Valerie Gray: Tales Of Daddy's desire

When I woke up, I was alone in my father's bed. Naked, I stumbled down the hall to my bedroom, feeling the sore stickiness between my legs. I took a long, hot bath, taking extra care to scrub every place Dad had touched me.

The bar of soap traced the path of my humiliation, and when I pushed it under the water to clean out my pussy, most of it slipped inside me without much exertion.

So it was all true, then: I wasn't a virgin any longer, and my own father had fucked me.

I finally climbed out of the bath and walked into my bedroom. I realized that Dad had made a few changes while I was asleep. I no longer had a bedroom door-it had been taken off of its hinges.

When I opened my dresser drawers to find clothes to wear, I discovered that I had no undergarments of any kind.

The only clothes were short skirts and small t-shirts and tank tops that I hadn't been able to wear since my breasts filled out.

I pulled on a pink tank top and a denim skirt and surveyed myself in the mirror.

My father still had plans for me.

I was ready.

I was willing.

I wanted it bad.