I might have found it amusing, but, day by day, my concerns were growing. The attack had obviously been much more traumatic to Amelia’s psyche than ...o Rufus or me.I consulted a child psychologist. She recommended I stop bugging Amelia and let her heal in her own way. If she didn’t improve in six months, I might then seek help for her. So I tried to stop bugging her.We rolled into fall, a balmy, Californian fall. School resumed. I focused on movie projects and, pleasing me immensely, the media. She stared at him.He was smiling. “Come on sis, we’re gonna be late. You have to drive me to school incase you’ve forgotten, my car’s in for a service” “What are you doing in here?” She whispered. “Dad will see you!” “He’s left for work already”. She opened her cupboard and got a clean pair of panties, a miniskirt, a blue shirt and her custom made leather jacket, then proceeded to put them on. William wasn’t wearing anything shabby, jeans and a regular shirt with his signatured spiky hair -. I spare myself the humiliation of describing myselfby quoting from her letter which Helen has given me to use. It goeson."The small dainty head is supported on a slender white throat whichrises from a dimpled lovely white girl's bosom and shoulders. He hasthe round white breasts of a girl. The pretty valley between them, thelittle rose-petals, everything. His figure is slender, the legs long,the feet and hands delicious. He is tall, in his high-heeled shoestaller than Helen and about the. Her fingers then curled around the briefs and dragged them down to reveal my erect cock resting on my stomach. I saw as she gawked down at it, a broad smile beaming from her face. Softly, she brushed her cool fingers along the length of my shaft and back down. All the while, I leered at her cleavage that hung out towards me, inviting me to be entertained. I rest my hand on low on her belly, with the lower two fingers slipped under her tank top. I switch back to her face, seemingly absorbed to.