.. plain, compared to her.”“Plain?” I frowned. “You’re beautiful. Like the canyonlands at dusk.”She smiled hugely. “Really?” My daught...rs had heard countless times that they were beautiful, smart and talented. I’d always said the words sincerely. But this time, they came freighted with new meaning.“Really.” Leaning over to kiss her collarbone, I felt her shiver against my lips. “Brown and warm and utterly beautiful.”“Do that again,” she sighed.“What, here?” I smiled, and kissed lower, closer to. .«, so I said too much again once more! Dickel was stretching about my dirty fantasies and hung out of my pants. Cup laughed and grabbed it, and he pulled me along with a giggle: »I would love to bugger you up, tiny Tad, you would be a sweet little slave - but first we have save our camp!« Now there was an other word that puzzled me! Being a slave to me meant obedience and submission, a being without its own intention, a willing sex object. I remembered the picture of the nude boy on all fours. The shower had become one of the high points of my day. This was quite a treat from home where fighting for any tub time with five younger brothers was always a hassle. The biggest high point of my day soon became enjoying breakfast with Pearl each morning. Tuesdays and Thursdays were without a doubt the best as my first class on those days was not until eleven am. Pearl was a thirty seven year old with long, thick reddish hair that waved in cascades over her shoulders, landing in soft circles. We both knew that, however hard we tried to convey a feminine image to each other, we could not fully enjoy the excitement as the male clothing we wore completely spoilt the outward appearance of the feminine image we both felt so very strongly inside ourselves.We rose at five in the morning, and even at that time the day was already warm. It seemed odd as we walked along the path to the beach that there was no one about, although at that early hour it was hardly surprising.As we walked through.
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