He'd said, "Oh my God, I love you!" like ten times in a row. Both Dana and Jen agreed that didn't count as a true "I love you."Jen knew she loved him,...but she was petrified of him saying nothing after she told him so, or of him saying, "I don't know if I love you."But she didn't want him to say it if he didn't mean it, or immediately jump into bed with him as soon as he did. She knew he'd probably think she was easy if she did that. Hell, she would be easy, she thought. His friends sometimes. Her shoulder-length blonde hair, the soft roundness of her breasts, larger than her mother's, her narrow waist, her wide hips and full ass. The bow of her lips which even now were pursed as she pondered what to do.When he had first started fantasizing about his own child, the guilt had tried to eat him alive. How could he? How could he want her? How could he dare think of his own daughter that way?But the days kept going by; they worked together, ate together, lived together and the guilt was. More

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