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"Oh Mom," she said with a slight tone of exasperation. "Do youstill have to call me than? I'm going to be nine years oldtomorrow." Sorry, honey," I said. "Old habits die hard, you know. And evenwhen you're grown up and have a daughter of your own, you'll stillbe my little girl." When she didn't respond, I decided to change thesubject. Lance was setting down for his toast and coffee as I askedher if she was prepared for the spelling test coming in school thatday."Yes Mom," she said with a sigh as she poured milk on her cereal,which responded with a familiar snap-crackle-pop sound. "Don'tyou trust me to remember anything?"I brushed a stray curl out of my face. This long hair was glorious,wonderful, but maybe it was time to think about a slightly shorter'do...something a little easier to take care of. "Of course I trust you,Alexis," I said with a smile. "It's just that I remember what it waslike to be nine years old."And I did remember. Of course, I didn't tell her that I. She sat up and started to take off her shirt. I had thought that she wasn’t wearing a bra but couldn’t tell because of the bulkiness of the shirt. As she pulled the shirt off I was sliding my hands up her sides. Her skin was electric. Her breasts perfectly filled the palm of my hand. Her nipples were hard and sensitive to my touch. I could hear her breathing as I slid my fingers over her nipples, lightly pinching them between my fingers. She moaned, leaned back, and slid her pants and panties off in one motion. She rose up and straddled my head, trapping myself between her thighs. I could feel the heat, smell the fragrance, as she lowered herself to me. She was so unbelievably wet and smooth. My tongue explored every crevice, every texture. My hands roamed over her body, feeling the subtle changes as my fingers slid across her. I was engrossed by every detail, the silky hairs in the small of her back, the tautness of her ass, the tension in her arms and legs. She was so diminutive..
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