I met Lisa three years ago when I was dating her mother. Lisa was an immediately attractive little five year old brunette showing dimples when she was really happy or wanted to convince me that getting her way was a fantastic idea, a brain that was sharp as a tack with the wits to boot, headstrong, tricky, feisty; I adored her from the first moment I saw the little sweetie. Gretchen, her older sister by three years, was quite shy but Lisa was a shameless flirt that had me wrapped around her little fingers from the get-go. She seemed to want more from me than I was willing to give. When she started crawling into my bed in the mornings (her mother worked breakfast at the caf‚) to rub herself on my hand I tried hard to put a stop to it, even living through a few tantrums before she settled down and behaved herself. Eventually though, there was the one time when I couldn't take the teasing anymore and gave in to her desires, pushing her tight little butt to rub her on my leg before stroking and rubbing her hairless pussy and tiny clit until she spasmed and gasped out a cute, little girl cum. From then on I kept her out of my bed (one upset little girl) unless her older sister or mother was with us; anything to resist letting my fingers wander and go for another exploration of her sleek charms. My sweet little charming Lisa was not happy about keeping her private times private (and alone) in her own bed but she learned to live with the situation. I mean fun is fun and a prison sentence is a prison sentence. You can see where my anxieties lay. I was not a pervert.

Her mother, Debbie, though an adventurous and exciting lover, was a dreamer. Mostly a responsible mother but flighty and taken to staying with friends rather than coming home and seeing to the girls. Having her head in the clouds with outrageous ideas (UFOs, numerology, psychics, etc.) and fanciful dreams that could never come to anything led to our breaking up after a couple years. We were still friends (we only lived a half mile apart on a country road) and she let Lisa and Gretchen come over to visit or stay overnight when they needed a babysitter. Longer when she got drifty and stayed away for a couple days.

Didn't mind it in the least as I loved both of them like they were my own. Kind of thought of them that way, really. I taught them both to read, to swim, to fish, all the little things a father does in a family. With a flighty mother and my realist views to balance things out, they seemed to do pretty well. The trail through the woods between our houses was well worn by small feet.

So there I was with Lisa on my patient list, along with three ventilator patients, a couple post surgeries and a few routine lung patients. I was looking forward to seeing the little charmer and tried to rush through my other patients to be able to spend some time with her. She was always lonely and bored when in the hospital with her asthma as Debbie had to work, take care of their house and her older sister. A little time visiting and reading with the treatment always eased her boredom. Little did I know.

The ventilator patients went quickly, the usual tube care and all, and I hit the post-op ward. Breathing medicine then some deep breathing and coughs. The doc had given them enough drugs to take care of the discomfort of coughing on new stitches (a particularly delicious agony I can tell you from personal experience) and they all did well. The lung patients, old smokers that didn't have enough air left to walk across the living room, were regulars and I breezed through their treatments with jokes and chit chat. No need to describe the crap they coughed out of their lungs. We talked and coughed and breathed together. My frequent flyers. Things were going well then it was time to visit Lisa.

"Hi Mary," I said to the nurse on duty. "I'm here for Lisa Jones." ......(cont)