MY FIRST PERIOD
It started out as a pretty normal day as I got ready and darted off to
school. I felt a little sick, but I liked school and didn’t often stay
home, so I thought I was just toughing it out. My period caught me totally
by surprise. I mean, sure I knew what it was all about, but I figured I
had at least another year before I started getting periods.
I know this may sound silly, but I had absolutely no forewarning, and
according to Murphy’s law, I was wearing cream colored shorts. Needless to
say, by the time 4th period (no pun intended) math I was needing to go
home. With my jacket wrapped around my waist (which luckily for me was a
stylish thing to do) I went to the office to call so she could pick me
up. I didn't tell them anything as I was WAY too embarrassed, just that I
wasn't feeling well.
The woman at the desk made some comment about me being flushed and gave
me the OK. At least the blushing had some good in it. Only thing was, she
wasn't there. After about ten minutes of continuous calling, the lady
asked if there wasn't someone else I could call. I blushed harder and told
her that I could call my dad at work but I couldn't remember his number.
She told me it wasn't a problem and look it up for me in my files. I was
almost wishing it hadn't been there. It was embarrassing enough to me, let
alone I though my dad would be totally grossed out about it. I know I felt
that way.
Reluctantly I called Dad, and after a couple minutes of explaining that
I "wasn't feeling good" he said he would come and get me and I hung up.
While I waited the 25 minutes (one of the longest waits in my entire life)
the lady at the desk asked me if I wanted to lay down. I told her I
didn't.
Finally my dad arrived, squatted down beside me in the chair I was
hunching on, felt my head as he pushed back the hair from my face and asked
me what was wrong. I started bawling into his arm like a little and
told him I just wanted to go home. He nodded and helped me stand, and I
kept ahold of his arm, burying my face into him. The lady at the counter
called out that she hopes I felt better in the morning. I've always
wondered if she suspected. I probably wasn't the first to get it
while at school and I know I wasn't the last.
Dad got me out to the car and we both got in. I was sniffling, but I
had gotten over my crying episode. I sat silently as he got into the car
and started it up. He didn't say a word, just kept looking at me worried
like. He knew something was wrong and was giving me some space. I knew he
kept looking because I was watching him out of the corner of my eye. I
wanted to tell him, but I was afraid. I know it sounds silly, but I was
afraid that if he knew it would change things between us.
When we got home, I ran into the bathroom and pulled my stained clothing
from my body and got into the shower, taking my and shorts with me.
It wasn't long before he knocked at the door. "Can I come in?" he asked
and I shouted NO. Cindi, he said. I think I know what's the matter and
really, it's OK.
He knew? I thought I could just die now and everything would be all
right. I sat down in the tub and watched as the faded pink water drained
from my as the shower head gushed it's water over them. I was
crying again. what an emotional wreck I was. I was so absorbed in
myself that I never heard the lock being picked until my dad was kneeling
by the tub, caressing my shoulder and telling me it was all right. He took
the shower head from my hand and I let it go. Then he picked me up and
stood me on my feet and draped a towel around me. I said that I would get
blood over it, and he told me it was ok. He would take care of it and he
kissed me on my cheek. I don't know how he does it, but he always could
(and still can) calm me. I let him towel dry me as we talked.
He asked me if explained about menses and I told him that she did.
And he said that then I knew what pads and tampons were. I got embarrassed
again but nodded. He said good and gave me his patented "I love you" smile
and held out a pair of my with a pad already centered. Now how
many dads would do this for their little girls? Not many I tell you. He
had me wipe and then helped me climb into them. These should hold you
until your gets home, he said.
All of a sudden I was afraid that he was going to leave and go back to
work and told him so. No, he assured me. With that he pulled a fresh
nightgown over my head (which he seemed to have magically produced or so it
seemed), picked me up and carried me to my bed. He laid me down, covered
me up and sat down next to me, stroking my forehead with his rough fingers.
As I looked into his caring loving eyes, he slowly slid his fatherly hand
over my tiny thighs and onto the lips of that swollen pussy. With a
delicateness of a fine surgeon he opened that flower and found the
sensitive nubbin of my untouched clitoris and gently stroked it. New
sensations flooded my tiny body and I began to moan and squirm in his
embrace. Without warning the orgasm hit and I arched my back and squealed
with the surge. I felt daddy’s fingers caress my spasming sex organ and
roll in the opening to my virgina. When the orgasm settled, I fell asleep
in his arms. I didn’t feel it but he carried me gently to my bed and put
me there to recover.
I didn't wake up until that evening, in which I told what happened,
excluding daddy's helping hands We sat and talked. I cried again. And gave me some more in-depth info on the use and care on good "feminine
hygiene." I went back to school the next day. I didn't want to, but Daddy
convinced me that I should. I was afraid that EVERYONE would know what
happened, and you know what? No body did (or at least if they did, they
didn't let on).
Now why would I write a on a subject such as this? Easy. This
was a major point in my life and I wanted to share this with you all as
well.
Anyway, hope this suffices till I get more time.
Cindi
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