"Whatcha doing daddy?"

John turned to see his young daughter, Samantha, entering his room, her eyes automatically drawn to the computer screen. He glanced down at himself to make sure his erection was covered by the short robe, his face flushed and his breathing rapid, then looked back at his daughter. "Er..Nothing, sweetie. Daddy's just..er..." he began and saw Sammy's eyes widen as she looked at the monitor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the screen change and realised the next picture was being shown. Damn!!! He'd forgotten that the pictures kept coming up. He grabbed his mouse and moved it up to the shut-off corner of the screen. On the screen a little girl was being opened up by a man, her hairless sex being pulled apart and the man's finger poised ready to enter her. Before he could click, the scene changed and he caught a glimpse of the same little girl on a bed with three nude men pressing large penises at her mouth, their hands on her flat breasts and between her spread legs. He double-clicked and the screen disappeared, replaced with the normal desktop. Taking a deep breath, he turned slowly back towards his daughter, wondering how he was going to explain this.

Sam was looking at him, her eyes questioning. "What was that, daddy?" she asked in her sweet little voice. "What were they doing?"

John swallowed. Sam looked gorgeous in her shorty pajamas, her eight-year-old body slender and lithe beneath the flimsy material. He had lusted after her ever since she had lost her babyness. He had enjoyed bathing and dressing her, delighting in seeing her virginal pussy, being able to touch her there as he washed and dried and powdered her, letting his hands linger as he pulled on her panties or dried her buttocks or between her legs, but never really making a move to do anything blatantly sexual. He had been content with the images he could get through his computer friends and this had kept his desires satisfied. But looking at Sam, standing there, and his wife, Julie, in Denver 'at her mother's" (in reality, screwing a colleague from her work), he realised it wasn't enough. He realised he wanted to screw his daughter. Wanted to do the things the men did to the little girls in the pictures. And now seemed to be the time to begin.

Before he lost courage, John smiled at Sam. "They were just playing, sweetie. Playing grown-up games," he said. His eyes wandered over her as she stood there. He could see her nipples through the thin material of her top and the outline of her panties. The top came just below her hips, barely covering her panties.

"Can I see them, daddy? Why did you turn them off?"

"They aren't for little girls to see, sweetie. Only grown-ups can play those games." John knew he was baiting her, knew her curiosity well and knew she would respond predictably. She did.

"I already saw one," she retorted. "And there was a little girl like me playing in it."

"I know. But she was a special little girl, honey," he answered, leaning towards his daughter.

"Aren't I your special little girl," Samantha pouted. "Why was she special?"

"Well, sweetie, that little girl likes doing things. Grown-up things. With grown-up men."

"Why can't I? I want to, daddy." Samantha said petulantly. "I want to be your special girl."

John reached out and took hold of Sam's arms, gently bringing her to him. "I'd love you to be my special girl, sweetheart. But its too dangerous. Someone might find out and then I'd be in a lot of trouble."

"I wouldn't tell, daddy. Honest. I just want to be your special girl. Please, daddy?"

"I really think its too dangerous, sweetie. You might tell someone by mistake."

"I won't, daddy. Truly. Please daddy," and she put her arms around John's neck and gazed pleadingly up at him.

John looked at her for a few moments, saying nothing, pleased with the way things were going and dragging it out deliberately to ensure Samantha's willingness.