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My Little Cheerleader

By: youbadboy



Beginning when I was a senior in high school and on into my college years, my interest in sports was solely due to the cheerleaders who stood on each side of the long line of play; those unobtainably beautiful girls wearing those impossibly small outfits (it was the 70's). I would wait entire quarters for those brief moments when they would come running out onto the field and dance. Shaking their shoulders, stepping on each others knees, and dropping onto the field with their pom poms spread. I always came early for that perfect view. I knew just where they waited, just where they stood pacing their nervous energy. I went to all the games.

My night time dreaming was of dancing cheerleaders, of coming up behind them in their little red pleated skirts, wrapping my hands around their small tummies, touching their breasts, of stroking long legs beneath pleated skirts. I sat out in the cold night air watching those football games, watching the frost form on the seats. Who cares what the score was? I was watching those little birds fluttering at the sideline, giggling, leaning into one another. Applying their lip gloss. Standing in little red, or black, or white jumpsuits waiting to be unzipped before they ran out there with one pom pom in each hand. Shiny costumes, body fitting, halter tops and midriffs, loose skirts; impossibly small waists and bouncing breasts. Long blonde hair, brunettes, kicking their legs high and showing me what looked like panties (but they were shorts). It still sets my heart beating. I can remember it like it was yesterday.

So it was no small shock when my 19 year old daughter came home from her first week in college and breathlessly announced she had gotten onto the cheerleading squad. No small accomplishment in its own right, few Freshman ever accomplish such a feat especially since she had shown no interest while she was in high school. 

She decided to stay with us after graduating high school and go to the local University. She had been complaining about how much work school was and that she never had any time to exercise or to do much of anything physical. Joining the squad, she said, solved all her problems. We agreed that if she continued to go to college and maintain good grades she could stay at the house.

I went into my room and closed the door leaned against the wall, held my hand to my chest. I had hundreds of images of cheerleaders in my mind, years and years of them. And then, my little girl wearing those outfits prancing around the house. What would I do? I was sweating.

For my part I looked at her, and in as non-plussed a voice as I could muster, beneath a crackling facade of calm, I said, "That's great sweetheart, just so long you keep up your grades."

"Oh I will."

And she bounded out down the hall.

*****

The inevitability of the moment arrived as she stood in my study wearing her first cheerleading outfit. Oh my god! I was trembling. 

She was wearing a maroon and gold pleated skirt no lower than her upper thigh, a half top with a deep V enclosing her breasts perfectly, she had two little pom poms and small white sneakers, gold socks. When she turned I could see her bare shoulders.

"What do you think?"

I could see the little line of her navel, the curve of her hip tracing the edge of the top of her skirt as it dipped low on her concave tummy. She was in perfect shape, I had never realized. Her long slim legs standing spread before me. Her wide smile, bright blue eyes. Breasts held lightly in the maroon fabric.

"You look great. Great." I feigned a sort of calm. "But . . ." I frowned a little. I wanted to look at her longer. Keep her there. I could simply not help myself.

"But what, daddy??" She was standing on one leg, tipping her hip up into the air. Her poms pressed into her middle.

"You have your hair up."

"Oh I won't when I'm out there. It's just. It was up already. When I tried it on." She was relieved.

"You got a brush?"

"Hmmm. Hmmm"

"Here let me, let your hair down. I'll brush it for you. We'll get a proper look."

I had never offered that before, but I was mesmerized. She smiled, jumped up, her breasts moving inside her little top as she turned. No bra, the thought flashed in my mind.

She was gone just a minute, returning with brush in hand.

I set her on the cushion in front of me, and she splayed her legs out. Opening her skirt to unseen eyes. I was behind her. I began to pull the pins from her hair, the little plastic clip and her shiny long brown hair fell loose around her shoulders. 

"There that's better."

And I began to softly brush her hair, breathing in her scent with each stroke. Her small maroon and gold top arching so low at each side I could see her shoulder blades. I leaned back and saw the low of her back.

"Mmmmm. This is nice." She breathed.

I was drawing the brush through her long hair starting at the top and to the right and working my way slowly, slowly. I was laying my hand on her shoulder - steadying her.

I croaked out, "100 strokes for healthy hair."

"That's an old wives tale."

"Well just the same. I'm counting."

She laughed and let me brush out her hair until it was soft and silky shining, and I let it settle around her shoulders perfectly. 

"There."

She stood up again, leaning forward as she did so giving me a perfect view of her cleavage.

"There, now turn around."

She was utterly radiant. I was watching her red mouth.

I blurted out. "I've always loved a beautiful cheerleader. So . . ."

I paused . . . "skilled."

"You think I'm beautiful."

"You'll do fine."

**********

"Daddy!!"

I looked up from my paper. She was in her little outfit again.

It had been a few weeks and she had been going to practice, but I had not seen her and I was putting it all out of my mind. I was trying not to. Her course load at University had been very heavy and the topic of our conversation was focused on academics. I never brought up the cheerleading squad she had joined. I simply could not. My thoughts were getting too intense. I was stopping myself from thinking about her as . . . 

*and then there she stood*

A Cheerleader!

Her hair combed out. This had to stop, I couldn't breath, I was sexualizing my daughter. My only little girl. I couldn't stop looking. At nineteen she had such a thin frame with those still developing hips, such a flat little tummy.

"Can I show you one of our new routines?"

"Uh, I don't know."

"Please daddy?"

"Uh, sure honey."

"Thanks. I need someone who can say what they think, sort of give me pointers and I think you would be perfect."

She walked back to the door and stood in the open area of the room. She turned on the tape, standing still and silent with her hands at her narrow waist. Ready!

At the moment the music began, she burst into her dance. I watched the line of her soft white tummy as she was bringing her elbows forward, arms bent, so that her breasts were squeezed together in the V of her top. And then head up she turned sideways, as her arms were held open, legs apart causing the skirt to flare up and out. Three steps forward, bending forward, touching the ground with both arms, her hair flying forward. All in perfect time to the music.

I felt myself rocketing back in time, sitting in those cheap bleachers, surrounded by kids talking, looking around, and me staring watching the cheerleaders, memorizing their every move. Their lithe little bodies, their smiles, the energy, their beauty. 

Watching . . .

She jumped now and I watched her breasts shake in the thin fabric. Step step and kick. Her long legs rising up up and the skirt opening exposing her soft center. Her puss. That's what it was. I could see the line of fabric between her legs, of gold. They called them pants. But damn, they were even smaller than my memory. Kick . . .kick . . .kick. And a turn and bend, a sort of lurch forward and the whole of her ass came into view, the line of her ass down between her legs, the skirt laying up on her back.

"Woops. I lost my balance. It's not supposed to come up that high."

She reached back and pulled her little skirt back down over her ass and thighs.

She was breathless, shiny with sweat by the time she finished, the music was still playing.

"Well . . .?"

"It was . . . It was good. But . . .I think you could. . . use just a little more energy."

She was frowning.

"No no no. You were great, fantastic! I loved it, but . . . I know a little something about these things."

She was moving toward me, sitting. Her knees held together pointing toward me, tugging the edge of her skirt.

"When you move you are supposed to spring into position. Go faster, snap the muscles and then stop them just as fast."

I had my arms up and was trying to snap my elbows back in a mock attempt, my suit coat lifting up exposing a slight erection in my trousers. I quickly brought my hands back down.

"Well not like that. But you know what I mean?"

She stood back up, brought her arms forward, pressing her breasts together, and . . .

"Snap. That's right. That's it. Exactly . . . See how it feels."

She tried it again.

"Yeah."

"See, every move when it has that little snap just looks . . . so much . . ." and I let my eyes graze over her small body. "So much better."

I continued, "And your kicks."

"Yeah."

"You're a little off center when you do it. Try hold your center, stay stiff straight up and down when you kick. You let your legs swing you off balance. When you kick, its you kicking your legs not the other way round. Here let me show you." 

And I turned her around away from me, put my hands on her bare waist. I was helping. 

I kept telling myself - I was helping. 

My cock was hard in my pants. Can't help that I thought.

"Here now, I'll hold you steady and you kick. You keep yourself still and the leg kicks, you move your leg the leg does not move you." And she kicked.

I said, "Again."

She kicked again. I gripped her tightly. Felt the bone of her hips and pressed my fingers into the top edge of her skirt. Letting my fingers just under the top line.

"Again."

I could feel the underskirt pants, the line beneath the edge of her skirt. My mind was swimming.

"Wow! I feel that too." She stepped back, flushed, "Cool." 

I continued to stand behind her looking down her long dark hair. Looking over her shoulders. She was warm, shiny again with sweat. My hands were still on her waist when she turned around, facing me. 

I suddenly felt awkward, shy, afraid. A million miles away again. I didn't know what to do. I looked away. She became unobtainable, I an eighteen year old kid.

She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

She had no idea.

"Hmmmm. Well, You're my personal trainer now. Thanks!!"

*****************

With that we began to establish a little routine. 

Our routine. I enjoyed the titillation (though un-admitted to myself) the utter pleasure of watching her, and I was becoming less shaken up by my memories most of the time. But this had become like a dream come true. She was the cheerleader I could never be with. And now, I was with her every day. 

Cheerleading became this little topic that we shared together. I could go to the games like I had always done in my youth, my eyes riveted to my daughter, to the line of young girls in cheerleading costumes, their sweats laying in warm crumpled piles at the sideline for them to change into between sets. I could watch them dress and undress. My daughters dark hair, bright smile, and body.

She was coming into my room now for me to brush her hair, because she really liked how I did it. Most of the time she wore her hair up, just like most girls now a days, but when she was getting ready for her cheerleading practices she walked in and without needing to say anything would simply hand me her brush, turn around and sit with her back to me. 

She was so casual when these moments came. Many times it was while she was in her cheerleading costume which was pure heaven for me, but other times. . . in many respects even better.

She had these small thin T shirts she wore, very casual, just little straps of fabric at each shoulder. They were not exactly transparent but you COULD see through the thin fabric, and I loved the way the folds of loose cloth lay on her as she walked up to me, bent near me, turned herself. Some mornings she walked in wearing just a small sports bra, white or red, and sit with her back to me so that her whole bare back was positioned before me, but for a small line of the bra strap. Her small shorts had her in really just undergarments from my vantage point. 

The warmth of her skin, together with the heat that emanated from me as I sat near her was utterly intoxicating, as I slowly casually stroked her hair. The room was filled with the smells of her perfume, of shampoo, the smell of warm hair being brushed.

The coaching had given me unfettered access to her body too, as I 'helped.' 

I would grasp my arms around her waist, pressing my hands tightly into her skin or hold her leg up by her calves, stroking the underside of her leg as I did. Many times I was simply holding her bare feet as I pointed the position they should be turned. 

When she was pushing her arms together, I had my hands on her elbows pressing them tighter tighter. It was I compressing her breasts together. She was all concentration and did not seem in the slightest either embarrassed or restrained. She was utterly comfortable with my presence and touch, with my eyes on her body and I wanted to maintain that confidence. I frequently got hard working with her, but assumed that she simply did not notice and that was that. It was silly to think about for that matter. I had no intentions of . . . she was my little girl. It was enough for me to be near this cheerleader, to watch, to touch . . .

This particular evening I was brushing her hair and as I did she was continually arching her back, twisting herself first one way then another, drawing her head down. Stretching over and over.

"What is it hon?"

"Oh, I pulled a muscle at practice today. It still hurts a little."

"Here let me."

And I set down the brush and lay my hands on her bare shoulders. She moved closer and settled between my legs which I held open on the sofa. 

"Mmmmm."

And I pressed my thumb into her soft powder skin, turning my hands softly, stroking down her neck across her shoulders. Pressing my thumb into the base of her skull, stroking her hair with my hands.

"You've really gotten into this cheerleading thing."

"It's just so different. I needed it. I was always such a tom boy and now since I can't climb trees - I can dance, right. It's physical. I need physical. I need that more than just sitting around reading books."

"Well you've gotten so good. I love watching you."

She turned and smiled at me.

"I like something else abut this too dad. I like having something we share. Us."

I looked into her eyes as I drew my fingers down along her spine between her shoulder blades.

She arched her back, pressed herself into me, like a cat.

"Ohhh, that's it," she was growling. I had never heard her voice like that.

"I guess we are simpatico," I added, "You and I. We think the same. I've always noticed about you, that your interest in the world is physical. You like to touch it, feel its texture, swim in life."

She lifted her head. "Ha! I like that. Swim in Life." She turned to me, I could see her shiny lips. "It's true."

"The intellectuals live inside their head and ignore their bodies and argue nothing. They think the mind is first, but they got it wrong. The brain is second, not first. I've always felt like you understand that."

I was wrapping my hands around her waist and drawing back to the spine, rising higher and higher to her rib cage. She was pressing into my hand. Her body, twisting and hugging into me.

She paused, there was silence awhile before she said, "Yeah, but it can get you into trouble sometimes."

----

What did she mean?

I remained silent.

We set like this for quite awhile as I stroked my hand across her bare back. I was touching her shoulder blades, digging my fingers beneath the edges.

"You are really tight right here."

"From all the 'snapping,'" she growled again tipping her head low. "Mmmmmm."

I loved that little growl of hers. Why had I never heard that, noticed before?

"Oh my God you are good at this. MY trainer!" She turned her head and smiled. "What could I do without you? 

"You'd do fine."

She was smiling, head down. I was watching her, smelling her. I could not stand it. This perfect little compliant body was pressing against me. Skin to skin. I was so close that my breath was touching her. I could feel the warmth between us. I was thinking about wrapping my arms around her, hugging her, pressing my hands up into her and touching her soft breasts, nuzzling my chin into her neck. Kissing her there. She was inches from me. I kept stroking her back, tracing my hands across her skin, just her back as she pressed into my hand wherever I touched her. Growling.

This moment was frozen in time. We shut out our minds. Like she had said. Our bodies. It was about our bodies. Our bodies first, our minds second. 

But that could never be.

************

After that massage, we were somehow more familiar with one another than we ever had been. There was comfort, something more than comfort, and it was in the way we moved with the other. The way I brushed her hair changed, the way I held her, moving her into correct positions. 

She was compliant. But that was not it, because when she came into my study and set by me, her hand on my shoulder she would turn me toward herself physically with a question, holding my shoulder - or my hand - and at that moment I was compliant. It was something else, of a kind of knowledge in the senses of the other. It was like two animals in a cage moving through the space and eating and sleeping day after day after day. Touching and simply knowing, a muscle memory of the other. 

The way her shoulder flexed - I knew that. The length of her calf muscle I had a perfect understanding of. I could close my eyes and see her collarbone, the arch of her back and then just before I would stop myself - her breasts. The way they moved, their tension, the skin pressed against the light fabric. Their weight. 

And we were like that now - but not. Not all of her. I was her father, and she was my daughter. Not all of her. Hell, not even 10% of her - really. I could brush her hair, massage her back. We touched, but then . . . I had to stop. NOT all of her.

She had joined the competitive cheerleading team, she wanted to push herself a little further, to be a little better. And I encouraged her. In truth, I wanted this to go on forever, even though I knew it could not. It was nearing the end of her first year, her Freshman year. Time was short and it was being made up for with intensity. The competition. We both knew it. We both knew what we shared.

We had worked very hard for her first competitive outing, composed of eight girls. And I must say in reviewing the routines when I was allowed to visit practice (which I had started doing as well), she was probably one of the top two. The routines were tight, and her body was toned, she was healthy, very ready. Incredibly so. 

She came into my study, her usual routine and she sat down in the sofa and stared at - the floor. She did not say anything. I kept working, waiting. Just a few furtive glances, and away. What was wrong? This was unusual. 

We had a very good understanding of one another, we did not go on and on talking and talking, but this was different. I turned toward her finally, expectant.

She did not have her usual confidence. 

"Dad."


My Little Cheerleader



I was still looking at her. "Hmmm."

"The next two weeks, the coach wants us to try a technique to bring our dances up a notch. Every girl agreed. I agreed, and . . ."

She looked down at the floor, her cheeks were flushed. I loved the outfit she had. The weather was hot and she had on a sort of wrap around halter and a thin fabric sweat pant that was flowing loose around her legs. She was barefoot.

"Well that's alright. We can adapt to whatever . . ."

"I don't think you'll be able to help me with my routines for awhile."

She was genuinely sad. Forlorn. I went over and sat by her.

"What? Did she tell you that, what? Is she. . . she doesn't want anyone else helping you." I was mildly worried. I felt guilty. Did anyone suspect? "Am I steering you wrong?"

"No no, she loves how I move. She calls me a natural. It's been great. Perfect."

"It's not that."

Another pause.

"She wants us girls to do our routines . . . naked." She looked at me. The word sunk in. I flashed on her, could not help it, was picturing her perfectly. The clothes melting away. I knew her body that well. I didn't have to see.

I felt myself growing aroused, my hands trembling. My heart rising into my throat, I felt warm. Just the thought of . . . I didn't move. I remained calm. I tried to be nonchalant, "Oh, yes. Well that would be . . ."

"She says that the focus is then only on the body. That any embarrassment you feel for your body gets dealt with. Dance is the body. . . She said it's how professionals will practice, and so. . . I'm sorry."

She was truly sad. "You can do, help me with everything else. It's not you. I promise."

I held her hand. She looked at the floor. "It was fun dad. I really need you." And under her breath, "This sucks."

I said completely from underwater, I felt like I was swimming up from somewhere deep beneath the house, "Well." I was still holding her hand, "I don't see . . . how that would necessarily stop us. If . . ."

She was looking at me, eyes wide. Startled almost.

How could I make this seem even remotely reasonable. 

"We've worked so hard. I think I have helped, and I could maybe keep helping. We should be able to find a way."

"I would be too uncomfortable."

"Well that's that then. But . . . " I pressed on, "You know, that is part of what she is trying to get you through isn't it? She wants your movement to have utter confidence. I understand that. I can help there. It's . . . It's not a big deal . . . not really. It's natural. I think I could . . . don't let my discomfort stop you . . . or yours."

There was silence. Tension. She took her hand away. I wanted to somehow lighten the mood and I said, "Besides, I HAVE seen you naked before you know."

She looked at me, smiled, laughed. Let out a breath. "Ha!" 

I was relieved. 

"Yeah when I was like seven."

"Not quite. I've seen you SINCE then."

She threw her hair back. I was being playful. She was sitting staring at me like 'since when?'

I pressed on, hoping this would not backfire, "Your not a prude Sara. You sleep naked don't you."

"How do you know that??"

What was I doing.

"And . . . " I continued in a light hearted voice, "When you go to the bathroom at night, how often do you put on a robe?"

Her eyes went wide and she jumped up on her knees, "Oh my God. You . . . "

"By accident, totally by accident. But . . . So . . . there you are. I have ALREADY seen you naked Sara, within the last year."

She had her hand to her mouth. She was laughing. "Oh - my - God! I am so sorry. I thought everyone was asleep." She was shaking her head. Hiding her face in her hands.

"You never told me this before."

"No. Not exactly a topic that one can bring up out of the blue is it. Good morning! I saw you naked last night."

She was laughing again.

"No." She said through her hand.

"No. I just quickly turned back around and got out of there. But you know, when your daughter starts to talk about dancing naked - well, then I guess then . . . it seems to be the time to bring it up. So there you are, I've already seen you."

She was smiling, looking to the side and thinking, nodding her head. Pressing her hands together, tugging her skirt. 

"I can't picture how I can do it . . . without you. That's why it was . . . "

"So upsetting. I could tell. I can tell. Well, what do YOU want. Don't think about it. What do you want?" 

She bit her lower lip.

"I want you to help me." 

***********

It was the moment of truth. 

The practice we had decided was necessary, that I could help. 

But we also knew we had to be careful, quiet. Her coach couldn't know, my wife - her mother - couldn't know. Nobody could know. How would a father explain coaching his naked daughter. I kept telling myself it was the right thing to do. But my heart, my heart betrayed me - beating as it was with anticipation this warm afternoon.

She walked into the room, locked the door. The tape player was on a table to her right. She was wearing her white robe. Her hair was somewhat disheveled, her cheeks glowed red. She seemed uncomfortable tugging at the tie.

"Ok." I said. "Well, Here we are. We can do this."

She was padding at the far side of the room. I continued, "The beginning, at first will be hardest. Then, this is exactly what you need to get over hon. Discomfort with your body."

I patted the couch. She stepped toward me. "Here. Here, let me brush your hair."

She set down with her back to me. 

"Calm you."

"I have never had such butterflies," she whispered out, glancing back at me and away as I stroked her hair down her back softly and slowly. She was shaking her head, she began to laugh.

"Really. It's not a big deal. Don't think about. . . "

"Ha! This is crazy. Oh man oh man oh man!"

"It'll be just fine." I was looking at the small of her back. I knew she was naked under that robe.

I was already hard.

"Yeah, easy for you to say. Your not stripping for your daughter." She said it with a wry smile.

Her voice, the words, my anticipation was giving me a tremble I could not hide.

"I'm nervous too sweet. I am. . . Here, ok then."

She looked back at me.

"Go on. Open your robe. Face away. I'll see you from the back.

She untied the front and pulled it back slowly, I watched it rise over her shoulders and then fall down her back. She pulled her arms from the sleeves and I finished brushing her hair as she set there naked before me.

She said, "Rub my back dad. I think it will make me feel better." 

And I did, I began to softly rub her shoulders and down her back, feeling lower and lower down to where she sat, to her hips, wrapping my fingers around her hip bone pressing my thumb in at each side; down the arch of her back to the crack of her ass, below the line of where her skirt would be, below the line of her 'pants.' I stroked her shoulder blades and down her arms.

She sighed and moaned. "I like this you know. I like your massages."

"That's good. This is working."

"I like it too much."

I was silent again, let it go by, and she rose from the sofa her nude form rising from the crumpled robe that lay on the sofa between my legs. Oh, what a glorious sight.

She walked a few steps away and then turned around, her dark little puss flashing into view. Perfectly coifed. She trimmed her pussy. I never would have guessed. That little space between her legs, her pussy pouting down, low beneath her navel. Her breasts were stunning, they were small but lay like tear drops, her nipples were pink and poking out, she was hard. She was flushed and smiling nervously.

"There, the first. This is it! Ha! I'm naked." She was shaking her hands.

I nodded.

"I'm fucking naked . . . in front of my dad." She laughed.

She walked back and forth in the room, pushed the button on the radio. The music started as she was walking away, she turned again and turned it off. The nervous energy flashing from her eyes and hair. She turned and walked back to me, turned again. Pacing. 

"Ok, ok, ok, we can do this." She took a breath, caught my eye. "I'm feeling better. Ok."

"I told you." And she continued to pace.

My erection was tenting my pants.

She was pacing and glancing my way. She saw me and covered her arms over her chest, "Your liking this a little too much dad."

I blushed crimson.

"I'm sorry." I covered myself with her robe. "It's just that. . . I'm nervous too. You can't . . I can't control. . . "

She finished, "That!" Pointing her finger, she laughed. "Your mind is second." 

She went over and turned on the music again, letting it reach a certain point and then off again.

She became more matter of fact, "I want to start with the harder piece and go to the easier piece in case we need to stop. So here it goes." She pushed it on again. 

The music was beginning.

And she began walking to her spot as I could still hear her mumbling, "Ok ok.. . . . "

And the song went to the point of starting and she stopped talking. She threw her arms back behind her hips at the side, and arched her back, then stepping back and forth and in a circling motion a complex series of steps. Marching, knees raised. Her breasts moving freely, her hair fallen around her shoulders in a perfect rythem.

I could feel my cock getting wet, I was dripping, wetting my trousers and there was a small stain forming at the front. I just ignored it. She already knew about my erection. Hell what was I supposed to do, you see a naked woman, someone like this, and you get aroused. I can handle this. 

She began kicking her leg into the air, first one then the other and I could see the line of her puss run up through her center, the hairs showing only at the front on her mons. She turned her back to me, and bent forward touching the ground. Her legs parted and her pussy tipping into view hanging between her legs, like a small fruit, the dark hairs framing a cunny that was opening, pink, this wonderful pink line shining. She was WET. 

So she was aroused as well. Her cheeks were crimson and she was breathing hard. She turned to me, I rose from my chair. 

"That felt really good." Her voice was relaxed, resonant.

"It was, incredible." I heard myself say. I stood up.

She was looking at the stain on my pants. "I bet."

I held my hand over my crotch. "No I mean you have the moves perfectly. Seriously."

"It really feels . . ." She paused, "Free." She was looking down at herself cupping her breasts. 

I was adjusting myself as I walked toward her. 

Her whole demeanor was changing now. She was becoming comfortable, even playful. Moving freely, becoming comfortable with her body.

"Your kicks are still not quite right." And I turned her back to me by her shoulders. Probably because I did not want her smirking at me anymore. And I wrapped my arms around her waist and asked her to kick for me. I tried to hold her away from me, but as we progressed she was too powerful and I had to hold her more tightly, so as I usually do, I pulled her more closely to myself. 

The effect was unmistakable, my cock nestling right into the crack of her ass.

She did not flinch at all, she was focusing now - kicking - her concentration was her great strength. I had my arms around her waist and could feel the downy hairs now of her abdomen, thinking how there was nothing down below, nothing between my hands and her puss. 

I was holding her, and against all judgement, was letting my hands drift lower. I wanted to simply touch her fur. To feel just the edge of her puss. My fingers drifted lower, well below her navel, and the course hairs touched my fingers as her body pressed into my cock, I could feel myself cuming. Oh my God! Cuming in my pants. 

I could not control the movement and I was bucking my hips slightly, shaking into her as she did her last kicks.

I was light headed and beet red. The energy and air going out of me. 

She turned and looked at me. I looked like I had wet myself. I turned away.

She was so comfortable now. "Looks like you're the one who needs to get control of yourself." 

I was walking over to the sofa.

"No you don't. Get back here. That was perfect. This is all about confidence."

I came back over to her, "God this is working dad. I never felt the kicks working so good as they just did. Feeling the way my body moves. This is perfect." She pointed at my trousers, "You just behave." She had no idea. No idea that I had just cum all over myself.

She faced me and I held her arms, the snap in front, her bare breasts pressing between her arms, her nipples peaking in and out of view. I was watching her steps, counting for her. Spotting her for the back flips, pressing her into her splits (which were amazing when she was naked!). And after about one half hour of this it felt, it did feel utterly natural - until the music stopped. 

I was hard again and she was suddenly my daughter again completely nude and walking toward the sofa. 

She slipped on her robe. Her cheeks flushed. I sat by her.

"We can do this." She was happy.

We had a good day.

************

Over the next two weeks I had unfettered access to her body. Those practices continued for the next two weeks. How we found time, created time and kept our secret I will never know. We added a lock to the gym so that there was no way anyone could accidently wander in, even if they had keys. 

The sessions were all very similar. We began with my brushing her hair, which she loved, dropping her robe and giving her a massage. She loved my hands on her body and I was gradually over time growing more bold. And she did not seem to mind, though I never overtly touched her sex. But I was rubbing her bare thighs now, and grazing her pubic hairs with my finger tips at the base of her abdomen. I was reaching beneath her arms and stroking the edge of her breasts as her robe lay around her on the sofa, getting ready. 

My hands would roam along the lengths of her arms, along her thighs and up through to her hip bone. Her bare skin for me became one of the purest of pleasures, of running my hand along bare flesh where her skirt should be. I drew lines along her collarbone and held her neck as I helped her position herself, stance and poise. And as always she was utterly compliant. 

For her part she felt a much greater license to touch me as well. It emerged gradually. I was always clothed, but her hands drifted frequently beneath my shirt. She would lay her hand right on my heart beneath the lower hem as we talked. She liked to tuck her fingers beneath my belt and rest her hand at the base of my spine. When she laughed she would lean into me and put her chin into my shoulders.

While it was obvious how aroused I got during these sessions, I equally knew how aroused she was, because while my hands wandered throughout her body but for her breasts and sex; my eyes had no such limitation. My eyes were free and I could see her perfect slit opening and closing as she danced, shining wet with cum. Her puckered little anus I knew intimately. Her clitoris would stand engorged when she arched her back and held herself up by hands and legs, and flipping one leg then the other to a handstand. Her cheeks flushed. She looked like she were in the throes of orgasm most of the time. But I said nothing. We grew to love everything about our time together, our hermetically sealed little world. Our Paradise.

As the music continued and the routines progressed, our contact gradually and subtly increased. Neither of us admitting to the other, our enmeshed love of what we were doing. 

She was exclaiming to me how the coach loved her progress, extolled in her naturalness. "She told me I was drawing from an energy source that was amazing." And she laughed and continued, "Yeah I told her that it was that I practice naked with my dad."

I would feign mock surprise and we would laugh, she stroking my chest beneath my shirt.

It was beautiful. It was good. It was sensual. It was the peak experience of my entire life, at least it was the peak that I knew up to that moment. 

But there were other peaks shrouded in the clouds.

*****************

When I slept at night, my dreaming and my imagination was of her naked body. She moved in front of me, and in my dreams I touched her. I touched her where my eyes saw, running my fingers through her pink wetness, her legs opening and teasing me. Dreams of pushing her pussy into my mouth, trembling tasting her, that feeling of passion rising causing me to wake so hot and hard it was painful, and I would spread the dripping wetness from my cock along its length and stroke myself until cum was spraying up my front in the darkness. 

My imagination was wanton, while I continued to convince myself that what we did continued to be innocent, under control. But my imagination was beginning to merge with reality. For I was masturbating not to fantasy visions of my nude daughters pussy, but to my memory of what I was seeing each day. 

Her lips were so red, watching her lovely smile, her white teeth, as she leaned into me. But in my imagination I could feel her kiss, her tongue pressing wet into my mouth, holding her. And then I was the one naked and she the one looking at me with almond eyes, pressing me back onto the bed and crawling up and down my body our warm skin together and I knew the feel of her skin. As I watched her red lips sucking on me, watching the cum spray into her, drinking me. 

Her white teeth and red lips were always with me. I could feel her skin, knew every square inch of her body. I knew the softness of her breasts, the dimples of her nipple, the texture of her pubic hair, the wet warmth under her arms. The smell of her wet pussy, her sweat was a perfume that lingered with me when we parted, it filled the room as she danced now. Her breath, the slipperiness of her sweat at the small of her back, the lines of tendons on her neck. The hard line of her hip bone, the soft swell of her breasts. . .

In the last two days, she was growing more nervous. The practices were exceptional. She was better than I had ever seen her, and it was time. Time for her to practice with her clothes on again, her cheerleaders costume. But the competition was looming and she had anxiety of the crowds, of the judging and I for my part coached her through that as well.

"Hell, we did this. You can do anything."

She looked at me, her head tilted, standing nude before me holding my hand with both of hers.

"This. This was easy."

When she walked into the gym in her cheerleaders outfit, it was the first time I had seen her in the costume in two weeks. I thought I was going to immediately cream myself. I was so hard I could hardly stand it. 

Her naked body was arousing. Watching her getting aroused in the dance was amazing. But for me, the moment of seeing this cheerleader standing before me, one that I had seen naked, was more than I could bear. I was walking up into the clouds. My chest split open. How could my life have come to such perfect fruition.

I moved up to her in the practice and put my hands on her with a naturalness born of her nakedness. We had been in the Garden, we had stood in Paradise. But in Paradise there is no sin. But now clothed, that is the Fruit of Sin, and then - it was all drenched in desire. 

I touched her tummy, and turned her, slid my hands down the fabric of her skirt out of habit to the base of her pussy mound, but now it meant reaching into her clothes, and she yelped as I reached into her skirt this time. Or I was touching her thighs at the hem and running my fingers up beneath the fabric and holding her hip bone, her dress folded up around my hand. I traced the line of the V of her breast feeling the soft swell along a line that had not been there before. She was watching me, compliant but also confused, wide eyed.




My Little Cheerleader



"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Just reacquainting myself," I said. I was somewhat difficult to control.

I knew she was feeling the same way. She was commenting on how weird she felt now with clothes on. Her cheeks mottled as she stood near me and looked back into my eyes, biting her lower lip. I could still smell her puss, her wetness beneath her skirt.

I laughed. 

"I feel more naked NOW!" she said, fluttering her eyes before me as she stood now in her little outfit.

I laughed. She knew.

She leaned against me, more tightly when I held her for the practice kicks. Protected now by clothes she was grinding her ass against my cock, which was still hard standing stiff along the line of her ass, as she kicked. She was also reacquainting herself with me I thought. 

She glanced back at me, acknowledging my cock pressing into her growling, "Well that hasn't changed." And she gave me a bump back arching her back and sliding along my whole length, sending shivers down my legs.

I wrapped my hands around her waist and slid my hand beneath the hem of her skirt, beneath the 'shorts' and rested my hand right over the course fine hairs of her puss as she kicked her little heart out - as she ground her ass onto my cock. As we writhed against one another, I pressing my hand into her mons.

"Mmmmmm." Cheek to cheek.

No wonder Adam and Eve were kicked out of the garden.

"Whew," she was winded, she was on fire. She was dancing so well and so electric. Her sexual energy was pushed into a routine and outfit now that contained her naked form. What had been innocence and nakedness was now clothed, had become wanton, worldly.

And when the session was over she walked up to me and leaned in and kissed me on the mouth, catching me in a total surprise. 

It was a liquid fire, soft, utterly relaxed kiss. There was no tension anywhere in her body. I could see her clitoris harden as she kissed me in my minds eye. It was no more than a five second kiss. But five seconds! Think about it: one one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, four one-thousand, five one-thousand. Time stopped, it was a kiss that ended with her lips tugging at my lower lip, and as she pulled away - eyes sparkling into mine - my lip was held there between hers in a moment that was probably eternity.

"Thanks. For everything."

***************

The next day she practiced with clothes on again. It was much like the day before, we were so close, so in tune, her moves so dazzling. Her confidence soared. She was happy, I was happy. 

She leaned in at the end to kiss me once more, soft like last time - and a little something more at the end. Her mouth opening, she let me in. 

I had never 'touched' her, my little girl, she let me in. I felt her mouth parting and I remained still not moving, but yielding, felt her tongue touch mine - tentative, slow. This dance that we had been practicing. 

I met her touch, pressed myself into her. She let me in. I felt her teeth close around my lower lip, felt her chewing on my lip as I hugged her closer to myself, turned my head and pressed our mouths together. We stood with the music playing in an embrace that did not match at all the tempo of the music. But then when has sexual pleasure ever matched the tempo of the world around us?

She released me. I did not kiss her for one moment more than she. It was her kiss. It was not my kiss. I continue to tell myself that to this day.

Her smile was languid. Her voice relaxed and low. "Wow," was all she said. I held my arms around her waist and our hips were pressed together, my hard cock rising up along her abdomen. We both looked down. The tip of my cock inside my pants was touching her belly button. We said nothing, we looked into one another's eyes. 

***********************

The day had arrived. The first competition.

My mind was swimming with thoughts. Some rational grounded in the pride a father feels when his little girl does well. Some not so rational: the butterfly's in my stomach, the trembling, the numbness in my hands, which I knew was from lust, nothing more. I had a tremble that I could not contain. I could still taste her.

As I was moving about my room, the intercom called out to me.

"Daddy??"

"Yes Hon."

"Could you come here a minute."

"Uh," I looked around for my pants, "Sure hon." I pulled on some sweats and a T shirt, and padded down the hall. Probably needs some encouragement I thought.

I rapped at her door, and pushed it open stepped into her room. 

"It's your big day!"

She was sitting on the bed with her white robe wrapped around herself. Her face was done up in makeup, something I seldom saw. And it was for stage so it was quite heavy. She looked like a little china doll, her lips the reddest I had ever seen.

Her voice quivered. "I need some help." There was a click in her throat, her mouth was dry.

"What is it?"

She rose from the bed and padded over to her desk and held a small bottle out to me, set it in my hand.

"This lotion - the coach wants us girls to apply this head to toe. It has gold specks in it, makes us shine she said. Could you help me . . ." I looked up at her.

She was pouting.

I backed up with the small bottle in my hand and set on the bed. She opened her robe, let it drop silent to the floor. "I need you to put it on." I could feel her breath on my cheek.

I nodded, as she stood before me completely naked. 

And this morning as I lay my hands upon her she felt naked. I thought this would be easier somehow. But the surprise, I went instantly hard again. She was looking down at me, smiling, and then she turned around. 

"Do my back first. Rub my back."

I squeezed the lotion in my hand, it swirled into my palm looking like sparkling liquid gold.

"Amazing stuff." I said.

"Hmmm, hmmm." She sat down on the bed beside me.

I ran my hand across her shoulders and in small circles, rubbing it in. I could see the speckles of gold light up in flecks across her skin. It looked utterly fantastic. I caressed the lotion over her shoulders, and sliding my hand down the small of her back. When I began to clasp my fingers around to her sides, she held her arms out. I wrapped my hands around each of her arms swirling and sliding the lotion on her body, repeatedly turning to the bed to squirt the cream into my hands and then turning back to her holding her arms out and her hair pulled over her shoulders.

She stood with legs apart as I applied the lotion lower. Down, down further, my cock standing straight up. My cock hurt from the strain of being hard, of being rubbed and tugged from my repeated masturbation. I was hard, so hard again. 

I let my hands wander lower, the small of her back and then to her ass. It felt so good. I sat down behind her and began to work the lotion over her ass, soft and round, yielding. I could feel her pressing into my hand as it stroked across her, tipping her ass toward me. I had never simply slid my hand over ass like this. 

She was holding her legs apart, and I could see the swell of her pussy, the cleft of her cunt rising into the line of her ass. The smell of her puss rising around us. She stood like this, within her silent room, I could hear her breathing.

"I'm excited," she whispered.

"I'm excited for you."

It was all we said, as my hand drifted over her ass, my fingers wrapped around to her sides, and pressed into the line of her ass. She was letting me stroke her, standing naked before me, and I felt a certain license. I was invited. I let my fingers press deep into the crack of her ass, ran my fingers down, pressing lower and lower until I felt the opening of her ass. That little pucker, and stroked over the top. 

All I heard was that light little growl, and she did not move at all, just letting her head drop lower. Her hips were lightly undulating. I kept going, letting my hand reach between her legs tracing a line to her vagina, and pressing my fingers into the folds of her. Just a touch, just to feel the soft hairs. She opened her legs further and arched her ass toward me, tipping her puss into my hand and I felt her warm wet slit open around my fingers and touching at just the opening of her, I pulled her pussy open. I could see her vagina, white and pink, open to me. My cock lept at the touch and she pressed lightly around my finger twisting her ass on my hand.

She looked back at me and I stopped myself, willed myself on, turning back to the bottle.

"Sorry about that," I croaked.

"It's alright. Mmmmm. It's . . ." was all she managed. "Keep going."

I continued, wrapping my hands around her thighs, freshly filled with the cream liquid and pressed up between her legs first one and then the other. The top of my hands pressed between her legs and I felt the heat of her, it was steam, moisture, cum running along the inside of her thighs. She was on fire. I slid my hands lower working each leg down to her feet, her toes. I touched each one of her toes adoringly, lovingly. Bending at the waist, I could feel my cock pressing up through the top of my sweats.

I whispered to her, "Now the front."

She turned around, eyes closed and shook her mane of black hair onto her back.

I started at her neck.

"Do my face too dad."

Her eyes were closed and I gently applied the lotion to her forehead, her cheeks and chin around her mouth. She kissed my finger.

"Careful of my eyes."

I was reaching up and stroking her neck, her shoulders, and lower to her breasts. Her breasts I had fondled before, but not like this. From the front I rubbed the lotion around the sides, on top, over her nipples, I felt them tighten to my touch. Squeezing her breasts in my open hands, pressing them upward in my hands, her breathing was ragged. Her cheeks glowed red, I watched her lick her lips.

She opened her eyes lightly and looking down at me, smiled.

I rubbed her tummy, the sides of her rib cage, her abdomen and around the sides, along the line of her hip. I wanted this to last an eternity. I could not believe this was happening. My eyes were watering, I was almost crying from sheer pleasure. I wanted to lean forward and just to kiss her there, to kiss her on the navel, to taste her. 

My hands trembling rubbed over the hairs of her puss, she opened her legs and let me slide my fingers on either side of her cunny lips. I applied the lotion liberally there. Never mind the gold dust would be invisible there. She was sliding herself against my hand and I again pressed my finger between her legs, into the folds of her flesh. 

She leaned forward, setting her hand on my shoulder, and then she was reaching lower. I felt her lay her hand on the top of my cock and press there. It was tenting straight up. I let out such a moan, to be pressed there! To fill the tip of my cock pressed.

Her inner lips were swollen and hanging from her cunny, they were wet and pink. Soft and I could turn them in my fingers. She was rubbing against me harder and I drew a line from her vagina to her clitoris and as I touched her there, it was so hard, her knees buckled a little and she bit her lips, she stood closer. 

As I stroked her I could feel the top of my sweats being pulled, watching her hand reach inside, she wrapped her hands around my cock and pulled it out, pushing my sweats open. 

"I think I should get to see you, don't you think." Her low growl. She slid the wetness dripping from the tip of my cock over its head with her thumb, staring intently at my cock and balls. 

I slid my hand over her puss so softly, exploring, opening pressing into her, silent in the low morning light as she slid her hand along the length of my cock, and digging her fingers into my shoulder.

"I like this too." She whispered.

My hand was soaked with her, the smell of pussy filled the room, mixed with this gold cream that smelled like something sweet, gardenia, something like that. Her legs were spread over my knees, her hair hanging down around my head. My cock being fondled and tugged between my legs.

"Mmmmm. OK Dad." And she took her hand away. "We have to keep going. I'll have to get ready."

And I took some more cream. She was arching her puss away from me, stepping back again. I looked at her naked form, glowing gold. All that was left was the front of her legs, and I dutifully applied the cream there, she was smiling shining in gold. Her dark hair had sparkles as well, her make up perfect. She was ready today.

"You look like a Goddess."

She stepped away from me, looking at me as my cock was still pointing straight up. She went to sit at her desk, a small mirror there. 

I could see her breasts in the mirror as she began to brush her hair.

She didn't look at me.

I ached. I was in agony. Desire and pleasure, is receiving something you should not have. Pain is when things go back to normal. And I was now walking out the door, back into the hallway.

*************

She was ready. I was ready. Her cheerleader outfit was perfect with the glow of her skin. The sparkles with the maroon and gold looked amazing. The coach was right. The shine of her skin, sparkling in the light looked like some kind of strange trick. She looked like an apparition.

"I'm so excited. I can't believe we're doing this."

I said, "It's you who is doing this. I am a bystander."

She leaned in and kissed me. I let it linger.

"Daddy. I have one more move that I need just a little help with, it should take no time at all."

We had about two hours yet and I thought, sure. That would be fine. 

"Which is it, the backward arch?"

"Yeah that whole routine. I just need a spotter. One last time."

When we went into the gym, I watched her lock the door.

The music began and she went right into the step routine, throwing her hands back, jumps forward, jumps back and falling to the floor in a sort of push up. Some parts required coordination and contact with the others and we just skipped those. 

She stepped up, smiling, looking directly at me, she high kicked. And I caught a quick flash of her pantiless puss. She was smiling again, another kick and I saw her bare pussy again, her pink swollen lips. Oh my God! I was mesmerized.

She paused and I sheepishly mentioned that she did not have her entire costume on.

She was such wicked little girl, "Yeah, well, I'm still too wet . . . down there. Nothing you haven't seen though. Right??"

She was so wicked, this wicked grin. 

She began another routine, not practicing what she had mentioned, and it involved that turn and bend. The skirt rode up again and I could see her perfect ass, her pussy pouting down between her legs, her pink line. 

I walked over to her and stood behind her. "You got that one wrong again."

I slapped her right on her bare ass, "Not so fast, it makes - your dress ride up." Playful. The surprise in her eyes at my swat was met with a small smile and fluttering eyes - of submission.

"Sorry," and I stepped up close behind her and let my hand ride up under her skirt as she waited for the cue to start. I grazed the line of her ass. She was concentrating, ignoring me with my hand under her skirt. Or . . . letting me. This was interesting. My mind was becoming muddled. Tangled.

She needed the spotter for the back arch and I stood ready. She did it perfectly but in mock spotting support I brought my hands under her, stroking, cupping her bare ass. Now up, and around, She lifted her leg, her skirt falling down around her waist and over, naked entirely and she spun around into a split and the skirt falling around her legs once again. She brought her one leg over and lay back on the floor. The end of that routine. 

Just as she ended I knelt down and set beside her, "Perfect" I said as I traced a line up under her skirt with my fingers, began brushing her pussy. 

She lay with eyes closed, saying "Hmmm, pretty good," with her arms extended, opening her legs slightly, not moving as I stroked her down there. 

I took the hem of her skirt and threw it up onto her tummy, exposing her cunt. She began to rise, but I said, "Stay there."

I stared openly at her. She lay there a glazed look on her face, fluttering her eyes at me, and pressing her fingers into the back of my hand as I worked my fingers between her legs. The music playing in the background. 

"Mmmmm, Dad you have to stop." I took my hand away and she sat up. Just the two of us sitting on the wooden floor. She was just staring at me, we said nothing.

"I'm sorry." I whispered. "I shouldn't . . ."

"Don't." She touched her finger to her lips, and then began to rise. "I, I don't know what I was thinking," and she flashed her skirt up so I could get a flash of her puss yet again. My cock ached. I was still sitting on the floor.

"I'm going to go lay down just a little while. Sort of calm down."

"Ok."

She padded off as I watched her, still seated on the floor.

****************

I was pacing now, waiting. My heart pounding in my ears. I would just peak in on her. I needed to wake her up. We needed to go.

I opened her door softly, no movement. The lights were out. I could see her outline laying on the bed, her eyes closed. I closed the door behind me and stood watching her. Laying carefully at the center of the bed, her shoes were still on.

I silently stepped up beside her, she did not move at all. "Sara." I waited. "Sara." I set by the bed and lay my hand on her tummy.

The warmth of her body met my hands and I began to draw small circles there, sitting in her little room of white furniture, clothes laying everywhere. The smell of powder and perfume. The place we had sat, just hours before. She letting me rub and touch her body. I let my hand drift lower, lower . . . Reaching under her skirt. Watching her face as I did. Her breathing steady and calm. MY fingers pressed beneath her skirt, drawing a line there and then palm flat further further, the soft hairs of her puss tippling my fingers, she still had put on nothing beneath her skirt, splaying up into my open palm, as I traced the V between her legs.

She began to tip her hips, pressing her puss into my fingers which were curling between her legs. She still made no movement, her breathing quickening a little, but her eyes still closed. I tipped my middle finger down, wiggling it and opening, pressing into her there. I felt her lightly open her legs.

She was biting her lower lip as she whispered, "Daddy?" grasping my big hand which lay beneath her skirt. She lightly open her eyes, smiling "Daddy," as I lifted myself and lay over her, touching her nose with mine, and began to kiss her. Her warmth pressed down into the bed as I kissed her, and she met me with open mouth. We lay silently in her dark little room tonguing, rolling into one another, she holding her arms above her head, open, yielding to me. 

I wrapped my hand behind her waist, held her by the small of her back and pulled her to me, as we lay there leaning toward one another on her bed.

As we kissed she was reaching down and pulling my sweats open again, reaching inside tugging at the elastic of my underwear, tugging at my cock. And she was pulling them lower and off, I let them slide down, lifting myself and helping her. 

I whispered, "What are you doing?"

She just smiled and said, "You know."

She had her hand around my cock as I began to kiss down her front, softly nibbling around the top of her puss, licking her, wetting her soft short hairs until they were pasted to her skin as she continued to hold and stroke my cock in her hand. I glanced up at her shining face, just the lightest faintest smile as she lay watching my cock, licking her lips.

I began to suck on her,lower down, licking a line between her pussy and thighs and then up through her center from her ass to her clit, feeling her suck in air breathing deep and arching her back, setting a hand on my head, as my stiff tongue opened her center. 




My Little Cheerleader



She brought her knees up and let them fall open. "Mmmm. Fuck yeah, keep doing that," she growled at me eyes still closed. I had never heard her use that word before.

"This is so . . ." Her voice trailing off.

She opened her legs wider and wider, almost to a split letting her knees bend at the edge of her bed on each side, opening the whole line of her pink cunt to me. 

"Your so flexible," I said. I continued to lick her, until she was pulling at my shoulders, taking my face in her hand and pulling me toward her. 

"Let me." She said tupping my cock. And I lifted my leg and lay my cock right over her face and held my legs open over her. I could feel my cock sink into her, her mouch wrapping lightly around the head, and we lay like that eating one another. I was fucking her face, lifting and lowering my hips, pressing into her sliding my cock in and out of her mouth. She taking me all the way in. I could see her red lips wrap around the base of my cock. We were beyond hungry. 

Her motions were liquid, she was raising her hips up to meet my tongue, grinding herself into me, guiding me where she wanted to be licked and chewed by her undulations and squeeks of joy. 

She was holding my balls tightly in her hand as she pumped her mouth along my length, and then she was turning herself. Reaching down to my face, turning me around, looking into my eyes. We opened our mouths and pressed into one another and I lay directly on her pressing her into the mattress. 

Pinning her down I let my cock fall between her legs, she felt the tip touching her and she was opening her eyes wide, opening her mouth touching her lower lip with her toungue. Her cheerleader skirt was just a line at her waist, her top pulled up around her breasts bunching up under her arms. 

I let my cock touch her between her legs, teasing her playing with her. She was adjusting herself, reaching, opening herself, moving me to her opening, holding me to herself her small hands at my hip. And so pressing a little more and a little more I suddenly could feel myself sliding inside. Feeling her close around the head of my cock.

I pressed, continued pressing in, feeling the head of my cock slip inside, pop! and we froze as she opened herself receiving me. I looked at her, felt her body pressing reaching for me pulling me into her sucking on me, pulling me inside and as we kissed again I pressed my full length into her.

She arched her back, and took in a deep breath. We continued kissing, she opening her mouth and tonguing me as we fucked in her room. I moved softly over her body, pulling her to me and watching her as she lay beneath me. As we kissed and fucked, the energy between us kept rising and rising until I was pounding her, she was sliding up pressing herself against me with her arms at the headboard. 

I held her hips and pinned myself to her, rocking into her. Filling her to the hilt and then grinding myself against her so I was rubbing her clitoris with the base of my cock. She went wild with that and began to lift her hips up hard, rocking against me, she was strong and was able to just about lift me off the mattress. She had her arms up around my neck, and I let my hands wander down between her legs until I found her ass, wet with cum running down her backside and plunged my fingers into her. Filling her everywhere. Her eyes stared wide at me, and the shock. My fingers working in and out of her ass. I was fucking from both sides. Sliding into her, grinding, pounding her.

"Oh . . . Oh," she was panting now. I could feel her vagina trembling could feel it opening and closing around me, and I pressed deep into her and continued to turn my hips into her, her clitoris digging into me - I could feel it. She was kissing me again, her tongue was cold and she was trembling, a tremble that started low and then moved up through her frame, she began to shake beneath me and I held her there fucking her as she cried out on the floor. 

I pressed her into the bed, she had nowhere to go. It was like she was trying to crawl away from me. Her pleasure on the cusp of pain, she was crying out her orgasm in the room. I had no idea the noise, the sound of the music still playing in the distance.

I felt her fall back. If I had lifted her then her arms would be splayed back behind her. I paused, but then in long hard strokes continued to fuck her. Long and deep, over and over and over. She opened her eyes, smiling, lifted her legs up to her breasts holding them open allowing me to penetrate her deep.

"Fuck me! You still going. Oh God, Keep doin that." As I continued to slide into her, I pounded faster and faster, my whole length leaving and entering her. 

She lifted her mouth to my ear. Her warm breath breathing, "Fuck your little girl, go ahead, fuck your little CHEERLEADER." 

And with that I was looking down at her in that little marroon and gold top, the pleated skirt and I came in her with a passion that I had never felt before. Pulse after pulse, filling her up. I could feel her puss sucking on my cock, like a mouth drinking me in.

I pressed so deep into her and held myself to her, clung to her. This hovering flower as my vision went utterly blank, I fell through the floor, we were utterly collapsed into one another. Falling, as I ground into her she was wrapped around me and was turning her head, crawling up away from me, crying and growling. We flew into pieces, and lay on one another not moving; we fell asleep.

She stirred first. I felt her body move. She was in her cheerleaders outfit. I could see her top pulled up over her breasts, her hair was spread out on the pillow. Her skirt was even with her waist, her legs open wide and I lay between them. She had her legs interlocked with mine, my one arm was beneath her craddling her against me, and I realized I was still inside her. I could feel her pulling at me, squeezing my cock inside, feel the sucking of her cunt. And little movements of her hips, rocking again against me and I could feel that I was still hard, that I was sliding inside of her. Did we ever stop fucking?

Her mouth was open, and she still appeared to be sleeping, that perfect innocent face. Those red lips. From the neck up you would never know our nakedness, her open legs and my cock buried inside.

I looked around, my pants were laying to one side, inside out with my underwear tangled inside. My T shirt on the floor as well. One of her shoes lay right beside. 

I looked at her perfect face, her lips, her white teeth and I kissed her. A soft light kiss, one and then a second. She began to kiss me back, opening her eyes. 

"Sweet." I whispered into her ear. "The competition. We have to get ready."

She held a finger to my lips.

She just smiled vaguely, opened her mouth to me and let me in again.

*********

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