I feel helpless and needy as the third and worst day drags on. Men are horrible when they are ill and on this third day I am one of those men, useless...and sucky. My wife laughs a tiny laugh as she sees me typing away watching the sinus tears travel down my cheeks. I know what she is thinking because she had the same cold just a week ago and for some reason, a mystery still unknown to man, unlike me she continued as though her wall of cold was a mere step compared to the mountainous hurdle I am. He had met some of them on campus and others in bars. When they were naked and he took off his clothes they would sigh with pleasure and let their warm fingers caress his body. Then he liked them to take out his cock and suck on it, which most of them would do. He was proud over his eight inches and big ball sack. An English girl had taught him about “bagging” and she would suck on his balls until he begged her to let him come.He poured apple juice over ice in a glass and then took out a can of. Nat stopped flailing her hand around and instead gently grasped her beautiful, shoulder length, chocolate brown hair and pulled it on top of her head so it was out of the way for me. Stepping forward I reached around with both hands to hold the top of the dress still and to pull the zip down, my heart was beating in my throat- since when was I so nervous about being around my daughter like this? I began to gently pull the zipper down and almost jumped out of my skin when her forehead rested. Moments later, Pat came out with her cup of coffee. There were plenty of places to sit in the porch but she chose to sit beside me on the swing. I liked that.Dad came out with his coffee and found us sitting together with my arm loosely around her shoulders. He said nothing but smiled at us. Pat blushed but made no attempt to move or to move my arm. We sat together in companionable silence for over five minutes. We finished our coffees and Pat said, "Mister Dan, Mark is going to help me cook.
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