From: bobandcarole@aol.com   
      
   Story: White Scones and Toddler Sex for Christmas   
      
   by bobandcarole   
      
   It was Christmas time (Hanukkah time if you're a Jew) and a festive culture   
   filled our society. For one month in the year, cynicism was left for   
   temporary   
   extinction, to be replaced with hope and optimism for the next year. For   
   most   
   people, the race was on to find presents. For me, however, most of the   
   shopping   
   had been done online. White snow filled the roads, and even though crime   
   and war   
   persisted in the world, even the news seemed happier. Perhaps there was a   
   controlled media conspiracy led by Santa Clause to spread Christmas   
   spirit to   
   the kids. I laughed at the thought.   
      
   Even though it was Christmas, my little 4-year-old daughter Karen was   
   bored. She   
   didn't have many friends and all the kids I brought over from other   
   relatives'   
   houses just didn't get along with her. To make matters worse, my   
   workaholic wife   
   was working today, so I was home alone with the little girl.   
      
   I don't know what it is about my little girl that repelled her from the   
   other   
   kids. Sometimes I'd worry about whether she would fit in with society. It's   
   important for kids to learn to grow up being proud of their   
   individuality and   
   uniqueness. A girl not confident of her own individuality is more   
   susceptible to   
   cults. This was what happened to the Joneses's daughter across the   
   street. Their   
   reputation as good parents is now tarnished. While individuality is   
   important, I   
   didn't want my little Karen growing up isolated and divided from others.   
      
   While sitting alone on the sofa reading the latest edition of THE   
   ECONOMIST in   
   the big quiet house, my cute little girl came downstairs from her room   
   with a   
   piece of paper in her hand. It was eleven o'clock and she was still   
   dressed up I   
   her jammies. People often slept in during the holidays. My little girl   
   sat next   
   to me and handed me the computer printout. She had her own computer with   
   Internet connection in her room and had printed something off for me. Many   
   people tell me that I should watch my child when she's on the Internet,   
   but my   
   time is too valuable for that. Instead I have installed a content filtering   
   program that blocks out pornography and hate sites.   
      
   I took the single-page printout from Karen and read it. It was a recipe for   
   scones accompanied with a delicious image of scones with butter melting   
   on it.   
      
   "Can we have some, Daddy?" she asked.   
      
   I don't normally cook for my little daughter and neither did my wife. We   
   normally hired nannies and housekeepers to do that kind of thing, but   
   because it   
   was Christmas holiday we told them to take a break. Usually we ate out at   
   restaurants.   
      
   "Pleease?" she asked again.   
      
   "Okay, why not?" I got up and walked to the kitchen as my little girl   
   followed   
   me. She jumped around as she followed. I don't think it would be hard   
   since the   
   recipe has in my hands. All I had to do was follow the recipe   
   step-by-step and   
   everything would be fine.   
      
   When we got to the kitchen, I lifted the little girl off the tiled floor   
   and sat   
   her down on the marble bench. From the fridge I took out milk, bottled   
   water,   
   and butter. From the pantry I took out the self-raising flour. I   
   measured all   
   the basic ingredients precisely and threw it into a large bowl, telling my   
   little girl to mix it all with her hands. It was important, I told her,   
   to mix   
   the butter in with her fingers. As she rubbed and mixed the ingredients   
   in the   
   bowl with her hands, the flour start puffing and flying around   
   everywhere. She   
   was inadvertently trapping pockets of air and flour in the dough and then   
   releasing them when she kneaded the dough. The flour flew up and hit her,   
   coating her whole face and body. She stopped mixing and looked at me.   
      
   "Let me mix it instead," I said, taking the mixing bowl away from her. "I'd   
   better clean you up." The flour had covered not only her face but also   
   large   
   parts of her pajamas. I had a feeling it was difficult to remove stains   
   from   
   pajamas. "Take your jammies off," I said. "I'll wash you up in the sink."   
      
   She jumped on the tiled floor and started undressed. I continued   
   kneading the   
   dough with my hands and then turned around to look at my little girl.   
   She was   
   completely naked except for her white cotton panties. In a small pile   
   near her   
   were her pajamas. Her face was still covered with a bit of flour.   
      
   My penis automatically grew hard when I saw her soft and smooth skin.   
   Her lack   
   of breasts as well as her hipless waist turned me on. She had such small   
   and   
   full lips. I kneeled down, grabbed her by the armpits as I usually did, and   
   moved her over to the kitchen sink. Filling the sink up with both cold   
   and warm   
   water, I eased the little girl into the sink as if it were a bathtub.   
   Karen was   
   not a little baby anymore, so the little girl was too big to completely   
   fit in   
   the sink. I told her to put her legs in the sink and splash some of the   
   water   
   all over her body and face.   
      
   When Karen splashed and rubbed her body and face with the water, much of it   
   landed on her panties, soaking them, making them semi-transparent. The   
   moist   
   cotton started to grip against her skin because of the hydrogen bonding   
   property   
   in water molecules. The cute mould of the outer lips of her front bottom   
   were   
   clearly visible. I could feel the erection in my pants start to harden at a   
   rapid rate.   
      
   Karen kneeled up on the kitchen bench and then dunked her head into the   
   water.   
   When she took her head out from the water, her hair was thoroughly wet   
   and water   
   dripped back into the sink, some overflowing and soaking the floor   
   below. She   
   then started to rub her hair, trying to get the flour out. I loved the   
   look of   
   my little girl with wet hair. To me it emphasized purity and cleanliness.   
      
   "I wanna play with the dough," she said, pointing to the mixing bowl on the   
   kitchen bench island that was separate to the kitchen sink. She then put   
   both   
   her hands up at me, a signal that she wanted to use me as a human taxi.   
      
   I picked up the little girl and carried her over to the bench on which   
   we were   
   preparing the scones. As I carried the little girl, her wet hair and   
   panties   
   started dripping water all over my clothes, but I wasn't complaining.   
   Her warm   
   little body so close to me in my arms was too rewarding.   
      
   When I sat Karen on the bench, she looked at me and noted the dark wet   
   patches   
   on my shirt and pants. She giggled briefly and looked at the puddle of   
   water on   
   the floor and bench that she had left behind. Aware that she was still   
   wet, she   
   started shaking her head rapidly, spraying water everywhere like a   
   shaking dog   
   that had been in a lake. Water sprayed everywhere--even on me--but I   
   didn't want   
   to shout at her like her mother would. I loved her too much.   
      
   Karen then noticed her drenched panties were making her cold. She   
   kneeled down   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)