I had failed tonotice it. My wet cotton shirt heavily clung to my body. Two unfamiliarmounds were on my chest. I could see the outline of large nipple...poking through my wet clothes....Breasts!I was starting to lose it. I was thrashing in the water. Dirty waterwas spilling out of the tub. My long toes are flailing wildly in my wetboots. Suddenly, I stopped. Something in the back of my head was tryingto tell me something..'It is okay' 'you want this' 'New you emerging' 'soon'Somehow those. But I doubt whether you're a thief." An intellectual, too! Very well. I'll need to be more wary." And what about the 'needs work'? Should I make notes?" Yes. The editor's job, like that of Polixenes." 'we marryA gentler scion to the wildest stock,And make conceive a bark of baser kindBy bud of nobler race.'That's my mum's favourite passage in Shakespeare, ending with ' ... the art itself is nature'." We'll have to make sure you do some work; we can't just bandy Shakespeare." I'm not certain.. He stood up and came over to my side. He said, "I need to make sure you are wet enough that I can get in deep." and with that pulled my legs to the edge of the bed, kneeled down and slid his face between my legs. It honestly happened so quickly I didn't have time to think about it. Within a few seconds his tongue was probing my labia licking and pushing into me. He needn't have bothered: I was soaking wet. He realized this after a few glorious minutes - he was rather talented - and stood up. We even began to talk about each others days. All that happened. But not over night. It took over a year. We realized it. But both had no problem with it. Think it through: A twenty five year old girl constantly hanging out with her forty seven year old father. It still sounds strange and wrong in my head. But it worked. Worked for us. It felt good. Made us happy.I was about that time that it shot into my head: My daughter was the focus point of my life. I somehow lost the urge to go out and.