Instead I quietly went upstairs to masturbate. As I laid in my bed stroking my cock several scenarios filled my head. All of them ended the same way, ...ith me fucking my daughter. I don’t know how many times I made myself cum that night, the only thing I can say with any amount of certainty is that I no longer viewed my daughter in a way any parent should. I wanted her more than I wanted any girl before.This made me feel like crap. I felt guilty over my feelings. I cried every time I masturbated. The show didn’t even register to her mind, she was distracted.“Isn’t her entire family like that? Super obsessed, evangelical crusaders? The dad visited once and complained because I was wearing hot pants. Get outta here, who is he to tell me what to wear? Hell, I’d go celibate for a year if only it would mean that I get to see that girl barefoot and pregnant long before she’s even got a boyfriend. She’d flip her shit, and her family would ditch her faster than stale milk.”It took her a moment. More

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