Even the ones I make to myself. So, after dinner, I pour him his whiskey and invite him to sit on the couch. “I want to show you this film, dad” I...told him. This was my excuse to make him relax. Ten minutes in the film, it was a comedy, I stood up and got in front of the TV. Slowly, I pulled my sweater higher. He stared at my naked belly. He breathed faster. He had a puzzled look on his face. “You like what you see now?” I asked. He didn’t need to say a word. I saw the answer in his trousers!. His smile broadened as he considered his attitude of just a fortnight previously.**“Christ!” he muttered as he sat at the desk in his study and perused the bills, quotes, and estimates for the upcoming festivities. His mood seemed to be darkening inversely to that of the two women in his life. It was a close thing whether Anastasia, whose nuptials were fast approaching or his ex-wife, Sue, was the more enthusiastic. He looked at the ‘approximate’ figure glowing malevolently on the calculator.He. ’ ‘I don’t know, but it’s bound to be the blokes fault.’ She growled ‘Of course, mind you Blokes can do what you suggest already only it costs them.’ ‘Have you ever?’ ‘Nah!’ he said with a laugh. ‘Couldn’t afford it for one, wouldn’t know how to find one anyway.’ They were looking at each other, he smiled, she smiled, the silence went on for just too long and it was obvious that someone had to say it. ‘Look, Cathy… I don’t want to get weird or anything but if you ever are… like… desperate… you. But, they say the truth shall set us free....so I should be a free motherfucker when this thing's over.I'm going to start with a not-so-brief history of sexual impressions from my c***dhood that led up to the circumstances of my first proper orgasm. Not because you should care, but because it's my story and this is how I'm telling it. :PSo, I can recall that, at around the age of 5 (or younger, not sure), I was outside on a sunny playground and one of the nannies (a fair, thick brunette named.