Suddenly I felt his grasp on my wrist. My heart sank, it seemed he didn’t like me playing with his hair either. He released my hand as I stopped and...I pulled it away. Somewhat on the verge of tears. Never have I ever wanted something so badly, and couldn’t have it, the torture seemed to eat me inside out. I wanted him. I craved him. But even more I craved him to want me back. Somewhat devastated I very slowly and carefully lay down on my stomach by his side. My bed was occupied by my sister. When she pressed herself against my elbow, I felt a stirring in my pants and told myself, 'this isn't right. She's my goddaughter.' She tried to be inconspicuous as she lightly rubbed herself against my arm. By the time she had finished, I had a raging hard-on that was in desperate need of adjustment. She turned the chair to face the mirror and asked if I liked the way my hair was cut. I told her I was delighted. She turned the chair back around and removed the cape. As I rose from the chair, I. I did, not thinking I would gain a close friend in the process. When I did go down to say hi to her she was kind of shy at first and kind of made fun of me because I was wearing my cheerleader shirt. She told me I should play basketball and was asking if the girls basketball team was any good. Over that summer we became friends and I became interested in basketball and became quite good with her help. And even though my parents spent money to send me off to cheer camp I quit and tried out for. "Are you a lesbian Bee?" I don't know," she admitted. "I do know I've never found men sexuallyattractive and from the moment I knew what it meant to be a woman thatidea of being married to a man revolted me to the depths of my soul...The thing was until I came to England at 16 for my A-levels the conceptof finding a woman attractive simply did not exist in my psyche. Iguess with being brought up in a Islamic world and going to a schoolwhere religion instruction took centre stage when it came to.