?What was this about a love poem you have for me?? Father smiled down at me. I blushed profusely. ?Go get it now,? Mother snapped her fingers sharply....Burning with shame, I went to my bedroom and brought out my notebook. Turningto the French section, I took out my poem. ?What's your poem called dear?? Mrs. Cook grinned. ?When I Look Up,? I said. ?Nice,? Mother said, taking my notebook, ?Read it to your Father.? My cheeks on fire, I turned sheepishly to Father, and began reading from thepage.. ”Di – “Hmm, You really are weird”Then she moved into our room. It reminded me of the incident yesterday. She was in her maroon silk blouse with laces above her chest and black trousers. She was looking hot. Involuntarily, I was imagining her in front of the mirror, just like yesterday, except for this outfit.I wanted to have a look at her lovely hourglass figure like yesterday. I felt guilty but porn affected me. The thought of having a live view of such a hot lady intrigued me. I sat back on. More

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