My first music teacher heard me sing once for the very first time and shook his head in disbelief uttering in a very alarmed way-‘good gracious, wha... a voice!’. But, it was some time before I myself realized that it was meant as an insult. Having grown up without a mother, it was only natural that I had no one to tell me that I was the most beautiful person in the world( but, considering the typical mama’s of those days, I seriously doubt I would have ever had such words uttered to me by her.),. Reading for an audience was much more... quiet, and slow, and awkward. "Hello," I said, feeling Novella's hair brush against my legs, "the first story I'd like to read is about a housewife I met at a sex shop." I started out slow, reading some not too kinky material, wanting to make the audience feel at ease and loosen up a bit. But as I read, Vella was nudging my pussy, running her small fingers through my pubic hair as if trying to comb through it, kissing it, licking it gently until I had to. More

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