I hadbought it on E-bay and had worn it once.I put some fluffy pink slippers and went to mother's room.Mother took one look at me and gave a big smile...and motioned me to herbed.As I walked towards her she said, "Darling, Christine that is sobeautiful, did you buy it on mail order?" Yes, mommy, I did."I sat on her bed and she got a brush and she brushed my hair out again."Don't you want to be a girl fulltime darling, the girls and I brushedyour hair out and because of society, you had to wear it. The black knit-wool cardigan sweater only serves to emphasize the crisp whiteness of the cotton button-down blouse worn underneath. She leaves perhaps one too many buttons open at the top of her blouse, which is possibly the only outward concession in acknowledgment of her own sexuality, but certainly nothing anybody would be able to fault in her appearance. The charcoal pencil skirt ensnaring her waist falls most properly to a length just a few inches below the knee, yet somehow manages to. I couldn’t cry at first. I was in shock. It was when I looked down at her tiny face, and she looked like she was only sleeping, laying so peacefully in my arms did I crack. I started to cry, which I think relieved everyone, but then I couldn’t stop crying. I was crying for Rebekka Rose, I was crying for the father she never knew, and the man who never had the chance to be a father, I was crying for me and I was crying because I didn’t know how not too anymore. After I while I just became too. I'm remembering being his cumslut, never wasting it always eating every bit of his load, even if he decided to blast my face in cum, I'd always smear the cum down into my mouth, show it to him, and then swallow it. Anyways, I text back that I am doing nothing considering I was on vacation but just relaxing at home. He responded with, "Nice! I'm on my way to your house now." I text back, "That's cool I'm hopping in the shower and going to get dressed come in and make yourself at home if I'm.