The hair felt wet, it was hot, he was sweating,I could smell him quite well.I liked the way he smelled, I don't know why.Put my fingers in my mouth to...taste them.Don't know how to describe the taste,guess it just tasted like Rick and that tasted good to me.Next I wanted to touch the hair around his dick.That felt different than the hair under his arms.It was a lot stiffer, even stiffer than the hair around my dick.Wow! It really was fun playing with his hair.I was surprised he let me touch him. "It's not satin," my father whispers in response. "Brushed cotton, morelikely."For a split second, my eyes meet his. Then, we turn back to the screen,shaking our heads in disbelief that so much unwarranted kindness isradiated by the same woman who rules our lives with an iron fist.Ever since she has begun her broadcasting career, my mother's contractshave always specified that the clothes she wears on camera become herprivate property. During her years as a newscaster, she'd bring home. More

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