When My Goddaughter Asked for Help

"Please help me, Kyle. I think a flea got under my dress while I was walking the dog. It itches so badly."

My goddaughter came to me in distress after being bitten by fleas in an unfortunate spot during her evening walk.

What started as an innocent request for help with the itching soon became more complicated when she insisted I needed to help her with the problem more directly.

"It itches. It itches so much. Kyle, please help me."

It was the weekend, and my goddaughter, Emma Leone, had the day off. She took her little Yorkie to the park for a walk and insisted that I come along with her since we hadn't seen each other in a long time.

However, as soon as we reached the park, Emma's face turned bright red, and she pleaded with me.

As she spoke, the sweet young girl kept shifting and squirming.

The weather had already turned warm. She wore a white blouse on top with a light vest over it, and a plaid pleated skirt on the bottom with white tights on her legs.

The whole look was styled like a pure college beauty.

When she asked for my help, those beautiful fox-like eyes were full of longing.

The top button of her white blouse was left undone. I could clearly see the pale cleavage of her chest, as well as the edge of her purple bra, where a flash of white sparkled under the sunlight.

I gulped and noticed that Emma was still squeezing her legs together and rubbing her thighs. Her face was growing redder by the second.

"Emma, you look like you're really uncomfortable. Where does it itch? Let me help."

I had been walking behind her the whole time and had already sensed something was off with Emma. Her legs were trembling as she walked.

It stirred up something inside me.

It was not that I had any improper fantasies about my goddaughter. It was just that after several years apart, Emma had developed a figure that was impossibly curvy. I had heard that she was even the campus beauty at her school.

Having been without a woman for so long, I naturally found myself watching her, and her embarrassed movements made my own skin itch.

Now that Emma had brought up this request, of course I wanted to help.

When I asked her that, Emma's face turned an even deeper shade of red.

Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "Kyle, it's inside my skirt."

A jolt went through me and I felt my scalp tingle.

My gaze dropped instinctively to her hemline.

Her very short plaid skirt fluttered as she kept squeezing her legs together, her body half-crouching.

She wanted me to scratch under her skirt. Was my goddaughter deliberately tempting me?

Perhaps afraid I would misunderstand, Emma added a few more words of explanation.

"When I was walking Teddy earlier, I think a flea got under my skirt. Now it itches in there