Feature Writer: Jacqueline Jillinghoff
Feature Title: Dolphina and the Gusher
Published: 31.03.2023
Story Codes: Incest, Humor, First Masturbation
Synopsis: Discovering the joys of life
Dolphina and the Gusher
Grampa called her Dolphina. She was a plush bottlenose dolphin as tall as I am, if you stood her on her tail, with a long snout and a white underbelly and shiny black eyes, and she hadn’t seen the light of day for years. Grampa kept her in the closet in Mom’s old bedroom, tied up in a trash bag to keep the dust off, until that one weekend I stayed over at his house.
“I don’t know why your mother didn’t take it with her when she moved out,” he said before bedtime the first night.
“She’s yours if you want her.”
“She’s awfully big,” I said.
I really wasn’t all that impressed. I’m eleven now, and I thought that was that’s too old to be sleeping with stuffed animals.
“Nobody accepts toy donations anymore,” Grampa said, “And I hate to throw her out.”
“Where’d the name come from?”
“That was your grandmother. She was the clever one. I wanted to name it Flippette. You’d think that was funny if you were older.”
Gramma died last year, and ever since, Grampa’s been talking about selling his house. He says he needs to downsize, which means getting rid of most of his books, and his record and CD collection, and all of Mom’s old stuff.
“Grampa?”
“Yes, Sweetpea?”
“Are Mom and Katie going to get married?”
“That’s why they’re away this weekend, to figure that out. I wouldn’t be surprised, though. Why, don’t you like Katie?”
“She’s okay.”
“But you like it better with just you and your mom.”
“I don’t know.”
“Wait and see,” he said, “It might not be a bad thing, having somebody else around to take care of you. And she makes your mother happy.” He turned down the covers on Mom’s old bed and laid the big stuffed toy on top of them. “Here, talk it over with Dolphina tonight. It might make you feel better.”
“That’s stupid.”
“You’re a kid. Use your imagination. And if it doesn’t help, you and I have all day tomorrow.”
Suddenly I felt sad, and I hugged him tight around the waist. He kissed me on the head and rubbed my back.
“Your mother loves you,” he said, “And so do I. I’m very glad you’re here. We’ll have fun, you’ll see.”
I looked up at him with the biggest, most pathetic eyes I could manage.
“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” I asked.
“I think you’re a little too old for that,” he said.
“But I’m not too old to sleep with that.”
“I’m afraid you’re at that age,” he said, “Things get better, I promise. Now get changed, and I’ll come tuck you in. That’s one thing you’re not too old for.”
He unwrapped my arms and went out, closing the door behind him. Dolphina, half on her side, looked at me from the bed with one shiny black eye and a silly pink grin.
“Looks like it’s just you and me,” I said.
I took everything off and looked at myself in the dresser mirror. Mom said my body was going to start changing soon, and I’d been watching for it almost every night. There was nothing yet – no sign of hips or girl-fuzz or the “pokies” Katie was forever teasing me about.
“Don’t worry,” Mom would say, “It’s coming. It happens to all of us.”
To be honest, the whole thing bothered me. I liked the way I looked. I was straight and smooth and solid up top, like a boy, almost. It was the way I’d been my whole life, and knowing I was about to grow a pair of blimps and bleed out of my vagina every full moon made me think my own body must hate me. And on top of all that, I had to sleep alone from now on.
“Growing up sucks,” I told Dolphina.
I put on my nightshirt, which was really just an old pink tank top of Mom’s, and flopped down on the bed, on my stomach, while I waited for Grampa to come back. I didn’t know anything was the matter until he knocked.
“You decent?” he called.
“Sure!” I said, except that I wasn’t, really.
Grampa had changed into his blue-plaid pajamas. He came in and stopped dead in the doorway, still holding the handle, looking at me with this weird smirk on his face.
“Okay,” he said, “If that’s your idea of decent …”
“Huh?”
He gave me all the time I needed for it to dawn on me: when I folded my arms under the pillow, my nightshirt rode up, and my bare ass was showing. My face felt like it was burning, but I tried to stay calm.
“Oops,” I said, like it was a joke or something, and casually rolled onto my side, but that just made it worse, because now he got the full view down front.
When I realized that, it was time to panic. I grabbed the hem of the top and stuffed it down my crotch.
“Oh, my precious,” Grandpa said.
He walked over, like nothing had happened, and pulled up the covers. I held the edge tight under my chin.
“Anything else you need?” he said.
“Uh-uh.”
“Okay, then. Goodnight, Sweetpea.”
He pecked me on the lips.
“’Night,” I said, still embarrassed, but then I thought, This is dumb.
So what if he saw me? and I sat up, threw my arms around his neck and gave him the longest kiss I ever gave anyone. Our lips were closed, but it still felt like a real, grownup thing. All my feelings were behind it – about Mom, and Katie, and my body changing, and Grandpa seeing me half-naked.
Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. After thinking about it a bit too long, he wriggled away, shaking his head to break the kiss.
“Enough’s enough,” he said.
He laid me back down, but he stayed hunched over, holding his arm across his middle, with his hand on top of his other leg, like he was hurt. It looked awkward, and I wondered why he didn’t just stand up.
“What’s-a-matter?” I asked.
“Nothing, Sweetie. I’m fine.”
He managed to stand up, but he angled away from me and tugged at the front of his pajamas.
“Sleep tight,” he said over his shoulder. And that was it. He turned off the light and left, closing the door again. There was something down there he didn’t want me to see.
“That was weird,” I said out loud, “So he saw me. It wasn’t so bad. It was an accident. It’s just my body. I think he liked it. And I liked how nervous he got when I kissed him, like I was the one in charge.”
I had to admit, it did make me feel better to talk to Dolphina. Her big round head was nothing but a black half-circle, sticking out of the covers in the dark. but I could see the tiny point of light in her eye. I scooted around to face her.
“You know what would be funny?” I went on, “If I went around tomorrow with nothing on, just to see what he does. Like, I could sneak into the bathroom, and then come out when I hear him in the hall, like, ‘Oh, sorry, I thought you were downstairs!’ Just to see the look on his face.”
I snuggled against her and raised my leg, so my knee was resting behind her big top fin. I stroked her tail with my toes.
“I prob’ly won’t have the nerve,” I said, “But I want to kiss him again, for real. I know he’s my Grampa, but he’s so nice, and it’s better than trying to find some boy … Hm?”
I was moving my leg up her back, because it felt so velvety, and that mess of wrinkles I have down there sort of scrunched against her flank.
“Oh, c’m’ere, you,” I mumbled, and I slid my other leg underneath her and squeezed her between my knees.
Her skin was creamy-soft, but inside she was thick and firm, and the harder I squeezed, the more the silky fluff filled me between my legs. Up front, I felt something like a tug. It was faint, but it was sweet, and with a little coaxing – mostly pushing with my butt – it got a lot more insistent. Maybe my body didn’t hate me after all.
The best idea I ever had was to roll over so I was on top, and my whole weight came down on that spot. With my legs under me, I could bounce to my heart’s content – except it wasn’t my heart I was thinking about. The bed was squeaking, the mattress was groaning, and I was scared of waking up Grampa. I tried slowing down, but that didn’t feel half as good. I had to go fast, and faster. The pleasure, whatever it was, kept building up. No way I was going to stop.
Until I heard something in the hall – a creak, a footstep, though I wasn’t sure – and I froze. Everything was quiet then. I held my breath, tingling all over, with my ass shoved back. The wonderful spot was twitching, on the verge of something. It was like I was teetering high in the air, and I’d fall if I made the wrong move either way. There was another sound outside, like somebody breathing out their nose. It had to be him, a few feet away, listening to me in here bouncing myself silly. It was too much. I let out a squeaky gasp, thinking “Don’t let him hear that,” and that was the last coherent thought I had for a while. I couldn’t stop the twitching. It blew up.
The pleasure – oh my God, the pleasure! I couldn’t push it any higher, but I could, by whipping my ass back and forth, keep it going a long time. The bed was squeaking again, but I didn’t give a you-know-what. I was too busy loving this new discovery, this secret no other girl on earth could possibly know about. I was like, eureka.
My eyes rolled up into my head, and I found myself face down on Dolphina’s back. The craziness was over, but if I shifted my butt an inch, I’d make myself shudder again all the way up to the shoulders. That gradually died down, too, and I drifted off, drooling happily at both ends.
There was another creak outside, followed by a couple of thumps that went away down the hall. I grinned with my eyes closed, thinking, Does he know? Well, who cares? I felt so good.
xxxxx
Grampa’s door was closed the next morning when I got up to pee. It was almost eight o’clock, so I didn’t know if he was still in bed, or if he’d already gone downstairs. On my way back from the bathroom, though, I passed his room again and heard him talking inside.
He must have been on the phone, but who’d he be calling so early? I pressed my ear against the door to listen. I was hot for another ride on Dolphina, but I didn’t mind putting it off a bit, to savor the anticipation. Besides, it felt naughty to be eavesdropping. I should mention at this point that I was naked. It’s true. I remembered what I’d said to Dolphina the night before about letting Grampa catch me accidentally on purpose, and I ditched my top before sneaking out of my room. I was disappointed he didn’t see me, even though I knew it was better. The last thing I needed was Grampa telling Mom her little girl was running around exposing herself. That’s what made spying so fun: it was risky, but not really. And it got back at him for spying on me last night, if he did.
My chest was flat against the door, and my heart was beating so hard I’m surprised Grampa didn’t hear it knocking. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, though. His voice, through the wood, was just a hum. But after a minute or so I definitely heard him say my name. Was he talking to Mom?
The next words I was able to make out confused me, because he couldn’t possibly be saying what I thought he said.
They sounded for all the world like “Little whore.”
Okay, so he wasn’t talking to Mom. What was going on? Why would he say something so nasty about me? I had to hear better, and right away. If I waited till we were both downstairs when I asked him about it, he’d just make something up. Adults lie every bit as much as kids do.
As quietly as I could, I pressed the handle and inched open the door. I was lucky, because Grampa’s head was tipped back, and his eyes were closed. He was sitting up in bed, leaning against one of those armrest cushions. He didn’t have his shirt on. The covers were pulled up almost to his belly button, and his other hand – the one not holding the phone – was pinching something through the duvet, pushing it from side to side. I could guess what it was, but I couldn’t make myself name it.
Now I could hear him fine.
“Pull your panties down for Grampa,” he said, into the phone.
But I wasn’t wearing panties, and he didn’t know I was there, anyway. Whoever he was talking to, he was pretending was me. The hand on the duvet pushed harder across his tummy.
“You like it when I touch you down there?” he said.
I knew what “down there” meant. I’d learned all about “down there” last night. This was starting to sound an awful lot like a dare. I mean, he was imagining me pulling down my underwear, and here I was, completely bare-assed, not five feet away. How’d he like to see the real thing one more time?
I couldn’t help it. It was like some giant, hairy monster pushed me into the room. I burst through the door, took two giant steps to the bed, and planted my fists on my hips.
“Hey,” I said, “You only call me Sweetpea!”
Well. He could have spanked me black and blue, locked me in the closet until Mom came back, and paraded me naked in front of her, and it would have been worth it just for the look on his face.
“What the fuck!” he yelled.
His hand flew off the covers. He whomped the phone down on the bed.
“Who ya talkin’ to?” I said, all wide-eyed and innocent.
“Never you mind,” he said, “You don’t barge into a grownup’s room without knocking.”
“Can I barge in if I do knock?”
“Smart-ass,” he said, and he smacked my behind, kind of hard, “Wait,” he said, “Why don’t you have any clothes on?”
“Why don’t you?”
“Ve vill ask ze qves-chuns,” he said.
There it was – the kidding around. He wasn’t pissed off anymore. He knew I had him, anyway. I hopped up on the bed and came down on his leg, straddling it through the covers. There was that tug again, very noticeable, at the front of my jelly-bowl. He must have felt me bearing down on it. This was so fun.
“Come on,” I said. “Who was it?”
“Nobody you have to worry about,” he said.
He took hold of my shoulders and jiggered his leg under me. He was trying to distract me, and it didn’t work. I mean, I did stop asking about the girl on the phone, but only because I was more curious about something else.
“Whatcha got goin’ on under here?” I said.
Before he could say, “Never you mind” again, I yanked the covers down just far enough. This time he didn’t jump or yell or try to hide. He just looked at me looking at him. At it.
“Satisfied?” he said.
“Mmm?”
“Planet Earth calling Sweetpea …”
“Oh, …”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d never seen a man’s penis. I thought it would be … smoother, I guess. But this was so funny-looking. It reminded me of one of those deep-sea worms we read about in science class, with a lumpy stalk and a purple glob up top.
“Is it always so …”
“So what?”
“Stiff?” I said. I couldn’t imagine a guy walking around with something like that sticking out all the time.
“No,” he said, “That’s just for you.”
“Can I touch it?”
“May I touch it!”
“Grampa!”
“Well, just because you’re sex-crazed doesn’t mean you can’t speak properly.”
“I’m not sex-crazed!”
“All the more reason.”
“Come on.”
“Come on, yourself,” he said.
“May I touch it?”
“Yes, you may.”
It was nice he was teasing me, though. Otherwise, it would have been too much. I was already feeling light-headed. If he hadn’t made me laugh, I might have fainted the second I laid my hand on it. It was the strangest thing I’d ever felt. The skin was soft as a baby’s, but underneath was solid. I rolled it around a little, pressing it between my hand and his stomach.
“Ah!” Grandpa said.
“Does it hurt?”
“No, it’s nice,” he said.
I didn’t know what it was all about until I saw the dreamy look in his eyes, and I understood. He was feeling the same thing I did. I hadn’t thought about that, but boys and girls are really the same. They just have different gadgets. I wrapped my fingers around his gadget and lifted it up.
“Just slide your hand along it,” he said. “Don’t hold it too tightly.”
The other thing was fascinating, too, the loose sack under his penis. It had two lumps in it, and it looked like it was breathing, moving up on one side, and down on the other.
“That’s weird,” I said.
But I loved touching and looking.
“Didn’t your mom ever talk to you about sex?” he asked.
“Well, yeah, but … just about my period, and how girls can get pregnant and stuff.”
“The mechanics,” he said.
“She never told me how awesome it is.”
Grampa gave me the real talk. He explained why I get wet, and why he gets hard, and that terrific feeling I had is called an orgasm, or coming, and a girl’s genital area is her cunt, or her pussy. I’d only ever heard that word when boys called each other it at school.
“They think it’s an insult,” Grampa said, “But we know better, don’t we? There’s nothing nicer than a pussy.”
“Yeah!” I said.
Next, he told me about my clitoris, and he gave me a hands-on demonstration. Oh, God, I felt like I was melting through my cunt. And it’s not just fingers, either. Grampa said if you like somebody enough, you can let them put their mouth on it. There’s a word for that, too, but it was long, and I was too distracted to remember it.
A dirty picture popped into my mind.
“Do Mom and Katie do that?” I asked.
“I’m sure they do,” Grampa said.
“Can you?”
“Of course I can. Your grandmom always said – ”
“Stop it!”
“Oh, you mean can I do it with you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t know. You promise to be good?”
“I promise.”
“And not a word to your mom?”
“I promise! Please?”
“Well, since you ask so nicely. Lie back.”
I’m so glad I learned from him, instead of some stupid seventh-grader who would try to feel me up at a school dance. Grampa knew what he was doing, and he took his time. He started by kissing me. I got to do it the way I wanted to, for real, with our mouths open, swapping tongues. And the whole time he was stroking my sides and my legs, lightly, with his fingertips. He came close to my pussy a couple times, but he never quite got there. That just made me want it more.
Then he kissed me down my body, a little at a time. He even sucked my boobs, and I don’t have boobs. It was fun to play grownup, though, and maybe pokies won’t be such a bad thing. They’ll give him something he can get his mouth around.
“Grampa,” I said.
Now, all through this he was getting closer, talking to me between belly-kisses.
“Yes, darling?”
“What’d you say to that girl?”
“What girl?”
“On the phone.”
“Forget that.”
“Did you call me a whore?”
“We were having a fantasy,” he said.
“It’s okay. You can if you want.”
“No, you’re too nice.”
“No, do it.”
“Oh, you want to play? You want to be my little whore?”
“Yeah …”
“My little slut?”
“Uh-huh …”
“Dirty little bitch? Filthy little cunt –”
Just then, his tongue snaked around my clitoris. I started trembling before I even felt it. I loved the bad words. I wouldn’t want him to call me those things all the time, but right then they took me to the edge, and his long, deep licks threw me over. I heard squealing. It sounded like me, except that it seemed to be coming from somewhere else, someplace far down, because I was flying out past Neptune somewhere. It was better than Dolphina, better than anything, and this time I knew what was happening. I could show off my new vocabulary.
“I’m having an orgasm!” I announced.
“Mm?” Grampa said, humming into my cunt.
“I’m coming!” I shouted, “I’m coming!”
Everything went red, and I saw fireflies swarming around. I might even have passed out, because the next thing I knew, Grampa was holding me and kissing my forehead. What I was aware of, more than anything, was the warmth of his naked body against mine. I’d lie still a little while, then shudder in his arms. It took me a long time to calm down.
“Shhh,” he said, “It’s all right.”
So much nicer than a seventh-grade boy.
“Ohhh,” I groaned, when I felt like talking again, “Woo!”
“Feel better?”
“Am I a slut now?”
“Not at all. You just love sex. It’s a wonderful thing.”
But as much as he was trying to be nice, I could tell he was still excited. First, he was breathing weird. Second, he was sliding his penis along my leg. I had to giggle.
“What’s so funny?” he said.
“That,” I said.
I shifted my butt a little, so he knew I knew what he was doing.
“You know,” he said, “if you really want to be a slut –”
I’m only eleven, but after what he just did to me, it wasn’t hard to figure out what he was talking about.
“You won’t tell?” I said.
“I won’t if you won’t.”
I gave his shoulder a nudge, and he rolled over on his back. It was cute. He was so eager, like a kid my age, but he was going to have to wait a minute while I gave his penis a thorough inspection. It was cooler-looking than I thought at first, if not exactly pretty, and kind of colorful. The blobby head was lavender. Behind it was a wide pink band, and then a thin brown ring. The shaft had a lot of red and purple veins, like tiny lightning bolts, and a fat green vein down the back that looped in the middle. I decided I liked being a girl better, with my stuff inside a nice tight seam, instead of sticking out like this, but Grampa seemed to like having a penis. I know he liked it when I put it in my mouth.
“Oh,” was all he could say, “Oh … my.”
It wasn’t long, though, before he had to help me through it. I had no idea what I was doing. I flicked my tongue around, but that wasn’t enough. Grampa showed me how to jerk him with my hand and then try to take him all the way back to my throat. I didn’t like that, because I started to gag, but he said it was all right. I didn’t have to.
“Just lick around the top,” he said, “It feels good right under the head, you see where those wrinkles are? Pull down. Now up. Jerk it. Not too fast. That’s it, baby. Good, you’re so good.”
I was getting it now. It was more about my hand. My mouth was involved mostly to get spit on it to make it slippery. I pumped harder, in long strokes, pulling the skin taut on the way down, then coming up and squeezing, making a fistful of wrinkles under the top. I think Grampa liked that part best. He didn’t need to tell me what to do anymore. He couldn’t have, anyway. He was as helpless as I was when he ate my pussy, and that’s exactly what I wanted.
Grampa mentioned semen during our talk, but he never warned me about the gusher. That was a major surprise, especially since nothing seemed to be happening. Grampa got quiet, except for his breathing. I didn’t know if I was still doing it right, but I kept going. He didn’t tell me not to, and I was having too much fun. His penis throbbed in my hand, like something was bubbling up inside, and all of the sudden, out of nowhere.
He went, “Ummmuhguh fuh!” and I was covered in goop.
It shot out of him like hot glue. The first spurt, the big one, hosed me in the face. I was like, eep! I snapped my head back, and the second streamer hit my chest.
The third was just a dribbler, and that was it. Grampa’s orgasm didn’t last as long as mine, which is another reason to prefer being a girl. He wasn’t moving, either, and there were red blotches on his chest. I was scared I’d given him a heart attack or something.
“Are you okay?” I said, “Grampa?
All he did was groan. Oh, God, how was I going to explain this to Mom? Or when I called 911? I was pulling on my grandfather’s penis and all this stuff came out and now he won’t wake up.
“Grampa!”
“I’m fine, Sweetpea,” he said finally, “Did I frighten you?”
“A little.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, “It’s different for a man. It sort of lays us out for a minute. … Oh, gee, you’re a mess. I should have warned you.”
“Yeah, you should’ve.”
“It’s been a long time. There was a lot of it.”
I was getting chilly with the slime all over me. I leaned in and kissed Grampa on the mouth.
“Can you taste yourself?” I asked.
“Kind of unpleasant, actually,” he said.
“It was fun, though,” I said. “Until I thought you died.”
“Yes, it was. There’s a towel on the floor.”
I was wiping off, standing next to the bed, when the phone rang.
“After nine,” Grampa said. “That’ll be your mom.”
He had to grope through the covers to find the handset.
“Hello?” he said. “Hi, honey.”
He nodded at me: yes, it was Mom. I got back on the bed, and we arranged ourselves while they talked, fluffing the pillows and straightening the sheets.
“You and Katie settled in? … How’s the weather? … Sounds promising. Any word on the big question? … Well, we’re all on tenterhooks down here. … Oh, she’s fine. I think she slept well. We were about to have breakfast.” He held out the phone, “Want to say hi to your mother?”
By now he was sitting up against the cushion again, and I was settled back on his chest, stretching my legs between his.
We were like two V’s, one inside the other.
“Hey there,” I said.
On the phone naked – and Mom had no clue! Looking down, I was fascinated by how pink and shiny my pussy was. I could see my clitty peeping out, or the hood, anyway. Grampa noticed it, too. He reached around and gave it a three-finger massage. That made me think of something I wanted to say.
“Listen, Mom? I’m okay with you and Katie. Really.”
I wanted her to feel the way I did just then. I wanted the whole world to. We talked a bit longer, though I didn’t have much to contribute. Mostly I was like, “uh-huh, uh-huh,” and trying not to breathe too loud, because Grampa was giving me another orgasm. A little one, but still, it was hard to carry on a conversation. I don’t think Mom caught on.
THE END