his way down my body, kissing my bare chest until he reached the belt of my jeans. The secure fastening of the belt gave him no resistance, nor did the zip of my flies and soon he was pealing back my boxer shorts too. He took my erection in his mouth, eagerly massaging its length with his hand and then began squeezing my balls as though he were trying to milk me for every last drop of juice I had to offer. With every passing day I was learning more about sex than I had learned from the hand full of women I’d slept with. He swallowed my cum too when I climaxed and flopped to the bed next to me with a drip of my semen dribbling from his mouth.

“There’s something I should warn you about.” He said as he held me close, his chest pressed against my back. “Amy sometimes gets nightmares. It’s not often, but she might want to come in and sleep with us. If it happens, don’t worry, she usually goes back to her own bed after a while.”

Nightmares

Sure enough, just as he had said, I was woken by a sudden bouncing of the mattress. I’m not sure what time it was exactly, but it felt like the small hours of the morning. Owen had rolled over and was facing the other way as I felt a different warm body shuffle in between us. I sighed, realising that it must be Amy and decided to ignore her, which proved easier thought than done. If you’ve ever found yourself in bed with a preteen child, you will probably know how much they wriggle and move around in their sleep. Amy had snuggled up against her dad at first, but she didn’t stay there long. I had almost fallen back asleep when her hand slid lazily down my back, and then a few minutes later she was pressed up against my butt with a leg thrown over mine. I was getting rather uncomfortable laying on that side and needed to change position myself. I waited as long as I could, but eventually I just had to roll over. Doing so though, was a mistake.

With the back of Amy’s small body lying so close next to me, I had nowhere for my arms to go without touching her in some way. I tried my best, kept my upper arm flush to my side and angled the other as far up against the headboard as I could comfortably manage, and it worked, right up until she moved again. Somehow, she managed to roll closer into me, and as I moved back a little, I felt the edge of the bed just behind. If I had to make any more room for her, it would mean I’d be on the floor, and just as I was struggling with that, I felt her hand on my stomach. I mean, she can’t have been conscious of what she was doing, the girl was sound asleep, but it was so close to my penis that she would brush over it with any slight movement.

I tried to shift her back into the centre of the bed, closer to her dad, and managed to gain a couple of inches, but that was all. I also succeeded in moving her hand away from my naked body, but in doing so I realised something else. Amy wasn’t wearing anything on the top half of her body either. I fought the urge to investigate further. I knew I shouldn’t, it would be terribly wrong to start feeling around that little girl’s body as she slept next to me, but that one stray thought was keeping me awake. You know that feeling when a question seeps into your head as you are about to fall asleep, and it won’t let you until you answer it. Yes, that was my problem, an itch I knew I could scratch if it wasn’t for the moral implications. Owen had even warned me not to hurt her, and while he’d seemed fine with her seeing my dick earlier, I very much doubted he would approve of me touching her while he lay next to us.

In the end, Amy took the decision out of my hands. That is to say she rolled over again, and I was off the hook. With more space in the bed, I relaxed and was finally able to go back to sleep. A nice, calm, peaceful sleep that lasted all of fifteen minutes or so, before I felt the slap of an arm across my face and I was kicked in the knee to bring me back to consciousness again. Then came her backside, pressing right into my crotch so that my cock lay flat against her back and I got my answer. Amy was wearing flannelette pyjama bottoms. I learnt this because I could feel the material as her backside squashed my penis flat against me. It was uncomfortable enough that I had to reach a hand down there to extract it, but the only place it could go was down between her legs as she was virtually spooned up against me, and in doing so I felt more than I should.

In my defence, it was dark, I was very tired and she wasn’t making it any easier for me. Ok, it wasn’t much of a defence at all. My actions were my own, I would have to take responsibility for them and yet I don’t entirely regret them. As young as she was and fast asleep, she was still a lythe, near naked girl lying right next to me in bed with my cock rubbing up between her legs, something I’d not enjoyed in longer than I cared to remember. I could help getting aroused by it. I gave in and wrapped my arm around her, the same way Owen had held me before. It wasn’t intended to be anything more than that, it just felt more comfortable that way, but practically the moment I did so, she stopped moving. Indeed, she seemed to relax in my arms completely, her body almost melting into mine. I could only imagine that holding her like that had eased her bad dreams and subconsciously made her feel safe. Beyond that, I couldn’t really explain it.

Cartwheels

As promised, Owen drove me back to school the next morning. My actions of the night before kept playing through my head, the football match, the flattering attention I was getting from Owen, plus what had happened with Amy. It was a lot all in one day, and despite his reassurances, I didn’t feel comfortable with any of it. I had woken with Amy still curled up in my arms when Owen walked in with two cups of coffee.

“Well, don’t you two look cute.” He had said as he set a mug down on the side behind me. If he’d had any notion of the dark, sexual thoughts that had plagued me in the night, he didn’t show it. He seemed far more pleased that I was getting along well with is daughter. The way he looked at me that morning, it wasn’t with distrust or anger, but with pure, simple affection. He had asked on the way to the school what my plans were for the week and if I wanted to do something. I could tell that he meant soon, for I knew that his wife would be back at the weekend, so I agreed to meet him at the pub that Thursday.

I still hadn’t figured out what the deal was with his wife. Apart from the photo I’d seen and a few details he’d told me, Owen didn’t mention much about her. I knew they were still married, still shared a house and their life together, but she was away a lot and there had been an implication that she had another man somewhere. It was an odd relationship that I couldn’t yet get my head around, yet Owen appeared to be completely at ease with it.

I asked him about it at the pub on the Thursday, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Apparently, they had argued earlier in the day and she wasn’t going to be back that weekend as planned. Instead, Owen was going to take Amy up there, which I learnt annoyed him only because he’d been hoping to spend more time with me. In consoling him, I said I didn’t mind and offered to stay over at his again as soon as we were both able to make up for it. Not that I had anything to make up for myself, but he appreciated what I meant and a plan was made.

He had invited me back to his that night as well, but I made excuses about lots of marking and work the next morning. In the end, the earliest we could both do was the following Friday. We stayed for one more drink and then parted ways. I’d asked him to refrain from any public displays of affection while we were at the pub, I knew too many people there and he’d agreed, but still leaned in to kiss me when we left.

When the following Friday finally came, I was looking forward to seeing him again, and yet at the same time I felt nervous. Apart from drinks at the pub, all of our previous encounters had been entirely unplanned. That night, knowing he was making a special effort to cook for us, it actually felt like a date. Plus, I’d agreed to stay for the weekend and had packed an overnight bag. I also knew Amy was going to be there too, and her opinion of me seemed just as important to Owen as his own. I had a late finish at work, helping out the drama club with preparations for the school play, but I promised to be there as soon as I could.

“Amy, he’s here.” Owen called upstairs when I arrived. “She’s been so excited to see you again. Honestly, I’ve never known her like this with anyone.”

“Hey.” Amy grinned at me as she bounded down the stairs, still in her school uniform, and leapt forward to wrap her arms around me in a quick and unexpected hug. Full of energy, the hug lasted barely a second before she was off again, leading the way into the lounge. I was instructed to watch her as she jumped forward and completed a perfect cartwheel across the room. Her skirt billowed out as she reached the top part and for an instant, I thought I caught a flash of her white panties.

“Very good.” I offered by way of praise as I moved towards a chair to sit down.

“I can do handstands too. Watch” She declared enthusiastically. I did as Amy instructed, watching her effort as she planted both hands on the ground and threw her legs up into the air. There was no attempt at modesty in her intention as gravity took hold of her skirt. This time there was no doubting the view of her underwear, which were indeed white, with a trim of pink lace along each edge. Concerned, I glanced up at Owen who was hovering next to me, and caught him staring back, as though studying my reaction. Amy overestimated her balance though and toppled backward onto the rug nearly kicking me in the process.

“Careful sweetie.” Owen warned. “Perhaps you can help her while I make us a coffee.”

“Help her?” I asked in confusion, but if Owen heard me, he didn’t answer. He was already heading for the kitchen. “Help how?”

“Hold my legs.” Answered Amy in response, although it came out as rather more of a command. “When my legs go up here, you hold them.” With that, she took a couple of paces back, aimed with her hands and produced another handstand. I wasn’t sure whether to stand up or stay seated, but I was ready as instructed. However, I only caught one leg as the other slipped past my left hand. Adjusting, I reached out and managed to grab the other, holding her in place.

“Do you have milk?” Owen called from the kitchen as I sat there holding his daughter by her thighs. In front of my face, directly in my eyeline, was the pert curve of her buttocks, barely covered by her panties as her grey skirt hung down over her chest. I gulped, hardly able to think clearly with her in that position, as though she were presenting herself to me. “On second thoughts, is wine okay? We’re out of milk.”

“Let go.” Amy requested, righted herself again and ran off into the kitchen. When they came back, Owen was carrying two glasses of white wine. He handed one to me and sat on the sofa opposite. The cold wine was sweet as I tasted it, but that was all I managed to get before Amy was standing eagerly in front of me again with a big grin plastered across her face. “Catch me.”

“Oof.” I gasped as she landed in my lap just as I safely set my glass on the shelf beside the chair. To my amazement she had pulled off a perfect backflip, but hadn’t stopped her momentum and ploughed into my lap a little faster than I was expecting. Instinctively, my arms grabbed hold of her, steadying her from slipping sideways and spilling my drink.

“Are you alright?” Owen asked. I couldn’t see him with Amy sat on me, but I could hear the genuine concern in his voice. “I’m sorry, she’s rather excitable today. Too much sugar I think.”

“Yeah.” She beat me to a response. “So, are you daddy’s boyfriend now?”

“Well…” I hesitated. It was all a bit quick, a bit sudden and far too soon to start labelling what Owen and I were. That evening was effectively our fifth date, and yet a large part of my ego was still very much denying the whole thing, refusing to accept that I was starting to like being gay. It worried me. I mean, the way he looked at me, the expectation in his eyes, as though he was hoping I’d be his forever. I was accustomed to being the one having to do all the chasing, dating women was like a minefield at times, one wrong step and they might explode. With Owen though, I was beginning to feel like I couldn’t put a foot wrong. It was almost too easy.

The crazy part was, I didn’t really find Owen physically attractive, nor any other guy for that matter. I mean, not in the way I found girls attractive. The girls I was attracted to seemed to radiate an aura of beauty, infecting my mind so that I couldn’t think about anything else in their presence. With Owen, it wasn’t like that at all, there was no definable attraction that I could understand just by looking at him. Yet when he kissed me, or held me in his arms, I couldn’t help myself. It was a different kind of feeling, the kind that felt both wrong and right at the same time and for some reason he was impossible to resist. “Yes, I am.”

Bathroom

After dinner I offered to wash up while Amy, eager to help, showed me where everything went. Dinner had consisted of a delicious duck breast on a bed of pasta, with a rich plum sauce and veg. Owen had taken delight in pulling out all the stops, even placing candles on the table, wine and a chocolate sponge cake for dessert. I was a little surprised that he served a small glass of wine to Amy as well, but passed it off by saying she was allowed a glass on special occasions and he said the night qualified.

Amy spent most of the meal and our time washing up talking about her new doll, a gift from her mother the previous weekend. She had insisted that she was too old now for dolls, but that particular baby doll was one of the new type that cried and peed when it was filled with water. As such, the doll was now the pride of her collection. She’d named it Arthur, as it was a boy doll, which she proved by showing me his moulded penis, and the hole in the end of it where the water came out.

Having finished, Amy was informed that it was her bedtime and Owen went to tuck her in. Waiting downstairs, I considered how good a father Owen was to his daughter. He doted on her, spent every moment he could with her, but as far as I could tell, he didn’t overly spoil her. He had the money too, but he gave her a modest life with love, and had to admit that I was impressed. I wanted a child of my own one day, it was something I’d desired since I was about fifteen, seeing friends getting pregnant and starting families of their own. I didn’t have much of a family myself, we had been close growing up, especially my sister and I, but over time and through difficulties we had drifted apart. Perhaps that was why I chose to train as a teacher, or another part of it anyway.

I had just poured myself another glass of wine when Owen called down with a request. Amy had refused to be tucked into bed unless I was there to tuck her in too. As a teacher, I liked to believe that I was fairly good with children, but I’d never had to tuck one into bed before. I remembered how my dad had tucked me and my sister in, read us bedtime stories and kiss us goodnight. Amy already looked pretty well tucked in when I got there, but insisted that I give her a hug.

“Now kiss me goodnight.” She requested as I complied with the hug. Conscious that her dad was stood right next to me, I gave her a quick peck on the forehead and said good night.

“Is she always that demanding?” I asked of Owen as we walked back downstairs.

“Sometimes, but she’s not normally this bossy.” Owen agreed. “She’s such a smart girl, she wants to know everything and there’s no end to her questions. I know it’s a lot, but I figured you’d be used to that, you know, being a teacher.”

“I guess. It’s different at school though.” I tried to explain as we reached the lounge again and he sat down. “It’s a lot more formal. Excuse me. Sorry, I need the bathroom, do you mind?”

“No, you know where it is.” He replied. “You don’t have to ask.” With that I turned on my heals and went back upstairs. The bathroom was at the end of the first floor, where the second staircase began. I hadn’t been up there yet, but Owen had mentioned his office was up there and a gaming room. I darted into the bathroom, the sudden call of nature growing more desperate as I reached the bathroom and blamed it on the wine. The door closed behind me and I turned to lock it, but there was no lock. I searched the door high and low, but couldn’t find a bolt or anything to secure it while I relieved myself. Needing to go, I left the door, lifted the toilet seat and released my cock from my trousers.

“You’re meant to be in bed.” I told Amy as her head appeared around the door. She’d given me a fright when I heard the patter of feet outside and the door open behind me, but the distance between toilet and door was too far for me to hold it and urinate into the toilet bowl at the same time. At that moment, the latter was a far higher priority, so I gave in.

“Please can I watch?” She asked, slipping into the bathroom. She was already alongside me before I could do anything to stop her though, and even as she said please again, I’d already conceded that it was going to happen anyway. A long stream of urine poured from my dick as I stood there, listening for Owen’s footsteps on the stairs and doing my best to aim with her watching closely. She got remarkably close.

“Would you like to hold it?” I offered with a sigh, certain that she was about to ask, or at least was wanting to ask. Her face lit up like before, giving me the answer I’d anticipated, so I made room for her hand to reach in and take a hold of my penis. I could feel it swelling as I squeezed out another flow of urine, but kept my hand around hers so that I didn’t make a complete mess or get any on her. A few drips later and I was done. I was also almost fully erect, still holding her hand around my penis.

“That was great.” Amy beamed up at me as I moved over to the sink. “You’ve got a nice willy.”

“Hey. Come here.” I called her back as she moved towards the door. “You should call it a penis. That’s it’s proper name. So, what is it?”

“Penis.” She giggled. “Penis, penis, penis.”

“That’s right. Now wash your hands.” She rolled her eyes but did as I said. “Good girl, now off to bed.” With that, she turned and gave me a firm hug before trotting off back to her bed.

“Owen,” I began as I sat down next to him on the sofa a few moments later. I’d already decided that I should tell him what had just happened, to be at least partially honest with him for the sake of my sanity. “You do know that there’s no lock on the bathroom door.”

“Oh, fuck, sorry.” He said. “I forgot to warn you about that. Amy locked herself in there when she was four and we had to break the door down to get her out. It really upset her and she wouldn’t go in there again for months, so we took the locks off all the interior doors so it couldn’t happen again.”

“Ah, that explains it.” I nodded thoughtfully as I prepared myself mentally for the next bit. “It’s just...”

“She wasn’t in there when you walked in, was she?”

“Oh no.” I said, feeling slightly more nervous after his first response than I thought I would be. “She walked in on me. I mean, well, she asked if she could watch.”

“I see.” He laughed. “And you’re worried that she might have seen too much?”

“Yeah, that.” I hesitated over my words. “That and what you’d think of me for not trying to stop it.”

“Nonsense.” Owen waved away the suggestion. “She’s just of that age, you know how it is. She’s curious, she wants to know how everything works, that’s all. Don’t worry about it. Did I tell you she walked in on Anna and me while we were having sex last week?”

“No.” I shook my head honestly and with more than a little surprised by the casual way he mentioned sleeping with his wife. I mean, she was still his wife, so I suspected they still did it, but I wasn’t prepared for him to just come out and say it mid conversation.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said again. “It’s natural. If it happens, it happens. She’s going to learn about it somehow, but if she’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll talk to her, get her to stop.”

“Oh no. No, I don’t mind.” I replied meekly, not wanting him to know what I really let her do. “I was far more anxious about what you might have thought, but as you’re not worried, I won’t.”

Relaxing

Owen and I stayed up for a while watching a film on the television. It looked quite good from the synopsis, supposedly a psychological horror, but as we got into it the plot began to drag and the horror premise seemed to get lost, leaving the characters running around aimlessly. At some point early in the film, he wrapped his arm around my back and pulled me closer. It was still taking me a while, but I was gradually coming to terms with being in a relationship with another man, and an older man at that. With nowhere better to be and plenty of wine inside me, I relaxed and was eventually laying across his lap. I could feel his manhood pulsing against my ear through the fly of his trousers and actually felt comfortable with it. I think part of my difficulty early on had not just been about being with a man sexually, or even romantically. The part I was struggling with most was that I was falling into the more feminine role in the relationship.

I’d witnessed it with other gay couples I knew. One would always appear to be dominant, more masculine and the other would seem submissive. In my past relationships with women I’d naturally fallen into the masculine role, being decisive, making decisions, paying for meals and drinks on dates. They were the sorts of things men were expected to do, or at least offer, even she insisted on paying her share. It was one of those gender norms that I’d grown up with, drummed into me by my parents, by society, literature, theatre and films. The world I understood saw everything as right or wrong, and it deemed the heterosexual, monogamous life as being the perfect model for everyone, so that was what I was raised to believe in. Of course, the problem with the traditional concept of right and wrong, black and white, good and evil is that it was all a load of bollocks. Everyone gave the pretence that they stayed strictly between the lines and raised merry hell if someone else stepped even a fraction out of line, but no one ever thought those rules actually applied to them because none of us really conformed to those expected social norms in the first place.

“How old are you?” Asked Owen from nowhere. I could tell he hadn’t been watching the film for a while by the way he was stroking his hands over me. He’d been far more interested in me than what was on the screen and I couldn’t blame him, the film was rather dull. Even so, of all the things he could have said or asked, that question was unexpected.

“I’m twenty eight.” I replied, my eyes still glued to the screen. “I thought you knew that.”

“No. Really? I thought you were younger than that.” He sounded surprised, and I have to admit I was a bit surprised that he thought I was younger. Most people thought I was older than my age, not so much in looks, but they said I acted more mature than most. I asked him how much younger he thought I was. “I don’t know, early twenties, maybe twenty one, twenty two.”

“Oh, right.” I shrugged, not knowing what to make of that. “Is that a problem?”

“No, of course not.” He laughed. “You just seemed… I don’t know, you’re just so cute, it just seemed like the age gap was...”

“Ten years is still a lot.” I replied. I knew his age because I’d found his social media profile online after that first time and it had his date of birth right there in the bio for anyone to see. I had always been far more conservative with what genuine personal information I posted on the internet. Even in those early days of the world wide web, I was conscious that sharing too much information publicly could have consequences and I was right. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, sure.” Owen replied earnestly. “You can ask me anything, what do you want to know?”

“How long have you been married?” It wasn’t the question I really wanted to ask, but I felt it best to build up to that as he hadn’t exactly been open or forthcoming with information about his marriage or his family previously.

“We’ve been married for six years.” Owen answered. “And we were together for about five, maybe six years before that.”

“Was she your first?” I asked out of curiosity. Strangely, with women I’d always been keen to avoid talking about their exes, mostly because I wasn’t keen on the idea of being compared to their previous boyfriends, even though I knew they would be anyway. I just preferred not knowing how I sized up in comparison. But with Owen, I knew that I was his first boyfriend, just as he was mine, so the only comparisons I figured we could make were to women and therefore I was treading on safer ground. I rolled in his lap, dragging my eyes away from the film as I lay on my back to look up at him.

“No, I was married once before that.” Owen shocked me. That wasn’t exactly the question I meant to ask, I’d not had any clue about him being married before and promptly asked what happened. “It’s a long story, but basically we got married young, didn’t have any kids or anything and we both changed a lot after the wedding, both wanted and expected different things and Natalie didn’t like that so she left.”

“Oh, I see.” I nodded, for I was uncertain what else I could say on that subject. I’d not been married before, none of my relationships with women had lasted long enough for that, but it was what I wanted in the long term. I’d long since dreamt of settling down, getting married and starting a family, so I felt a prang of jealousy when he said he’d had that not once, but twice in his life already. “What about Anna? How did you meet her?”

“I’d known Anna for years, since she was Amy’s age pretty much.” He explained. “Her dad and I were pretty close at school. Anna formed an attachment to me so it just made sense and we married as soon as we could. You should meet Pete, you’d like him. He was my best man for the wedding and everything, such a great guy.”

“Yeah sure.” I agreed, not really processing everything he’d just said as there was still a more pressing question I wanted to ask him. “So, Owen, what… I mean… well, I’m not sure how to ask this exactly or if it will sound right, but what made you realise you were gay?”

“It was you.” He said bluntly, as though it were the most honest answer he had given. “I’d seen you about, in the pub and up at the school, you we so cute. I thought you were a student at first, like sixth form or something. It took me ages to get the courage to talk to you. I was sure you must have noticed, I tried so many times to come over and say hello.”

“Sorry.” I uttered. It was the only thing I could think to say in the moment. I felt like I had to respond to his declaration, it was very flattering, but the only thing that came to mind was to apologise, for until that night in the pub I’d had no notion he was into me at all. There was also something about his answer that didn’t make sense to me, and while I figured it was probable that a guy could turn gay simply by forming a crush on another man, I struggled with the notion that I could have done that to him. “So, I’m the first guy you’ve slept with?”

“Yup. More or less.” He nodded, but his answer was less convincing that I thought it would be. When I pushed him on it, he explained. “You see, Anna’s never been a one man type of girl. I was just lucky to be her first. That’s what I love about her. As you know, we’re not exclusive. She has other men, and sometimes she likes to have more than one at a time, you know what I mean. It’s like a hobby for her. I’m her husband, so she feels she should include me, but she’s away so much at the moment I mostly keep out of that side of her life.”

“That makes sense.” And in a way it did. I was finally starting to understand how their unusual marriage worked and why it was that way. Still, that just created even more questions. “But does that mean you’ve been with other guys before?”

“A few.” He confessed. “Like six, no seven. But it was only like, in a threesome and things. It wasn’t anything romantic, not like us. It was just sex, you know, they were fucking Anna, I was fucking Anna and sometimes she liked to make us do things to each other. But that’s all it was. I guess you could say that I liked some of the things I did with those men, and maybe that’s what drew me to you. But you’re my first boyfriend.”

“So, that’s it?” I asked, determined to get to the answer I was searching for, the one that would either make or break whatever was going to happen next. “You’re not with anyone else, just your wife and me?”

“Just Anna and you.” He confirmed. “In a way it was her idea. I didn’t mind, I knew what she was into when I married her. Heck, that’s why I married her, but she felt bad that she could have whoever she wanted and I was just a one woman guy. After Amy was born, she kept saying I should find someone else for when she was away, but she’s my daughter’s mum and I’m totally loyal to her. I didn’t want another girl complicating that, because I can’t give another girl the fairytale that they all want, and there’s no way I’m divorcing Anna.”

“Ah, and because I’m a guy, it’s not an issue.” I smiled, finally comprehending my place. As a gay couple we couldn’t marry so it didn’t affect his vows to his wife. It took some effort, but I was glad that I’d eventually got there and could grasp what I meant to him. It seemed like I actually meant a lot more to him than merely being a boyfriend. Effectively, he saw me as his lover, rather than his wife who was more like his best friend. I still had my own hang ups with the concept of our relationship, mostly because I still envisaged achieving my dream of getting married and having children of my own one day. But in the meantime, it seemed like a good deal and I couldn’t deny, I really enjoyed the sex too.

Bed

For the first time that night, I kissed Owen. He’d kissed me several times at least by that point, I hadn’t counted, and I’d kissed him back, but that night was the first time I’d initiated it. I took his hand after and led him upstairs to his bed. I could see how much that simple act meant to him as we kissed again on the bed, and lying naked I went down on him. The first blow job I’d given him was probably adequate, but I felt far more confident and set out to please him with my best effort. He reached the edge quicker than I expected, so I must have been doing something right, but he didn’t want to come straight away. Instead, he suggested that I lay on the bed and he took something from the draw on his side of the bed. I didn’t quite see what it was, but I soon realised that it was lube.

The notion that we had assigned sides of the bed occurred to me at just about the moment he aimed his erect cock against my anal hole. We had slept that way round both at his and at mine, yet until then I hadn’t thought about it. It just seemed natural. He slept on the right and I was on the left. In hindsight, I would much later come to understand that it was all part of our respective roles, he’d taken the driver’s side in bed, just as he did in the car, asserting himself as the more dominant partner in the relationship.

“Eh, ah.” I groaned as he tried pushing his cock into the opening. He’d wanted to fuck me in the arse the first night we’d met, he thought I would be into that, but I’d been against the idea and when I proved too tight for him, he’d given up. Having reached a deeper understanding and become more comfortable with being his boyfriend, I was willing to let him try. I knew it would likely hurt, but in truth, when it came to it, I was more than a little curious to know what it would feel like. I’d put my dick into vaginas, and a couple of girls had let me put it in their arse as well, but I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to have a cock inside me, or to feel him cum into me. Every day with Owen had become an opportunity to discover something new about sex that I didn’t already know.

I was right, it was painful. The pain wasn’t like I’d expected, it didn’t feel like I’d been punched or stabbed. It was much more of a deep, continuous ache, like I was both constipated and desperate for a massive shit at the same time. I could feel the skin stretching fraction by faction to accommodate his size as he attempted to squeeze as much of it into me as he could. He was clearly disappointed that my anal passage was so difficult for him to enter, and he suggested that I should try using a butt plug or some anal beads to stretch it out more. I knew he was being as gentle as he could, for I could tell he was holding back, but while I said it was a clever idea, I was reluctant to consider his suggestion. Until that point, putting anything up my waste pipe seemed like a terrible idea, but I’d told him that I was open to trying anything he wanted to try and if that meant sticking a plug up there then I thought I should at least give it a go.

He had the whole head and at least a little of the shaft inside me when I felt him convulse. He’d loaded a lot of anal lubricant on and around my butt as he fucked me, but it hadn’t helped him to get in any deeper, so he’d just started fucking me as best he could. His efforts had only made the aching pain get more pronounced, but I have to say that after what I felt at the end, it was all worth it. The pain, the effort, the motion of being rocked up and down from behind, was all made worthwhile by the glorious feeling of his hot cum squirting into me. It was an exquisite sensation, as a warmth I’d not felt before moved deep inside my body and in that beautiful moment I understood what all the fuss was about. I’d long had the mental image of anal sex being messy and disgusting, and perhaps it still was, for Owen went straight to the bathroom afterwards to wash. But if it felt like that every time, then it would be worth it. My whole backside ached, but I was happy.

I backed myself into him as he climbed back into bed, pulled his arm over me and let him spoon me until we both drifted off to sleep. I could hear him snoring quietly behind me as I lay there at peace, but before I was able to fall asleep myself, something he’d said on the sofa earlier that night revisited the forefront of my mind. His words had passed me by too quickly earlier, but in the middle of the night and with Owen asleep, it snuck back into my train of thought.

“… married as soon as we could.” He’d said, but did that just mean it had taken a while to organise or did he mean literally. I knew his age, and he’d given several details about Anna that might betray her age, but he didn’t specifically say. I’d been on the verge of sleep at whatever time it was in the small hours of the morning, my mind was annoyingly fixated on a mathematical problem than demanded more thought that I was capable of after a long day and a late night fuck session. I tried to break it down into easier steps.

The first equation kind of made sense. Owen had said he’d been married for six years, but Amy was eight already. I figured then that Anna must have conceived Amy at least two years before she married Owen, and he’d known Anna since she was about Amy’s age, so since she was eight. There had also been that bit about him being at school with Anna’s father, which seemed odd and must have meant he was a lot older than Anna, but how much older I couldn’t work out. I had a feeling the figures were suggesting something that wasn’t quite right, but I couldn’t grasp what that was and was still thinking about that when I felt a gentle depression of the bed in front of me. I opened my eyes, and although it was almost completely dark, I could make out that it was Amy. She was climbing into bed with us again.

“Hey, come to join us?” I said in a gravelly voice, barely above a whisper. Her head flopped against the pillow, across my arm, and Amy looked back at me for a long moment before she said anything. Even then, it was in such a soft whisper that I struggled to hear it.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Lying on her back, she closed her eyes and for a while I thought that would be all. I expected her to move about in her sleep like last time, but as she wasn’t stuck between two fully grown men, I figured that she wouldn’t disturb me as much. I went back to trying to sleep when she rolled over and faced me. Her head was so close to mine I could feel her breath on my chin. It wouldn’t have taken hardly any movement at all to press my lips to hers. Her arm was close to mine too, and sensing the warmth of her body I shifted my hand to hold hers. “Are you naked?”

She’d spoken the question so softly into my ear that it almost seemed like she hadn’t said it at all, like I’d just dreamt it as my mind drifted between consciousness and sleep. Owen still had his arm wrapped over my chest and lay so close that he was nuzzling against the back of my neck as he slept, but I knew it would take a lot more than a few whispers to wake him. Carefully, I took her hand and from her side and lifted it the short distance to my crotch.

I’d heard it said that dating someone who had children was like dating multiple people at the same time. You didn’t just have to keep your partner happy, you had to include their children and please them too. Upset one, and you upset them all. They were a package, one entity and you had to think of it as being on a date with all of them. I doubted that had meant including them sexually, but if that was what it took to keep Amy happy, I figured that it was worth the risk.

“Squee.” She shrieked in excitement as her fingers felt around my cock and took hold of it. I could see by the broad, innocent grin plastered across every inch of her face that I’d given her what she was hoping for. Maybe it had been a nightmare that had woken her, but I suspected that the opportunity to sneak into bed with us had more to do with touching my genitalia again. Owen had said that it was merely youthful curiosity, that I shouldn’t worry about it. Yet, while my free hand lingered on the curve of her back, I couldn’t help wondering if there was more to it. I’d worked with children for a while and although I might have only been an assistant teacher, having been passed over for a full time teaching position, I was still aware that children were smarter than most adults gave them credit for. Amy though, she wasn’t just a child who had nightmares. She was a nightmare child, and those nightmares would become my own.

I had a terrifying sense that playing with my penis had been Amy’s intention, even before she’d entered the room. She may not have known why, or what it meant, but she had believed it was possible, like an instinct driving her to reach out and grab onto what she desired. I knew how wrong it was, but who was I to stand in the way of what a girl desired. That little girl probably had no idea why touching my cock would make me feel good, but she was doing it anyway. At eight it was unlikely she had started learning about sex at school, that usually started around twelve or thirteen where we were. It was possible she had found out from someone else, but I suspected it was simply intuition that guided her actions, for she didn’t appear to know what to do next.

“You need to rub it.” I prompted and cupped my hand around hers. “Like this.” Gently I shifted her hand along the length of the swollen shaft and back, sliding the soft foreskin back and forth.

“That feels nice.” I told her as her hand moved slowly down the full length of my erect penis again. It was a huge risk, instructing a child to perform such an intimate sexual act on me, but I couldn’t help myself. Her father was sleeping there, right next to me and his good opinion was starting to mean a lot more to me than I had thought possible. Yet I was doing it anyway. The only excuse I could think of was downright fucking insanity. That’s what it was, right there on the bed, with Owen’s cum still oozing around in my arse and his young daughter stroking my cock right next to him. Insane barely covered it, and yet more thoughts kept filling my mind, each more perverse than the next, until I was questioning what else might be possible. “Keep going.”

What was morally wrong, should have felt wrong physically too, but it didn’t. I knew I shouldn’t have tried pushing things further, but when my hand slipped down to her bare butt and I realised that she was just as naked as I was, I could no longer resist. I’d seen her go to bed in her pyjamas, seen her tucked in and given her a kiss goodnight on her forehead, so I was certain she’d been clothed. I remembered too, that the previous night she’d worn her pyjama bottoms when she’d come into bed with us. Which meant, to me at least, that she’d taken them off deliberately before leaving her room.

My dick was starting to ache with the attention she was giving it. The sensations I felt were more than nice, they were getting me close to climaxing and that was going to be a problem. If I ejaculated, then I had to wonder, where was it going to end up. I didn’t want it on the covers where I was sleeping, creating a sticky mess, and even I wasn’t stupid enough to squirt my cum onto Amy. The safest option was just to prevent it from happening. The problem was, at the same time as she was giving me a pretty decent hand job, my own hand had worked its way down between her legs and was feeling around for her pussy. I could feel the slit between her labia, closed tight where she lay on her side with her legs closed, but further forward I hit upon the tiny hood of her clitoris and she reacted instantly.

“Hey.” She squeaked and pulled away from me. “That tickled.” I reached out for her but she’d rolled over and in a moment of regret I realised I’d gone too far and touched her where I shouldn’t have.

Morning

Eventually I’d fallen asleep. It had taken a long time though. Too many thoughts were circling around in my head. The morality of my actions had come back to bite me and I worried that she’d go straight to her dad in the morning and tell him everything, and then I was doomed. Yet, there was nothing to be done, my life, my livelihood, all of it was in her hands and I could only hope that she would be merciful. I mean, I hadn’t hurt her as such. I’d let her have exactly what she wanted and she’d been enjoying it. It was my own stupidity, the overwhelming urge for more that had brought proceedings to an abrupt end.

Amy was gone when I woke the next day. Saturday loomed large before me and within my bladder urged me to make a swift exit to the toilet. Leaving Owen still asleep in bed, I slid from the covers, threw on my clothes and dashed across to the bathroom, cursing the door for not having a lock. I listened out the whole time for anyone coming, prepared to cover myself should either of them try and enter, but they didn’t. Instead, I was able to leave the bathroom without incident and made it downstairs, walking somewhat awkwardly for the dull, persistent ache around my arse as I moved. I poured a glass of water in the kitchen and was heading to the lounge when I found Amy.

She was sat at the dining table drawing with a sketch pad and a selection of pencils. At first glance I didn’t notice, but as I moved closer, I saw that she was sat cross legged on the chair naked. While drawing with her right hand, her left was absently playing with herself. When she heard me, she looked around and smiled as though nothing was wrong.

“What are you drawing?” I asked, having decided not to get too close.

“My flower.” Amy replied cheerfully, without lifting her pencil. There was a plant in the centre of the table that had flowers, so I assumed she was drawing one of those. But from what I could see over her shoulder, it was difficult to make out what it was meant to be. There was a vague shape of a long, thin flower with petals, but the unfinished drawing could easily have been something else.

“Amy, perhaps you should go and get dressed.” I suggested to her, feeling oddly uncomfortable around her in that state and still dreading the consequences of my actions that night. “Before your dad comes down and sees you.”

“Daddy doesn’t mind.” Was her dismissive answer.

“Doesn’t mind what?” Owen’s voice startled me, for I’d not seen him. The tall, muscular man that I’d been sleeping with was approaching from the lounge, stark bollock naked, just like his daughter. He’d made me jump, for I’d thought him to be still in bed, and when I tried to reply, to explain, I couldn’t get a word past my lips. As he passed behind me and put an arm around my back, my mouth was so dry. The visual image of his naked body, with his flaccid cock bouncing between his legs imprinted into my mind and for a moment I felt very weak and feeble.

“Nothing.” Was all the reply I managed as I coughed out the word, and took a long, awkward gulp of water. I’d only put on my football shirt and a black pair of jeans, and yet I suddenly felt overdressed.

“What have you been drawing, sweetie?” Asked Owen, ignoring my suddenly shell shocked state.

“It’s my flower.” Amy told him, in the same cheerful tone as before. “I drew a willy too. Look.”

“That’s very good.” Owen praised her as she proudly held the sketchbook up. On the page where she had been drawing, the flower sketch had expanded and no longer looked much like a flower at all. It was obvious what she’d drawn on the next page though, for although her artistic skills were akin to most kids her age, it was clearly a penis and she’d put a lot of detail into it. Amy hadn’t copied any pictures or anything as far as I could tell, it was all from memory. Owen pointed to the larger head end. “It looks like yours, don’t you think?”

“Yes, it’s very good.” I replied politely, not wanting to offend her, but seriously panicking inside. My eye caught on the other picture for a second before she went back to drawing, and I finally saw what it was meant to be. Had she called it her pussy, or her kitty, I would have realised sooner, but calling it her flower had put a vastly different image in my head. What she called her flower was in fact something far less innocent. I nearly choked.

“Are you alright?” Owen asked, seeing that I’d turned pale and he led me into the lounge. “I’m thinking we should go for a walk later. There’s a cafe over by the river that Anna loves, and we can get some lunch before the game. What do you think?”

“Yeah, fine.” I answered. We’d planned to watch the football match that Saturday at his. Unlike me, Owen had all the premium sports channels and as our team was playing away from home that weekend, watching on the television from the comfort of his home was the preferred option. “What’s with the...?”

“It’s the weekend.” He shrugged. “Sorry, you said you always sleep naked. I thought you’d be fine with a little nudity.”

“I am.” I sighed and sunk back into the sofa. “It’s just... It’s normally just me. I wasn’t expecting you to be like...”

“You thought you were the only one.” Owen finished my thought for me and laughed. “You’re so cute. I told you last night, we’re not puritans here. Monogamy isn’t our thing, so I guess when we get to the weekend, we like to be a bit more relaxed about the whole nudity thing too. Look, if this is all going too fast for you, we can take it easy. I want you to be comfortable here. I really like you, and I think Amy does too.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s okay.” I said defensively. “I’m fine, honest. It’s just going to take some getting used to. I guess I still have a lot to learn.”

“I thought you taught this stuff.” Owen laughed. “Sex ed and all that.”

“Yeah, we do.” Although, in truth I’d never actually had to teach the subject myself. But we had covered it, what to do, what we could and could not discuss with students. The subject was practically a minefield, and every kid reacted differently to being taught about reproduction and the less pleasurable aspects of sex. Owen may not have been puritanical about sex, but a teacher had to be, for one wrong step with a student and it could all end in tears. Rather than explain all of that to him though, I just said. “But even teachers don’t know everything.”

“Every day’s a school day.” He joked, but it was true. Being with him was an education, a very sexual education, and I was learning a lot about myself too. “So do I have to get dressed now, or can I go and make us some breakfast first?”

I chose breakfast. Any damage at that point had already been done and I was starting to wonder if I’d gotten away with my own indiscretions again. Still, I felt it best not to go confessing what had happened that time. I’d told him about the changing incident, or at least part of it, and I’d been mostly honest about the incident in the bathroom too. But considering how relaxed he had been about it all, I thought it best not to push my luck.

As planned, they got dressed after breakfast and Owen took us out for a walk along the river and back to the cafe he’d mentioned. We had walked for a good three hours and built up an appetite for lunch. We talked for most of the way, about work, life, football, general things. He explained more about his upbringing, he was the youngest child from a wealthy family with connections to some very important people in government. Naturally, that led us to talking politics for a while, which I usually avoided like the plague when dating, partly because it was dull and also because it could get very divisive. I had some pretty strong views on certain things, but with Owen it seemed like safer ground than discussing our relationship for the time being. However, I was surprised to find that we shared a lot of similar thoughts.

Game

A beer appeared in my hand as Owen slumped onto the sofa next to me. Even though we were both fairly fit and active people, the walk and the large café meal had been enough to drain some energy from us. Amy joined us, sat cross legged on the rug with her newest doll and her football shirt on. The sport was a passion that she shared with her dad, and it was enjoyable to see her get just as excited about watching a match as I always have. I liked that it was something that the three of us could do together. There was something comforting about it, something I’d not really experienced for a long time. Sitting there, watching the game on the television, it felt like we could be a family. I knew that it was what Owen hoped for, he’d said as much and looking back on the way it had started, I realised that seducing me and integrating me into his life had likely been his aim all along.

The game of football played out on the screen with the commentators reciting facts and reacting to every pass of the ball. A foul led to a free kick on the edge of the area for our opposition early on, and somehow their player was able to curl the ball perfectly between the goalkeeper and the post to put us behind. Amy was transfixed, staring intently at the screen while cheering each good attack and successful tackle as though she was there. She asked a lot of questions about the game too, wanting to know who the best opposition players were, and why they were above our team in the league. Owen knew the answers just as well as I did, but for some reason he let me respond to most of the questions and I wondered if he was glad to have someone else there to keep Amy entertained, so that he could relax. I couldn’t blame him either.

There was something else about Owen’s nature that I found appealing. He was a proud man and his wealth was obvious, but he didn’t have any of the arrogance that I’d seen in other men of such means. He was keen to please, but he was also modest and very charming. Despite the meal we’d had at the café, he served pizza fresh from his oven during halftime and more beer too. His hand ran up my leg as he sat back down and I felt the urge to kiss him just as the second half of the match got underway. It wasn’t much more than a peck on the lips, but it had a certain meaning it and allowed me to put an arm around him as we settled back to watch the rest of the game. Our team were still a goal down, but I felt that they looked like the better side.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I asked with open concern as his hand slipped into the top of my jeans and grabbed me by my cock. “What if Amy sees?”

“You can’t kiss me like that and get away with it.” He replied with a cheeky smile. His hand was a lot bigger than Amy’s. Its palm gripped the entire shaft and then some, with his thumb over the tip as though he was holding a computer joystick. Somehow, I hadn’t noticed that he’d unfastened the fly, so that he was more easily able to pull my dick out into the open air as I’d protested. “Relax. She’s watching the game, and even if she does turn around, it’s not like she hasn’t seen it already.”

He stroked my erection slowly, shifting his hand up and down, pressing into the top of my thigh as he began to pump it. Amy could indeed have turned around and caught an eye full of her dad jerking me off. Where she was sat, I couldn’t avoid my eyes drifting down to watch for any sign she might take an interest in what was happening behind her.

“My daughter turns you on, doesn’t she.” Owen said into my ear. I pealed my eyes from Amy’s back and looked at him, practically speechless from his accusation. “Oh, don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

“What secret?” I asked with as much astonishment as I could muster. After bringing in more beer during halftime, he had moved closer and had been playing his hand over my leg.

“I see the way you look at her.” He declared. “You can’t deny it. You’ve barely taken your eyes off her all day, and now your dick is twitching, so I know it’s true.”

“What? No. You can’t think I’d…” I stuttered, trying to keep my voice down as I was conscious that she was still right there in front of us. “She’s just a kid.”

“And?” Owen laughed, still massaging my erection without a care. “Come on, I know you’re into her, and she likes you, what’s the problem?”

“She’s eight.” I replied, trying to keep my voice down, but realising that I was going to fail, I forced myself up and dragged Owen into the kitchen where I hoped Amy wouldn’t hear us. “She’s eight.” I repeated, stuffing my penis back into my trousers. “She still plays with dolls for fuck sake. I’m not a… I’m your boyfriend and besides, it’s…”

“So?” He shrugged. “Look, it’s your choice. I just thought, after last night I figured you were like… she told me what you let her do.”

“She told you?” My world dropped out from under me. I had been about to object on the grounds that abusing a girl her age was illegal, but if he knew, then I’d already lost any moral high ground. I knew it had been a risk, a huge risk to let her touch me, and I’d been dreading the consequences. In a way, I was grateful that he hadn’t let me suffer for too long.

“Of course, I’m her dad.” He grinned. “She tells me everything. Come on, I’m not stupid, I know what my daughter is like, I know what she wants and you can give it to her.”

“Give her what?” I asked in confusion, the football match forgotten. There I was expecting the very worst, and yet Owen seemed so calm and relaxed about it all. I must have looked like a complete idiot to him, for I couldn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Whatever she wants.” He laughed. “You know she wants a baby, right? That’s why she plays with the dolls. She’s practicing, it’s perfectly natural and she’ll be a great mum one day. Obviously, she’s not old enough to conceive yet, but that doesn’t mean she can’t practice. Anna was exactly the same.”

“What? You and you wife, I mean, when she was…” Astonished, and more so when he nodded, I struggled to form a coherent sentence as I pointed to Amy “And you want me to… with her? Now wait a minute. I know I let her do things, but she’s just a kid. She probably doesn’t even know what it means.”

“She’s a smart girl.” Owen replied proudly. “She knows what she wants. She drew it this morning, your dick and her cunt.”

“Yeah, but…” I continued in protest. “That doesn’t mean she understands it.”

“You’re a teacher, so teach her.” Owen said poetically. “She’s got to learn sometime. Think of it as her sexual education. Teach her what it’s like, you know, how it feels. Teach her everything you know.”

“Fuck.” I mouthed and he laughed at my reaction. “I thought you said you’d kill me if I hurt her?”

“Yeah, I did.” He suddenly stopped and became deadly serious. “And that still stands. Break her heart or hurt her in any way and I’ll make your life hell. You’ll wish I’d killed you.”

“And what about you?” I asked, backing off a little as I tried to grasp a thread of sense out of his proposal. “What about us? And Anna. What would she think?”

“Dad.” Amy called from the lounge. “You’re missing the game.”

“We’ll be there in a sec.” Owen called back. To me he said “Anna will be fine, trust me. Look, think of us as a package deal. You date one, you date us all. I expect she’ll stay at uni until Christmas now though, it’s a long way to come for a weekend, but I’ll introduce you when she’s back.”

“Uni?” My brow wrinkled again as I tried desperately to comprehend. “I thought you said she was a psychologist.”

“Yeah. Well, she will be.” He explained. “When she graduates next summer. Then you’ll have to share me with her. It’ll be much easier if you’re with Amy too. Besides, I want you to be comfortable…”

“GOAL!” Amy screamed. Owen turned on his heals, our conversation forgotten, and rushed to see. At a slower, more thoughtful pace, I followed.

Morals

The football match had ended in a draw, which was probably a fair result. On the other hand, I felt like I’d both lost and won at the same time. What Owen had suggested was crazy, not to mention completely illegal, yet he was determined that it was perfectly okay and I was beginning to understand why. As he explained it, he was offering me the same deal he’d been given years before, a once in a lifetime opportunity to have the girl of his dreams. It didn’t matter to him that Anna had only been eight at the time, he’d given her everything she had wanted, had married her and they’d had Amy.

“Look, when we met.” Owen had confessed when we were back in the lounge. “I hadn’t planned this or anything. I was just going to have you for myself. But then I saw my daughter with you, she’s so happy around you, it was just like Anna had been with me, and then I knew it was meant to be. But I get it, I do. It’s a lot to take in, you need some time to decide. Just don’t make her wait too long, alright?”

He let me think for the rest of the evening. We finished off the pizza and later we played a board game together, which obviously we let Amy win. As the hours ticked by, his offer played on my thoughts over and over. In a way, I felt grateful to him. As far as anyone else was concerned, I was his boyfriend. That was still an issue I was dealing with, for I couldn’t get comfortable with the notion that I was gay, and around Amy I knew that I wasn’t. At best, I was prepared to admit I was bisexual, so perhaps being with both Owen and Amy would satisfy my ego. Amy’s age was still a problem, but he seemed to have an answer for everything. Still, if he thought she was old enough to learn, then I figured she was old enough to get a choice too. As the evening closed in, I told Owen what I was going to do.

“Amy, darling.” Owen said a little while later as the clock struck nine. “It’s time for bed.”

“I want you to tuck me in.” Amy declared. She hadn’t been talking to her father though. The statement was very much directed at me. There hadn’t been any consultation between them that I could tell. It hadn’t been long since I’d voiced my plan and there was no way he could have known she would ask for me to tuck her in. Somehow, even fate seemed inclined to make it happen.

“Go on, you’re up.” Owen said, and literally winked at me. “Time to find out.”

“Fine. But one question.” I said as I stood up. “Why me?”

“Because you’re cute.” Owen laughed. “And I’m not into incest.”

It was a blunt answer, but I guess I’d asked for it. The flight of stairs up to Amy’s bedroom felt longer than it had before. Walking upstairs with a raging erection wasn’t making it any easier either. I was nervous, not because I was going to ask her what she wanted, but because I knew she’d give me an answer. Whatever she said, one way or the other, it would likely change my life forever. We reached the top and I waited while she brushed her teeth and went to the toilet, before following her into the bedroom.

“Right Amy. This tucking into bed thing.” I said when we were standing in her room. “How does it work?”

“It’s easy. You have to sit there.” Amy pointed to the bed and waited until I was sat down. She then pulled the duvet back a bit and placed her doll under the covers so only his head was showing. She gave him a hug and a kiss, and stood up. “See, it’s easy.”

“You’re right. That does look easy.” I said and pulled the other corner of the duvet back for her. Amy ignored it though, and instead she lifted the shirt over her head right in front of me. Before my eyes she exposed her chest. Her little round nipples were right in front of me, located at the centre of two small curves where her breasts were just beginning to form. She gave me the football shirt to fold and immediately pulled down her trousers and panties in one go. The little girl was then standing in front of me, naked as the day she was born, and smiling as though everything was perfect.

“Alright.” I said when I’d folded her clothes and placed them on the dressing table. “Now, do you want to put on some pyjamas?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I want to sleep naked, like you and daddy.”

“Fair enough.” I held back the corner of her duvet and she climbed in. When she’d pushed her feet under and was lying back on the pillow, I folded the duvet back over her and pressed it down. “There, is that good?”

“It’s cold.” She said holding her arms up. “You need to give me a hug.”

“Ah, yes, sorry.” I said and leaned in to hug her. A kiss was planted on her forehead as well for good measure. I used that moment to summon the courage for my next question.

“Now hug Arthur.” She instructed. I sighed and feeling a little ridiculous, I gave the doll a hug too.

“Amy.” I began. “Do you know where babies come from?” It wasn’t the question I was going to ask, but in the moment, it seemed like a good place to start. “I don’t mean dolls. I mean real babies.”

“Yeah.” Amy laughed, as though she thought I was asking because I didn’t know. “Daddy showed me on a film. It’s funny, it has this baby who talks, but his parents are silly and can’t hear him.”

“Oh, yes that.” I laughed, trying to remember the name of the film. “So do you remember how the baby was made?”

“Well, there were all these sperm.” She said. “And they had to swim to the mummy’s egg, and the one that won got to become a baby, and then the baby grew and grew until it was born.”

“Wow, good girl.” I said, impressed. Owen said she was bright, and I knew she was curious, but I was surprised that she had learnt and retained that much just by watching a film. “So do you know where the sperm come from?”

“From a willy.” She grinned, frowned and corrected herself. “A penis.”

“Very good.” It was close enough anyway. She looked blank though when I asked her where the penis went, so I rephrased the question. “How do the sperm get from the penis to mummy’s egg?”

“Oh.” She said, thinking hard. “It goes in my hole.”

“Which hole?” I asked, curious then to see if she actually knew or was just guessing. “Show me?”

I don’t know why I asked that, it just slipped from a stray, invasive thought. Perhaps I was expecting her to just point over the covers, I’m not sure. That wasn’t what happened though. She shoved the duvet aside, thrust her legs out wide and pointed directly to her labia. I saw the closed slit that ran from her vulva all the way down between her legs, broken only by the hood of her clitoris.

“That’s right.” I nodded. “And what do you call that?”

“It’s my flower.” Amy answered sweetly, before adding, “But daddy calls it a pussy.”

“Do you know what it’s proper name is?” She shook her head. “It’s called a vagina.” I made her repeat it back to me. I couldn’t believe that I was actually discussing sex with a girl of eight, let alone a naked one. It had been unthinkable just days before and yet I’d agreed to it. Her own father had told me to teach her, so I was. And that led to me asking the next big question. It was a mistake I knew I would have to live with for the rest of my life, but there was no getting out of it. Many such mistakes had led me to that moment. “So would you like a man to put his penis in your vagina and make a baby with you one day?”

“Yeah.” Her grin broadened to fill her face. “I want you to do it.”

“Really?” I asked, exaggerating my surprise. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to put your penis in my vagina.” She said. “I want to make lots of real babies.”

“Why me?” I asked. “Why not your daddy?”

“Eww.” She frowned, her face a sudden picture of disgust. “He’s my dad. I can’t make a baby with my dad.”

“Right, yes of course. Good.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “So, you want to make a baby with me? But Amy, last night when I touched you there, you pulled away. Didn’t you like it?”

“It tickled.” Was all she replied, so I asked her to expand on it a bit. “Your penis goes there silly, not your finger.”

“Oh right, I see.” I said, understanding. “So you’ll be okay if I put my penis in there?”

“Yeah.” Her whole face was radiating happiness. “I want to have lots of babies with you.”

“Alright, I will teach you how to make lots of babies.” I promised her as I lay down on the bed beside her. “There is a lot to learn though. It’s not as simple as just putting my penis inside you. If I tried that now it wouldn’t work, and it might hurt you too. So first, you need to learn what to do.”

“Oh.” She pouted. “How long will that take?”

“Don’t worry.” I put my arm around her. “Not long and I’ll make it fun. It won’t be like school. There’s no textbooks or tests and you can do most of it in bed. There’ll be homework though, lots of homework, and we can do it together.”

Epilogue

“You win.” I said, climbing into Owen’s bed a short while later. I knew the moment I saw him there, wanking himself off on the bed, that he’d been listening in. It made sense. He may have advocated what I was doing, but as her father he wasn’t going to let her off the leash just yet. “I guess this means I have a boyfriend and a girlfriend now.”

“So did you fuck her?” He asked, still touching himself.

“You know I didn’t.” He laughed and nodded. “I should have known you’d be listening in. You’re right though, she’s a very smart girl. She recounted the whole opening of Look Who’s Talking and she really does know what she wants. She still has a lot to learn before I can have sex with her, but as you say, I’m a teacher, so I’ll teach her, and when she’s ready, I’ll give her want she wants.”

“What does she want?” He asked teasingly as he rolled over and put his hand around my aching cock.

“Babies.” I replied, kissing him. “She wants us to make lots of babies.”

The End