There she stood in the shower, her light brown hair again twisted to a large bundle and hung over her left shoulder, looking at me with her large gree... eyes. She licked her creamy lips. Water ran over her small, girly breasts, her flat belly, her pussy and down her legs. I had seen adult vaginas before, but hers wasnt like that. It also wasnt the vee-gannie of a little girl. Hers was something in between. Except a fluff of downy faint hair it was naked, but her pussy lips were rounder, more. I was the son of privilege, growing up in New Jersey to Harold and Virginia Scoville. My father was a printer and publisher, and more importantly at the time, an influential man in the politics of the area. He had come to America from England with his father at an early age. He had been academically brilliant and his father's skills with the typesetting equipment of the day made the family prosperous. By the time he was in college, his father owned his own business, and while he had no interest. More

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