PAM HAS A HIDDEN NEED

I had seen her before, and I thought she was absolutely adorable. I was fully aware that I was way too old for her, probably old enough to be her father, but that didn't stop me from recognizing how cute she was.

We were introduced to each other and we shook hands. I was immediately aware that she was acting nervous. I made an effort to smile in the hopes of calming her down, at least a little bit.

This formal introduction happened on a pleasant summer morning at the ski area in our town; she was helping out as a high school intern during the off-season months. We were standing outside of the main building with the offices. This wasn't any kind of big fancy resort, just a small little hill with two chairlifts with a nice family atmosphere.

I clearly remembered seeing her here a few times during the winter. We even rode the chairlift together a few times and exchanged some simple chit-chat, but I felt she was almost too shy to talk, like it was hard for her.

I remember watching her ski, and she had this really cute way of wanting to be perfect. I've been a ski instructor over many winters, so I can get a sense of people by watching them ski. She wasn't showing off or trying to ski really fast like a lot of kids will do. Instead she had a curious determination about her, and I liked her immediately.

It was summertime at the resort when we met properly. This time, neither of us had helmets or goggles on, so it felt like the first time. I doubt she would remember me, but I sure remembered her.

We were introduced by the head of the ski school. "Pamela, this is Ian McKinnon. Ian, this is Pamela Sparrow."

Oh God, holding her hand for just that brief moment was electric for me. I was instantly smitten by how cute she looked. She was wearing blue jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, flip-flops and an old baseball cap.

She looked up at me, smiled nervously, and said, "You can just call me Pam."

I could tell she was trying to act so serious, like this job was terribly important and she needed to seem all grown up. She wore these cute little librarian glasses that I thought were just perfect for her; they added to her endearing, bookish disposition.

I'm sort of tall, and Pam is tiny, just barely 5 feet, so it felt like I had to reach down to shake her hand. She was obviously a lot younger than me, and I immediately realized that I probably shouldn't be feeling what I was feeling.

Her handshake was timid and a little shaky. We walked into the building and stood in the hall with my ski school boss, talking a little about the requirements for the summer. Pam and I were there for just a month or so to help finish some of the leftover paperwork from the previous season. This was an easy, low-stress job for both of us, and we wouldn't have anyone overseeing what we would be doing.

After our formal introduction, she and I walked down the long hall to the little office we would be sharing.

I would be working together with Pam, just me and her alone in the office. We would be taking some of last year's ski school accounting and inputting it into the new computer system. All this was going to happen in this tiny room hidden way in the back of the resort building. I was so self-conscious that it would just be her and me without anyone else around, doing this busy work. I wanted her to feel comfortable, not like she was stuck in a tedious assignment with some older guy. I tried to be lighthearted and open, but I could tell she was tense.

The summer is eerily quiet at the ski area, but the whole scene was pleasant and easy. Pam still seemed terribly shy, but she was smart and wanted to do a good job. This may seem funny, but it was a little embarrassing for me because I was totally new to the programs we were using. She was very patient with me as she helped explain a lot of computer stuff that I would never have been able to figure out on my own.

I really appreciated her patience as she led me through each step I needed to understand before I actually become comfortable with these new computer techniques. I thought it was absolutely adorable that she would play the role of instructor for me. I made sure to say a heartfelt thank-you whenever she played my coach. She had a such pleasant way about her, and I enjoyed every minute I was near her.

Little by little over the first week or so, she seemed to relax around me, enough that she would giggle at my jokes, and eventually share some things with me about her life.

It was obvious right from the beginning that Pam was really smart, but at the same time so painfully shy. She dressed in a way that made me think she must be terribly insecure about herself. She always wore clothes that made it seem like she was trying to hide from the world. It was funny to see a beautiful young girl dressing in a way that was just so frumpy. It could be cool (and sometimes chilly) up here in this mountain town, so it seemed she always wore baggy sweaters and oversized shirts; so it was sometimes hard to tell if she was skinny or not.

My sense was that she had a perfectly lovely body, but I really couldn't tell. Every once in a while she would wear shorts, and I thought she had beautiful legs.

One thing that left me confused was that she never once mentioned having a boyfriend. I never asked about it, but I was curious. I thought that maybe she was so shy that it would have been too awkward for her to be in any kind of relationship. I didn't know, but I thought maybe she'd never even had a boyfriend. This made me a little bit sad, because there was something so wonderful about her and I felt certain there must be some young man at her school who would have been sensitive and caring enough to see how sweet she truly was.

As I got to know Pam better, there was something about her that left me in awe. I recognized how eager Pam was to please me. It was a lot of little things; for instance, she very quickly found out how I like my coffee, and she would get it for me and prepare it just the way I liked it (no sugar and just a tiny bit of milk). She knew the mug I liked, and she would always set it on my desk before I even sat down in the morning. She always was so eager to do a good job, and that same side of her was so obvious in other ways too, like always needing to be helpful and obliging.

At the same time, that eagerness to please me seemed like it had another aspect that felt worrisome. It seemed as if she was so wrapped up in being helpful that she was almost in a dream world. I know that seems funny for me to say, but I sensed a vulnerability in her that was almost trancelike, as if her ideas about the world were somehow too simplistic and loving.

This "eager to please" side of Pam was totally endearing, but at the same time it made her seem so innocent.

Pam didn't have a drivers license yet, so right from the start I offered to drive us both work together, I would pick her up in the morning from her house. It was about a 20-minute drive along a quiet mountain road to get from town to the ski area. The intern program didn't really pay all that well, so I wanted to make it easier for her. It would have been a long bike ride for her each day, so I always drove, and i was happy to do it.

She has big brown eyes and little librarian glasses, and as silly as this sounds, this made her seem sort of philosophical. She always wore her straight, dark brown hair pulled back in a little ponytail.

Even thought had this grown-up seriousness, her body was really tiny. I think she was really self conscious because she was just so petite. It's funny; I'm really tall, and I always envy the way short people look when they ski. I've seen lots of videotapes of myself skiing, and even though I'm a totally skillful and athletic, there is something so gangly and awkward about the way my arms and legs look when I see myself skiing. I've always thought that the shorter the skier, the more graceful they look. Pam was a perfect example of this; she was a wonderful little skier.

So, to me, her petite body seemed perfectly adorable.

She always called me Mr. McKinnon, and there was something endearing about the way she would say it. Like I was somehow a formal stranger. She never once called me Ian, even though we were spending a lot of time together at work and on the drive to and from the ski area.

I knew she was in high school, but I didn't know what grade. It felt like maybe I would have been prying if I asked, so I never did. But one afternoon she timidly said she wanted to ask me something, and I replied sure. She took a deep breath and, very quietly, asked how old I was. I told her I was 42. She didn't say anything; she just sort of nodded.

We were both quiet for a while, and then she sort of awkwardly announced that her dad was 41. It was a funny feeling to realize I was older than her father.

Then I asked, "Pam, how old are you?"

She replied softly, "I just turned eighteen."

That really surprised me, because in a lot of ways she acted older. I knew she was in high school, but I wasn't sure, because she seemed like she should be in college. Even though she wasn't very tall, she always had a curious seriousness about her. She could be so quiet, and that made her seem so thoughtful and all grown up.

I don't know why, but thinking back, it felt a little awkward that afternoon when we told each other our ages. I was surprised at how young she was, and I think she was surprised that I was older than her father. We were both quiet for a long time after that. Eventually we started talking about the work at hand, and any tension between us melted away.

That night on the drive home, she said that she would ride her bike to my house the next morning, so there was no need to pick her up at her house like I had been doing. There was something about the way she said it that made me feel a little concerned, like something was wrong. I quickly agreed, and she seemed relieved.

When I dropped her off that evening she turned and looked at me with those big adorable eyes. She said, "Thank you Mr. McKinnon, I really appreciate how nice you've been to me."

I smiled and said, "Of course, Pam."

It looked like she wanted to say more, but she just sat there and looked at me.

I said, "I've really enjoyed all the time we've spent together."

She smiled timidly and then mumbled, "Uhhm, yes—me too..."

Then she hurriedly got out of the car and I watched her run off towards her house. There was a man in her driveway, and when she passed him her whole disposition seemed to change; she was almost cowering. I assumed it was her father. It was odd, because in some ways he looked a lot like me. We're both tall, and we seemed to have a somewhat similar face, but from what I could see from my car he seemed dour and stern, which is the exact opposite to me. Even though I only saw him for a brief moment, I was left with a bad impression. Something about him seemed so unfriendly.

As I drove to my own home, I was deep in thought about how sincere Pam had acted when she left my car. I realized that I had always been very nice to her, always treating her as an equal and not as a little kid, and it was apparent that she appreciated it. I've always tried to be my best self and not to be negative or grumpy.

Was that why she was thanking me, because I had been so thoughtful? She had hinted a little bit that life was hard for her at home. She didn't say much, but I sensed that she was really distant from her parents, especially her father. Seeing her father for that brief moment tonight, I thought that maybe he was part of why she always seemed so nervous.

That night after work I spent a lot of time thinking about Pam, and how grateful she had acted towards me in my car.

I thought about our time alone in the office together. There had been a few times when we were together when she would share some personal things with me. There was one afternoon when I could tell she wanted to tell me something. I listened intently as she quietly said that her father didn't understand her. She brought it up a few more times after that, and it always came out as so sad and despairing. I remember how my heart sank each time she whispered about her father. I felt a deep need to somehow help her, but I didn't know what I could do.

I was really worried about her; even though she could be so calm and competent at work, there was just something so fragile and vulnerable about her.

When Pam arrived at my house on her bike the next morning, she smiled and said hello. It felt nice to see her all smiling and content. I put her bike in my garage for the day and then we got in my car and drove up to the ski hill. During our time in the car I recognized how she was acting more relaxed than I had ever seen her, and I thought that maybe that had something to do with what she'd said the night before. Whatever the reason, she seemed really happy, and that made me feel wonderful.

That entire day was perfectly pleasant, and I truly enjoyed every minute I was close to her. We laughed and joked around more than we ever had. At the same time, we got a lot of work done, and everything seemed delightful.

We ate lunch outside at the picnic area. We sat together under the warm summer sun. It was such a relief to see her acting so happy.

There came a point as we finished our lunches when she looked up at me and said, "Mr. McKinnon, you're not at all like my dad."

Hearing her say that sort of took me by surprise, and I wasn't sure what to think. She seemed so cheery that I all I could do was just said thank you, as if it was a perfectly normal thing for her to say.

Later that same day, I asked her something, I was at my desk and she was sitting across from me at hers. The mood that day was so playful that when I addressed her, I called her "Pammy" instead of Pam.

I saw her visibly flinch as I spoke the word.

I immediately recognized that maybe "Pammy" was too intimate, and I apologized, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by that."

She composed herself, and graciously told me, "Oh, it's okay, I mean, I like being called 'Pammy' but it's just that—that, well... nobody has called me that in a long time."

I said, "Well, maybe I shouldn't have called you that."

She smiled and looked at me. "Don't worry, I really like being called 'Pammy.' Because, well—uhhm—my dad—he used to call me that, but he hasn't in a long time."

As she said that, I was trying to read her expression. She was smiling, but at the same time, there was something sad about what she was telling me. It wasn't too long after that we had moved on to talk about work things. We ended up having a nice afternoon, but I didn't feel it was right for me call her 'Pammy" again. It seemed like it brought up some emotional stuff.

On the way home we continued to joke and laugh. It felt wonderful. There was something so fresh and innocent about her, and I realized how much I needed that magical, youthful energy in my life. I felt so grateful that we had become such close friends.

Pam was giggling as I pulled into my driveway. She sort of gave a big sigh, caught her breath, and then we both got out of my car. It was a glorious summer evening, and I felt a kind of magic in the air. I opened my garage door and rolled her bike out onto the driveway.

It was curious; she stared at the bike as if she didn't want anything to do with it. We just stood there for a moment with her bike between us.

Then she suddenly got very serious. She looked right at me with those big eyes, and said, "Thank you so much Mr. McKinnon. I had a really nice time today."

I smiled and agreed. "Oh Pam, I should be thanking you! Today was wonderful."

Then she meekly smiled and stared at me in such a funny way. After a moment, she slowly got on her bike and rode off. Something about that simple little exchange just made my heart soar with a joy I hadn't felt for a long time.

Even though she was so much younger than me, I loved the closeness and the spark of life I felt around Pam.

Everything seemed wonderful. I loved my simple role as ski instructor over the winter. And now, during the summer, I didn't do all that much, I took on some odd jobs and helped a little doing the office work for the ski school. Everything felt easy and simple.

My life had been so different than a lot of men my age. I lived in a tiny little house and I made almost no money, but I was as fit and healthy as I had ever been. I was outside a lot, and I hardly had a care in the world.

Curiously, this freedom set me apart form a lot of people my own age. So many of the people I know are lost in mortgages and stress. They all acted different than me, and I was never sure if they were angry at my lifestyle, or envious. As the years ticked on, I'd found I had fewer and fewer friends. It wasn't until Pam and I giggled all day today that I realized I had been lonely.

I've had some wonderful relationships over the years, but women would eventually drift away from me because they wanted to leave this sleepy little town. Or maybe they wanted something more from me; the only thing I could really offer was kindness and love. I had been alone for a long time since my last breakup, and I hadn't really made any effort to try to date or play that game again. I had thought I was content being alone, until that day.

That night I slept poorly. There was an anxiousness in me that I didn't understand.

The next morning Pam was a few minutes late, so I waited outside by the car. The sky was gray and cloudy, and I was worried it was going to rain. When I saw Pam riding up the street towards my house, I knew immediately that something was wrong. Even from a long ways off I could tell she was upset.

She slowly brought her bike to a stop right up close to me, but she just stood there silently, staring down at the driveway. My first impulse was to just take her into my arms and hold her, but of course that wouldn't have been appropriate. Instead, I just put her bike in the garage.

The 20-minute drive up to work was dreadfully quiet. Pam hardly said anything and just blankly stared out the window. I tried to engage her in some small talk, but she barely responded.

The time in the office was tense and awkward. I was feeling terribly concerned, and I tried to do whatever I could to make her feel better. I brought her cups of tea throughout the day. Her favorite was this strong ginger tea with a spoonful of honey, and I made it just the way she always liked it. She would softly whisper "thank you" and then stare back down at her work. Not knowing what was wrong, and not being able to help my beautiful little friend were tearing me up inside.

On the drive home, I knew I had to say something. I tried to be thoughtful and concerned as I spoke: "Pam, I can tell that something is bothering you. If I can help, just please know, I'm here for you."

She sat quietly for a long time, looking away from me out the window as I drove. Finally she whispered, "Thank you Mr. McKinnon. I know you care, and it really and truly means a lot to me."

"If there's anything I can do, or if you just need someone to listen, I would be honored to help."

"I'm sorry—but... I don't even know what to say..."

In a steady voice I told her, "I'm here if you need me. You can always call if that would help, or knock on my door, okay?"

She meekly replied, "Okay."

When we got to my house I rolled her bike out of the garage. Pam got on, but she just stood there awkwardly in the driveway. She seemed frozen and scared, and my heart felt so heavy seeing this sweet little 18-year-old girl acting so terribly upset.

I asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

She looked down at the gray driveway and then she nervously stammered, "My dad—got really mad at me—last night..."

My willpower cracked a little and I stepped towards her. I gently set my hand on her arm and said, "Oh Pam, I'm so sorry." Even in the seriousness of the moment, the feel of her warm skin sent a tingle down my spine.

With her eyes downcast, she stammered emotionally, "He—he—doesn't understand me—like you do..."

I replied, "I'm here if you need me."

There was a strong urge to put my arms around her and give her a strong comforting hug, but I just felt like maybe she would read it the wrong way.

Pam looked up at me, and I could see she was starting to cry. She sort of whimpered, "He was—so mad at me—it was—really—really bad."

Then she awkwardly got up onto the seat of her bike and slowly started peddling down the driveway. I watched as she turned and headed towards her home. Suddenly, she was gone.

I felt terrible for her. It was awful to see someone I cared about acting so helpless, and there was nothing I could do.

I went into the house and tried to go through the routine of eating dinner, but I was just too upset and emotional. Poor Pam was terribly shaken by something, and I so desperately wanted to help her.

She had hinted more than once that she and her father didn't get along, and that he didn't understand her. This seemed so sad because she was such a sweet, lovable girl. To imagine that someone as wonderful as her couldn't receive the love she desperately needed from her own father broke my heart.

It was a warm, muggy night, and there was nothing I could do to shake the feeling of my own helplessness.

Even though it wasn't late yet, I eventually got into my sleeping clothes, just an old pair of pajama bottoms and a baggy t-shirt, and started getting ready for bed.

It was difficult just trying to brush my teeth, I was so worried about Pam. It was hard for me to understand that this shy little girl could be so cut off from her father, someone who should be there to support and protect her. I felt a need to be even more in her life, to help her more, to be more kind and more understanding. She needed love, and it was so sad for me to imagine her in any kind of pain.

I rinsed the toothpaste from my mouth and took a drink of water, then I looked at myself in the mirror. I stared blankly, and I could so clearly see the worry in my eyes. Poor Pam's plight was weighing heavily on me and I was lost in a deep yearning to save her.

It was right then that I heard a soft tapping at my door.

I was a little bit startled, because it was unusual for anyone to stop by at this time of night. I walked to the living room and peeked through the window, and was totally surprised to see Pam standing there on the porch. She looked sad and lost.

I quickly opened the door and said, "Pam, it's nice to see you. Come in, please."

She didn't say anything, she just awkwardly made her way into my little home.

I asked, "Is everything alright?"

She mumbled, "Oh, I don't know."

"Can I get you anything? Some water? I have some lemonade."

She didn't say anything, she just sort of stood there in front of me. She was wearing a baggy hooded sweatshirt, nylon running shorts, and flip-flops. Her whole being was in a pose of utter despair. She seemed so despondent that I was worried she might collapse right there in front of me.

I led her to my couch and said, "Here sweetie, sit down. I'll be right back."

I helped her sit down, and then quickly went to the kitchen and poured her a big glass of lemonade. I wasn't sure how doing this might help, offering her something as mundane as lemonade, but I felt such a deep need to do something kind. When I stepped back into the living room, I was shocked at how tiny she looked in the middle of my great big couch.

I set the glass down on the coffee table and then sat next to her.

"Pam, I can tell something is wrong," I said. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She replied in a timid little whisper, "Oh, I don't know. It's just—that—it's so hard—and I—I can't..." Then she trailed off into a frightened silence.

Suddenly she started crying. My self-control finally broke, and I reached over and hugged her tightly.

I spoke earnestly, "There now, it's okay..."

She put her arms around me, and suddenly she was clinging to me in this needy, frightened way. I just held her close and rubbed her back through her sweatshirt, feeling her shaking as she sobbed. I could feel an urgent depth of emotion in her body, as if her whole being was somehow unable to cope with some terrible stress.

It was so hard for me to feel her little body shaking against me, and at the same time to hear her crying, I didn't realize anything could affect me that deeply. I was shocked by my feeling of utter helplessness as I tried to console her by squeezing her tightly. My heart was breaking.

All I could do was whisper little encouragements like "Please don't worry..." and "I want to help..."

I didn't know if my words were helpful, but I kept trying, softly telling her things that felt so honest to me. I dearly wanted to kiss her, but it felt like that would have been taking advantage of her.

I just tried to be consoling by saying things like, "There now baby..." and, "Let it out, it all okay..."

It took a long time as I held her and whispered to her, but little by little her crying subsided.

I tried to let her know I truly cared by the way I was hugging her. I ran my hands up and down along her back. As I did, I could feel her bra through her sweatshirt. It was a strange sensation, it felt intensely intimate to feel something so feminine.

There came a point when I realized she was calming down, at least a little bit. Without knowing what else to do, I slowly eased away, and then handed her the big glass of lemonade from the coffee table. She took it and quickly gulped almost the whole thing down. It was if she had cried herself dry, and now she instinctively needed to satiate something inside her.

I sat and watched as she drank the whole glass. When she was done, she whispered a shaky thank-you, and I set the empty glass back on the coffee table.

I rubbed her back some more as she stared down at the floor. We were both quiet for a long time, and then she softly spoke: "My dad is still really angry at me."

I put my arm around her and said, "Oh sweetie, that's impossible. How could anyone be angry at you?"

She put her little arms around me and squeezed me when I said that. There was a sad neediness in the way she held me; her whole being was trembling with a terrible shame.

Then she nervously stammered, "My dad—he—he—read my dairy..."

"Pam, that's terrible. He had no right to do that."

She spoke in a sad whisper, "Oh Mr. McKinnon—I'm not—not..." and then she trailed away.

"What is it? You can tell me..."

"I don't know—it's—it's scary to say..."

I implored, "Please, I want to help."

There was a long time where neither of us spoke. I just held her tightly and I could feel that she was emotionally drained after such an intense bout of crying. She seemed so tiny against me, and I felt a deep need to somehow protect her.

She broke the silence by quietly stating, "I'm not—a virgin—anymore—and—and—my dad read about it."

Hearing that, and the hopelessness in her voice, I squeezed her with all the emotion I could.

I put my mouth near her ear and whispered, "Shhhh, baby, don't feel bad."

After a long, awkward silence, she began to speak. She was sort of whispering to herself, as if she was all alone, admitting something to herself, "It was a boy—from school—and I didn't really even like him. It was at a party—I knew what he wanted—I knew—we went to a room—it was dark—I just let him—I wanted to like it—but it was so sad feeling..."

I held her tightly as she softly spoke all of this, as if to no one.

"Later—at school—he was so mean to me—it was awful."

I felt a heartbreaking sadness, what should have been something beautiful for Pam had been dreadful. I kissed Pam's forehead and whispered, "No, no... Please, baby... don't feel bad... you can't feel bad about this..."

She murmured in a frightened way, "But... I—I'm—so—ashamed..."

I spoke calmly, "Oh Pam, please... I want you to know, you didn't do anything wrong."

She squeezed me tight as she stammered, "I just let him—do what he did—I really wanted to like it—but he wasn't nice to me..."

I told her, "Please don't feel bad... please, baby..."

"But—I feel—so terrible. Why is my dad so mad at me?"

"Your father is wrong, absolutely wrong. You are a perfectly wonderful young woman. I know that, I see it every day."

She whimpered in a shaky voice, "But—but I—I don't—understand—what I'm feeling..."

She was acting so sad; I felt such a burning need to do something to help ease her pain.

I leaned in and gently kissed her on her forehead again and whispered, "Oh Pam, don't worry, please. I'll help any way I can."

"Everything feels hopeless," she whispered.

It was devastating to hear her sound so upset; she was so perfect and lovely, and I wanted more than anything to save her.

"Pam, don't worry. I'll always be here for you."

She replied softly, "Oh Mr. McKinnon. Thank you for saying that. It—it helps me. It really does."

Knowing that such a sweet girl like Pam could feel this kind of anguish broke my heart.

Right then she looked up at me with this lost expression, a single tear slowly running down her cheek from behind her glasses.

I leaned in and gently kissed the tear, tasting the warm, salty wetness. Then I whispered, "Oh Pam, don't worry, this sadness will go away—I know it will."

She smiled faintly and said, "Thank you for being so good to me."

I was so worried about her; I could tell she was really scared. I was upset at her father for not being supportive of his only daughter. There was something terribly sad about how she wasn't getting any love from him. Just thinking about his behavior made me feel determined to help her.

I said, "Please, Pam, I'm here for you. Please know that."

She looked at me with such an expression of gratitude, and said, "That feels—so—good—you saying that."

I started to gently caress her shoulder, and I could feel her trembling. I looked at her beautiful face, and she seemed so angelic, so vulnerable. She was staring up at me with her huge, adorable brown eyes and little glasses, everything about her just seemed so helpless.

Right then, I was overwhelmed with needy hunger, deep inside me. I wanted to kiss her so badly. At that emotional moment, her pouting lips just looked so soft.

Neither of us said anything, we just looked at each other for a long time.

It felt so strange for me, I mean, the thought of actually kissing such a sweet young girl seemed absolutely impossible. She was just 18-years old, and I was the same age as her father, and there seemed to be to much confusion for her relating to him and his scorn.

Oh God, just thinking about kissing her felt so forbidden, but at the same time I was so profoundly drawn to her and the need to help her. I was so aware at how sad she seemed, and how she desperately needed some relief.

She stayed still as she looked up at me, and I could taste her salty tear on my tongue.

I was deeply conflicted about what I was feeling, but I couldn't help slowly sliding myself just a little bit closer to her on the couch. I moved until my knee was pressing tightly alongside hers. Oh dear God, it felt like electricity running through my entire body from just that gentle contact. It was more than a bit embarrassing for me; I wanted so badly to play the role of the perfect gentleman, but I was sitting there next to her, barefoot in my old pajama bottom and a faded t-shirt, all the while I was swallowed up in a feverish need to kiss her.

I spoke to her in an uneasy voice, "Pam, you know I would do anything to help you..."

She didn't say anything; she just looked at me and nodded meekly.

Oh God, right then I was completely focused on her adorable lips.

I tried to understand what she might be thinking, but I really didn't know. I reached up and gently moved a little bit of her hair from the side of her cheek, slowly setting it behind her ear.

We just stared at each other for a long time, and I was all shaky with feeling of uncertainty. Kissing someone so young would be completely inappropriate, but the irresistible temptation was just too powerful.

I cautiously moved a little bit closer, and I really expected her to protest, or to move away, but she didn't. She stayed perfectly still in a way that made me think she might truly let me kiss her. We were close enough that I thought for sure she must be able to hear the fearful pounding of my heart.

I was so nervous—being this close to such a young girl felt so intense. And she was acting so painfully shy; I was so worried that if I leaned towards her and tried to kiss her, it might scare her.

She timidly whispered, "I really... appreciate... how kind you've been to me."

Hearing that, I felt like I was surrendering to something I couldn't control. I cautiously leaned in and gently brushed my lips against hers.

I was so scared that she might move away from me, but she stayed perfectly still. Oh my God, her lips felt so wonderful! I was terribly aware that I was doing something I shouldn't, that sweet little Pam was much too young. After a moment, I shifted back just enough to look at her, and she was still staring at me with that same timid expression of helplessness.

I looked at her, and she didn't move. I was waiting for her to protest, to tell me to stop, to move away from me, but she stayed perfectly still, just looking at me with those big frightened eyes. Very slowly, I leaned in and kissed her again.

Pam didn't move at all, so it was only my lips that nuzzled gently against hers. I was moving so slowly, and I was being so tender, and the feeling was so honest.

The smooth soft shape of her lips tasted heavenly. I could feel a nervous trembling as I softly kissed her.

After a little bit, I cautiously let the tip of my tongue inch out and I warily licked the edge of her lower lip. I could feel her warm breath against my wet tongue. I carefully began to trace the outline of her delicate lips with the tip of my tongue. I was slow and deliberate, and I could feel all the beautiful details of her adorable lips.

At this beautiful moment, licking Pam's soft lips, everything felt glorious. It felt like the whole world had stopped and what was happening was momentous and absolutely pure.

Then I felt Pam as she turned her head to the side, just a tiny bit, making it easier to kiss her delicious lips. Then I felt her tongue—she was pushing it out, and I was suddenly touching it with mine. She was accepting me, she was returning my affection! I literally shivered when this happened, and Pam felt it.

Right at that moment I felt myself getting hard; it was like electricity was running through my body and I reflexively shifted the way I was sitting next to her on the couch.

I slowly traced a little circle around the tip of her tongue with mine; it was so affectionate that I thought my heart might explode with joy.

All I was wearing was my thin old pajamas, I didn't have any underwear and the warm surge of elation between my legs was overwhelming. I could feel that my cock was getting insanely hard. I was nervous Pam would notice the big shape, and that seeing it would scare her.

We stayed like this for a long time. Our lips weren't touching, it was only our wet tongues that were in contact. We were tenderly licking and caressing each other's tongues, and it unleashed such a beautiful feeling of love.

I didn't know what to do. I was as hard as I have ever been, and my erection was straining against my old pajamas. If Pam looked down, she would have seen me, the outline of my hard cock pointing up.

Pam stayed so still, and we were sitting so close. I was leaning towards her with my wet tongue against hers. Pam was sitting a little bit sideways with her legs still on the floor.

Oh my God, this was magical, I slowly traced loving little circles around the tip of her wet tongue with mine. With my hands on her hips, I could feel her whole body tremble. Then I wrapped my lips around the tip of her wet tongue and started to carefully suck it. This felt so delicious, feeling it inside my mouth.

After a little bit I got more deliberate, my motions started to feel needy, like the way a baby would suck her mother's nipple. When I did this, Pam softly whimpered with a sort of haunted desperateness.

Hearing her sound so aroused, I was suddenly filled with such a beautiful feeling of trust; I sensed she would let me do whatever I wanted. I sucked her tongue like this for a long time, and it felt magical in a way that seemed almost dreamlike.

I felt her hands tighten against my hips.

Part of me wanted Pam to see me, to look at the big shape of my erection under my pajamas. I stopped kissing and said, "Can you move a little bit?"

Then I reached down, slid off her flip-flops, and helped her move her feet up off the floor. She was so compliant and so willing to let me position her legs up on onto the couch. I moved in a little closer, between her legs on my knees. The way I had helped her, she was now sitting up against the big pillows at the end of the couch, facing me, with her feet on either side of my knees. Now we were directly facing each other.

I put my hands on her waist against her baggy sweatshirt, and I held her gently. I could feel her anxious breathing. Her hips felt narrow and girlish. I looked at her; we were sitting so close to each other.

Suddenly, I didn't know what to do.

Should I stop? I mean, she was just so vulnerable, and I was worried that maybe we were doing something terribly wrong. Was I taking advantage of someone who was still so young? Was she too frightened to protest my needy advances?

Then I felt Pam cautiously move her hands, and she gently placed them on my waist, against my t-shirt. She was holding me gently, and I instantly understood what she was doing. It was like she was feeling scared and she didn't know what else to do, so she was mimicking me, the way I had my hands on her hips.

In her own timid way, this was a nervous message of her approval.

All I could do was stare at her adorable face, and then I watched as she nervously bit her lower lip, just a little bit. She looked so adorable, like a little angel. She stayed frozen in that timid pose. Oh my God, she looked so cute.

As we stared at each other, I could feel myself anxiously clutching her hips. Then I moved my hands along her waist, and I eased both of my hands under the thick fabric of the sweatshirt at her hips. I felt her warm smooth skin above her shorts.

She moved her hands, touching my skin, doing what I had just done. She was telling me that she consented to what I was doing.

I slowly slid my hands up, above her hips and along the smooth skin alongside her ribs. Touching her silky skin like that felt so, so heavenly. Moving my hands up, I briefly felt her bra, and then I slid my hands back down.

As I did this, I felt her hands sort of gripping my own hips. It felt like she was clinging to me for a kind of emotional security.

I slid my hands up and felt her bra again. Then I gently asked, "Pam, is it okay, can you lift your arms up?"

She looked at me with this confused expression, and I tugged at her thick sweatshirt and said, "Sweetie, is it okay to take this off?"

Hearing me say that, she obediently lifted both arms above her head in a funny, childish pose, and I was struck by how adorable this made her look.I began to slowly pull her sweatshirt up and she meekly stretched both arms a little bit higher. I suddenly saw her pale tummy and belly button. I was shocked at how cute her bare midriff looked.

I continued to slowly lift, and then she nervously said, "Oh, stop, please stop."

I stopped instantly. I was scared, thinking that I had upset her.

She looked at me and softly said, "My glasses."

It took a moment for me to realize what she meant, and I let go of her sweatshirt, letting it fall back down. Then I took her little librarian glasses off and set them on the end table next to the couch.

Without me asking, she lifted her arms over her head again, and looked at me with her big eyes. I think it was the first time I had ever seen her without her glasses. Even though she had just turned 18-years old, without them she looked a lot younger.

Then I put my hands on her sweatshirt and lifted it up again, as slowly as I could. I saw her tummy and her super cute belly button again, and the sight of her pale skin left me breathless.

I continued to slowly lift her sweatshirt, until I could see her white bra. I continued lifting gently. When it was up and over her face, I gently slid it off her arms. It's funny, I felt like I was helping a little girl getting ready for a bath. She helped a little, but it was me who pulled it all the way up to her hands, and it slid off easily.

Oh God, I was suddenly looking at Pam's amazingly pale skin, and her plain white bra. Oh God, she was sitting so still, and I could tell she was terribly anxious about what was happening.

She looked like a frightened little bunny. Her gaze was moving up and down between my eyes and her own chest.

She didn't say anything, and I wasn't sure what she was thinking, but she was obviously letting me stare at her. I was surprised how narrow her shoulders looked, and how pretty her skin seemed. There was something so irresistible about how timid she was acting; it seemed to be hypnotizing me.

Her breasts were smaller than I would have guessed since she always wore such baggy clothes. And, I know this sounds silly, but her little, plain white bra just seemed so irresistibly cute! Her shoulders were so slight, which made her breasts seem even tinier and more delicate .

I was immediately aware of how visible her nipples were under the thin white fabric of her bra; they seemed incredibly hard and prominent.

"Oh Pam, you look so beautiful," I whispered.

She didn't say anything, but she looked down at her own chest, and it was impossible for me to know what she was thinking. For the next little while, we both sat there in silence.

For me, it felt so sensual sitting so close to my beautiful young friend and looking at her smooth, white skin. I was absolutely amazed at how pretty she looked, especially her belly button. But it was her adorable little bra that just seemed lovely beyond anything I could even imagine. It was dreamlike in its power.

She sat there, staying still and timidly looking down at her own chest, and it was obvious she was seeing the same thing I was seeing, that her nipples were hard and obvious, pressing out against the thin fabric of her bra.

I wasn't sure what to do. I was so overwhelmed by the distinct outline of her nipples, and for a moment, all either of us could do was stare.

I was really nervous, but I cautiously put my hand on her shoulder and touched her bra strap with my fingertip. I then traced the edge of the little strap, moving my finger as slowly and delicately as I could.

I have no idea what Pam was thinking as I carefully slid my fingertip against her pale skin, right along the edge of her bra, down between her breasts and up the other strap, all the way to the opposite shoulder.

For me, touching her so gently was insanely arousing. She didn't do anything to stop me. I traced my fingers back again, this time I was even slower and more adoring. As my finger delicately ghosted down between her breasts, she shivered as if I was tickling her, and then I watched as her adorable nipples got even harder.

I cautiously touched the thin white fabric of one side of her bra, and cautiously traced a slow outline along the fabric, making a wide circle with my fingertips around the entirety of her delectable little breast. Then I made another slow circle, but this time a little smaller.

She was looking down at my fingers, obviously engrossed in every motion I was making as I ever-so-slowly neared her nipple.

I tried looking into her eyes for some sort of permission, but I couldn't read her emotions. She just seemed somehow stunned at what I was doing.

I was tracing slow circles around her nipple, and she watched my fingers with her huge wide eyes, on fire with awareness of what I was doing. She was staying still, letting me touch her little bra like this. I could feel the luscious, smooth, firm skin of her breast through the thin fabric.

I whispered, "Oh Pam, my sweet little Pam..."

I gradually made the circle a little smaller, getting a little bit closer to hard point of her nipple.

I let out a shaky, "Oh God..."

And then I tenderly touched her nipple, feeling its plump firmness through her bra.

She shuddered from my touch, and she quietly gasped, "Mr. McKinnon..."

I felt the pointy shape between my fingers. Even though they appeared to be hard, her nipples were so supple and yielding. They felt youthful in a way that was truly heavenly.

I spoke softly, "Oh God, Pam, this is so lovely..."

It was right then, as I played with her nipples, that I suddenly saw an expression of total shock in her eyes.

At first I was worried I had scared her by touching her like I was. But then I realized that she was looking down at my lap, that she was seeing—for the first time—the big shape of my rock-hard erection pointing up at her through my thin fabric of my pajamas.

She wasn't moving, she was just staring wide-eyed with a kind of haunted astonishment. Oh my God, I felt a glorious tremor deep in my soul knowing what she was seeing. Everything I was feeling was all about her, about trying to make her feel better. But Pam's obvious shock at what she was seeing gave me a feeling of concern. Was this too much for her?

It was so obvious that her startled eyes were focused entirely on my erection, the rigid form pushing upwards from under my pajamas. I couldn't help what I did next, I moved slightly closer and arched my hips a little bit to make the shape even more unmistakable to her.

I put my free hand on the other side of her bra, and started to adoringly fondle both her big nipples as she stared down between my legs.

Then I cautiously asked, "Pam, does this feel good, what I'm doing?"

I could see her eyes move from my erection to my fingers, worshipping her hard nipples through her bra, and then she looked right at me.

He expression seemed so timid, so shy. After a long pause, she let out the softest little "Yes..."

Hearing that, I leaned forward and reached both my hands around to the center of her back and put my fingers on the middle of her bra strap.

I spoke softly: "I'm going to undo this, okay?"

Pam replied with just the slightest little nod. She was looking at me, and she had this amazing expression, it was so emotional and needy. It nearly brought tears to my eyes, and I wanted with all my heart to love her, to be her protector.

The way I was sitting on my knees, I needed to move a little bit closer as I reached behind her back to unfasten the clasp on her little bra.

It took a moment, but when the clasp was undone, I whispered, "Let's slide this off, okay?"

I slowly eased each strap, one at a time, off her pale shoulders. She wriggled a little until both her arms were out, then I pulled the little bra all the way off and let it fall onto the floor.

Oh my God, I was looking at an innocent little angel, right up next to me on my couch. I was looking at heaven.

Her breasts were so cute and exquisite. Even though they were small, their plump, round shape looked so firm and healthy. They were the perky, delicate breasts of youth. They looked like they had only just appeared, as if only months ago she was perfectly flat like a boy.

Her nipples just seemed enormous and puffy. They were the palest shade of pink, just a tiny bit darker than the smooth white skin of her breasts. I watched her chest rise and fall with each ragged breath.

Oh my God, my heart ached as I looked at her tiny breasts. I must have had a really emotional, lost-for-words look on my face. She obviously noticed my wide-eyed expression, and she shyly reached up and put both hands over her little breasts.

She nervously gasped, "I'm—I'm—sorry..."

I felt so bad and I laid my hands gently on her wrists. "Oh no, Pam... please, no."

She stammered weakly, "But, I feel—all—embarrassed."

"Please don't even think that! You are so beautiful."

She whimpered. "But, my—they're—just... so small..."

Oh God, I felt such a desperate need to comfort her. "No, they're just perfect. They are beautiful. You look like an angel."

"But..."

She looked so ashamed as she sat there on the couch, right in front of me. She stayed perfectly still with her hands cupped over her each breast. Her expression was so heartbreaking that I thought she might start to cry again.

I felt so concerned, "Oh Pam, no - please don't feel sad."

Seeing her so embarrassed broke my heart. My emotions were all mixed-up, and I reacted in an almost haunted reflex. I took full hold of her wrists and gently pulled her hands off her breasts. She didn't resist me at all, and I could see her beautiful chest again. I leaned in and immediately started to suck the puffy pink flesh of one of her nipples.

Pam responded with a sort of anxious whimper.

I was shocked at how unbelievably delicious it felt to hold one of her beautiful plump nipples in my mouth. It was so much more exhilarating than I could have ever imagined.

I held her waist and gradually eased her backwards until she was lying flat on her back against the big pillows at the end of the couch. Now it was a lot easier for me to press my mouth against her chest.

I spent a long time sucking and licking her nipples. I was moving from one to the other, and - Oh God - I was getting really worked up, my erection was throbbing, and my sucking was getting wet and loud. And all the while I could feel Pam getting more and more turned-on. I could hear it in her breathing and the way her whole body was sort of shivering.

I so dearly loved how her hard nipples felt in my mouth and against tongue. It reminded me how, just minutes earlier, I had just sucked the tip of her tongue, it was the same loving motions. I could tell she was looking down at me, and I know she could watch the way my lips were wrapped around her big hard nipples. I loved knowing that she was watching me as I sucked.

I held her waist with my hands as I leaned over her, I could feel each shaky breath as she inhaled.

After a little while, I moved my mouth away from her breasts, and looked at her. She stared at me in a wide-eyed expression of yearning.

I looked at her and asked, "Pam, can you show me your tongue?"

She seemed a little confused, but then I watched as she cautiously pushed her pink tongue out, just a little bit. She stayed frozen in that trusting pose and she looked at me.

Oh my God, she looked so cute. I leaned in and just like before, I wrapped my lips around just the tip of her wet tongue, and eagerly started to suck it. This felt so intense, feeling it inside my mouth, after just sucking her nipples.

After a little bit I pulled away and started sucking her nipples again, with the same feverish emotion. As I sucked, she whimpered quietly, "Oh God, Mr. McKinney..."

Hearing that, the emotion in her voice, I moved back up to her tongue, and I sucked a little harder, and I sort of pulled her tongue further out of her mouth. I gently eased it out with my lips. She knew what I wanted and she responded by pushing her tongue out as far as she could.

And then I eagerly started sucking the full length of her slippery tongue.

Right then, I thought about the length of my hard cock, and as weird as it sounds, I was sort of mimicking a blow-job with this adorable girl's wet tongue. Oh dear God, I loved what I was doing with Pam. I was sucking the full length of her tongue with an impassioned zeal and I could tell she really liked it. I got all lost, sucking her tongue, and then her nipples, and then back to her tongue again.

After a while, I needed to stop. It was just too intense and I needed to take a deep breath and let my spinning head slow down.

As I sat there, she spoke in a nervous whisper, "Oh God, Mr. McKinnon... I—I didn't—ever think—that we would—ever—do anything—like this..."

I said, "Oh Pam, I didn't either."

I reached in and adjusted the pillow she was leaning against, then caressed her hair and asked her, "Are you all right?"

She nodded yes.

I was kneeling on the couch, down near her legs. She was looking up at me with such a shy expression. And she stayed so still, like she was too frightened to move. Then she looked down at my pajama bottoms, and the shape of my straining cock pressing upwards. I could see her face light up with a kind of shaky eagerness.

Knowing she was looking at my erection, I spoke softly. "Oh Pam, I just want so badly to help you, to soothe your sadness. I need you to know how deeply I care."

She didn't reply; she just stayed still and nervously bit her lower lip. Her huge eyes were focused directly on my barely-hidden cock.

I looked down at her, and she seemed so tiny on my great big couch. At this point she was naked except for her baggy nylon running shorts. She had a narrow waist and relatively wide hips, I mean, given that her whole body was so tiny. Her tummy looked soft and pale; it had just the perfect amount of baby fat, and her belly button was heartbreakingly cute.

The way Pam was leaning against the big pillow, I was astonished at how beautiful her smooth, delicate chest looked. Her tiny breasts were so wholesome and pure, and both nipples were shiny and wet from my kissing and suckling.

Her eyes were still zeroed in on my bulging erection. In a soft frightened voice, she asked, "Mr. McKinnon, is this okay, that we're doing this?"

I tried to reply calmly. "Oh yes, sweetheart. This feels so beautiful."

She was looking directly at the big shape of my hard cock as she whispered, "I... I love that—that—you said that. It does—it feels beautiful..."

Hearing her say that, I reached down and touched the waistband of her nylon shorts. I could feel her start to squirm from the intensity of what we were doing.

I held on to her shorts and whispered, "Oh God, Pam, you are so beautiful."

Then I started to pull them down off her hips, but she was lying so still that it was a little bit hard.

I moved a little closer and asked, "Pam, can you lift up, just a little?"

She obediently put her hands down on the couch and arched her hips up to help. I was on my knees between her legs, and I needed to move backwards as she moved her legs together and I pulled her shorts down.

Once they were past her butt, they began to slide off easily.

I said, "There, that helps."

As I moved her shorts down along her legs, I got all focused on the pale smooth skin of her beautiful legs, so much so that her shorts got a little scrunched up and stuck on her ankles. I needed to work a little to get them past her feet.

As I struggled, Pam whispered timidly, "I'm sorry..."

I could hear the nervousness in her voice and I told her, "Shhh, angel, it's okay."

It took just a few seconds to get her shorts past her feet, and when they were all the way off I pushed them onto the floor. Now Pam was lying on my couch, on her back, wearing nothing but pair of simple white panties—and I was immediately aware that they were wet.

Pam was lying there looking up at me, so still and quiet. I was staring right between her legs, at the thin fabric of her underwear, I couldn't help it; I was sitting on my knees, facing her, down by her feet. Her knees were slightly parted, and I was staring at a prominent wet spot between her legs.

I could see her clearly see the shape of her puffy pussy lips, their delicate outline very obvious under the thin, wet fabric.

I glanced up at her face and found her looking right at me, completely aware that my eyes were now focused directly between her legs.

She meekly asked, "My underwear—is—is wet, isn't it?"

"Yes."

She spoke in a nervous whisper, "I'm sorry, I can't help it."

She sounded so shaky, it just made my heart ache that she was embarrassed about getting so wet.

"Oh Pam, please don't feel bad, it's a good thing. It's beautiful."

We both just sort of stared at each other. Even though she was acting so shy, there was a desperate sense of yearning coming from her, and it was making my heart pound.

I realized that anything I had done so far, she had let me do. She hadn't once tried to stop me, or even to say anything. Everything about her had been entirely yielding since the moment we kissed here on my couch. Could this possibly continue? Would she let me do more?

This uncertainty was on my mind as I carefully reached towards her and put my fingertips against the waistband of her white cotton panties. I eased them down barely a quarter of an inch and stopped.

I quietly asked, "Is this okay, if I do this?"

She didn't say anything; she just looked up at me and nodded shyly.

Then I started slowly pulling down her pretty white panties. Oh my God, I wasn't at all prepared for what I was seeing. I stopped when I realized that she had obviously shaved her pubic hair, and her pale skin looked silky smooth. Then I pulled them down a little more until I could just see the top of her vagina.

I stopped, and sort of gasped. I simply held her panties there and stared. Then I mumbled something like, "Oh—oh—God..."

My hands started to pull at the waistband, I was suddenly insanely hungry to see more. She nervously wiggled on the couch to make it easier to get them past her butt. Oh my God, this little angel was helping me undress her. I slid them down off her hips, along her legs, and past her toes.

Suddenly, my shy little friend was totally naked, lying on my couch right in front of me. Everything about her was overwhelmingly lovely and lovable.

Pam stared up at me, wide-eyed and silent.

She looked bashful in a way that melted my heart. At the same time, I felt that she wanted me to look at her, at her adorable naked body. The desire to see more of her pussy was uncontrollable.

I softly whispered, "Oh God, angel..."

Then I put both my hands on her knees and gently spread her legs a little bit wider so I could look at her. She let me move her legs without even the slightest attempt to stop me.

I couldn't truly comprehend that I was actually seeing her naked. Her little vagina looked all plump and unbelievably wet. I had been working alongside this cute little 18-year-old for over a month, and now I was staring at her adorable wet pussy. I was all swallowed up in emotions, and everything about her naked body was just so perfect and tempting.

I was powerless, all I could do was look directly between her legs. Her wetness, sparkling in the soft light, was absolutely mesmerizing. She could obviously see that my eyes were focused directly between her legs.

Looking at her, at her pale naked body, at her enchanting wet pussy, I wanted to see more. I was flooded with such a powerful need to show her my love and adoration. I held her knees and gently spread her legs just a little bit wider.It was right then that she nervously blurted out, "You're not mad at me, are you?"

I was shocked at the depth of emotion in her voice; it seemed like she wasn't even addressing me, but rather that some buried fear that had welled up to the surface from a deep, anguished place inside her.

I spoke as calmly and steadily as I could: "No, love, I'm not mad at you. I couldn't be, not ever." I released one of her knees and cupped her face with my right hand, stroking her silk-soft cheek with my palm.

She looked at me with frightened eyes and whispered, "But—I thought..." She trailed off into an ashamed silence.

It was then that I realized she was living out some terrible fear born out of her father's anger. It almost seemed as if like she was mixing me up with him.

I gazed deeply into her frightened eyes and spoke with as much compassion as I could. "Oh no, Pam, I'm not mad. I'm overflowing with joy."

She timidly asked, "Really?"

I was flooded with sadness that poor little Pam couldn't get the love she desperately needed from her own father. She was such a wonderful, lovable girl, and this realization broke my heart.

I told her, "Oh dear God, I could never be mad at you. Never... never... never..."

I watched as she took a deep breath, like she was feeling some sort of total relief. She exhaled, a soft statement of solace. "You're really not mad at me?"

I smiled and filled my voice with tones of compassion—I needed her to know how deeply I cared for her, "No baby, I'm not mad at you."

Before I knew what was happening, Pam sat up and hugged me enthusiastically. I immediately wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her tightly against me. A wave of indescribable emotion rolled through me like approaching thunder.

I whispered, "Shhhh, baby, don't worry."

Something had changed, and she seemed to be responding to my kind words. When I said I wasn't mad at her, it was as if she was suddenly liberated from her deepest fears. I realized that this was all about her father, about how he had been suffocating her with anger.

I was on my knees, and she was pressing her naked body against mine. She was clinging to me in such a wholehearted, needy way. There was something terribly sad about how she wasn't getting any love from her father, and it explained why she was so desperate for affection.

I hugged her as tightly as I could, pulling her tiny body tightly against me. I put my mouth to her ear and whispered, "It's okay, baby, don't worry. I'm here for you."

Pam immediately started to whimper with an intense emotional tremor, "You've—been so nice... I—I don't deserve it."

"Shhhh, that's not true, love."

She felt so small in my arms, and her whole body squirmed as she eagerly wrapped her legs around my hips. I pulled her up onto my lap. The way I was kneeling, and the way she was hugging me, felt so wonderfully intimate.

I pulled her little naked body even closer against mine, and suddenly felt my hard cock pressing between her legs. Right at that instant she feverishly gasped, "Oh Mr. McKinnon!"

I instinctively arched my hips up into her, pressing back against her with a tender forcefulness. Even though I was wearing my pajamas, I could still push my cock hard against her, right between her legs, and I know she could feel it.

I anxiously pleaded, "Pam—yes—yes!"

Holding her so tightly against me, I could feel her little body shiver with eagerness, she was squeezing tightly against me with a kind of affectionate fervor.

I gasped, "Oh Baby, I'm here for you..."

In a soft desperate voice she whispered, "Oh Mr. McKinnon, thank you... thank you..."

As we were pressing together, I realized I was still wearing my t-shirt and pajama bottoms, and was suddenly overwhelmed with a deep need to be naked, just like Pam. At that moment I felt a kind of compulsion run through me; I needed to get out of my pajamas.

Without any warning I sat upright and looked down at her. I think my abrupt motion scared her and she whispered a nervous, "Mr. McKinnon, what is it?"

I stammered, "Pam—it's—I need to..."

Then, without any hesitation, I stood up next to the couch. Pam was sort of sitting there on the couch right where we had been hugging just seconds before. She was looking up at me with a look of unbearable concern. I was looking down, and seeing her pale naked body was breathtaking.

She looked up at me and whimpered nervously, "You—you're—not leaving—are you?"

It melted my heart that she could think that, and I shook my head vigorously. "Oh no—no—no..."

Then I pulled off my shirt and dropped it to the floor. She just looked up at me with a worried expression. Now, with my shirt off, the big shape of my hard cock pressing outward from under my pajama bottoms seemed incredibly prominent. I watched as she turned her eyes so she was looking right at it.

I said, "Don't worry Pam, I'm here for you."

The need to be naked was overwhelming. Pam had been so yielding and compliant to everything I had done, never protesting or wanting me to stop. I felt an incredible urge for her to look at me.

I reached down and touched the waistband of my pajama bottoms, Pam looked up at me with her big, frightened eyes, wide with an expression of bewilderment. The height I was standing and where she was sitting meant that my hips were exactly at her eye-level.

I couldn't help myself, I needed to be closer, I moved right up to the edge of the couch, closer to Pam, closer to her adorable face. I felt my heart pounding with anticipation as I slowly started to ease my pajamas down. I could see the expression on her face—she looked insanely anxious, but nothing about her was asking me to stop. It was as if she wanted this as much as I did.

I cautiously asked, "Angel, are you sure this is alright?"

She kept her eyes focused on the shape of my cock and nodded eagerly.

Then I eased in right alongside the couch, even closer to her face, to her big beautiful eyes. I paused for a moment, letting her look at the shape of my cock, straining to be free.

And then, very slowly, I pushed my pajamas down and suddenly my rock-hard erection swung upward, pointing straight at her.

I watched her entire body shudder with shock, her eyes huge with astonishment. I stood stock-still in front of her.

Oh my god, this adorable 18-year-old girl was naked on my couch, staring wide-eyed at my hard cock as I stood just inches in front of her face. This was so obscene, and yet at the same time, so pure and beautiful.

I let my pajama bottoms fall to the to the floor and stepped out of them. When they were all the way off I was completely naked, just like Pam.

I stood still, facing her, my hard cock so close to her face. I was totally shocked at my own boldness. I felt an overwhelming need to be right up close to her. I wanted her to see me naked. I wanted her to look at me, to look at my hard cock.

I quietly whispered to her, "Oh Pam..."

She never moved her eyes from my erection as she nervously stammered, "Oh God, Mr. McKinnon. This is—it's so—it's—I—I'm..." She trailed off into shaky silence.

I sensed the intensity of what she was feeling, and I calmly whispered, "Oh baby, please don't worry. You're doing so good..."

She finally pulled her eyes away from my erection enough to look up at me. She stared at me with those big, pleading brown eyes of hers, as if she was unsure of what we were doing.

As she looked at me, she timidly whispered, "You've been—so—kind to me."

"Oh Pam. I love being near you. You're just so wonderful."

Then she looked back to my hard cock, just inches from her face.

The look on her face was breathtaking; she stared at my rock-hard cock in complete awe. I reached down and gently caressed her hair. The feel of its silky strands passing through my fingers sent an emotional shiver down my spine.

Then I watched as Pam warily eased her face forward, softly caressing the shaft of my erection with her cheek.

My eyes were on focused her adorable face, as she maneuvered even closer to me. She began affectionately nuzzling my erection with her cheeks and forehead.

Her eyes were closed, and she seemed like a sleepy kitten trying to express its love to its owner. Some of her hair had slipped out of her ponytail, and it tickled the sensitive head of my cock. Pam lovingly rubbed her eyelashes and nose against its throbbing head. Her motions were so warmhearted and sincere.

"That's my good girl," I whispered softly.

Her eyes were closed as she lovingly rubbed her cheek along the shaft of my hard erection. It was at that moment that I heard her softly gasp, "Daddy..."

Hearing what she said, my heart began pounding, I stayed still, realizing the dreamlike power of that one word.

She was suddenly frozen, looking up at me with those big frightened eyes. I sensed a kind of panic in her.

It was so obvious that she was dreadfully embarrassed; I could tell she thought that calling me "Daddy" was a terrible mistake. My cock was positioned right up close to her face, and she was motionless, naked on the couch in front of me front of me, her eyes awash with shame.

She whimpered, "Oh—Mr. McKinnon—I—I'm—so—sorry..."

I let out a soft, "Shhhhh baby..."

I softly caressed her hair, trying to reassure her, but at the same time keeping my cock motionless, positioned just inches in front of her eyes.

I was so aware that, having called me "Daddy," she was pitifully ashamed, but I didn't want her to feel bad. At the same time, I felt a need to stay standing, with my cock right close to her face, as if pulling away would add to her confusion.

As tenderly as I could, I said, "Pam—it's okay—you can call me that."

Her eyes were focused on my hard cock as she timidly stammered, "But—I—didn't—mean to..."

Then she turned her gaze up to my face, looking up at me, pleading for forgiveness with her big brown eyes, and her expression was so needy and honest. I stayed still, amazed at how emotional it felt.

And then, as sincerely as I could, I told her, "Please—you can say it again... please, angel—I want you to say it..."

She obediently spoke, her pretty voice a timid little whisper: "Daddy..."

A compassionate shiver ran through me, and she could see it.

I longingly asked her, "Oh Pam—say it again—please..."

She spoke that one word again, submissive and clear: "Daddy..."

Oh dear God, I was absolutely electrified to hear her call me that, her sweet voice calling me Daddy, and knowing she needed to say it. Some barrier had broken, and she seemed like she had been set free. It was perverted and beautiful, and I was instantly, insanely turned on. I thought my heart would explode with joy and lust.

I pushed my cock forward, eagerly caressing her cheek, and at the same time I told her, "Please—please say it again—I love it—please..."

She responded by passionately gasping, "Daddy—Daddy!"

Her huge eyes were focused on my throbbing erection as I slowly and lovingly rubbed it all across her face. I absolutely loved that she was letting me be so bold like this.

I listened as she softly mumbled, "Oh Daddy..." She was saying this as the head of my hard cock was gliding across her eyebrows.

I knew what I needed to say, what she needed to hear. I took a deep breath and, as lovingly as I could, I whispered: "Oh Pammy—my beautiful little daughter..."

She looked up at me with an expression of total euphoria. I had just called her my little daughter. At the same time, I had just called her Pammy, and I could see her whole body was glowing with gratitude. This was the little pet-name her father used to call her, and I watched her respond with a kind of electric joy.

I was losing myself in this little game, rubbing the head of my cock along her forehead, encouraging her to call me daddy. Everything felt so magical and beautiful. I thought my heart would burst, or break, or explode, I was so happy for her.

I needed her to know how beautiful this was, so I whispered, "Oh Pammy, you're making your father feel so good... I love you, little girl. Your father loves you with all my heart."

She softly kissed the shaft of my cock, her eyes still closed. She was so gentle and so cautious.

I whispered, "Oh, my beautiful little daughter... you're such a good girl, Pammy..."

Before I knew what was happening, her adorable lips were wrapped around the big head of my throbbing erection.

I instantly gasped, "Oh God—Pammy!"

She began cautiously sucking the head of my cock with a slow, alluring rhythm. The sensation was mind-blowing. But more than that, there was something so completely satisfying, knowing that this sweet beautiful girl was all emotionally lost in playing the role of my daughter, and desperately needing me to play her father.

I was melting as I watched her cute little mouth wrapped around my big, hard cock.

"Oh God—Pammy—this feels—so beautiful."

She didn't move her head at all, she simply held herself still as she sucked. She was acting so timid, but also so loving and devoted. I could feel her pink wet tongue against the smooth head of my cock.

I whispered my gratitude, "Good girl, you are doing so good! You're making your father so happy..."

She responded by pulling her mouth away, looking up at me and eagerly gasping, "Daddy? I'm doing good? I am? Really?" She spoke in a breathless, submissive whisper, her big eyes shining with innocent lust.

"Yes, little angel, you're doing wonderfully."

"Oh—Daddy—thank you..."

I watched with wonder as my little Pammy put her lips back around me and gently sucked the head of my cock again. I was mesmerized by the image of how cute she looked.

I whispered, "This is how you let me—how you let your father—suck your nipples—and your tongue."

She looked up at me, agreeing with her eyes.

Her lips were so adorable. There was something so haunting about her plump little lips as they sparkled in the pale light of the lamp alongside the couch, all moist and glistening.

I said, "Pammy, this is so beautiful—so beautiful..."

She wasn't sucking hard or moving her head up and down like you'd normally envision; her motions were so delicate and gentle. Rather than something that would make me cum, what she was doing was something that was touching the deepest part of my soul.

She pulled her mouth away just long enough to say, "Oh Daddy, I love this... I really love this..." Then she went back to that same soft angelic sucking. I was completely lost in the emotional power of what was happening.

I whispered, "Oh Pammy, I love it too. I love that my beautiful little daughter would do something so loving for her father."

Hearing that, me calling her my daughter, she quietly squealed with a needy excitement. I loved what we were doing, but I felt a pang of guilt for receiving something from her when I needed to give something instead.

Then I asked, "Sweetheart, could you sit back against the couch?"

She wasn't sure what I wanted, and she timidly allowed me to ease my cock out of her mouth. She looked worried, but she obediently moved and sat back for me. I helped guide her so she was facing me.

I said, "Lean back a little lower, okay?"

She did exactly as I asked, positioning herself back lower into the couch. Oh my God, this sweet girl was so yielding and submissive to me. She was naked on my couch, obediently doing just what I asked.

I said, "Oh my God, Pammy, I am so amazed. You look so beautiful..."

She smiled when I said that, like she somehow needed my approval. I couldn't believe what was happening. Her adorable little body was right in front of me, and looking down at her, she just seemed so unbelievably cute, so perfect in every single way.

I knelt down in front of the couch. She watched as I moved her knees with my hands, gently easing her slim legs wide apart. There was a shaky intensity running through her entire body; I could see it in her eyes and feel it against my hands. and I moved her feet so they were positioned wide on the edge of the cushions.

She looked down at my hard cock, how it was lined up between her legs. She was literally dripping with need, a big wet spot was on my couch between her legs. There was a magic spell that bound us together, and I could feel an outright mystical connection.

I wanted to lick her, to taste her, to caress her pussy lips with my tongue, to kiss her little anus, but I the way I was positioned just melted my heart. The couch was the perfect height, and kneeling in front of her like I was, my cock was exactly aligned with her sopping-wet pussy.

I held her hips and eased her closer, so her pussy was right up at the edge of the couch. Then I gently touched the head of my hard cock against her engorged pussy lips.

As soon as I touched her like that, she eagerly begged, "Please—Daddy—please—Please!"

Oh my God, I could feel her whole body respond to the religious sensation of my cock against her dripping pussy lips. She held her knees with her little hands and spread her legs even wider. Her sudden enthusiasm was incredible for me.

Pammy was staring at my cock with such a desperate intensity, pleading with her eyes. She craned her neck forward to watch what was happening. The way she was leaning forward, her delicate little breasts would jiggle as she trembled. Watching her naked body like this was glorious. I looked up from between her legs and gazed into her big eyes. She was staring down at my hard cock, her adorable face was radiant with anticipation.

She timidly panted, "I'm sorry—Daddy—I can't help it that—I get so wet—like this..."

I tried to reassure her, "Oh God, Pammy, I love it! I love it!"

She squirmed on the couch, arching her hips even more. I was so hard, and everything between her legs was so wet and slippery. I was trying to remain calm, but the intensity of the energy between us was just mind-blowing.

I held my cock in my hand, and started rubbing the smooth head up and down along her dripping, puffy pussy lips. I worked to make my motions as loving and sincere as I could. As I rubbed, I could see the head of my cock being coated in her warm thick wetness.

She responded so frantically to what I was doing, "Oh God—Daddy—Oh God—Oh God—Oh God!" She was whimpering like a needy little girl, her squeaky voice incredibly enthusiastic.

As I rubbed my cock up and down, Pammy kept her eyes directly focused on what I was doing. Her mouth was open and she was taking deep, gasping breaths. Her eyes were wide with bewilderment. It was insanely thrilling to realize that Pammy was still only 18-years old. I dearly loved that she was watching so intently, and I tried to convey as much devotion as I could with the loving way I rubbed her slippery wet pussy lips.

I said, "Oh God, Pammy. This is so beautiful."

She eagerly stammered, "It— it—feels—really—good."

I stopped my up and down motions and lined my cock up so the big smooth head was positioned just a little below the center of her pussy. Her puffy wet lips parted against me, and then I very gently pushed forward.

She timidly whimpered, "Yes—Daddy—yes..."

Her wet little pussy seemed so tiny and the head of my erection seemed so big. I was unsure if it was even possible that would fit inside. But, Pammy was pleading so wholeheartedly, that I just kept pressing against her.

I held onto her soft hips and I eased myself forward and pressed hard toward her, and I watched as the big head of my cock slowly began to slip inside, just barely entering.

I pressed forward, wondering if the rest of it would fit. Then I heard her softly gasp, "Please—Daddy...!"

I stopped moving and looked deeply into her eyes.

It was so obvious that she was enthralled with what we were doing. I wondered if she knew that her calling me "Daddy" was making me absolutely insane with excitement. My cock was a just little ways inside her, and she was frozen in front of me, her face awash in an expression of absolute yearning.