My mind processes the feeling, the sensation, and I realize it is a light touch, feathery, sleek. It could, indeed, be a feather... or fringe of a bl...nket... perhaps his hair. I can only imagine, not determine, as the touches and teases continue. The feathery feeling is gone now, replaced with something cold and wet... an ice cube? a popscicle? his fingers, dipped in ice water? Again, my mind can not choose, while my body revels in the sensation. Over and over, new sensations assault my. My dad, of course, had not disappointed me. Luckily, I was skinny enough to never think about calories.Anyway, it was right about then that my father finally admitted he’d been fantasizing about sexual “fun” with me for a very long time, so it wasn’t exactly an accident that we’d ended up involved in that particular unnatural act at his cottage that night.The question was: who, in fact, had been trying to seduce whom, and for how long? “But let’s not tell anyone about this,” he wisely said.. More

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