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Sometimes I would linger next to his face for a second to smell hiscologne. Daddy was so handsome and always clean cut. I wanted him to takeme out to go to dinner or dancing. Or both!Mom would compliment me on how nice I looked. My heart would swell at herwords. I'm sure I blushed like a hot coal at those moments. Mom watchedmy table etiquette and I didn't mind it a bit. Daddy would stay quietwhen that happened, and he really didn't have much to say about Tabby, asfar as clothes or behavior went. He would compliment me from time to time- which meant the world and the stars to me - but otherwise he let mom doall of the "work." When our meals were done I would help mom with thedishes and listen to her offer me womanly advice on all sorts of topics.After dinner, I would either watch TV with daddy, or go to my room andread magazines and fantasize about what life would be like as a full-timegirl. My dreams went all over the place. I saw myself as a model. I sawmyself as a hair stylist at a. I was invited to Susie’s third birthday. Sally and I managed to get together the day before. I was staying at home, and she rode out to meet me and we had a few hours together under the tree and used the saddle blankets and the cattle trough again. She also had a nanny living there now so it became more difficult at her place. If Tom was away, Sally would give the nanny a night off to go to town and stay overnight, and didn’t we make up for lost time then.It was there she told me she wanted another child – by me. It seems Tom had lost interest in sex again.It was harder to work out when we could both be available to make babies. We managed somehow and it took two months this time to impregnate her and far fewer efforts. Previously I had probably ejaculated a bucket of cum into her at our get me pregnant meetings; now we were down to a cup full. On the occasions we could meet it was back to the old days. For some reason we had changed to quality, not quantity when we had our sex. She.
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His older brother had one, but he did not, and was not allowed any electronics at school. “Can’t even watch any telly. It’s dead dull when the studies are over . . . and they’re not much fun, either.” And so, as we began to work on Christmas, he would stop at break and sit and talk, with Simon or Rosy or another boy in tow. We talked about sports and girls, about school and grades. I learned that his parents were from old monied families, his father with a bank job in the city and a large house an hours drive from his offices. I learned his older brother bullied him terribly, and he had been at the Cathedral school since he was 8—and yes, my first guess was right: he was 13. I perhaps shared more than I should, about the difficulty of leaving my family, of the dear John letter I got from my college girl friend, who suddenly discovered she had to decide between air fare to England at Christmas and a buddy relationship with a co-worker. Sharon chose the new relationship and.

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