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Was it my own? My whole consciousness focused on my penis as that strong tiny hand wrapped around my hardness and held it. Mother slipped her tongue into my mouth and kissed me passionately as her hand began to move slowly up and down.I was putty in her hands, no longer the ravaging animal but the whimpering child. It took literally seconds for me to start pumping my seed upon my mothers hip and thighs, soiling her flower patterned dress, her nylons. I came in copious amounts which left me panting with exhaustion.Then it was over and I stepped back to look at my mother - something had changed in her, she did not look horrified at my touch, at the sperm dripping from her clothing."Go up to your room and leave me to tidy up?" It wasn't an order but I could see that she will need to change her clothing, refold the laundry strewn over the floor and do at least another load of wash. I remember nodding dumbly and moving up to my room after retrieving my bag - her eyes following me the. I thought of Penny inher dance class. Was it ballet or modern? Or was it tap? I imagined herin a pretty pink leotard and how wonderful it would be to just break theice with her so we could maybe be friends."It looks like her little pussy is clean," I heard Karen say."Good, I'll get the diapers and you can powder her," Karen said toKristina."Diapers?" I said in a tiny voice."Of course," Kristina said. "Baby girls need their diapers until theybecome potty trained."Kristina fetched a tin of baby powder and sprinkled some over my privateparts. She patted the powder gently on my member and balls and thenturned me on my side and sprinkled my tush with powder and then I felther hands smoothing it into my buttocks and along my thighs.Karen came back and helped Kristina turn me on my other side and watchedas Kristina sprinkled more powder. "You think that's enough powder?"Karen said laughing."I don't know what I'm doing!" Kristina said giggling."Now the baby's all powdered up and dry!" Karen.
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I looked toward my dad, but couldn’t look him in the eye. There was another moment of silence, when finally he said, “Adam, lets go down to my office and talk.” I wasn’t allowed in his office. I’d never even seen inside it. The door was always locked. The room took-up half of the basement (or so I thought), the other half was used for storage and there was also a large laundry and utility area for Greta. Sometimes I knew Dad had spent the whole night down in his office, when he would come upstairs in the morning, wearing the same clothes he had on the night before. I used to play down there occasionally when I was young, but the older I got and started exploring outside a bit more, I didn’t have a reason to go to the basement much. Dad’s office seemed small when I first walked in. There was a desk and chair, a television on a table, a couple book-shelves and filing-cabinets, a long couch on one wall, and that was it. Well, except for the big door on the.

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