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The towel that I had d****d over my breasts before I fell asleep last night had fallen off. My huge breasts were completely exposed, and worse, they were slowly leaking droplets. I quickly pulled the blankets up to my chin before returning my gaze to my father. He remained in shock.“It happened to you,” he mumbled. His eyes turned from surprise to sadness.“Dad, what's happening to me, why's it happening?” I asked him, my own voice sounding fearful.Father was anxious. He took a seat in the armchair and sat silently. This was ​not​ his usual demeanor. Normally he was a calm but confident man, now he was clearly out of his comfort zone. I was too. I worried as I watched him stare at the floor below him.“It's time you learned the family history,” he declared. “Family history?” I asked.“The story of your mother and her side of the family,” he replied. It wasn't often he talked about mother. I sat silent and still in anticipation.“Your mother, and all the women in her family going back. 1954)I awoke early in the morning feeling gloriously relaxed and with the still sleeping warm body of Jenny snuggled in next to me, her arm draped over my chest. We had made love for hours the previous evening, relieving tensions and growing ever closer in friendship and intimacy. Jenny finally confessed, as had I, that even if Tom recovered she'd still want to hold onto the love we now clearly felt for each other. Yes, there was still guilt and fear of the future should our relationship ever get out, but overriding it was the desire to simply enjoy intimacy with each other as and when we could. That's not to say we were in love with each other, simply that our friendship had a sexual context to it.
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