Deepak was reading a book about prohibition when Madhuri got finished with her homework and came out of her room.
"Bath time, Papa," she said brightly.
"Um?" said Deepak, looking up from his book. His daughter was naked.
"I said it was bath time. Come on. I have Gymnastics try outs tomorrow in College and I have to get up early so I can get there, warm up and practice. Tub or Shower?" she finished.
"Well, since you're in such a hurry, I suppose it should be shower tonight," said her papa, and he got up. He untied his robe and dropped it to the floor, leaving him just as naked as his daughter.
"Hurry up, Papa," said Madhuri from inside the bathroom. He heard the water start. "I'm horny." And she giggled.
An outsider would never have understood their relationship. If you were to ask Deepak about it, he'd say it was just an accident of fate. Madhuri was his step-daughter. In 19990 his brother and sister-in-law had joined the UN Peace Corps in Delhi just three years after having Madhuri, and when they found out they'd be stationed in central Africa, they'd decided not to take Madhuri with them. Deepak had agreed to take care of his daughter for the year they were supposed to be gone. He'd wished them well and watched the plane take off. He knew they got to Africa. He got letters. But then the letters stopped. They disappeared off the face of the earth and had not been seen or heard from for 12 years. They were presumed dead, and the courts had granted an adoption decree to Deepak, since he was Madhuri's closest living relative.
Now, Deepak had never married. He'd had a few abortive short term relationships with some girls. He'd even gotten his dick wet a couple of times, but he was too afraid of rejection to actually form a meaningful bond with a woman. As such, he really didn't have a clue how to raise a little girl. And, in one sense, his own emotional self-grew up with hers. There were three things he did for Madhuri that he was proud of and thought he was pretty good at. One was clothing her. Another was making sure she had good nutrition and got lots of exercise. And the third was her personal hygiene.
And because he was proud of what he was doing, the fact that he gave his daughter baths didn't seem strange at all. Not even when she turned ten, then twelve, then entered her teens. It was just something they did together by then, and they'd developed a routine.
It had started when she was little. He knew she could get infections in her vagina, so he made sure to clean that very well. There was nothing sexual about it. Well, not then. He wasn't a pervert. Well, not then. He just washed her.
The first time it crossed the line was when she was almost eighteen. He was washing her cute hairless pussy and his finger flitted between her tight young labia. She cooed and said that felt good, so he did it for quite a while. He got hard, but made sure she didn't see that.
Then, a year later, she'd come screaming to him, babbling that she was dying, bleeding to death. She dragged him to the bathroom and he saw the stool full of bright red water and knew she'd started her periods. He had prepared for this, reading up on the process, the products available, their pros and cons and so forth. So he calmed her down and taught her how to use tampons.
He'd had to break her hymen to insert the first one, and he'd done it with his finger. That didn't seem strange to either of them. He'd been partially inserting his fingers in her for over a year, as he washed her in the bathtub.
By then their routine was like this: First she sat up in the tub and he washed her hair. Then while the conditioner sank in, he washed her upper body and her pussy. Then she got on her hands and knees and he rinsed her hair and the rest of her body, running his fingers between her legs to get her pussy and her tight little rectum clean. Once she was out of the tub and dry, he rubbed her whole body with lotion, especially her pussy.
So, after the initial pain died down, when he showed her how to change the tampon, he made sure there was a warm wet washcloth handy to rub all over her crotch. There was a lot of pussy rubbing going on in their family, but it was pretty harmless. It felt good, so he did it for her.
Afterwards, alone in his room, he beat off, shooting streams of his spunk skyward as he remembered the feel of her soft skin.
When she was 20 she'd come home one night from being out with her friends. She was downcast and he saw this immediately. When he asked her what was wrong, she said she'd been talking to her friends. She'd mentioned something she'd said to her Papa during bath time and he'd said thus and such. The girl's eyes had gotten all big and she'd asked if Madhuri's Papa was IN the bathroom at the same time that Madhuri was IN the bathtub. Madhuri, thinking that was normal had said "Sure". Her friend had whooped and hollered and made fun of her, saying that was dirty.
"Is what we do dirty, Papa?" Madhuri had asked.
"Sweety, there are some folks who would call it dirty or wrong. Most people don't do it the way we do, I suppose. But what we do is between us, and I don't think it's anybody else's business. If you don't like it anymore, then we'll stop."
She'd said she didn't want to stop. She liked what they did. And they agreed then that no one would be told anything about it in the future, and it would be just between them. After that, however, sometimes Madhuri took a bath by herself. Still, at least once a week she'd announce it was bath time and pull her Papa into the bathroom.
Of course Madhuri learned about sex. She learned most of it like most of us do, from friends, magazines, and other sometimes ignorant and unreliable sources. But she understood the birds and the bees and her friends described what they claimed they were doing in back seats. Madhuri, however, had no urge to do any of those things. Her needs were being met at home.
When she was 21 she had her first orgasm. It was in the bathtub, and her Papa's finger was about halfway in her pussy when it happened. He'd been strumming her young clitty with his soapy finger while she sighed and said how good that felt. She was on her knees at the time, her head dripping blobs of shampoo down her developing body. She was washing her own breasts, something Papa Deepak had awakened her to during baths in the last couple of years. She felt the urge to stop and squeeze her nipples. When she did, the combination of that and her Papa's finger in her pussy sent her over the edge.
"Oh!" she yipped when it started. "OH!!"
Deepak saw what was happening and dug his finger deeper into her tight pussy.
"OHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" she moaned as her pussy flooded with juice.
She gripped the sides of the tub and bent over, one hand coming to cover her Papa's hand between her legs, and she grabbed that hand, jerking it back and forth. That, of course, made his finger slide all around in her quaking pussy as her orgasm slowly faded away. She looked up at her Papa, who was smiling broadly.
"I don't know what that was, but it felt REALLY good." she panted.
From then on, bath time included Papa Deepak almost every time, and she insisted that he wash her pussy REALLY REALLY good, inside and out. She got good at having orgasms, and Deepak got good at giving them to her.
It was shortly before her fifteenth birthday when, after a particularly nice cum, she was lying back in the tub while her papa gazed fondly at her naked body. She looked at him and said "Papa Deepak, you always wash me during bath time, but I never wash YOU." Then she just looked at him, the silence demanding some kind of answer.
Deepak, who thought he had gotten pretty good at hiding his boners during bath time, was afflicted with one at the moment. It caused him to miss the look in her eye and clouded his judgement. He said the first thing that came to mind.
"Sweety, I take showers."
"Why don't I take showers?" she asked sweetly.
"Well, I suppose you could. We've just made a habit of giving you baths. It's been that way since you were a toddler.
"Well, I think tomorrow night you should wash me in the shower."
Now the importance of what was being discussed penetrated his testosterone laden mind. He couldn't get in the shower with her because she'd see his hardons.
"But ... we can't." he said. "I'd um ... get all wet. I mean my clothes would get all wet."
Madhuri laughed and splashed him with the bath water. "Like I don't get them wet when I cum?"
He'd admitted to her that what was happening to her was him "helping her cum" and now it was a part of the routine.
In truth, she got pretty wild sometimes and he did, in fact, get pretty wet sometimes. He tried again.
The shower has a glass door, and if we leave it open while the shower's on, and I'm trying to wash you, water will get everywhere."
"Then you'll just have to come inside the shower with me." she said reasonably.
He stuttered and blushed and said "We just can't take showers together."
She stared at him through her eyelashes. She wasn't stupid at all.
"You get erections, don't you?" When he didn't say anything she went on "During bath time you get erections. I've seen them." His head jerked up, his eyes wild. "Through your pants" she said "You know ... sort of poking them out. You usually cover them up with a towel, but it happens doesn't it?"
He hung his head. "Yes" he said miserably. "I'm sorry."
Madhuri touched his hand. "What for Papa Deepak? Because you're normal? Come on. Why do I call you in here for bath time? Because I can't do it by myself? Of course not. I'm not stupid. I like what we do. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel special. AND I get all clean at the same time!" she finished brightly. He didn't smile. "I'd like to think I'm cute, and that's why you get stiffies." She posed for him, cupping her breasts.
"I think you're too young to see a man's penis.
"Bath time, Papa," she said brightly.
"Um?" said Deepak, looking up from his book. His daughter was naked.
"I said it was bath time. Come on. I have Gymnastics try outs tomorrow in College and I have to get up early so I can get there, warm up and practice. Tub or Shower?" she finished.
"Well, since you're in such a hurry, I suppose it should be shower tonight," said her papa, and he got up. He untied his robe and dropped it to the floor, leaving him just as naked as his daughter.
"Hurry up, Papa," said Madhuri from inside the bathroom. He heard the water start. "I'm horny." And she giggled.
An outsider would never have understood their relationship. If you were to ask Deepak about it, he'd say it was just an accident of fate. Madhuri was his step-daughter. In 19990 his brother and sister-in-law had joined the UN Peace Corps in Delhi just three years after having Madhuri, and when they found out they'd be stationed in central Africa, they'd decided not to take Madhuri with them. Deepak had agreed to take care of his daughter for the year they were supposed to be gone. He'd wished them well and watched the plane take off. He knew they got to Africa. He got letters. But then the letters stopped. They disappeared off the face of the earth and had not been seen or heard from for 12 years. They were presumed dead, and the courts had granted an adoption decree to Deepak, since he was Madhuri's closest living relative.
Now, Deepak had never married. He'd had a few abortive short term relationships with some girls. He'd even gotten his dick wet a couple of times, but he was too afraid of rejection to actually form a meaningful bond with a woman. As such, he really didn't have a clue how to raise a little girl. And, in one sense, his own emotional self-grew up with hers. There were three things he did for Madhuri that he was proud of and thought he was pretty good at. One was clothing her. Another was making sure she had good nutrition and got lots of exercise. And the third was her personal hygiene.
And because he was proud of what he was doing, the fact that he gave his daughter baths didn't seem strange at all. Not even when she turned ten, then twelve, then entered her teens. It was just something they did together by then, and they'd developed a routine.
It had started when she was little. He knew she could get infections in her vagina, so he made sure to clean that very well. There was nothing sexual about it. Well, not then. He wasn't a pervert. Well, not then. He just washed her.
The first time it crossed the line was when she was almost eighteen. He was washing her cute hairless pussy and his finger flitted between her tight young labia. She cooed and said that felt good, so he did it for quite a while. He got hard, but made sure she didn't see that.
Then, a year later, she'd come screaming to him, babbling that she was dying, bleeding to death. She dragged him to the bathroom and he saw the stool full of bright red water and knew she'd started her periods. He had prepared for this, reading up on the process, the products available, their pros and cons and so forth. So he calmed her down and taught her how to use tampons.
He'd had to break her hymen to insert the first one, and he'd done it with his finger. That didn't seem strange to either of them. He'd been partially inserting his fingers in her for over a year, as he washed her in the bathtub.
By then their routine was like this: First she sat up in the tub and he washed her hair. Then while the conditioner sank in, he washed her upper body and her pussy. Then she got on her hands and knees and he rinsed her hair and the rest of her body, running his fingers between her legs to get her pussy and her tight little rectum clean. Once she was out of the tub and dry, he rubbed her whole body with lotion, especially her pussy.
So, after the initial pain died down, when he showed her how to change the tampon, he made sure there was a warm wet washcloth handy to rub all over her crotch. There was a lot of pussy rubbing going on in their family, but it was pretty harmless. It felt good, so he did it for her.
Afterwards, alone in his room, he beat off, shooting streams of his spunk skyward as he remembered the feel of her soft skin.
When she was 20 she'd come home one night from being out with her friends. She was downcast and he saw this immediately. When he asked her what was wrong, she said she'd been talking to her friends. She'd mentioned something she'd said to her Papa during bath time and he'd said thus and such. The girl's eyes had gotten all big and she'd asked if Madhuri's Papa was IN the bathroom at the same time that Madhuri was IN the bathtub. Madhuri, thinking that was normal had said "Sure". Her friend had whooped and hollered and made fun of her, saying that was dirty.
"Is what we do dirty, Papa?" Madhuri had asked.
"Sweety, there are some folks who would call it dirty or wrong. Most people don't do it the way we do, I suppose. But what we do is between us, and I don't think it's anybody else's business. If you don't like it anymore, then we'll stop."
She'd said she didn't want to stop. She liked what they did. And they agreed then that no one would be told anything about it in the future, and it would be just between them. After that, however, sometimes Madhuri took a bath by herself. Still, at least once a week she'd announce it was bath time and pull her Papa into the bathroom.
Of course Madhuri learned about sex. She learned most of it like most of us do, from friends, magazines, and other sometimes ignorant and unreliable sources. But she understood the birds and the bees and her friends described what they claimed they were doing in back seats. Madhuri, however, had no urge to do any of those things. Her needs were being met at home.
When she was 21 she had her first orgasm. It was in the bathtub, and her Papa's finger was about halfway in her pussy when it happened. He'd been strumming her young clitty with his soapy finger while she sighed and said how good that felt. She was on her knees at the time, her head dripping blobs of shampoo down her developing body. She was washing her own breasts, something Papa Deepak had awakened her to during baths in the last couple of years. She felt the urge to stop and squeeze her nipples. When she did, the combination of that and her Papa's finger in her pussy sent her over the edge.
"Oh!" she yipped when it started. "OH!!"
Deepak saw what was happening and dug his finger deeper into her tight pussy.
"OHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" she moaned as her pussy flooded with juice.
She gripped the sides of the tub and bent over, one hand coming to cover her Papa's hand between her legs, and she grabbed that hand, jerking it back and forth. That, of course, made his finger slide all around in her quaking pussy as her orgasm slowly faded away. She looked up at her Papa, who was smiling broadly.
"I don't know what that was, but it felt REALLY good." she panted.
From then on, bath time included Papa Deepak almost every time, and she insisted that he wash her pussy REALLY REALLY good, inside and out. She got good at having orgasms, and Deepak got good at giving them to her.
It was shortly before her fifteenth birthday when, after a particularly nice cum, she was lying back in the tub while her papa gazed fondly at her naked body. She looked at him and said "Papa Deepak, you always wash me during bath time, but I never wash YOU." Then she just looked at him, the silence demanding some kind of answer.
Deepak, who thought he had gotten pretty good at hiding his boners during bath time, was afflicted with one at the moment. It caused him to miss the look in her eye and clouded his judgement. He said the first thing that came to mind.
"Sweety, I take showers."
"Why don't I take showers?" she asked sweetly.
"Well, I suppose you could. We've just made a habit of giving you baths. It's been that way since you were a toddler.
"Well, I think tomorrow night you should wash me in the shower."
Now the importance of what was being discussed penetrated his testosterone laden mind. He couldn't get in the shower with her because she'd see his hardons.
"But ... we can't." he said. "I'd um ... get all wet. I mean my clothes would get all wet."
Madhuri laughed and splashed him with the bath water. "Like I don't get them wet when I cum?"
He'd admitted to her that what was happening to her was him "helping her cum" and now it was a part of the routine.
In truth, she got pretty wild sometimes and he did, in fact, get pretty wet sometimes. He tried again.
The shower has a glass door, and if we leave it open while the shower's on, and I'm trying to wash you, water will get everywhere."
"Then you'll just have to come inside the shower with me." she said reasonably.
He stuttered and blushed and said "We just can't take showers together."
She stared at him through her eyelashes. She wasn't stupid at all.
"You get erections, don't you?" When he didn't say anything she went on "During bath time you get erections. I've seen them." His head jerked up, his eyes wild. "Through your pants" she said "You know ... sort of poking them out. You usually cover them up with a towel, but it happens doesn't it?"
He hung his head. "Yes" he said miserably. "I'm sorry."
Madhuri touched his hand. "What for Papa Deepak? Because you're normal? Come on. Why do I call you in here for bath time? Because I can't do it by myself? Of course not. I'm not stupid. I like what we do. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel special. AND I get all clean at the same time!" she finished brightly. He didn't smile. "I'd like to think I'm cute, and that's why you get stiffies." She posed for him, cupping her breasts.
"I think you're too young to see a man's penis.