Everything seemed perfect! Everything except one thing:Loni.She was five-foot six, early 20's, self-assured, gorgeous, and her conical knockers had ev...ry man's attention, that is, except me. I hardly notice girls boobs. Even before I could tie my shoes I was an ass freak (though not anal sex). And, Loni's rear-end was divine and otherworldly! It hypnotized and magnetized and otherwise stupified.I wanted so much to kneel behind her and praise her glorious glutious and fondle and kiss those round. Well time went on, and she became quite relaxed about posing for the camera. Then some months later she again asked whether I’d shown anyone, but this time sounded quite relaxed about it and simply asked, “have you shown them to anyone?” She seemed so unconcerned that I got the idea that she wouldn’t mind at all, and in fact perhaps she would like to be shown to other guys. I thought and thought about it, and although I’d again told her that I hadn’t, I made. "Hi Bridge? It's Sheila. Got an emergency. My friend Toni has made amess of her hair and it needs sorting urgently. Can you be an angel ofmercy and see her today? Good girl, I knew you'd come through. See youin 60. Bye!"She put the phone down and turned to me. "You are in luck, she had acancellation and we have to be there in an hour. So we need sort outwhat we are going to wear today. On top of that, you need to do someserious retail therapy." I've got no money!" No, but I have a credit card. ”“Said what?”“I want you to say, Your nightmares are not my fault! I’m not going to let you off the hook.”“You’re the one who changed the subject.”“Say it.”I sighed and said the words. And as I said them something clicked inside my head and I understood them. My entire melt-down last night had been because I had assumed Dad would blame me for the nightmare. How crushingly stupid. I’m usually so good at understanding other people. Why do I always get it so wrong when it’s about me? I hate being.