Normally, people read their messages right away. They don't ignore them.”“Sorry,” I swallowed. “I was just...being professional.”She arched ... violet eyebrow. “Fucking a futa while your camerawoman records is professional?” I flushed. “I guess not.”“Oh, it will be.” She moved closer, her futa-dick bobbing just an inch or two from my stomach, so big and thick, as ivory as her skin. “Once we make our deal and you become my patron. I'll grant your wish, make you into a futa, and you can have all. The girls would tell you that Bob was more loving, understanding and compassionate than most parents. No they didn't see Bob as a parent, he was their partner, their lover, and most of all, their friend!To put it in very short terms, they were a tight knit family, and each treasured that family in their own way. For Heather it was even more so having lost her parents at a young age forcing her into life only partially prepared.Michelle's recognition of Heathers need for someone in her life and. But sleep refused to come. So, Jim sat up, turned on the bedside light, and took a paperback off the nightstand. Jim never went anywhere without a book – usually more than one. This time it was Tom Clancy’s “Red Storm Rising.”Jim was reading the part in the novel where an American naval vessel, a fast frigate or “fig” boat was escorting a convoy across the Atlantic. The captain of the vessel had gotten his previous command shot out from under him by a very tricky and very aggressive Soviet. From 4 to 9 she rode the farms ponies, she hid in its hay mows, she climbed in its corn cribs, and she nursed the newborn kittens and calves religiously. Years of play had built her an outstanding imagination which generally worked in her favor when it came to getting what she wanted from adults, but children at the grade schools thought differently. She was a short round farm girl. She didn’t care what she wore, she didn’t care about her hair, and she didn’t sit around and watch the others.