I made a new resolve. Men would learn from me, the very hard way. I have what they want. My beauty is the glaring kind that every body agrees with. But my heart would be a different matter. I knew most men wouldn’t resist me; they can’t be as tough as my father, my looks were not enough for that man to change his mind and do the right thing, the best thing. My father said I looked more like her everyday, and that the gloves – elbow-length – made us look like twins if she had been a few decades younger. Because my mother’s favorite accessory had been gloves. It was strange how she loved them so much. I recall a faint memory of her telling me it had made her feel like a movie star when she was little, that she had grown attached to the way they looked, the way they felt, on her pale arms. To me, it felt constricting. As if my arms had been wrapped in gauze. As soon as he finished the sentence, two red lights appeared in the darkness of the trees. The other campers and I shrieked as the light moved slowly but surely toward the fire. I grabbed my father in panic. A feeble scream escaped my lips. I heard you at the funeral.” My hands were fists. The utensils dug into my palm, cold and hard and unrelenting. “I heard you say how much you loved how Mom was just so messy, Dad. I heard you, and you said you loved that about her. Well then how come when she was alive you’d yell at her for it, huh? You’d get into fights all the time because she just wouldn’t clean up her crap. Can you tell me why that is, Dad? Were you just faking for the people at the funeral? Were you afraid that Grandpa and Grandma would be horrified that you’d dare to insult their daughter at her own funeral? You were just lying, then, Dad. You were lying to that whole bunch of people.”

It was my mother’s funeral and my second cousin’s sister’s mother-in-law was crying harder than I was. Even the dogs howled their mourning, sniffing forlornly at the edges of the sinking casket as it was lowered into the earth. Our priest hasignorantly commended him for staying strong little does heknow that his"sheep"keeps feasting on me every night. I do not enjoy making love to him the way I do when I visit Petre at his cube. Thank you for reading my article! You have contributed to my success as a writer. The articles you choose to read on Hivisasa help shape the content we offer. Alex’s wife accidentally books the family vacation in a resort that shares a beach with the nudist resort next door. His daughter Maria sneaks away whenever she gets a chance and this time he decides to follow her. What he sees changes the way he sees his little girl forever. Language: English Words: 10,378 Chapters: 7/7 Comments: 16 Kudos: 303 Bookmarks: 42 Hits: 32,449 There was no one else either, I knew that much. My mother died while birthing me. Ever since, I had been my father’s heartbeat. And he was my breath. I never missed my mother. I never knew her, never would meet her. I would, perhaps, have liked to know her, but somehow I thank God she wasn’t with us. It would have been awkward. I don’t think I could have shared my father with any one.My arms were moving. They wrapped themselves across my chest. I felt my cold hands digging into my shoulders. I had no control over my limbs. It felt like my body knew I needed comfort, and was compensating for its absence. I was a very well behaved child; I had all the proper manners for a proper lady. Thanks to my father. Climie EA, Mitchell K. Parent-child relationship and behavior problems in children with ADHD. Int J Development Disabil. 2017;63(1):27-35. coi:10.1080/20473869.2015.1112498 They didn’t scurry to wake her. I knew that they wouldn’t. That my mother was dead. That she would stay dead. She had wanted to die. And I had let her. My mom and I moved when I turned 13, into a new house where my father had never touched me and would never have the chance. I began sleeping in my own bed immediately, and I gave up my relationship with Mr. Bernard shortly thereafter.

You government pigs may think you have won, but even death itself will not keep us from the land that is rightfully ours. Though our bodies may be removed from this land, we are not going anywhere.” All I want is advice on how I can get out of this dilemma. I have tried to stop him from making sexual advances towards me but he keeps threatening to stop paying my college fees.

My eyes were closed, my lids pressed against cool window glass. I was soothed. I was calmed. I felt guilty for pulling away – I knew how it hurt to be pulled away from. I turned over to face her, to look in her eyes as I apologized. She sighed: she was used to this. She often brought me with her; I often got angry. “You know I’d never leave you there. With him.” I turned my daughter's innocent vagina washes into masturbation and her enemas into dildo training. All without my wife suspecting anything.

His head swiveled to look at me. “You look so much like her,” he whispered. His eyes, which had been clean of any sign of tears, returned to almost-crying. Short Story Writing | Writers | Read Online | Writing Contests | Writing Software | Writing Journals | Writing A Book | Writing A Novel He took me out and bought me a lot of beer. Thereafter, he dragged me into his Range Rover. I was woken up in the middle of night when I realized someone was trying to undress me. He pulled a knife and threatened to kill me. I do not know what to do. Report Story He is a corrections officer, I can't imagine in his line of work (not judgmental or an assumption statement whatsoever) that he would be sexually abusing his daughter..... especially w/ his 5 year old son in the bed also.. I am slightly concerned there is an unhealthy level of attachment if she needs him in the bed to sleep... snuggling up w/ your kids is one thing, sleeping w/ them in the same bed on a nightly basis is different.It was a habit I kept for a long time after those days -- I'd make myself come but not in the presence of others. It was like a vestige of Daddy; for a long, long time, only Daddy would make me come. Chris gave me a lot: He replaced my father as the man who kept me front and center in his gaze, something I so desperately needed. But here's the catch, something I didn't think about until recently. How did the girls know? How had this rumor managed to get passed down? Who else played with Mr. Bernard? I tried to talk to him, using arguments that she is getting older and does need a separate bed, but he just laughs it off and says he is not going to change anything. He thinks there is nothing wrong with 2 of them sleeping together as she can have daddies cuddles then and that he is her father, not some pervert. He says I am ridiculous and only suggest it because I am still jealous of the OW.