Am I a bad father? Perhaps, perhaps I should go to hell for what happened that day, and the months and years after. Maybe I shouldn’t have gambled so much, but I had so few joys in my life after my wife had passed. Raising a girl without a mother, especially as they blossomed into beautiful young woman was more difficult than I had expected. Without my wife, I felt attractions that no father should have for his daughter. So small and fragile. A porcelain doll that practically begged to be broken. But despite my thoughts, my dreams, my fantasies, I never touched her.
Of course, that didn’t mean I didn’t peek. Walk in on her during showers, or changing. Going through her clothes as I washed them, inhaling deeply, her panties on my face, tasting her. I couldn’t help myself. Sometimes, thinking of her, I’d use those panties, wrapping it around my cock, imagining her putting them on with my cum still on it. I’m lucky she never caught me.