Stripped For Florida

Fran

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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FRAN
a Stripped For Florida Story
by Willie B Florida
comments welcome to williebflorida@gmail.com

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It felt like I barely touched the steps as I skipped down the four flights of stairs and emerged into the sunlit breeze blowing off the Delaware River. I can't really complain about my job. What's not to like about working as the office manager for a six story building full of artists, sculptors, performance artists and composers? Still, it was a treat to leave work a full hour early. Cartoon-perfect white clouds dotted a brilliant blue sky, tiny waves sparkled on the surface of the river and a fresh sea breeze wafted in from the Atlantic coast some sixty miles to the east. Life was beautiful. Now, if I could just find a handsome man, single and available, fall madly in love and get married, life would be perfect! Come now, stop dreaming, I chastise myself.

It was the bright red dress that first caught my eye. Watching the little girl propel herself along the river walk with carefree abandon brought me back to my senses. Her improbably short sundress, lithe legs, bobbed hair and glowing skin all added up to the picture of vitality. I felt my mood lift and followed behind at a respectable distance.

When she darted into Carmen's I decided I needed to stop for a latté, or perhaps a double cappuccino. The little girl was already at the counter pointing out the pastry she wanted to a man so good looking that it almost ruined my mood for a second time since leaving work at 4 o'clock.

"Daddy," she begged, "I want that one, no, the one with the chocolate, please."

Daddy? Popular wisdom may have it that all the good looking guys are gay, but I was sure that some fickle heavenly power was playing tricks by placing this fabulous but unavailable creature directly in front of me. I forced myself out of self-pity and ordered my latté, cast a look around the cramped quarters of Carmen's and pushed the door open to see if there was space on the patio. Mr. Handsome waved me over.

"You're welcome to share a table with us," he said. "Fran is unlikely to sit down, anyway, so if you don't mind sharing."

"Oh, not at all. Thank you," I stumbled over my words. "Tim," I said, introducing myself.

"Chris. And, that's Fran." I glanced over to where the little girl was revealing flashes of bright white panties as she finished chalking hopscotch squares between the tables.

Not wanting to stare I turned my attention back to Chris. We discussed the weather, the newly completed walkway along the river, the clouds (and not how they were as bright white as Fran's undies) and all the while Fran hopped and skipped the squares she'd drawn on the pavement.

Two days later I couldn't get Chris out of my mind. I figured he must be married or straight or both. Still, I managed once again to get out of work an hour early and trotted down the stairs and out onto the river walk. This time she wore a short blue and white frock that barely covered her tush. What was it with this little girl and the short outfits? Right alongside, yes, the man I couldn't get out of my fantasies.

Chris looked back and seemed to know exactly what I was up to.

"Meeting us at Carmen's?" he asked.

I couldn't even pretend otherwise. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all, you can even join us for supper afterwards, if you don't have other plans."

Chris and I fell into step and Fran ran on ahead of us, her dress fluttering in the breeze. While we drank double espressos on the patio Fran twirled around in circles and bent over and made a game of touching her toes. Blue-edged undies peeked out from under her dress. She ran over to where we were sitting.

"Daddy, can I take them off yet?" She asked, eyes twinkling.

"When we get home, honey," he assured her.

"Well, are you done then?" she asked.

Chris looked at me inquiringly. "Sure," I answered, "absolutely." And so we walked side by side along two blocks of historic brick buildings while Fran ran ahead and stood waiting by a dark green metal door.

"Here we are," Chris announced, unlocking the door which opened with a clang. Four flights up and through another metal door and we were in a large, renovated loft.

"Nice," I said, gaping around the large open space.

"It's home," Chris agreed. "Have a seat. I'll give you the tour as soon as I get Fran settled in."

Fran ran up and snuggled herself between her father/s legs. He pulled the dress over Fran's head and wiggled her panties down her legs. She stepped out of them one foot at a time while Tim's fingers went to work.

"You know the drill, Fran," Chris said, "you have to stay hard until bedtime."

Fran nodded.

"Go play, but come when I call you for supper," Chris admonished.

Fran waggled a hard little penis and ran off.

I just stared.

"We were raising her as a girl; well, I still am really," Chris said by way of explanation. I nodded without understanding.

"But now that it's just the two of us, I thought maybe she should have a few hours of boy experience every day."

"But . . . " I stuttered. The image of the little girl skipping along in her short red dress remained stubbornly at odds with what I had just seen.

Chris laughed. "Oh, don't worry, she's a lovely little girl. But I think she is enjoying our little experiment."

I was to witness more of their "little experiment" at supper as Fran attempted to follow her dad's instructions to "stay hard until bedtime." This necessitated one hand under the table at intervals during the meal and a brief session on her dad's lap before dessert so he could give some stroking attention to the little erection.

It was all I could do not to cum in my pants and I'm sure Chris noticed my condition as I said good-night to the two of them.

• • •

Last week's supper had left me both baffled and intrigued. What was the story with Fran? Surely having a penis was no momentary experiment, but I still couldn't get the initial impression out of my mind of a little girl skipping down the path, or bending over to flash a glimpse of bright white panties. Perhaps more germane, what was the story with Chris? He said it was now just the two of them. Was he now single or divorced? Had he been married or in a relationship? With whom, and more to the point, did I have a chance? Was the supper prelude to a date, or was I getting the totally wrong idea.

While I worried this in my mind I stayed late at work for over a week. But, as you might have guessed, my curiosity got the better of my judgement. Wondering if four o'clock was always the magic hour, or if I'd just been lucky twice, I rushed down the stairs and out onto the river walk, but no sign of Chris or a little girl in a short frock.

I stood in a stupor, oblivious to the sparkling expanse of water and sky, until a quick touch of a finger and a giggle brought me back to reality. Darting ahead was Fran, wearing an outfit so short I would have classified it as a shirt or blouse except that only frilly panties and sandals completed the outfit.

"I wondered if we'd see you today," Chris said strolling amicably to my side. I matched his gait and we followed at a leisurely pace some ways behind Fran's more animated progress.

"Do you always pass by just after four o'clock," I asked, "or have I just been lucky."

"You've figured out the schedule, Tim," Chris replied. "3:45 is the absolute latest I can pick Fran up from school without paying extra, so I always get there at 3:43. It takes two minutes to get Fran out the door and here we are."

I nodded. "Schools must be different than when I was a kid. I don't think we were allowed to wear such short outfits."

"I don't know," Chris replied. "Shorts were pretty short when I was growing up. Maybe you weren't wearing a skirt?"

"No, I wasn't. Nor much interested in looking at them, either."

"More of an eye for the boys?" Chris laughed.

"Until I saw Fran," I admitted.

"She's cute," Chris replied, "although I am a biased observer. But, you're right about the dress. I thought she might have pushed it to the limit today, but her teacher said as long as they considered the panties 'outerwear' she was a-okay."

We reached Carmen's and I held a table outside until Chris returned with two espressos and a pastry for Fran.

"You're welcome to join us for supper, of course," Chris said, "but having no way to contact you, I already invited a couple of friends. I tend to have guests over earlier in the evening because I start getting Fran ready to sleep every night at 8:30. If you want to stay late we should have plenty of time." Chris's eyes twinkled.

Sounds like a date to me!

"I'd love to," I said.

"That's wonderful. I should warn you, it's likely Fran won't be the only one stripped off this evening. More than likely, actually. Bob and Mike are like total nudists when they come over."

"Sounds fun," I replied. "I might even join them."

As before we walked the couple of blocks and climbed the stairs. Fran was antsy to get in the door and stood impatiently for dress and panties to be stripped off.

"Remember, Fran," Chris admonished, "you're to stay hard until bedtime, guests or no guests."

"I know that," Fran replied, fingers already busy.

I couldn't help but stare.

"Help me in the kitchen?" Chris asked. The kitchen was really an enclave at one end of the loft space, with range, sink and countertop on a work island, with pots and pans hanging down from a suspended rack. The eating area was adjacent, as well as two long comfy-looking couches. While I chopped vegetables, Chris busied himself with making a sauce and a large salad. Fran stood on one of the chairs, hard on sticking straight out.

The doorbell rang and Chris went to get it.

"Bob, Mike, this is Tim," Chris made the introductions. "Fran, of course, you know."

"Looks like you already made yourself comfortable," Mike observed.

"He means that you're naked," Chris explained to Fran.

"I have to stay hard until bedtime," Fran announced.

"Sounds like fun," Mike retorted.

"Well, gentlemen, make yourself at home. I've got wine and beer, whatever you prefer. Supper should be ready in about half an hour. Oh, I've got chips here somewhere as well.

"I'm going to follow Fran's example," Mike said. He simply walked over to the couch and in a matter of seconds removed all his clothes. He sported a decent-sized uncut penis and lots of smooth, shaved skin. Bob looked at me and I shrugged.

"Why not?" I answered to his unspoken query. I'm not particularly shy about my body, but it was Chris that I was nervous about rather than these two eager nudists. I was immensely grateful that he seemed to sense my hesitation.

"What am I thinking!" Chris exclaimed. "I'm a terrible excuse for a host." And with that he walked over to a large wardrobe set against one of the brick walls and methodically removed each item of clothing and folded it up neatly. Returning to the dining area Chris held out his hands and said, "Much more comfortable. Please help yourself to drinks."

With that I undressed, as did Bob. Fran ran around in circles, fingers occasionally reaching down to keep an erection. Bob grasped the child's hands and twirled Fran around and around before setting him down.

"That was fun, do it again!"

"I'll get too dizzy," Bob laughed. "I just thought I should do that before dinner. Last time I did it afterwards with rather unpleasant results."

Fran laughed. "We both threw up!"

"Fran," Chris admonished. "That's hardly appropriate mealtime talk."

"But that's what happened."

"True enough. Shall we eat?"

Dinner in the buff was very pleasant and conversation flowed easily. I was amazed at how naturally Fran interacted with the adults. After dessert and tea, Bob and Mike excused themselves and said their good-byes.

"Time to get you ready for the night," Chris wiggled Fran's penis.

"Are you staying over?" Fran asked me.

Chris looked at me and I shrugged. "He's not sure yet. If he does you'll see him in the morning, but right now I want you to go brush your teeth and then we'll get you all wrapped up."

"And make me cum!"

"Of course," Chris replied.

Fran ran off, presumably to brush teeth.

"I'll explain everything after Fran's asleep, but for the moment I just want to say that our situation is a little unusual. I really don't get into it with most people, but I'm feeling very trusting of you."

"Oh, sure, of course," I stuttered, wanting to be as reassuring as possible. This naked boy with a hard on who is a girl by day, the nude supper party, the easy physical rapport between father and child--I couldn't imagine what more there was to trust me with. I'm not a parent and haven't been around that many children, so I don't know exactly what is normal, but Fran and Chris were already an unusual combination and I quickly found myself liking both of them immensely.

Fran emerged from the bathroom and presented himself to his father. "Clean teeth," he announced and opened his mouth for inspection, "and still hard," he said triumphantly.

"Excellent job! Another gold star," Chris replied. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing grandly with his hand.

"We shall," Fran announced with an exaggerated drawing out of the words.

The two proceeded to the end of the room and behind a set of Japanese rice paper screens. Fran clambered onto a stool and from there onto a cloth laid out on what appeared to be a narrow table or shelf. Upon closer inspection I noted that the cloth had ropes attached at either end, as if the whole thing were a hammock of some kind but laid out on a flat surface rather than hanging freely.

Fran lay on his back and Chris squirted a dollop of lotion from a large container and began massaging the boy's feet. His hands worked their way up the child's legs and then moved to Fran's hands and arms. Chris worked the lotion into the child's face and ears, neck and torso before working back down towards the still hard penis. Extra lotion went onto the shaft and Chris began working the erection in earnest. Fran began to squirm and then went into an unmistakable dry orgasm. Chris kept his hand lightly on the boy's stomach until the child's breathing returned to normal.

"Good-night, honey," Chris whispered, close to the boy's ear.

"Good-night, daddy. Good-night, Tim," Fran replied. I was touched that the boy remembered my presence, but before I could think what to say, Chris had picked up a strip of cloth and wrapped it around Fran's head as a blindfold.

Tapping the child's cheek, Chris said, "open up" and slipped a ball gag into Fran's mouth and tightened the restraining straps behind his head. He then reached over and put something in each ear, as well.

"Earplugs," Chris explained. "Fran can't hear us now."

I nodded, quite uncertain what I was witnessing. Chris reached for the rope at one end of the cloth that Fran was lying on and looped it over a hook on the wall, and then did the same with the rope at the other end. He pushed a lever with his foot and the shelf or table that the boy had been lying on folded away, leaving Fran swinging freely in a hammock.

"If you could just hand me that cloth, Tim," Chris asked.

I handed him the folded white cloth that was on the table next to me and watched as Chris started at Fran's feet and began wrapping it tightly around the boy. The cloth was a narrow, but fairly long piece of cotton fabric, and Chris wrapped it so that it went around the hammock and bound the boys feet and legs tightly together. He worked it securely up toward the child's torso.

"When I'm done here Fran won't be able to see, hear, speak or pretty much move at all. I do put a sensor in here so that if there is any drop in vital signs an alarm will go off. Otherwise there is no way for Fran to let me know something is wrong."

"You could do it with wool instead of cotton," I suggested mischievously, "For a lot of people it makes the skin tingle, you know."

"Tim," Chris said, and I instantly realized I'd upset him. "I told you I would explain, but this is not some kinky situation, do you understand?"

"I'm sorry," I replied with true consternation, "but, I can't say I understand. Perhaps you should explain."

"You're right, this must all seem very weird. Fran was in the car accident. It was two years ago. My wife died instantly," Chris continued to bind the child tightly in the cotton fabric.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, this time overcome with how hard Chris's life must be.

"Fran and I are actually doing very well. That's why I took the chance of inviting you over. You know, meet someone new, see how it goes?" Chris said.

I nodded.

"Anyway," Chris continued, "we, my wife and I, had been raising Fran as a girl. That's what Fran wanted since she was really little, and I guess she'd always been our little girl ever since she could talk. The car skidded on the highway during a rainstorm and another car rammed into the driver's side. Fran witnessed the whole thing and miraculously came out of it unhurt, physically that is. Emotionally, she was a wreck. Couldn't sleep at all, day or night. The doctors wanted to keep her on heavy duty sleep meds, but they're not good for little kids--not good for anyone, really. Very addictive, bad for your heart and so on. I discovered that sensory deprivation allowed her to sleep, and so we've been doing this."

"And what about the . . . the . . . well, before going to sleep."

Chris laughed. "I knew we'd been raising her as a girl, but when I was doing everything I could think of to get her to sleep I thought, well, I know I can't get to sleep without whacking off, maybe it will work for Fran as well. I actually tried the bedtime orgasms before discovering the whole cocoon thing. But by then Fran was into them. That's how we started the whole girl by day, boy in the evening routine we have now. I really haven't been able to discuss this with many people, Tim."

I nodded, unsure what to say.

"For some reason I'm putting a lot of trust in you. I'd love it if you'd like to spend the night--no pressure, I don't mean to rush things--but the morning routine is, well, let's just say there is a lot to do before Fran and I head out for the day."

"I'd love to stay!" I said with genuine enthusiasm.

"That's wonderful," Chris replied, and I could hear both excitement and nervousness in his voice.

"I've been dying to be invited," I added, eager to relieve his obvious anxiety.

"Well, Fran is out for the night." We looked at the child, now wrapped into a tight tubular cocoon. Legs, arms, torso were all wrapped into one tight bundle, and only Fran's neck and head were visible, eyes wrapped in the blindfold and mouth filled with the ball gag held tightly by bands around the head. With the ropes tight at either end, child and hammock were one suspended unit. I wondered how it felt to sleep without being on any hard surface. On the one hand Fran was suspended in a sensory deprivation cloud, but on the other hand every inch of skin was bound tightly in cloth with no possibility of being able to move a muscle. Even Fran's jaw was kept still by the gag. I wondered if that were its purpose, more so than keeping the child from calling out in the night. How Chris could tell if the child was asleep or not I had no idea, but I knew that either way there was no way Fran could hear our conversation.

Chris took one more look at the child and then put his arm around my waist. "Care for a nightcap before we get to know each other a little better?"

* * *

I cannot lie. In spite of my interest, I had been really nervous. I had been glad to be part of an extended dinner party, even a nudist one! Been happy to be part of Fran's sleep preparations, as odd as they were. But then it was just me and Chris and the full expectation that our two naked bodies were going to engage. But engage we did and it was much better than I expected. I don't mean that it was all sexual fireworks, or that we discovered we were a match made in heaven. But neither was it a disaster. I was very happy to be spending time with a wonderful person. A couple of hours later, we walked the length of the loft and stepped behind the screen to check on Fran. The child hung suspended in the air, wrapped in cotton, gagged and blindfolded. I guess you could say Fran was sleeping like a log. Chris extended a tender touch to the child's cheek and then we turned out the light, walked back the length of the loft, snuggled under the comforter and fell asleep.

Chris had warned me that if I stayed the night it would be an early morning. Still, I was in deep slumber when the alarm buzzed in pitch darkness. For a moment I had no idea where I was. Chris gave me a kiss and rolled out of bed to turn on a dim light. He didn't bother to get dressed, but just went over to the sink and splashed water on his face. A moment later I heard the loud splash of piss in the toilet bowl and then a glimpse of his naked body.

"Want to see Fran's morning routine?" Chris asked.

"Sure," I mumbled with what I hoped was an eager morning voice.

Without bothering to put anything on, I followed Chris's naked body to the other end of the loft where he turned on a lamp which cast a soft glow in Fran's sleeping area.

"You have to understand, Tim," Chris started to explain. I had to remind myself that Fran had earplugs in and could hear nothing, would not be awakened by our talking.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't catch what you just said."

"Fran is still a girl. That's what she let us know loud and clear from the moment she could express herself. Her mother and I were raising her as a girl, and I am continuing to honor that."

I nodded.

"I only say that because you've mostly experienced the brief time each evening at home when I have been encouraging Fran to have an open and positive experience of her penis. We call it boy time, but I think both Fran and I understand that in a playful way. It doesn't change her identity. In any case, to match the evening's outward physical experiences, I've come up with some of what I refer to as internal experiences to get Fran started each day. I'm doing the best I can as a parent."

"Oh, yes, of course," I stammered. "After all, I know absolutely nothing about how to raise a child!"

Chris lifted the wooden shelf into place so that the bound child once again rested on a solid surface rather than being suspended in the hammock-like bindings.

He then leaned over and gently unwrapped Fran's blindfold. Fran's eyes fluttered open. Chris gave her a kiss on the forehead and began unwrapping the cotton bindings. Starting where he'd finished, he unwrapped Fran's shoulders and worked down, releasing the arms that had been bound tightly to her torso, undid the cotton bindings from her pelvis and worked down to the legs. It was then that Chris popped first one and then the other plug out of Fran's ears.

"Good morning, honey. Let's get you up." Chris put an arm under Fran's slender torso and set the child upright on the floor. Fran was completely naked, which made the gag still in her mouth stand out even more prominently. Fran's eyes sparkled, but she was unable to speak.

Chris took Fran's hand and walked her to the bathroom adjacent to the sleeping area, while I followed behind. Chris lifted a soft fuzzy towel from the shelf above the toilet and laid it on the floor. Fran immediately lay down on her side and waited expectantly. Chris reached for the hose attached to an enema bag hanging on a hook and released some of the fluid into the bathtub. He then massaged some coconut oil onto Fran's anal opening and inserted the hose.

"This takes a little while," Chris explained. Fran lay on the floor in a slightly curled position, her mouth still gagged, and closed her eyes.

"It's actually quite relaxing once you get used to it. You should try it sometime if you haven't done it," Chris said.

"Hmmm, maybe . . .," I demurred.

"I'm just going to put the kettle on for our breakfast. Do you prefer tea or coffee in the morning?"

"Whatever is easiest," I replied.

"For you," Chris teased, "anything. Seriously, we have both and it's six of one, half dozen of the other."

"Coffee, then!"

Some fifteen or twenty minutes later, Chris lowered the enema bag, removed the hose from Fran's opening and helped her up onto the toilet. Fran looked up at him with big eyes and nodded.

We went back to the kitchen and Chris got breakfast ready. Then it was back to the bathroom again. I began to understand why it was necessary to get up so early!

"You do this every morning?" I asked incredulously.

"Indeed," was the reply.

Chris turned on the shower and messed with the taps until the temperature was to his liking. Turning to the child still sitting on the toilet he released the ball gag and removed it from Fran's mouth and lifted her straight into the tub. He began scrubbing her all over, massaged her scalp, washed her hair and then lifted her out and enveloped her in another soft, fluffy towel. Fran stood patiently while Chris dried her hair and removed her towel, leaving the child fully naked.

"Ready?" Chris asked. Fran nodded vigorously. I watched as Chris dabbed another bit of coconut oil on Fran's anal rosebud and slid a long slender object into the opening. Chris reached into a small cabinet and helped Fran into a pair of lace-edged blue panties. "Breakfast time!"

Chris and I, still naked, sat at two chairs while Fran, in the frilly blue panties sat in the third. Breakfast was good, but Fran's antics distracted me from eating. They distracted Fran from eating, too!!! After every few bites she would have to stop. Her eyes would get big and she would squirm in her chair. Soft moans emerged from her mouth.

"It's on a pulse cycle," Chris explained. "when that vibrator gets going on her prostate it's impossible to concentrate on breakfast."

Yet another reason why the morning routine took up hours of time!

"Okay, honey," Chris said, tapping Fran on the shoulder. "Sit up for a moment." Chris slipped her panties down for a moment and slid the vibrator out. "Go get dressed for school and we'll get going."

Fran scampered the length of the loft and disappeared behind the screens.

"I don't know what I'll do when those clothes don't fit her anymore," Chris said. "We haven't bought anything new since my wife died. At least the school is still letting her wear the outfits!"

Chris went off to get some clothes on himself and soon enough a properly dressed Chris and a somewhat skimpily clad Fran were each kissing me good-bye.

"Let yourself out whenever you want. Just don't try to get back in once the door is closed," Chris admonished me, "it locks automatically." And with that Chris and Fran were out for the day.

* * *

It was the usual four flights of stairs and I was off work! After a week of overcast skies a welcome bit of sunlight glanced off the river. I've been able to rearrange my schedule so that I get in earlier in the morning and get down the stairs and out the door in the afternoon just in time to catch Chris and Fran on their way home. I love my job, but today I'm spilling over with news. Well, not exactly news, yet, but a proposal, a whiff of an idea, perhaps just a pipe dream. But even if my idea never pans out, life is beautiful. I'm not married, not yet, but I have the perfectly handsome and delightful man in my life and the adorable Fran.

I scan the river walk and almost feel Fran's skipping steps before seeing her frolicking along. Her outfit can no longer plausibly be called a dress, but since we've convinced her to wear shorts (the operative word being short) along with, the school is okay with the ensemble.

"Tim!" Fran shrieks and runs up and gives me a big hug. What's not to love about life?

Chris follows at a more leisurely pace and we proceed to Carmen's, order two cappucinos and watch Fran draw large dinosaurs in chalk on the sidewalk. She turns around and hooks her thumbs on either side of her shorts and looks at me questioningly.

"Not until we get home," I say. Chris laughs at my seriousness. She won't really do it, he's told me time and again, but I'm not so sure.

"What would you say if I told you I got offered a job in Florida?" I say.

Chris looks worried and then puts a smile on his face.

"It's okay, you can be distraught," I tease.

"You got offered a job?" Chris asks, his tone studiedly neutral.

"No," I laugh. "I haven't applied. But I was wondering, what if I did? Would you consider moving? Have you heard of Stripped For Florida?"

"Ah! The light is beginning to dawn," Chris grins. "Are you serious?"

"I could be. There is a job opportunity and I may have a chance. It's on a river, not far from the coast. Closer to the beach than we are here, in fact, much closer. Its In North Florida, so there's a hint of seasonality. What I mean is, it gets cold part of the year--Miami it is not!"

"So hypothetically Fran would be naked in some semblance of winter?"

"It isn't really winter, plus, how much coverage does Fran ever have on here anyway?"

"You have a point. Fran." Chris calls her over.

"Yes?"

"Come here for a moment. That's a girl. What would you think if we moved somewhere where you never had to wear clothes?"

"You mean be naked all the time?" Fran asked.

"Exactly."

"Yay!" Fran twirled in a tight circle. "I'd love it. Can I take them off now?"

"No, silly," Chris replied. "I said IF we moved somewhere. If you were naked all the time you wouldn't be able to dress like a girl."

"Now who's being silly?" Fran retorted. "A dress isn't what makes someone a girl. Anyway, I like being naked, so there!" With that Fran ran off to resume drawing on the sidewalk.

"I guess she told you!" I laugh. "Besides, if we move to Florida and strip her, you won't have to worry about the ever shrinking wardrobe." Fran's refusal to wear anything purchased since the car accident was leading to a smaller and smaller selection of more and more minimalist clothing.

"There is that," Chris agreed.

Coffees finished we meandered home, climbed the stairs and unlocked the door to the loft.

"Your turn!" Fran stood herself in front of me, arms raised. Chris went off to start dinner while I pulled Fran's frock over her head and yanked her shorts down to the floor. Taking Fran's clit in hand I worked her quickly into an erection and sent her off to play.

"You forgot to say it!" Fran admonished.

"Remember, you have to stay hard until bed time."

Fran laughed and ran off. Every other day was my turn to strip her down while Chris made dinner. Every other evening it was my turn to bring her to a dry cum and wrap her securely in cotton bindings, plug her ears, wrap the blindfold over her eyes and fit the ball gag into her mouth, while Chris puttered around the loft.

The biggest change was at my suggestion. After being admonished once I never suggested replacing the cotton bindings with wool ones, but I remained intrigued about the possibilities inherent in Fran's unusual routine.

Fran continued to have her morning enemas followed by a vibrator session during breakfast. I was watching one evening while Chris was in charge of the bedtime arrangements. He'd just put the plugs into Fran's ears and begun the wrapping.

"What if you put the vibrator in now?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You know, let Fran feel it all night."

"I don't know." Chris seemed genuinely uncertain. "What if she can't sleep?"

"We could do it on a Friday or Saturday night, just in case. You know, if she's tired the next day she wouldn't have to go to school."

"I just don't know."

"Let's just try it. In the morning if she says she hated it we don't ever have to do it again. I mean, did she ask you to do all these other things: the gag, the earplugs, the blindfold -- the bindings, even?"

"No," Chris stammered, "No, I mean, . . . "

"Did she ask to get stripped off after school and stimulated and kept hard? To have an enema every morning and nearly get off at breakfast every day?"

"It's just . . . oh, you don't understand."

"I think I do understand. I'm not judging you, Chris, really I'm not." I reached out to hold him and he hesitated. Fran lay on the shelf, blindfolded and unhearing, waiting to be bound for the night.

"It's just, Fran couldn't sleep. We were both devastated by Sarah's death. The car accident . . . "

"I know, honey, I know." I took Chris into my arms and held him tight. "You're a wonderful father, more wonderful than you know. But you're also doing more than just comforting Fran. The sensory deprivation that allows her to sleep at night would have been enough."

Chris nodded. "That's true, Tim."

I nodded in return. "But that wasn't enough, was it?"

Chris shook his head.

"You wanted your little girl to have some excitement in life, too, to enjoy her body and its sensations, inside and out.

"You're right, of course."

"Do you know that kids in Florida, if they're stripped, can be kept hard all the time, or have vibrators put inside them, or be kept in near orgasmic state all day or all night? It's almost normal. I'm just suggesting we try it for one night!"

And that's how it came to be that Fran was put to sleep with a vibrator up her backside and then wrapped up tight in cotton bindings, her ears plugged, her eyes blindfolded and a ball gag in her mouth. When Chris came to wake her up that first morning she looked bug eyed at him when the blindfold was removed. The normal routine was to keep the gag in until after the enema was complete, and of course the vibrator had to be removed to do all that. But as soon as Chris released Fran's mouth she blurted out:

"Oh my god, what was that? That was amazing. Can you do that again?"

"What again?" Chris asked.

"You know!" Fran squealed. "At night. Was that the vibrator you put in me before you wrapped me up?"

I laughed. Chris looked at me questioningly for a moment and then joined in.
"Yes, of course it was."

And that's how it came to be that Fran slept with the vibrator up inside herself every time she could convince Chris that she'd get enough sleep and it would be perfectly okay.

"You know, Fran," I teased, "in Florida there are kids that wear vibrators to school!"

"Really?" Fran's eyes grew as big as saucers.

"Really, really," I replied. "But, you have to be stripped. Florida has funny rules."

"I do want to be stripped," Fran said, suddenly serious. I wondered what was coming next. "But, I don't know if I can sleep without being wrapped up."

I let out a sigh of relief. "I don't think that's a problem. In public you have to be naked, but at home we can do what we want."

Fran nodded. "In that case, I hope you get that job so I can go be naked in Florida!"

* * *

(End of File)