Father-Daughter incest.
Part one.
I fidget with the sleeve of my oversized dark-green sweater as I wait for daddy to get back home from work. My short, pale legs are stretched out across the couch, a pair of spandex shorts covering my butt.
Daddy’s been coming late for a few days now, I think he has found a love interest. Judging it’s been seven years since momma died, I think this is a good time for him to move on. Although having his attention split is not something I would appreciate.
Ever since my momma died seven years ago when I was ten, my daddy has cared for me and played the role of both parents. He was my father, my mother, my brother and even my best friend.
Due to my social anxiety and claustrophobia, I’ve been homeschooled and didn’t have any friends to talk to or rely
