For Miss E, who is an excellent trainee and a very good girl, and who has inspired more of this little world than she knows. Thank you.
Thank you to all my readers, and please don't hesitate to write me anytime; I love to correspond. Just remember to add your email to the PM if you want a reply; they are anonymous by default :-)
Authors note: This story, like all the chapters of this series, contains graphic scenes of men in sexual situations with their own daughters, as well as some nonconsent/reluctance. I understand completely if these don't appeal to you, so please be warned. All characters are over 18.
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The sun was warm and golden in the balmy Indian summer Saturday morning as my good friend Dave Kendrick and I pulled up in front of a lovely old colonial house, whose stone steps ran down the steep hill of the broad, shady front yard to the street.
'Hey, thanks again for helping me with this little project,' he said. 'I know this will be a wonderful memory and a helpful lesson for Emily.'
I chuckled and assured him I was happy to be of assistance, and that I'd been looking forward all week to enjoying the special girl we had come to pick up.
In addition to being a firefighter and owning a small business downtown, Dave was also the girls' soccer coach and the physical education instructor at Stonewall Academy, the high school both our daughters attended.
He'd met Emily Fox last year, her final one at the Academy, when she'd wandered uncertainly into the gym between classes in her schoolgirl uniform and puzzled awkwardly about some of the machines, clearly without any idea how she was meant to use them.
She was a quiet, introverted girl by nature, highly intelligent and academically focused, but she had begun to have misgivings about her body and her poise as her Festival drew near, and despite the intimidating nature of the weight room to the young girl, she had resolved, with her characteristic pragmatism and her faith in the scientific bent of her own capable brain, to figure it out.
Dave had kindly, respectfully helped her learn to use some of the equipment, and she had fallen in love with working out as she mastered the movements and exercises and nutrition; she became a frequent visitor to the gym, and he had continued to assist her with tips and plans that matched her expanding abilities and goals.
She was ecstatic as she felt her strength grow and saw her body change, and Dave was happy to see the once shy, insecure girl walk taller, smile more confidently, and begin to wear clothing to the gym that displayed and flattered her transforming little body, typically doing her workouts now in the tiniest of booty shorts and a little bra that did nothing to hide the curves and features of her pleasantly large breasts.
He was filled with pride at how she had begun to blossom into a strong, self-possessed girl, and it was clear as he described her to me that he was quite taken with her.
She'd celebrated her Festival a few weeks before graduation, and Dave had been delighted to have the chance to fully enjoy the beautiful, strong body she had built with his guidance, and to give her several vigorous, advanced lessons in the weight room and in the girls' showers before she left for summer break, and then on to university.
He hadn't expected to see her again, but a few weeks after the semester started he'd received a beautifully written letter from her, explaining that while she was excelling in her college classes, she was struggling greatly in her sexual training.
She was still painfully shy, and she knew that the men who were training her now could tell how anxious and flustered she got every time they stripped her down for a lesson, despite her earnest and tortured attempts to relax and let them enjoy her naked body to the fullest.
There were still parts of her body that she was enormously insecure about, and which she could do little to change through exercise and good nutrition; she was particularly sensitive about the appearance of her vulva which, because it didn't look like the simple, innocent peach slits she heard men enthusiastically discuss amongst themselves, was a recurring source of consternation for her in the moments when her trainers would peel her panties down her thighs for the first time; and she sometimes had minor panic attacks as she reluctantly let men look at and investigate her vagina, which made it even harder for her to focus and relax in her lessons, unfortunately often leading to the need for her to be disciplined by the men handling her.
Her sensitive temperament meant that her spankings rarely had the desired effect, and generally only exacerbated her insecurities; she knew it was her responsibility to trust her trainers and freely give them her body for their pleasure in whatever way they saw fit, but she was having a very tough time.
She also felt she had trouble with attention to detail about her grooming and clothes, and she was jealous of the girls at school who always seemed effortlessly put-together, and was worried that men care about those things a lot, and in all, she was feeling pretty defeated about most of her lessons.
A young girl's training career was supposed to be an extraordinary journey of discovery and purpose, but poor Miss Emily only felt like she was floundering.
Dave had made a deep impression on her, both in the interest he took in her fitness instruction, and in the way he'd let her express her gratitude for his efforts by giving her strong, trim little body to him in nearly complete abandon, with nothing but encouragement and adoration for her as she worked her hardest to say 'thank you' by giving him the best orgasms she possibly could as he trained her.
She trusted him more than any other man she knew, she wrote in her letter. She said she totally understood that he was already very busy with his training responsibilities and the many girls to whom he gave lessons each week, and that she knew she might not be as beautiful or skilled as a lot of the other young girls he got to handle and enjoy, but she ended by asking him sweetly and respectfully if he would consider being her mentor, even if only for a little while, to help her overcome her fears and do better in her lessons.
A letter like this from a girl was a great honor, and Dave had written back saying that he was delighted to be asked, and that he was more than willing to take her under his wing for a bit as she adjusted both to college life, and to her important and challenging duties as a sexual trainee.
Now they corresponded regularly; he assisted her in picking clothing and underthings that best flattered her figure and made her feel desirable, and she would send him pictures or videos of her naked body and of her outfits before she left her dorm for training appointments, so he could inspect her and ensure she was properly groomed and attired for her trainer's pleasure; and it gave her immense peace of mind to know that Dave approved of the state of her girl bits and her clothing before she met with a new trainer for the first time, and let him handle her.
She would write Dave short, detailed reports of her training sessions, relating what she had learned, and how her trainers had chosen to enjoy her body, and any feedback they had given her on her performance, and she could ask him any questions, or voice any apprehensions, and he'd always calmly assure her she was on the right path, and becoming a better and better girl every day.
She drove back to Stonewall every other weekend to stay at her parents' house, and Dave would spend some time with her reviewing the skills she'd learned from her other trainers, and assessing her developing abilities by putting her lovely little body thoroughly through its paces, giving his frank valuation on where she was improving, and what areas she should spend more effort working on, as she continued to strive to be the best girl any man could want to enjoy—which, after all, she was made to be.
She had made great strides under Dave's firm mentorship, and today was her birthday.
She'd gotten much more comfortable with allowing men to handle her and couple with her, and she'd recently shyly confided a few times to Dave, in sweet moments of quiet, unguarded afterglow, that she'd begun to fantasize about servicing two men at the same time, which flummoxed her.
She'd had considerable difficulty transitioning to even her basic sexual duties after her Festival, and she'd never imagined she'd be the kind of girl who wanted to share her body in that intimate way with more than one man at a time, though it was only a matter of time before some men would eventually select her for such lessons anyway; but as Dave's steady hand and constant encouragement deftly cultivated and heightened her naturally deeply-seated mating instincts, she'd begun to embrace ever more authentically her beautiful, fundamental purpose as girl, which was simply to bring great pleasure to men with her body.
With long practice and trial-and-error, she had been amazed to begin to discover how responsive she was to the pleasure of her handlers; as they became more aroused and euphoric while enjoying the charms of her body, her own orgasms would begin to send her to another place as she embodied her reason for existence as a beautiful vessel of ancient pleasure in the shape of a girl.
Now she was beginning to glimpse how profound a fulfillment of that purpose it would be to offer herself, completely and utterly, as nothing but a naked, receptive young female, for the primal pleasures of two eligible, grown-up men who knew how to make the best use of a girl's willing, fertile body and mind, and she couldn't get the idea out of her head.
She had been a very good girl lately, and Dave knew that she was ready for more advanced lessons, so he had decided to reward her with a birthday surprise; he had told her, to her heart-fluttering, trepidatious delight, to make sure she dressed nicely and groomed herself well this morning, because he was bringing a friend to help teach her to please both of them, together, as part of her special day.
A girl's birthday called for dressing up of course, and we had both chosen some of our nicest suits; I wore a dark blue check with hints of purple that flattered my athletic frame and long shock of blonde, and Dave cut a dashing figure in an urbane cocoa that set off his well-groomed red fireman's mustache and twinkling green eyes perfectly, and he grinned in anticipation as he turned off the ignition and we strode up the stone walkway to the door of Emily's parents' house, and Dave knocked.
A trim, reserved man opened it and invited us in with a smile, shaking Dave's hand warmly and introducing himself to me as Emily's father, Dr. James Fox, before calling up the stairs to his daughter to let her know we were here.
