" She walks over, swaying her sweet hips just the way I like. She crawls up onto my lap, her school skirt climbing up her soft thighs, my lovely eight...en year old girl; I can't believe she'll be out of high school in a matter of months. She hands me an envelope with my name on it. I open it and read the note from her teacher."What does it say Daddy?" she asks, giving me a teasing, little pout. I love her pout and can't help but picture her lips wrapped around my cock like they so often are. My. We continued on, me bullshitting my way, she interpreting every painting as being about sex. Was she a cruel mirage? A ghost that haunted the gallery, coaxing erections from patrons? Or just some cray little nymph who got her kicks this way?We sat on some leather seats. I saw the security guard leave the room. I was gesturing towards the first painting again.“Yes, I think I can see the point you were making…”She reached out gently and took my hand. She pulled it slowly, inexorably towards her. More

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