Shyly, she dabbed into the jar and brought her hand beneath her tunic. Her heart hammered inside her and Hook’s nostrils flared as he drew breath more deeply now. Her body winced at the first touch but soon the ointment did its job and it began to sooth her stressed flesh. Other sensations emerged as Tink touched her body and Hook watched her every move, however subtle. Never in her young life had Tinkerbelle experienced feelings such as these. She could almost feel the blood filling her labia and clitoris, expanding them and readying her for experiences she did not yet understand but desired badly. Hook spoke gently now, encouraging Tink’s exploration of her increasingly sensitive with the thin film of ointment on her hand. Hook reached out and took her arm in his hand and began directing it to and fro, her fingers tracing a path between her lips as though they’d somehow saw her open. As his right hand directed hers, his iron hook moved aside her garments and then traced his. That Sunday morning, after starting the laundry, dressed in a long red nightshirt, I went down to breakfast and found no one there, which wasn’t unusual. In fact, the whole day was surprisingly normal. I got together with friends at the mall in the afternoon, but I told them nothing, not even Caitlin, who was my very best friend. Dinner was just pizza that dad called out for. Mom was still quite sick, almost as bad as the day before, and went to bed around eight pm, taking stuff that would make her symptoms less and help her sleep.“So, what do you think about last night?” dad asked me.I looked at the floor. I totally didn’t know what to say.“It was nice, daddy,” I said. “You made me feel good.”“OK.”“Well, let’s see. I liked how your thing tasted, but I didn’t like what came out of it so much. The, you know, cum.”“Well, OK, but I expect you’ll get used to it,” he said. “Even like it someday.”“Maybe.”“Do you want to play again?” he asked. “I know I had a good time.”I looked at his.
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