She did, but was unwilling to readily respond to the stimulus. I could feel her fight to remain separated from what was happening.Woodenly, she turned...around. "Now what?" she asked in a whisper. I slipped her jacket off her and unbuttoned her blouse. Her skirt zipped down the side. Slowly I removed her outer garments, then her bra. Her breasts were firm and just as I first imagined them, a comfortable bite sized B.She was bare legged. "Step out of your shoes." She did and I slipped her panties. But even though deep down in my darkest thoughts I had fantasized about making love to my son, I certainly would never do anything about it.I was a firm believer that everyone had perverted thoughts from time to time. I often wondered what middle- aged fathers were really thinking when they were in the act of kissing their pretty young daughters. I know what I usually thought about when I was kissing my son for one reason or another.But when Jennifer came home with Brad one night and he. More

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