There is a story I have to tell. We are the stories that weave our lives together. We are nothing but a story, a (hopefully pleasant) experience of what we hear, smell, and feel. We live. I am Angela. My daughter's name is Marlene. The little, little princess Marlene. I am 40 years old and my daughter is 24. Aesthetically there is not much difference between us, we are both brunettes, with brown eyes, big breasts and prosperous buttocks.

We're Mediterranean and when we go out together it's not difficult for guys' eyes to compete over which of our asses to land on. I think my daughter is a bit...