“Okay, I’ll bite,” said Lizzie, “What makes a good climber then?”“Sweetie, it’s all in your head.” I said with a smile. “Look closel... at the frame where it meets the head tube. See the little sticker there? What does it say?”“‘Don’t let the hill win.’ Hmm, I think I like it!” said Meredith with a grin.“Good because I’ve got a sticker for each of you. And it needs to go right there, so you’ll see it every time you go to start a climb.” I handed them out and everyone put theirs on their frame in. Then her tongue slipped between my parted lips, and the kiss became heated and passionate. Believe it or not, that instant was when it hit me with blinding clarity: my seventeen-year-old daughter was making love to me! As I saw it, the way Becky had undressed me and fingered my cunt could be chalked up to girlish experimentation. But this ardent French kiss left no room for doubt about what she really wanted. I'd given birth to Becky; nursed, diapered, comforted, amused, taught and disciplined. More

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