Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England.
All email comments good or critical welcomed. Rude or abusive comments may result in blocking. Please note that I am a British female, and I write in British English and vernacular, so for me a fanny is the correct term for female genitalia, a pussy is a pet cat and the ass is a bum or arse.
Dad and I were going for a walk today. Phil, my husband, was away working in Wales, and Mum is not really up for walks, her legs are not what they were. Dad and I were going for a walk on our own in a lesser-known area of the Dales, away from the crowds so to speak. Just countryside, farms, woods, and wheeling birds. Or so we hoped.
I had my walking boots on, and as it was a lovely day, or so the weathermen told me, I was wearing a skirt and a polo shirt. I didn't want to get too hot. I had a bottle of water and some tissues in my knapsack, and was ready to go, all I needed was my driver, Dad. He had said he would be here at nine to pick me up, but here it was, five past already and no sign of him. I sighed; Dad was usually so punctual.
I nipped to the loo to squeeze another wee out and after I had washed my hands I was back at the front door, just as Dad was pulling on my drive. I opened the door and waved at Dad before turning and locking the door and going to the car.
"The traffic this morning was hideous," Dad said as I got into the car, "hopefully that is all behind us now."
"Hello Dad, yes, come on, the days awaiting, let's get going."
Dad reversed of the drive and we headed off through Keighley to beyond Skipton. The sky was almost entirely blue, just a few small fluffy looking white clouds, no wind to speak off, it promised to be a gorgeous day. After about forty minutes we were in the open countryside and Dad started looking for a suitable place to stop. We just needed to be able to get off the road near to a public footpath, and not block a farm entrance.
Dad found somewhere, a bridleway with a grassy verge nearby we could pull onto. Perfect, and we hadn't seen another vehicle on the roads for at least ten minutes. We stopped and I got out and grabbed my bag and hung it over my shoulders. Dad grabbed a walking stick, the car door locked, and we headed off.
The bridleway had one of those horse gates on it, I guess to deter the off-road bikers, and then we were on the path. There had been a lot of rain over the recent weeks, and there were no hoof prints in the path, it looked as if it were hardly used, just what we wanted, luckily it was almost dry. Peace and quiet and countryside.
The first fields that we walked through had cereal crops in them, and we made sure to keep to the directed path, farmers have enough issues without people damaging their crops through stupidity, and as we got over the brow of the hill and out of sight of the country lane, the field had Varais black nose sheep, very cute and often stolen. Gosh they really were cute looking and very cuddly and they wandered up to us, nuzzling us with their curiosity. We gave them far too much of our attention before we walked on leaving the sheep behind. The next field we encountered was empty, fallow perhaps, and then we spied a small copse of fir trees, pine perhaps.
"A good place for a break Dad," I said, "we can sit in the shade of the trees and have a drink."
"Good plan Beth," he replied, not sounding stressed yet at all, which surprised me, this walk had been a bit up and down, over hill and through dale, and he is not as young as he used to be.
We reached the copse and I took my bag off and dropped it to the ground which looked to be a mix of moss and swathes of Shakespeare weeds. I sat down, my skirt flaring as I lowered myself and for a moment nothing, and then I screamed. Oh, the pain, oh my God the pain.
"What Beth, what?" Dad asked looking very concerned. I could hardly speak, the pain was more than I could bear, it felt as if I had been stabbed by a thousand needles all in my bottom and my fanny. I fell forward and pressed my hand to my backside. Loads of sharp pine needles sticking out of my skin. It seems the pine needles had fallen from the tree and the moss had hidden them from view.
I tried pulling them out one by one, but I couldn't see what I was doing and often pulled them at the wrong angle, which made things worse, plus they were sticking through my knickers into my skin, my bottom cheeks and my labia.
"Dad," I gasped, "I have sat on a load of pine needles, they are sticking into my skin, I can't get them out. They fucking hurt Dad."
"Okay baby. Let me try and get them."
I stayed bent forward, my knees and hands to the ground, my bottom kind of stuck up in the air. I could feel Dad pulling at the needles one by one. Each neeedle causing pain as it was removed and tears were beginning to fall down from my eyes.
"There seem to be some inside your knickers that I obviously can't get to." Dad said after about five minutes of plucking.
"Dad just pull my knickers out of the way if you can," I answered, it felt as if he had hardly even touched them all, there must be loads still embedded.
"Are you sure, I mean, you know, you will be..."
"Dad, please, just do it." I couldn't even think of embarrassment of Dad seeing my coochie, I just needed the needles pulling out.
Dad put his hands in the waist of my knickers, pulled them away from my waist and gently lowered them down until they were around my knees.
"Oh baby," Dad said, "they are all over your, well, you know, your fanny."
"Yes Dad, I can feel them, they are stabbing me. Please, just pull them out."
I felt Dad's fingers on my labia, gripping a needle and pulling it out and then on to the next. After every few needles pulled, he gently rubbed his finger across that area of my labia.
"Just checking for hidden needles baby, you know like splinters," he said, and I am sure it was exactly what he was doing, but my fanny thought otherwise, and my pressures started building. Oh God, no. A few more needles pulled, another little rub, a bit more pressures.
"Baby, I am going to have to move your, er, bits, apart to get to some of the needles." Dad said, huge embarrassment in his voice.
"Do what you need to do Dad," I gasped as he pulled another needle from my labia.
I felt his fingers move my labia apart, I felt the air on my deep valley bottom, and I felt the tug of another needle being pulled out. My pressures kept increasing and I almost wanted him to just stick a finger in me to release my tensions. He pulled out about ten needles then ran his finger over my labia searching for hidden needles, my pressures grew and grew, I was doing my best not to gasp loudly. Dad moved further up and repeated the process, plucking pine needles from my labia, and then stroking me as he searched for hidden needles, my pleasures building almost uncontrollably. No, not almost.
"Aargh," I gasped, I couldn't help it, the pleasures finally overcame the pains, and an orgasm rippled through me.
"Sorry baby," Dad said, I hoped he thought it was pain, not the painful pleasure of a sexual release.
"It's okay Dad," I managed, my chest heaving as I recovered.
Dad moved to my other labium and repeated the process of plucking my fanny clear of pine needles, my pressures building again, ramping up in intensity, my breath held, I didn't dare speak. Dad pulled my buttocks apart and plucked a couple from around my bottom and then he let go and pulled my knickers back up.
"All done baby. Only a few prickles of blood, I think that you will live."
I adjusted my knickers for comfort and stood up. "Thanks Dad. My God."
I checked the ground and found an area devoid of pine needles and gingerly sat down, no stabbing, good, I relaxed.
"That must have hurt baby," Dad said, "you do look a bit puffy down there."
"I can imagine, and yes it hurt, it hurt a bloody lot, that was like sitting on an angry hedgehog." And it had hurt and now that Dad had removed all the pine needles my fanny felt warm, hot even and it wasn't hurting, it just felt as if I were very aroused. Orgasming at dad's fingers was just worth dying for I mean. God I hoped he didn't realise. And then I thought, well, of course he realised, he knows his way around a woman for God's sake.
"Oh well baby. Do you want to continue walking Beth?"
"Let me just sit for a bit Dad, I am a bit uncomfortable down there, and I know it might seem odd sitting on the 'affected part' but it is helping."
"When is Phil back? Only, you won't want any, er, undue, attention down there at the moment."
Oh Dad with your sensitive way with words. To be honest, right now the way my fanny felt a shag was just what I did want, my fanny was all aroused, in fact it felt swollen.
"Tomorrow late evening Dad, he is still in Wales, and he will leave later tomorrow to avoid the traffic on the motorway around Manchester."
"Yes, the M60 gets horrendous in the evenings." He slipped into silence and had a drink from his water bottle. I felt like grabbing it and pouring it over my fanny, that's how hot my crotch felt.
We sat for about fifteen minutes and then we got up. I took a few steps, and as we would be getting further away from the car, and my fanny felt inflamed, it seemed prudent to return to the car. I decided to slip my knickers off as I didn't want them rubbing. I put my bag down and slipped my hand up my skirt and pulled my knickers down and put them in my bag.
"They are rubbing Dad," I said by way of explanation. The air on my fanny felt a heck of a lot better than the cotton of my knickers.
We slowly walked back, the Varais sheep wandered back to say hello and we had another cuddle and before long we were back at the car. The leather of the car seat felt good against my skin, and I wondered if Dad was giving any thought to what naked skin was pressing against his car seat.
The journey back was quiet, we were earlier than we had expected to be, and there was just no traffic on the roads, the school run had yet to start, and that always ran into the evening commuter rush hour. We missed all of that due to my mishap with hidden pine needles.
It was about an hour before we got home and I had almost forgotten the mishap, almost. Not the embarrassment of my Dad plucking pine needles from my fanny, no, I doubted I would ever forget that, but the memory of the pain had receded, and it felt as if the swelling had gone down.
"Dad, you put the kettle on, I am just going to nip upstairs and sort myself out."
