Chapter Text
My stepdad was sometimes assistant coach of my soccer team. It was so fun to have him around. He would set up real practice drills and could keep up with us without getting tired, unlike the sedate woman who passed for our head coach. I genuinely don't know if he had ulterior motives volunteering to coach little girls, but he actually injected some fundamental skills into our game. The other girls always listened to his instructions. I was jealous for his attention every time he critiqued one of my teammates, but I held my tongue. I could tell he didn't want to give me special treatment. He would still correct my form and shout at me to hustle, like everyone. I pushed myself extra hard to impress him.
Soon it was dusk. We lingered in the orange light to help the coach put the cones back in her SUV. Then it was just us. He took me by the hand back across the warm autumn field to his car, and we drove home with an open sunroof and windows and zipped around the curvy suburban roads back to our empty dark house. I'd almost forgotten mom was on second shift again. She'd kindly left chicken pasta for us to heat up in the microwave. I was ravenous after the hard workout, and sore besides. The comfort food called and I was snarfing it down at the kitchen table within fifteen minutes of getting home. I was a scrawny kid, but I could eat sometimes.
My stepdad was eating at a more reasonable pace on the couch. I sauntered over and slumped next to him. Food coma was setting in quickly. When he cleared his plate, I took off my socks, and stretched out my tight muscles from my legs to my toes, draping them over his lap. He offered me a wonderful foot massage. His big hands easily manipulated my feet, working his fingers between each of my tiny toes. After hours in cleats, it felt amazing. He squeezed and rubbed my heels, then my tight calves, and my thighs, up to my shorts. I relaxed and sunk back into the couch.
He brought a foot to his nose, complaining jokingly that I was smelly and needed a shower before bed. I yawned and lazily assented, without making much of a move to get up. He told me again to get cleaned up, and again I demurred, asking for five more minutes. Finally he switched off the TV, told me that was it, and picked me up under my armpits. I was pleased to let him hold me against his chest. I buried my face in his light stubble and shaving cream smell and he carried me up the stairs.
He took us to my bedroom, and sat me down on the pink-and-white comforter. Before I showered, we were going to play, he told me. Just for a little while. Daddy would give me his love. He added that if I let him do some stretches with my butt, it would be good for soreness after practice, like a deep cool-down stretch. He said he would go get some things and I should try to go number two. I was pretty embarrassed by the request and whined, but he wouldn't have it and shooed me into my bathroom. I did what he asked. I cleaned up especially carefully because I didn't want him to see any mess or paper on my butt like I was a little kid, and I knew he was about to look down there. When I finished he was already back waiting for me. He'd laid a big faded beach towel over my comforter. There were also a couple new items on my bedside table, his video camera, and something like a toothpaste tube.
He undid his pants and belt and stripped quickly. He sat me on the bed next to him and started playing with me over my light blue soccer shirt and shorts, rubbing my chest and pussy. Then he lifted up my arms and I was topless. As he often did when I first became bare chested to him, he put his lips onto my nipple, and sucked lightly. Then he did the same to the other. Tonight, he also bit my nip a little. Normally that would have got me laughing, but tonight, tired and sore, I just acceded to it with a muted gasp. He guided me onto my back, my head on my pillows. I lazily raised my legs to let him pull away my shorts and my sweat-stained panties.
He spread my legs apart, and went tongue-first into my little puss. He gave it full, rhythmic licks, teasing the entrance. Again, I was tired, and laid there passively. I wanted to show him that his efforts were pleasing, but that seemed like a lot of effort. After a couple minutes he sat back up.
He grabbed the tube off the bedside table, opened its cap, and squeezed some clear jelly onto his index and middle fingers. With his other arm he made me pull my legs back further, so my butthole was fully exposed. He brought the cold jellied fingers to my ass and tried pushing one of them inside. It went in quicker than I expected, only accompanied by a strange disorienting fullness. Daddy had put his fingers in my butt a couple times before, but only using his spit, not this stuff. It was going much easier with it. He was still patient, and let me get used to his thick finger. He sunk it deeper and wiggled it around, getting a confused smile out of me.
The play went on for quite a while. We didn't say much, but he cuddled and stroked my hair as he fingered my butt. He shifted the finger in and out, and it soon felt ok. Shortly after I was lulled back into complacence, he pulled out and tried to re-enter with two fingers. That was a little harder. I grunted and asked him to wait. He did, with extraordinary patience. With the most gradual of pressure, even though I thought he had stopped for me, next time I looked down he had worked both fingers halfway in. He rolled and shifted his fingers inside me, stretching me. It took yet longer this time, but again, he waited until I was relaxed, almost sleepy again. I still had a full belly, and felt a stretched fullness in my rectum, like I had to go to the bathroom, but moving my muscles to push it out was futile against his fingers.
Eventually he withdrew them carefully. Having got used to them, I now felt an equally disorienting gaping emptiness. Not for long. He moved towards me on his knees, and directed me to lean further back, and hold my ankles further apart. Then I felt a warm pressure, right on my butthole. It was daddy's penis. And he started to press. Press hard. It just indented my skin; he might as well have been pushing against my leg, it was like the hole wasn't even there. He was persistent, but each time he pushed too much he slipped away.
Seeming a little frustrated, he suddenly scooped me up and flipped me over. He told me huskily, still trying to sound gentle, to get on all fours, though he moved me into the position he wanted anyway. He got behind me and spread my knees wide. I hid my face in the pillow and he pulled my behind up in the air. I liked it a little better than on my back because I was so nervous. I could hear the cap on the tube again, then cold fingers made me clench my butthole. He had to push hard to get his fingers back inside, one, then two again. Once he had the tips in he slipped the two long fingers all the way in, startling me, then slowly in and out just for a few seconds. Then I felt him shifting on my small bed, and he was behind me again. I felt the big blunt end of his penis squishing against me.
This time, he said, while he pushed, I should pretend like I was going to the bathroom and push out. That would help him get inside. I much preferred being able to sit there quietly as a passive participant, but daddy wanted my help so I had to try. He pushed in while I pushed out. But only the indenting happened again, pushing me forward. I had to keep my hands on the headboard not to move further.
It seemed like it wasn't going to happen. I was considering asking for a break. But he was intent and pushed more, steadily, hard; then I remembered what he had asked. While he was at full pressure, I let myself push out, just a little.
With a weird slip, and a moan from daddy, I felt a sudden change. For a couple of time-freezing moments there wasn't even pain yet. Just shock. My insides rapidly readjusted to a completely disproportionate invasion and, behind my closed eyes in the pillow, I saw stars. I was winded, and gasped for air. Then the burning kicked in. We had practiced stretching my anus, a lot, but this was far more than anything I'd experienced before. The fear was worse than the pain. Though it felt vaguely like he had shoved fire inside me, I was more worried that he was stretching me too much, that I would never go to the bathroom normally again. I was too out of breath and shocked to say anything coherent. My animalistic reaction was to struggle mightily to get away. But daddy was ready for that. He leaned forward and held me tightly with one arm, supporting himself with the other, locked into me.
He pulled me up closer to him and then we didn't move much. I only twitched under his grasp; whenever his penis moved a micrometer it triggered my anal nerves. I was no longer struggling, and started to cry. He was obviously conflicted. He apologized to the back of my head and comforted me with immense sincerity. He started telling me some of his stories. That a part of him, the most loving part, was now inside me. That his love was going inside me in the most direct way possible.
It helped. I was soon barely sniffling. And when we were sufficiently still for a couple minutes, he was right, it didn't hurt so bad. And I did start to feel the intimate things that he was suggesting. It was a hard-won thing but I'd achieved a new level of closeness with daddy. Enduring this discomfort was part of the responsibility of being his favorite.
As I relaxed, and he trusted me not to run, he guided me to putting my face back in the pillow, and said he was almost done. I felt him shifting inside me. I winced whenever he moved more than a millimeter. He gradually moved more, and I whined, but quietly into the pillow. Then I could feel his hand jerking his cock, its head still burrowed in my anus. His pace increased. Then he unexpectedly shoved in further, making my butt spasm, and he let out one of the biggest moans I remember from our time together. A roar. I felt him tense, his penis twitching. I knew by the pattern that his love was spewing out. Into me. I thought I could feel it filling me.
And then he held me, panting, his heart beating against my shoulder, finally still. I felt like we had crossed the finish line of a grueling race. I could finally sleep in daddy's arms with his love inside me. Nonetheless I was still so relieved when he rolled off and pulled out of me. The sudden vacuum caused an urgent need to hurry to the bathroom. A warm trickle ran down my leg. As soon as I hopped off the bed I felt my butt muscles reconfiguring themselves. I walked out the door very tenderly and carefully.I got to the toilet but wanted to check myself out in the mirror first. It did look different - sore and red, not fully closed, with a ribbon of white, pink, and brown streaming down.
A minute later, my stepdad knocked on the door. He said he loved me, and to make sure I took a shower after I went to the bathroom. He'd be downstairs.
I was fascinated to look at myself, though. I even got out a hand mirror and squatted over it. Finally, I went over to the toilet. It was wet, and noisy. And, this is so childishly weird to admit even for eight-year-old me, but I decided I wanted to keep some of daddy's love inside me. So I didn't push too hard. I showered, put on clean PJ's, and took the steps very slowly downstairs for some last cuddling and TV before bed. If I was already tired before we'd played, I was spent now. I soon halfcrawled up the stairs to bed.
I woke up the next morning earlier than usual. Immediately I felt a stickiness and wetness down between my legs. I stood, my butt muscles tensed up again, and delicately I walked to the bathroom to inspect. Sure enough, I'd leaked in the night, a wet patch on my bottoms. It was clear, but I wasn't sure if that meant it was daddy or just pee. Without thinking very hard about it, I brought the bottoms up to my mouth and licked the spot to make sure. It was only daddy.