She was quite fair and petite, with a small frame and a lovely, sensitive little face. And she certainly didn't act like a boy. She hated sports, hate... boys' clothes, detested the tendencies of boys to be messy, loud and ready for a fight, had no interest in cars, engines or collecting insects or any of the other things that boys liked or did.Instead, what Lynn loved to do was design clothes for her dolls, collect pressed flowers and read romantic stories. All these things were done in private,. Letting you see your own mother's dripping wet pussy. I slide my hand over it, just enough to touch my clit, and I begin rubbing in it while staring directly into your eyes. "You came into this world through this hole, baby. If you want to return to it, if you want to go back to my womb, you can, but you shouldn't." You are transfixed by my actions, frozen, like deer in headlights. Like a rabbit about to be devoured by a snake. I let the nightie drop and it goes all the way down to my knees. I. More

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