So here we are again at that point in this weekly purgatory where we slip into a living hell because it's time for one of those pig-swill of words kno...wn as the letter. As if any of us gives a flying fuck. Dear Mrs Girl,I am writing to seek your advice on both a professional and personal matter. Although I am a doctor, I appreciate that you will have limited knowledge of the medical profession, so I will try not to talk in technical terms so that you can understand my problem and provide me. I hadn't planned to attend that part of the evening but Melinda said it sounded like fun so off we went to the ballroom. You can add dancing to the list of things I'm socially inept at but with Melinda in my arms, I felt like I was gliding on the dance floor. If we weren't dancing and someone would ask her to dance she would refuse as if being away from me for just the length of a song would be too long. We stayed until the band shut down and I heard 'last call' just as they do in the. My husband looks up at the beautiful stranger. "Um, hi." He says. Bruce comes over to me and give me a hug. He then looks down at my husband and says, "Hi sexy, you look very nice." Michael, you know why Bruce is here, don't you?" I ask. "Yes." he responds. "Honey, please tell Bruce and me what you want tonight!" I demand. "I want...I want you to make me...a ...cocksucker!" he stammers. "That's right, honey, and if Bruce let's you suck his cock, what must you do?" I taunt. Michael's cock is. The first image of my daughter in all her adult naked glory stunned me. "God, look at you. You look just so ... fertile." Fertile?" she laughed."God, your breasts, your belly, your curves, all your hair, you look like ... honest, hon, you look like ... a fertility goddess." It was a stupid comment and I knew it but it just seemed so true. There was nothing subtle about the body in front of me: it was strong, unbelievably curvaceous and soft and positively dripping with sex. Honestly, the first.