Memories_(7)

I dont condone breaking any laws.
Tell yourself this is fiction.
I’m new here, be gentle.
Memories
I just recently consciously thought about this for the first time in many years. As I think back on my sexual experiences, it seems obtuse of me to not have put it all together before.
From my earliest memories, I can remember being awake long after being put to bed. When we lived in the married student housing at the seminary my father was attending, this meant being mere feet and a thin wall away from my parents bed. At three years old, I would hear the hushed whispers, bed creaking, and muffled moans of my parents having sex. After, my mother, then my father would walk past the bunkbed I shared with my sister to use the bathroom. The bunkbed was in an alcove in the hall. Many times, my father would stop on the way back to bed and whisper to me “Are you still awake, Ginny?”  “Yes, I can’t sleep.” I answered. He would pick me up in his arms, sit on the edge of my bed, and rock me to sleep. As he held me with one arm, his other hand would gently stroke my hair, arms, legs, and invariably between my legs. The touches up to this point were whispers across my skin, soothing and exciting at the same time. By the time the tips of his fingers reached my cunny they were rubbing firm circles right over my clit. I didn’t feel so much a building up to an explosion of pleasure as a feeling if being done, sleepy and sedate, I would sigh with utter contentment.