Still more silence.Then he quietly called me a whore. How could I possibly do that? With our son? He always knew I was twisted ... but this? More sile...ce. Hubby then took his hand from between my thighs. He brought it to my face and smeared our son's cum all over my mouth. If I hadn't felt overwhelmed with guilt and remorse, I might have enjoyed this gesture. But not this way. He repeated that I was a whore. A filthy one. More silence. Then, as unexpected as him smearing cum on my face, he. “Kiddo, we can’t do this. Fathers and Daughters don’t sleep together, especially not naked.” “Why not? Didn’t I come and crawl into bed with you when I had scary dreams, and didn’t you keep me here when I was sick and make sure I was OK? And didn’t I come get into bed with you on weekends when we’d sleep late?” “Yes, but that was different years ago, you were younger and needed comforting, or care. Now...” I trailed off. “Now, I’m a grown woman. Now I get to take care of you. You need. More

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