But then I think about how I felt, like someone was smothering me, and I don’t want to feel that way again. I want my dad back, but I want him to be... more like your dad,” she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Is that bad?”“No, it’s not bad, nor is it mean. It’s just a hard truth. You loved your dad, but you didn’t love how he treated you. You’re just confused, honey. The last year and a half has been pretty crazy for you with everything that’s changed. Just think, are you really sure that. Nevertheless, my mom did not worry much thereafter, but was also not reconciled totally. She continued to believe that I am a god's gift to her. I was named Joan but she always called me, 'Honey', which became my pet name at home and wherever I went.As a baby, I was nurtured with utmost love and care by mom and auntie. Even when I was six months old, mom would dress me up as a girl, put all the bangles and ornaments and would carry me around for shopping and outings. My birthday had always been. He arrived at my breasts and marvelled at their size, not huge at a C cup, but my tiny waist made them look larger. He unclasped the front fastening and was greeted my erect pink nipples, standing to attention with the grace of his presence. He moaned lightly and placed his tongue on my sensitive nubs, sending electric shots to my pussy and making me moan in a low and sultry tone. Obviously a breast man, he gave my breasts some well needed attention, and decided to continue with his journey. .. fortunately Josh has been taking care of my needs. Sometimes I'll wake him up with a blow-job, just so I can have him one more time before he goes to work.But in the hours that Josh is at work, I need to take care of myself. I've almost worn out my collection of toys - when it was all theoretical, I found the idea arousing: images of my little Brianna and Rebecca practicing kissing, or going down on each other. Pressing their tight, young bodies against each other ... bringing each other.