...and then I sat back and picked up a newspaper and began toread.? He sat there, stupid, scared,stiff...his legs wide apart.? Each timehe tried to cl...se his legs even a little, I would slap his naked thighs harduntil a red hand print appeared on his bare leg...then I would push his younglegs wider...loving the look of his teen dick lump in the little gray schoolshorts.?? He didnt know what to do...itwas so comic.? Finally after a third time,he just sat there, legs spread, and picked up his. I had fought against my urges to dress for decades, and, now, he wassuccumbing to them just like I had when I was young. I could not believeit. I felt as if I was reliving my youth. Except, now, I was the yellingfather and not the scarred child.I could not believe it. He had somehow caught it from me. The sick urgethat never left me for long, it was passed on to him. I didn't how ithappened. I had hidden it for so long, could he have picked up on it?Was it genetic? Are we prone to this. More

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