.. this is wrong...” The word stung. I could feel his cheeks wet with tears. Did he hate it? Did he hate me for what I was doing? “No, Daddy... ...s only wrong if you don’t want it. You don’t want me?” For a few seconds we kept kissing in silence, he seemed to be pondering the question. Then his other hand grabbed my waist too pulling me towards him. I opened my legs straddling him, this raised my dress right above my waist. His hand lowering to caress my butt. “Oh Daddy, yes.” I moaned as. It only took him a few seconds to reach acceptance, even with the tinge of guilt as he realized he had prayed for this. Repeatedly. He started with the ‘wish I could have’s, woken from each tangent with a clank of the metal desk legs against the knuckled root, only to drift into another as he imagines the things he could have done, remembers the women he could have loved, if he weren’t ‘so fucking pathetic.’ In fact, he didn’t stop muttering till he reached the ‘wish I didn’t’s, weighted words. More

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