I was asleep when he came into my room. It took me several minutes to realize what was happening. By then, my father had already undone his belt, dropped his jeans to the floor, and taken off his shirt. By the time he crawled into my bed and under the covers, I could smell the hint of his cologne emanating from him and was awake enough to understand that this was not a dream. My dad had just stripped down to his underwear...

I woke up with a start the next morning. The kind of wake-up you have for a very important event, and you’re so nervous about it, you wake up before your alarm has a chance to squawk. In my case, I woke forty-five minutes before my alarm. My heart drummed on my chest, my hands were sweaty, and already there was an ache in my belly. The guilt from the night before and the worry from the morning to come clashed inside me, a...

I could barely focus on school. The pull between anxiety and euphoria was beyond real. I had fantasies about when I returned home and my daddy lifting me up onto the kitchen counter and fucking me like the horny slut that I was. But then I had the much more realistic fear that I would come home to another lecture about how last night I was wrong and how I shouldn’t think about it or masturbate to it anymore. No matter how...