IMPORTANT NOTE
As always, the characters in my stories are all over the age of 18 and all fully consenting. I have been sure to add in several reminders throughout the story that the woman in question is in fact an adult. In the words of Danny Devito "do not diddle kids, it's no good diddling kids!"
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I remember the night so vividly.
I'd seen the way she had been staring at me during days leading up to it. I'd seen the way she would squirm in her chair while drawing pictures of our cat. I'd seen the way she was absent-mindedly gyrating against the arm of the chair while she perched herself watching Bluey with me, her arms locked around my shoulders and neck.
To be frank, I could smell her when I changed her. Even sometimes when she was close. I could smell my girl's pussy getting wetter and wetter in her diaper as she ground herself in the smallest circles against me as she sat on my lap during story time.
She was always clean, of course, I made sure of that, but the smell of sex is something a man cannot ignore. But the smell of my own daughter's cummy diaper? there's something about your own flesh and blood's pheromones which feels like a siren's song, pulling on your core, filling you with hunger.
Now, don't get me wrong, my daughter was twenty at the time. So when I say she wore diapers, it was more a lifestyle choice for her. Something that made her feel little, and that was okay with me. I've always been an accepting father.
But while she was twenty, she had been so sheltered by her mother all of her life that her innocence shone from her every pore on her petit, young body. She seemed to like this, too, and as she was an adult who was I to tell her it was time to grow up?
I admit, when I would change her diaper during this week I would linger for a split second longer when wiping her down there. I would slow down, tenderly trace her princess parts with the baby wipes or cream, circling her pussy lips and sliding between them just a fraction, casually. She was so wet that when I pulled away from it, cummy beads of my daughter's juice would string and drip from the cloth.
Her eyes would go wide - confused but ravenous for something which she couldn't yet put a name to.
Then, that night came.
She walked up to me so sheepishly. I could see her out of the corner of my eye, shuffling, breathing heavy, her cheeks flushed red and burning.
"Dad, I need to tell you something."
I looked at her with raised eyebrows and a comforting smile. "What is it, Misses Baby?"
"My tummy aches."
"Your tummy does? Where abouts?"
"Well, no, my tummy but lower. My minky. It really hurts."
I blinked, but didn't show any real surprise so as not to alarm her. Instantly I felt the blood in me begin to rise.
"It hurts, baby? What kind of hurt? You mean like an ache?" I asked.
She nodded and whimpered under her breath.
"Is it like an earache? An upset stomach?"
"No..." she said quietly in a way which was so cute it was maddening. She stood there in her soft, fluffy white and pink fleece onesie, the light of the television dancing around in her big tender doe eyes. "No, it's like - very swollen and gooey down there. And it aches like after you bang your toe on the chair, and it gets all swollen and hot."
I nodded, fighting furiously with myself. This was my own daughter. Her seed had erupted from my own body twenty years ago, and now that same member pulsated and reached out for her in my trousers, pressing against the constricting fabric. What was wrong with me? Why did my body react this way to my own little girl? The girl I was supposed to look after and protect. But I'd never wanted anyone more in my entire life.
As she drew closer I could smell her pussy again. Her wetness. I wanted to drink it. I wanted it to run all over my tongue and then share it with her, twirling her little girl cum all around her small mouth and feeling her breathe into me as I had breathed life into her.
"I know what it is, sweetheart, but it's not dangerous. It will go away soon, and when you're ready you'll find out how to make it go away yourself."
"Daddy no!" She protested, huffing slightly and frowning with frustration. "I need it to go away tonight. It hasn't gone away for days and I don't understand! I can't sleep Daddy, please."
"Baby, I..." I didn't know what to say. Of course, I couldn't. Could I? Surely not...
"Dad you said there's a way to make it go away myself. I need to know how so please please please show me how?"
I shook my head, clearly uncertain to anyone with eyes. "I can't, darling, it's not the sort of thing Dads are supposed to do with their daughters, even if you are a fully grown woman now."
"Why not?! Oh Dad, it's not fair. I can't sleep and it hurts and I don't want to go out tomorrow with my minky swollen and all wet!"
"I..." I stammered. I looked down for a moment. Could I? My daughter clearly had a powerful sex drive, and it was causing her great discomfort and emotional distress. It wasn't like I would be doing it for selfish reasons. I would be helping, surely? Like a Doctor...
No no, what was I even thinking! I couldn't do that.
"Baby, you're going to have to try to go into your room and take care of it yourself, okay? Because Dads aren't supposed to touch their little girls down there. I can explain how-"
"No!" She cut me off. She was looking at every part of me with wild need, as though I was a prize toy in a shop window. "Dad, why aren't you supposed to touch my princess bump? You do when you change my diapy! So you already have so it's okay!" She tugged on my trouser-leg, on her knees now and shuffling closer-still, looking up at me with those eyes which I loved more dearly than my own life.
She pulled in a little closer, trying to hug me and convince me. I felt her breathe deeply and smell my neck and my beard. I sat on the armchair - still as a statue - my heart racing.
It was about me, I realized. She wasn't just horny, she was horny for me.
"Listen," I said softly, "you can do it yourself if you follow my instructions. All you need to do is pull down your diaper in your own room, with the door closed, and rub gently around the front and top of your little girl parts, just between the bits which look like lips. You can use a mirror to see."
I felt her breathing quicken even faster. She pulled her thin body into me and her natural perfume began to further dissolve my resolve.
"If you play around in that area long enough you'll find the right spot," I continued, "and then you can rub that. You can keep doing that, do you understand? Keep doing that until it gets very very nice, and you will feel better afterwards. Don't be scared."
"Daddy, I am! I am scared. I don't understand why it's doing this. I just want cuddles, and for you to do it. Please!"
As she said this she had climbed on top of my lap and was fully wrapped around me, holding me tight. Her body bobbed up and down slightly, and I could sense she wanted to press her mound against me. She was so warm and smelled so good. My fatherly instincts were conflicted between my protective nature, and the natural hold the scent of her soft body had on me as her father.
