It's a high-stakes tournament. It has nothing to do with you. I just said you would win it, hands-down." What kind of tournament?"Aaron hesitated. The...logical half of his brain was screaming for him to run away from this conversation as fast as possible. But his "little brain" was telling him to press on."It's nothing, honey," he said. "Seriously. I don't know why you're interrogating me like this." I'm not interrogating you. I just want to know what you were saying about me. What tournament. I write the details of this story so that I can relive the memories while I write it, and, hopefully, I can inspire more of you out there who read this account to do the same.I went on a few night trips without my wife, and while driving, passed a store called "David's Bridal." The store was some thirty miles from my home and I vowed to myself that I would stop there on my drive back. I did.My drive back was on a Sunday and I stopped at the store. It was a mad house! Brides-to-be. Hewas lying on his side, facing away from her, and she walked over andpulled up the covers and slid into the bed next to him."Wha?" He said, groggily, and he rolled towards her."Nothing, Daddy. I'm just feeling bad. I thought maybe I'd stay herewith you tonight." She tried her best to make her voice soundinnocent and slightly scared. She knew he could never resist that."Well, okay, I guess," he said, and she nuzzled into him, throwing oneleg over his. Her breasts were pushed against his. A minute later, I storm into your bedroom. ‘Right, we have maybe half an hour before Dad’s home, so we need to sort this out. Last chance, Fay. What’s your problem?’You look up from the bed, but all I get is your tongue sticking out at me.Without a word, I sit next to you and grab your arms from behind. You struggle, but I’m far stronger, and putting you over my knees is easy. You squirm and kick out, however you’re helpless. I lift your pleated skirt and jerk your panties down to your knees..