He returned to the park bench. He felt as if he’d revealed a part of himself when he wrote: ‘I don’t know where she is. I don’t know how she s...iles. I don’t know what makes her eyes sparkle. I know I am waiting. I know my body aches for her! I know she will make me tingle!’ He laid the paper on the park bench. He knew it would probably just blow away again, but at least the writing of the poem had changed the pace of his day returning home from work. He had voiced hopes he didn’t often let. I stared down at his cock. It thrust up over his belly.I groaned, my pussy clenching. More cum leaked out of my pussy. I hoped Daddy had bred me. I licked my lips as I grabbed the cock that had deflowered me. Loved me. The cock that had created me in my mother's womb.His own daughter, like me. I was his second generation daughter, and I hoped I would give him a third generation. I wanted to raise my own daughter and watch her lose her virginity to our daddy. It was just an amazing thing.I. More

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