There was a lot of tension to my spending time with her, but it was OK. I had an idea shed sensed something was in the offing, perhaps some optimism in me, that kept her going, or perhaps she was just playing out a tactic, but anyway she settled for chatting and smiling at me a lot. We had a couple of evening meals, but neither of us invited the other back afterwards. For me it worked perfectly to be around her, given that I was supposed to be aroused a lot. I found I could bear the just-good-friends distance knowing that it was temporary and, hopefully, going to be followed by something fabulous. Every evening and quite a bit of every night was spent on my bed with my swollen clit between my fingertips. I experimented with all kinds of lubricants, adding to the DHT hormone cream that Martine gave me, making up cocktails of creams and oils to produce just the right sensations for keeping it going hour after hour. And I found it was working. I started measuring it, for the first. She was the prettiest, the most attractive, and the sexiest. I had never let myself think about how I really felt about her. I wondered if it was time to be honest with myself. But what would that mean for her? Where would that take us?I needed to talk to her. I approached her door and knocked softly. I heard her voice through the door:"Come in"She heard me enter the room. I could see her trembling. She was really shaking. "Dad, make love to me" she whispered. I stood in the doorway for moment. Then I began to walk towards her. She wouldn't turn around. I realised that she was probably afraid. Afraid of being rejected by me once more, for me to deem her insane, perverted, lustful. A tear streamed down her cheek as she shut her eyes, she was whispering under her breath, silently pleading. I brought my hand up to caress her cheek, feeling it was wet. I gently leant over to kiss away the tear running down her face."Sweetheart", I whispered. "Oh sweetheart". She opened her eyes. I smiled.
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