It was a struggle to breathe. I shifted, pulling away from him and rolling onto my back beside him. Then, looking directly into his eyes I whispered, "Then tell me to go away."
He didn't answer.
Lowering my voice even more, barely audible, I said, "Tell me to go away, daddy."
My father slowly shook his head. He had a wistful smile on his face. Then he reached a hand to my face and placed two fingers against my cheek. Slowly, he trailed them down my skin. It was reminiscent of when he used to comfort me as a child, except now I was so charged with arousal, it had an unexpected effect on me emotionally. What I wanted warred with what I knew I couldn't have. And while my face was tingling from his touch, I felt an overwhelming sadness shove its way inside my head.
My eyes rimmed with tear
