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Next, she eased herself onto the bed again like she did the night before. Though this time she wasn’t fooling around with her daddy’s chest. Like a cat she slowly stalked up and over her dad’s leg, hands and knees either side until she was looking right down at her father’s crotch. It was a difficult position to hold, and she wanted to be comfortable for a good while. Eventually she found that putting her hands either side of his waist was the easiest while letting herself lower down onto her elbows. Just one bonus of her daily volleyball training was keeping limber, though this wasn’t how she envisioned using it.

She heard her dad rummage around the kitchen, cutlery clanked together, and the microwave hummed for a minute or so before he collapsed onto the couch with the bowl of leftover lasagne steaming in his hands. Like muscle memory, he quickly switched on the TV and started wolfing down the food like a starving man. Only after demolishing half the bowl of pasta, barely paying attention to the random game show playing softly in the background did he turn to his daughter and notice the look on her face.

That Saturday passed like a blur as Sarah did her social duties with her friends, but in the back of her mind her guilt was steadily building. What she had done last night was not okay. But it was a moment of weakness, a mistake of her youth, so with one and done there wouldn’t be a problem, right? Her night’s rest seemed to disagree. Six times she woke that night, each time with the desire to visit her father again, but she managed to persevere. She had to watch her video from last night a few times before her lust could be controlled, but she got through the night, minus quite a few hours of sleep as a cost.