It needed police protection and immediate counselling. George was twenty-seven, and she thought like an artist. No, she thought like an Artist, and t...at was because she was one. George was an Artist. Georgette’s world–her daily life, her time travel, her dreams–was filled with colours and shapes and spaces and constructions and questions and with wit and vibrancy and pragmatic intelligence. George was pretty, which was better than beautiful because it required less effort, and she was in love.. The skies were blue the entire time, the hotel was beautiful, and that was the first time I realized my father was a pedophile.By this time in my life, I was becoming aware of a few things. I knew a little about sex, due to Health Class. I knew a little more about condoms, the pill, and IUD's. I knew about my period, which would come soon, and I knew about AIDs and STD's, all of which scared the living crap out of me as I entered puberty.The next moring, I was more than a little surprised to. Then one evening when no one was home except my dada and dadi I made a plan. I started stroking my dick on her pictures and videos which I had taken over the years and made my 7″ rod erect. I then called dadi into my room and told her I have an itching sensation below my penis.She stared at my nude penis for a few seconds then without giving any reaction examined it and told to apply some lotion and left the room. I was heartbroken as I felt I had shown my dick without any effect on dadi.The. ’ Let me explain a few things. My sister, Cherie, is attractive. I do not mean attractive as in runway model. She is girl next door attractive. Cherie has sandy colored hair that leans more to brown than blonde. She has penetrating green eyes that sparkle in any light, cute little nose and lips with a mischievous smile locked into place. Cherie is 24, single, no boyfriend, and living in her family home. I am 27, about two years and ten months older than Cherie is. I am six feet one inch to.