Daddy's Little Girls by Jerry Milner
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DADDYS LITTLE GIRLS is the story of two cousins who, like other children, are influenced by their parents. Feeling at times rejected or neglected, they try to find the love and affection and approval they crave through the pursuit of sexual adventure.

Where, indeed, will it lead them? Will their journey into adulthood become difficult, hindering their hopes of becoming relatively happy, adult women?

DADDYS LITTLE GIRLS — a story of two girls who discover growing up in America nowadays can be a task with more pitfalls than at any time before in our history.

“They’re going to fuck!” Betty whispered to Lynette, as the eighteen-year-old cousins looked in through Olive Cook’s window.

Red-haired Lynette glared at blonde Betty and shushed her. Lynette didn’t really want to look, but she couldn’t help herself. Betty always got her to do crazy things when she came for her summer vacation visit. Peeping in at Mrs. Cook and Russ, was a crazy thing to do. Lynette didn’t want to watch them fuck. The very thought of fucking frightened her. But Betty, having been raised on a farm instead of in a city, was excitedly interested in it. Lynette wished her father and mother hadn’t left them here alone with her brother. There was no telling what trouble her mischievous cousin might get them into before Lynette’s parents came home. She also wished Russ would just get up and leave Olive Cook’s house, but he was showing no signs of doing that at all.

The woman and teen were sitting on the living room couch. The shapely woman tousled Russ’ brown hair, laughed, and smacked another kiss on his lipstick-smeared mouth. He looked startled by it all. He had probably been startled ever since she had opened the door wearing only black panties and a brassiere. She had very big tits for such a small woman. They were bigger than Lynette’s growing titties and even bigger than the high, thrusting beauties that had sprung out on Betty’s chest in the past year.

Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.

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