They slowly move from my ankles to the tops of my thighs and underneath each arse cheek to slowly begin the ascent to the bottom of my legs again. As ...he hands reach the bottom of my ankles I feel another set of hands on the backs of my thighs, I smile to myself as I realise you have arranged for someone to meet us here, its exciting and a turn on to not know if it is male or female as I am still wearing the blindfold as instructed. Both sets of hands start moving up my legs in unison, slowly. Not everything about sex is perfect, good, sexy, hot. Some of it is pain and baggage. It shapes you and even when you try to resist, you find yourself wanting, desiring, the very things that you’re running from.That’s the basis of my story.I am sure that I will eventually write about some of the “good times” I had with my father. I may even write about the bad. My stories may never be read. They may even be poorly written. But they will always be honest – even when you, the reader, might wish. More

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