It was just you and me, your seventeen year old teenage daughter, living in a two story home. Mom had died when I was seven, it had been ten years since she died and you had watch me grow up.
You were really caring toward me, and we were close as can be. But you also held a secret; you cared for me in the way you cared for mom, or maybe even more than that.
We were both upstairs in my bedroom, family friends downstairs as they laughed and had drinks. You had excuses yourself for a while. On my bed we were doing things no father and daughter should do.
Kik: islayuii15
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