‘Come on. Wendy will want to see you. She talks about you every day. She’s so worried.’ ‘She shouldn’t worry about me. I’m a big girl.’ ...��We both worry about you. Come. A quick hello, and you can take a bath and hit the sack.’ She walked with me into the bedroom, and Wendy was awake. She jumped up and hugged Kelly, until they both were crying. I lost them then, when they went into the bathroom together. Jeannie was fussing, but we were still working on getting her to sleep through the night, so. She was easy on the eye, and undoubtedly, I found myself watching her more and more. On most occasions, when we were home together, Jenny would wear tight little t-shirts, no bra, and tight hotpants, which clung her to her svelte figure. Indeed.My relationship with my daughter was somehow atypical; not similar to a normal father-daughter relationship. It was somewhat more or what few dads say, “Special.” Special to realize that my little daughter had a crush on me. And more to realize that I. More

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