My mother struggled to make ends meet after his death and worked as much as she could but made sure that her “little treasure” (me) was always her...first priority. I don’t recall missing out on much until about 10 years old but I wasn’t unique in not having a father around. Mum had a friend, called Lila, whom came around about once a month. She always seemed much happier after Lila had spent time with her and Lila would most times stay over night. I can recall their laughter as I lay in my bed. I pulled her into an embrace, feeling her breasts push against me, feeling my wet member squash against her stomach. We kissed, and I could taste the residue of my seed and my flesh on her. We turned and I lowered her gently into the armchair, perched close to the edge of the seat. She looked on curiously, unsure of what I intended. I eased her shoulders back until she was slouched in the chair, and then lifted one of her legs onto the arm. She smiled in understanding and lifted the other. I. More

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