Lying in bed one morning, daddy brought me a cup of tea, and a huge amount of sympathy, rubbing my tummy to soothe the shooting pains, triggered urges...that other men cant understand, but me father did, and his hand ventured under my pantie line and brought me off.There was no shame, just an intimate bonding, I was his daughter and I loved him, we shared this intimacy in the freedom of our home, a line had been crossed but we just ignored it and continued to function a father and daughter,. Neither of us were great on intuition. It doesn’t frighten me anymore at all. It doesn’t terrify me anymore to think of the details of our sojourn together and of what I grew to know as love. It used to frighten me, the memories, the triggers, as I used to sweep the moments, my life, out of my mind, forgetting that it happened to me, to us. I believed our story was better left unsaid, unexplained, untouched after the years of history and life paraded on settling it well into the past. Yet, in. More

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