Close knit family

you love me, Uncle Ted. And Karen and Wendy know it, too. That's why we always liked you better than Aunt Judy, because we could tell that she didn't love us the way you did.

When Daddy was still with us, we knew that he loved us — but it didn't seem like it was anywhere near as much as you did, because he hardly ever wanted to do anything with us, like come to the stuff we did at school, or help us with our homework, and stuff like that. He'd hug us and tell us he loved us, but it never sounded like the way you just said it, and we didn't think he meant it the way you do. I'm sorry he's gone, but I'm even happier that you're here now.'

There wasn't anything that I could say to that, and I didn't even try. Instead, I leaned forward again and gave her a soft, gentle kiss about halfway between her navel and breasts before pulling back and looking into her face to say 'Thank you, dear.'

We looked into each others eyes for several seconds before she took my hands in hers and gently tugged me into standing up. Releasing one of my hands, she used the other to lead the way to my bed, and then onto it. When both of us were laying down (her on her back; me on my side, propped up on my elbow), I put my hand on her just above her navel. She looked up at me and said 'Yes, sometimes you are a stinker — but it's only when I want you to do something with me, and you're not sure about it. I know it's because you love me and don't want to do anything to hurt me, either inside, in my heart, or outside, on my body; and it's okay when you're a stinker like that, because I know why you're doing it. Now I'm ready for you to start touching me, even between my legs; and I'm telling you that so you know you DON'T have to be worried about me.

I know what I'm asking, and what you're going to do; and I'm SURE about what I want, and that I want YOU to do it. So you don't have to worry about me now, okay? I know I can trust you not to do anything I don't want you to — that if you start to do something I don't like, you'll stop if I tell you. I told you I know how much you love me, and I want you to know that I love you and trust you with all my heart; that's why I want to learn and do these things with YOU. Karen and Wendy and me, we've talked about it, and they feel the same way about you that I do.'

What she said touched me so deeply that the only response I could make was to lower my head and give her a soft kiss on the lips — chaste, but as loving as I could make it. And somehow, despite her youth, her lips told me that the depth of her love equalled my own.

When our lips separated, I looked into her face and saw that she was every bit as sure as she'd said she was — that she wanted to be there, that she wanted us to do the things we would, and that she was ready. I also saw that she was supremely confident that I would make her happy, and that she could trust me. That removed the last qualms I had about doing what I'd wanted to since the first time I saw her naked: get my hands and lips on as much of her delectable body as I could. I did love her the way I'd said I did — for all the good things I saw in her. But I wasn't so committed to her intelligence and character that I'd fail to appreciate the package that held them.

Lowering my head, I touched my lips to hers again, and she willingly — even eagerly -

returned my kiss. It was still loving and affectionate, but it also served to mark the beginning of the time we'd have together while I helped her learn just how much pleasure was available from her own body.

That first kiss lasted but a few seconds; the one that quickly followed it went on longer. The next lasted longer still. With the start of the next, Donna took my hand in hers and moved it to her breast, letting me know she was ready for me to begin.

When I'd touched her before, it was both to let her learn what it felt like to have someone elses hands on her, and to satisfy my own desire to simply become more familiar with however much of her anatomy she was willing to grant me access to. With the change in her reason for being there, I didn't have to restrain myself from touching her in ways that I knew would arouse her — quite the opposite, in fact. But since I knew I wasn't going to be doing anything more than touching her, I didn't have any reason to hurry — not that I would have, anyway. So as our kisses got longer and more involved and intimate, I was perfectly fine with starting out much as I

'usually' did with her by simply reacquainting myself with her developing body… including the newly-available areas that had been off-limits before. The next several minutes passed with me happily caressing as much of her as I could reach, though I remained discreet about how and where I touched her pelvis and the area between her firm thighs.

The way she responded to what I was doing let me know that she was perfectly willing to experience whatever pleasure there was to be had with me. Her kisses gradually included more and more of her increasing desire; and the soft noises she made told me that she liked how I was touching her. When I caressed her breasts, I could tell that her areolas were more puckered, and her nipples longer, than they'd ever been.

Her breathing had gotten to the point that it was almost impossible for me to continue kissing her, so I slowly shifted my attention to her breasts, via her earlobes, throat, and shoulders — and noticeably increasing her desire and arousal in the process.

After I'd fastened my mouth on the tip of one of her breasts, I decided that it was time to finally start trying to help her experience the kind of pleasure she'd been denying herself. After tracing a path down the top of one of her smooth thighs, I eased my fingertips to the inside of her knee before slowly drawing my hand upwards with a featherlight touch. As my hand moved higher and higher, she started making a soft moaning noise that presaged a sudden strengthening of the scent of her increasing arousal. When the side of my hand brushed the hair on her mons, she gasped and arched her pelvis up in response. Taking that as my cue that she was ready to take the final step, I traced a path around her small bush and down the top of her other leg. When she felt my fingers slide down to the inside of her knee, she released another soft moan as she voluntarily spread her legs to make room for my hand before I started to repeat on that thigh what I'd done on the other.

After my fingertips reached the juncture of her thigh and pelvis, I lightly drew my fingertips across her mons — enough to disturb the fine hairs on it, but not touching the skin underneath, before following the summit on one side of her cleft upwards so that my first touch was in the open forest at the top of her pubic thatch. Slowly and softly, I ran my fingers through the fine, down that presented little more than token covering for her lower belly, pleased at how soft it felt. Only when I was sure that all of my fingertips had touched every single hair that wasn't on her mons did I finally begin to move my hand again. Letting my fingers separate slightly, I gently traced a path downwards with two fingers on each of the soft ridges that declared her womanhood; when I reached the bottom, I cupped her mound in my hand, with my middle finger along the cleft of her sex.

Under the pad of my finger, I could feel the warmth radiating from the opening I knew lay beneath, as well as no small measure of dampness that had escaped. As I continued to suck and gently bite the rubbery hardness of her nipples, I carefully curled my finger so that it dipped between the folds of her pudendum. She moaned, and arched her pelvis up again when she felt what I was doing. Almost immediately, I felt the edges of her inner lips, and it took only a few moments for the end of my finger to be wetted with the overflow of her feminine essence.

Patiently, carefully, and above all, gently, I explored the hidden recesses she had made available to me.

I soon learned that her labia were small, somewhat thin (even accounting for her youth), and easily as soft as was to be expected from her virginal state. I let my fingertip lightly touch the entrance to her vagina, and she didn't react in the slightest; it took me only a few moments to collect a goodly sample of her oils in anticipation of needing them before long. Tracing the folds of her labia upwards, I easily found the bump where her clitoris was hiding. Using the lubrication she'd already provided me, I tenderly enticed it into making an appearance; it proved to be about the size of a very small pea — and sensitive, as I learned from her pleased reaction when I gave it a butterfly-light caress.

Lifting my head from Donna's chest, I turned my head to look at her. Her eyes were closed and she was panting, but I could somehow tell that she was eagerly anticipating that I would be helping her find even more joy — and looking forward to where and how it would end.

So that I didn't give her reason to think anything was wrong, I quickly lowered my head again, and began tending to the mate of the breast I'd just been enjoying. Even as I was applying a series of soft lip-bites to the slopes of her breast, I was trying to figure out what might be the best way of helping her experience her first orgasm. I had to try and find something that would be satisfying for her, but not so much that it overwhelmed her — after all, she was still only fourteen (almost fifteen! I heard her tell me in my mind), and she simply didn't have the wherewithal to experience anything like a grown woman would enjoy. The more I thought about it, the more I found myself getting tied up in knots; so I finally chucked the whole thing in favor of simply bringing her along however quickly she responded, until it finally happened for her.