“Hi”, she smiled, and holding the dog back, I beckoned her in. “Hi”, and I instinctively leant forward and kissed her lips….and fuck me did ...e fit. Lisa stood just over 5’, her hair was dark, cut into a bob and she had curves in all the right places. She looked as nervous as me, dressed in a casual grey cardigan, black skirt and stocking. She just oozed sex, in an amazing way. “You ok?” I asked. She smiled. Wow, what a cheeky smile it was too. “Yeah, I’m good”, and before she could say anything. You must tell him everything your dad did to you, no matter how much it may hurt for you to tell him. You must be honest and truthful so he can represent you in Court. Tell him how you lost your cherry and how he did it. Tell him every reason your dad gave for beating you. He has seen the pictures so he knows the results. He needs to know the why. However, I would not tell him you liked the sex. That could hurt the case and make it seem like it wasn't as bad as it seems. You must be the victim. Daddy wasn’t working full time at the FBI, but he was usually there two or three days a week. My mother didn’t complain. For, I think, a couple of reasons. He was double-dipping — retirement income and freelance moola from the Feds.Plus, and this is just speculation — educated speculation on my part — I think she was learning that having him underfoot all day, every day, wasn’t quite what she had expected.Now I hadn’t been to the Summit Street offices for two or three months. Our arrangement. I don't know. I'm sorry, I woke up literally, thirty seconds ago.” I said, scratching the back of my head, as an uninvited thought randomly entered my head.Jeez, I would love to fuck her“Oh, sorry.” she said and broke my line of thought. “Well, if you're not sure... mind if I come in? You know, to check?”“...sure.”We went inside, and I was suddenly aware of my headache slowly coming back. The feeling, strangely enough, was a lot like having to pee. It felt like it needed to get out of my head..