My mother often said, "Why can't you be like morelike Jenny." I think my mother liked little girls a lotmore then boys, I just can't seem to please he....The week dragged on and I did the best I could, however,that was not good enough. Sally told mom that I pouted andcarried as if I were 5 years old, well what would expect aboy to do faced with all this girly stuff. This was anamusing game for Sally and Beth.The week was finally over; I was looking forward to seeingDad. Friday evening when dad. I worked the back of her legs trying to take my time, working each muscle separately. She kept squirming a bit as she still had a few tight muscles. When I got to her glutes, I slowly repeated the same process, starting at the side of her hips, working my way to her inner thighs. Placing my hands on each of her cheeks, I spread them open, from which, I could hear a muffled groan through the face rest. The candle light made it hard to tell if it was sweat, or her juices leaking from her. More

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