'Your not the shy type, are you Mariel', he asked me as I sat in front of him?I was wearing a cotton dress, my white socks were tucked inside my black...shoes, and they in turn lay off to the side of where I sat cross-legged, and laying back on my elbows, never thinking for a moment, this man of the cloth, was looking up at my bared, and open crotch.'No Sir', I replied respectively, not really understanding his definition of the word 'Shy', or what he was implying to.'Your Daddy encourage you to. The signal came suddenly. Her head snapped around and her eyes widened when she 'saw' me. She stood up facing me.I was my mother's height at the time, maybe five-foot six. She had been chunky before my stepfather got kicked out; spending most of her free time with Rachel trimmed her down. Her black hair had a slight waviness and fell past her shoulders. My mother's body was defined by her curves. The mathematics of her curve matched Rachel's, in a four-inch shorter frame. The new exercise. More

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