Relative Pleasures
Copyright© 2026 by Obscene Vices
Chapter 10: Last Man Standing
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 10: Last Man Standing - In the Davidsons' perfect suburban life, Jenny and her sister Mandy have been secret lovers since teens, sharing boyfriends and now their husbands. One night, with the kids supposedly out, the adults start an orgy in the living room. John and Emma return early from a busted party, witness the incestuous scene, and sneak upstairs. Shocked but aroused, they confess desires and have sex, fantasizing about joining the family depravity. No one is safe from the family taboo.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Sharing Slut Wife Wife Watching Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Father Daughter Cousins Uncle Niece Aunt Nephew InLaws Gang Bang Group Sex Orgy Swinging Anal Sex Analingus Double Penetration First Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Voyeurism
The drive home was quiet for the first three minutes. Mandy had both hands on the wheel, eyes on the road, jaw set. Abby sat in the passenger seat with her knees drawn up, still wearing the white sundress, her thong balled up in her purse because she hadn’t bothered putting it back on. She smelled like sex. They both did. The car smelled like Jenny’s bedroom.
Abby broke first.
“So that happened.”
Mandy exhaled a laugh. “That happened.”
“You fucked John.”
“I did.”
“And Aunt Jenny ate his cum out of your pussy.”
“She certainly did.”
“And then you ate me while Aunt Jenny watched and jerked John off.”
“Abby, I was there. I remember.”
Abby grinned. She couldn’t help it. The giddiness was bubbling up through the shock and the tenderness and the faint soreness between her legs. She looked at her mother. At this woman she’d known her entire life who was suddenly, impossibly, also her lover.
“Mom.”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Does Dad know anything?”
Mandy’s grip tightened on the wheel. “Not yet.”
“But he will tonight.”
It wasn’t a question. Mandy glanced at her daughter. Abby’s expression had shifted. The giddiness was still there, but underneath it was something harder. Determination. The same look Emma got when she was scheming.
“Yes,” Mandy said quietly. “Tonight.”
“How much are you going to tell him?”
“Everything.”
“Everything everything? Including you and me? Including John? Including all of it?”
“There’s no point in half-truths anymore, Abby. Your father has been fucking his wife’s sister for fifteen years. He’s not fragile. He can handle the truth. The question is what he does with it.”
Abby was quiet for a moment, staring out the passenger window. The neighborhood slid past. Trimmed lawns. Sprinklers clicking. Normal houses full of normal families doing normal Sunday things. None of them had just fucked their cousin and their mother and their aunt in the same bed on a Sunday afternoon.
“I want him, Mom,” Abby said. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just a fact, stated plainly, the way you’d say the sky is blue.
Mandy didn’t flinch. She’d been waiting for this. “Tell me about that. When did it start?”
Abby thought about it. Really thought, not just grabbing the first answer. “It wasn’t there before. Not really. I mean, I always knew Dad was good-looking. My friends have said stuff since middle school. ‘Your dad’s hot, Abby.’ I just rolled my eyes. He was my dad. It didn’t compute.”
“And then?”
“And then Emma told me about her and Mark. About what they’d been doing. How it started, how it felt, what it was like to be with her own father. And something just ... shifted. Like she’d said something I couldn’t un-hear. I went home that night and Dad was in the kitchen making pasta, and he had his sleeves rolled up, and he was humming that stupid song he always hums, and I looked at him and for the first time in my life I didn’t just see my dad. I saw a man. And I thought, oh. Oh no. And then I thought, oh yes.”
Mandy was quiet, letting her talk.
“It got worse after that. Or better. Depending on how you look at it. I started noticing things I’d never noticed. His hands. The way he smells after a shower. His shoulders. The way his voice sounds early in the morning when it’s still rough. I’d catch myself staring and have to look away. And I kept thinking about what Emma said, about how natural it felt with Mark, how it didn’t ruin anything, how it just added this whole other dimension to their relationship. And I wanted that. I wanted what she had.”
“You never said anything.”
“What was I going to say, Mom? ‘Hey, so I think I want to fuck Dad, any thoughts?’ This isn’t exactly a conversation you rehearse.” Abby turned to look at her mother. “But today changed everything. Being with you, being with John and Aunt Jenny. Seeing how it works when people stop pretending they don’t want what they want. I’m done pretending, Mom.”
Mandy pulled into their driveway and turned off the engine. She sat there for a moment, hands on the wheel, staring at the garage door.
“Your father is going to need help getting there,” she said carefully. “He’s not like Mark. Mark is impulsive. Your father thinks everything through twelve times before he acts. He’ll resist on principle even if his body is screaming yes.”
“So how do we get him there?”
Mandy was quiet for a beat. Then she said, “Your father has a thing about incest, Abby. He always has. When we’re in bed, when the filter comes off and he says what’s really in his head, he’s talked about his sister. About wishing he’d done something with her when they were younger. He gets incredibly turned on watching me and Jenny together. Not just because it’s two women. Because it’s sisters. The taboo of it is what gets him. He’s told me fantasies about joining us, about all three of us together, about what it would be like if the family boundary didn’t exist.”
Abby blinked. “Aunt Karen?”
“Yes, Karen over in Portland. They’re not close anymore, but when they were teenagers...” Mandy shrugged. “Nothing happened. But he’s always wondered what if. And I’ve never judged him for it because I was doing the actual thing with Jenny while he was only fantasizing.”
“So he’s already wired for this. He just hasn’t applied it to us yet.”
“Exactly. The distance between ‘I wish I’d fucked my sister’ and ‘my daughter wants me’ is shorter than he thinks. We just have to help him see that.”
Abby nodded slowly, processing. Then she leaned across the center console and kissed her mother.
Mandy kissed her back. Soft at first, then deeper, her hand coming up to Abby’s jaw, tilting her head. Their tongues touched, and Abby made a small sound against her mother’s mouth. The kiss lasted ten seconds, fifteen, before Mandy pulled back with a steadying breath.
“We’ve got this, Mom,” Abby said.
“We’ve got this,” Mandy agreed. “But first, we need to shower. Both of us. We walk in there smelling like Jenny’s bedroom and this conversation is over before it starts.”
“Good call.”
They got out of the car and went inside.
Bob was on the couch when they passed through the living room. Showered, in sweatpants and a T-shirt, beer in hand, golf highlights on the TV. Normal Sunday Bob. He looked up and smiled.
“Hey! There are my girls. How was your afternoon?”
“Good,” Mandy said brightly, not breaking stride. “Jenny’s. It was nice. We’re going to hop in the shower real quick. I feel gross.”
“Same,” Abby added, following her mother toward the stairs. “Long day.”
Bob nodded, already turning back to the TV. “Mark beat me by three strokes. The man is insufferable when he wins. He did this little dance on the eighteenth green that I will never forgive him for. He bought drinks, though, so I suppose I have to let it go.”
“Tragic,” Mandy called over her shoulder, already halfway up the stairs.
They went to the master bathroom. Mandy turned on the shower, hot, letting the steam build while they undressed. Abby pulled off the sundress and dropped it on the tile. Mandy unclipped her bra, stepped out of her skirt, and they stood naked together in the steam-filled bathroom.
“Come here,” Mandy said, stepping into the shower. Abby followed.
The hot water hit them both, and Abby groaned with relief. She could feel the afternoon washing off her. John’s dried cum on her inner thighs. Jenny’s saliva. Her mother’s. Her own sweat. The water ran clear after a minute, and she tilted her face up to the spray and let it pour over her.
Mandy squeezed shampoo into her palm and worked it into Abby’s hair. Her fingers massaged Abby’s scalp in slow circles, and Abby closed her eyes and leaned back into her mother’s hands.
“That feels amazing, Mom.”
“I used to wash your hair when you were little. You’d sit in the tub with your rubber ducks and I’d lather you up and you’d sing. Completely off-key. Every time.”
“I still can’t sing.”
“I know, baby. It’s one of your many charms.”
They laughed. Mandy rinsed the shampoo from Abby’s hair, her fingers combing through the wet strands, and then she took the soap and began washing her daughter’s body. Slow. Thorough. Not sexual exactly, but not clinical either. Her hands moved over Abby’s shoulders, her arms, her breasts, her stomach, her hips. She knelt and washed Abby’s legs, her feet, then stood and ran soapy hands between Abby’s thighs, gently cleaning her.
Abby’s breath caught, but she didn’t push for more. This wasn’t about sex. This was about care. About a mother preparing her daughter for something important.
“My turn,” Abby said, and she washed her mother with the same tenderness. Learning Mandy’s body with soapy hands, the body that had made her. The fullness of her breasts. The soft curve of her stomach. The strength in her thighs. When Abby’s fingers slipped between Mandy’s legs to wash her, Mandy inhaled sharply but smiled.
“Behave,” Mandy murmured.
“Trying,” Abby murmured back.
They rinsed together under the spray, face to face, water streaming over their skin. Mandy cupped Abby’s face and kissed her. Brief. Tender. A fortifying kiss. A going-into-battle kiss.
“Here’s how we do this,” Mandy said, turning off the water. She handed Abby a towel. “I’ll sit him down. I’ll tell him about the Davidsons first. Then about me and John. Then about you and me. I’ll lay the groundwork. And when it’s time, when he’s processed the big picture, that’s when you come in. You tell him what you want. Not what he wants. Not what you think he needs to hear. What you want. Because your father can smell bullshit from a mile away, and if he thinks for one second that you’re doing this for anyone other than yourself, he’ll shut the whole thing down.”
“Got it. Be honest. Be direct.”
“Be you, Abby. That’s all you have to be. He loves you more than anything in this world. Remind him that this doesn’t change that. It just adds to it.”
Abby wrapped the towel around herself and looked at her mother in the foggy mirror. “What if he says no?”
“Then he says no, and we respect it, and we never bring it up again.” Mandy met her eyes in the mirror. “But he won’t say no.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know your father. And I know what he’s capable of wanting when he stops being afraid of it.”
Bob was still on the couch when Mandy came downstairs. She’d put on shorts and a tank top. Casual. Nothing that signaled intent. She sat beside him and kissed his cheek, and he gave her that easy, comfortable smile that twenty years of marriage had worn smooth.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Much.” She picked up the remote and turned off the TV.
Bob’s eyebrows went up. “I was watching that.”
“No, you weren’t. You were half-asleep pretending to watch it. Bobby, I need to talk to you about something.”
Something in her tone made him set down the beer. He shifted on the couch to face her, his knee touching hers, giving her his full attention. Bob was a good listener. It was one of the first things she’d loved about him. He didn’t fidget or interrupt or start formulating his response before you’d finished your sentence. He just listened.
“Okay,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“I need you to hear me all the way through before you react. All the way through, Bobby. Can you do that for me?”
His expression sobered. “You’re making me nervous, Mand.”
“Nobody’s sick, nobody’s dying, nobody’s in legal trouble. It’s not that kind of conversation. But it’s a big one, and I need you to let me get through it.”
“Okay. I’m listening.”
Mandy took a breath and began.
She started with the Davidsons, because that’s where it had started. She told him how Emma and John had come home early and walked in on the four adults. She described what the kids had seen, not sparing the details, because there was no point in euphemism now.
Bob’s face tightened. “Christ. How did we not hear them?”
“Because we were loud and distracted and careless, and it happened. But here’s the thing, Bobby, and this is the part I need you to hold onto. They weren’t traumatized. They weren’t disgusted. Emma and John went upstairs that night, and they slept together. Brother and sister.”
Bob stared at her. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. She held up a hand.
“You promised.”
He closed his mouth. His jaw was working, but he stayed quiet.
She told him about the days that followed. Emma seducing Mark. The struggle Mark went through, the guilt, the eventual surrender. How John and Emma seduced Jenny and how Jenny let her son fuck her. And how she wanted it again and again. How the whole Davidson family had spent Saturday in a continuous cycle of incestuous sex, and how they weren’t broken or damaged or falling apart. They were closer. Happier. More honest with each other than they’d ever been.
“I had brunch with Jenny this morning,” Mandy continued. “She told me everything. And when I say everything, I mean she sat across from me at that stupid overpriced restaurant and told me her son had fucked her and her daughter had fucked her husband and all four of them had been together, and she was smiling the whole time, Bobby. Not a guilty smile. Not a crazy smile. A happy one. The happiest I’ve seen my sister in years.”
Bob was quiet. His hand had found the beer again, gripping it but not drinking from it. His forearms were tense, the veins standing out the way they did when he was processing something difficult.
“After brunch, I went back to Jenny’s house,” Mandy said. “And what I’m about to tell you is going to be hard to hear, but I’m not going to lie to you. Not tonight. Not anymore.”
“Just say it, Mand.”
“Jenny and I were together. The way we’ve been together for years. And then John came into the room, and I didn’t stop him. I didn’t want to stop him.” She held Bob’s gaze. “I fucked him, Bobby. Jenny’s son. Our nephew. He’s twenty years old and he fucked me, and Jenny was there the whole time, and I came harder than I have in a very long time.”
Bob set the beer down. Hard enough that it sloshed onto the coffee table. He didn’t notice.
“You fucked John.” His voice was flat. Controlled. The way it got when he was keeping something contained.
“Yes.”
“Today. A few hours ago.”
“Yes.”
“In Jenny’s bed. While Jenny watched.”
“While Jenny participated. She didn’t just watch, Bobby. She was with us. Her mouth, her hands, everything. When John finished inside me, Jenny went down on me and licked his cum out of me and kissed me with it and we shared it.” She didn’t flinch. “You said just say it. I’m saying it.”
A muscle in Bob’s jaw jumped. He stared at the wall behind the TV for a long moment, his breathing slow and deliberate. Mandy waited. She knew him. She knew the processing took time, and she knew that interrupting it would only slow it down.
“How was it?” he asked finally.
“Are you sure you want me to answer that?”
“I’m asking, Mandy. You said no more lies. So tell me. Was it good?”
“It was incredible. He’s young and eager and big and he paid attention to what I needed. Jenny guided him. She showed him where to touch me, how to read my body. He’s not Mark. And he’s not you, Bobby. Nobody is you. But he was very, very good.”
Bob processed this. She could see it behind his eyes, the competing impulses. Jealousy warring with something else, something that wasn’t quite arousal but lived in the same neighborhood. She knew that look. She’d seen it when she told him about things she and Jenny had done together. The way his jaw tightened even as his breathing quickened.
“What else?” he said. “There’s more. I can see it on your face.”
“There’s more.” Mandy paused. “Abby.”
The shift in his body was immediate. Not dramatic. Just a subtle tightening, a gathering of attention, like a dog hearing a strange sound in the distance.
“What about Abby?”
“Abby has been involved. With John and Emma. Before today. The three of them have been together.”
“Together as in...”
“As in sexually. Yes.”
Bob stood up. Not fast. Not angry. A slow, measured unfolding from the couch, the way a man stands when he needs to be on his feet to think. He walked to the window and put his hands on his hips and stared at the backyard. The pool. Abby’s inflatable raft in the shallow end. The towels on the fence.
“Our eighteen-year-old daughter has been having sex with her cousin and his sister,” he said to the window.
“She’s an adult, Bobby. She chose it. Nobody pressured her, nobody manipulated her. Emma told her about what was happening with the Davidsons, and Abby wanted to be part of it.”
“And you know this how?”
“Because she told me. And because there’s one more thing, and this is the last thing, and it’s the one that’s going to be the hardest.”
Bob turned from the window. He looked at her with an expression that was braced for impact.
“Today at Jenny’s,” Mandy said steadily. “After I was with John. Abby and I were together. Abby and me. Mother and daughter.”
The silence was enormous. It filled the room like something physical, pressing against the walls, pressing against Bob’s chest. He stood at the window and looked at his wife and said nothing for a very long time.
Mandy let the silence be. She didn’t fill it with reassurances or justifications. She’d said what needed to be said. Now it was his turn.
“You and Abby,” he said finally. Each word placed carefully, like he was testing the weight of them.
“Yes.”
“You had sex with our daughter.”
“Yes, Bobby. I did. And it was beautiful, and she wanted it, and I wanted it, and neither of us regrets it.”
Bob closed his eyes. His hands dropped from his hips. He stood there, a man in sweatpants at his own living room window, trying to integrate a new reality into the framework of his life.
“Where is she?” he asked.
“Upstairs. She wanted to give us time to talk first.”
“She knows you’re telling me all this.”
“She helped me plan how to tell you. She wants to be here for the next part of the conversation, but only if you’re ready.”
“The next part,” Bob repeated. “There’s a next part.”
“There’s a next part.” Mandy stood from the couch and crossed to him. She put her hand on his chest, over his heart, and felt it hammering. “Bobby, look at me.”
He opened his eyes.
“I know you,” she said softly. “I’ve known you for over twenty-five years. I know what you whisper to me when we’re in bed and the lights are off and you think the darkness makes it safe to say things you’d never say in daylight. You’ve told me about Karen. About the fantasies you’ve had about your sister since you were sixteen. About how much you wanted to touch her, to taste her, to know what it would be like to be with someone who shared your blood. You’ve told me how much it turns you on watching me and Jenny together. Not just because it’s two women. Because it’s sisters. Because the incest is the point, Bobby. The taboo is what makes it electric for you. I’ve always known that. And I’ve never judged you for it. Not once.”
Bob’s throat moved. He swallowed hard.
“What I’m telling you right now is that the thing you’ve fantasized about, the thing you thought was just a private corner of your imagination that would never touch the real world, it’s real. It’s here. It’s happening all around us. Jenny and John. Mark and Emma. Me and Abby. And Abby wants it to happen with you.”
“Mandy...” His voice was rough.
“She wants you, Bob. Not because she’s been manipulated or groomed or pressured by Emma or anyone else. Because she discovered something about herself, something she didn’t know was there until recently, and now she knows, and she’s brave enough to say it out loud. She wants to be with her father. And I want that for her. And I want that for you.”
Bob’s hand came up and covered Mandy’s on his chest. He held it there. His eyes were bright, but he held steady.
“I’ve never looked at her that way, Mand. I need you to know that. She’s my daughter. She’s my little girl. I’ve never...”
“I know, Bobby. I know you haven’t. That’s not what this is about. This isn’t about something you’ve been hiding. This is about something new. A door that’s opening right now, tonight, and I’m asking you if you want to walk through it. With me. With Abby. With all of us.”
He was quiet for a long time. His thumb stroked the back of Mandy’s hand.
“I’m afraid,” he said quietly. “Not of wanting it. I think, God help me, I think I might already want it. Just hearing you say it, just the idea of it, I can feel something responding that I didn’t know was there. And that’s what scares me. How fast it went from unthinkable to ... not unthinkable.”
“That’s exactly what Mark said. Almost word for word. And what Jenny said. And what I felt this afternoon when Abby kissed me for the first time.”
“It wasn’t there before,” Bob said, working it out as he spoke. “The feeling. It wasn’t there. But now that you’ve said it, it’s like you’ve pointed at something that was in the room the whole time and I just never looked at it. And now I can’t stop looking at it.”
“That’s how it works, Bobby. That’s how it worked for all of us.” She rose on her toes and kissed him. Soft. Warm. A wife kissing her husband. “Do you want to see her?”
He took a breath that shuddered slightly on the exhale. “Yeah. Yes. I want to see her.”
Mandy went to the bottom of the stairs. “Abby? Come down, baby. He’s ready.”
Abby came down the stairs in a tank top and sleep shorts, her hair still damp from the shower. Barefoot. No makeup. She looked young and clean and nervous, though she was trying not to show it. Her eyes went straight to her father.
Bob was standing by the window where Mandy had left him. He watched his daughter cross the living room toward him, and something fundamental rearranged itself in his chest. He’d seen Abby a million times. Coming down those stairs, walking through that room, standing in that light. But he’d never seen her like this. Like she was offering herself. Like she was asking him to really look at her for the first time.
And for the first time, he let himself.
She was Mandy at eighteen. The resemblance had always been there, and he’d always been aware of it in a background, abstract way. But now, with the permission Mandy had just given him, with the door she’d just opened, the resemblance hit him like a physical force. The same dark hair. The same blue eyes. The same slim build, the same small breasts, the same way she tilted her head when she was uncertain about something. His wife, twenty years ago, standing in front of him. And also his daughter. Both at once. The combination was dizzying.
Abby stopped in front of him. Close, but not touching. She looked up at him and waited.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, princess.”
“Mom told you everything?”
“She told me everything.”
“And you’re still standing here. That’s a good sign.”
He almost smiled. “I’m still standing here. Barely. My legs aren’t working great at the moment.”
“Mine either.” She took a breath. “Can I tell you something? And you just listen, the way you always do?”
“I’m listening, Abby. I’m always listening.”
“When Emma first told me about her and Mark, about what they’d done together, I didn’t think about you and me. Not right away. The first thing I felt was shock, and then curiosity, and then this weird sort of envy that I couldn’t explain. Not envy of the sex. Envy of the closeness. The way Emma talked about her dad after it happened, like she’d discovered this whole other dimension of him that she never knew existed. Like they had this secret world that nobody else could touch. And I wanted that. I wanted to know my father that way. To be that close to someone I already loved more than anyone.”
She paused. Bob was watching her with an intensity she’d never seen from him before. Full attention. Every word registering.
“And then I went home that night, and you were in the kitchen making pasta, and your sleeves were rolled up, and you were humming that stupid song you always hum, and I looked at you and it was like seeing you through a different lens. Not just my dad. A man. A good man with strong hands and kind eyes and this body that I suddenly wanted to understand differently. And I stood there in the doorway watching you stir tomato sauce, and I thought, oh. This is what Emma was talking about.”
“Abby...”
“I’m not done, Dad. Let me finish.” She reached out and took his hands. Both of them. Held them the way she used to when she was little, wrapping her small fingers around his big ones. “It got stronger after that. Every day, a little stronger. And then today happened. Mom and me. John and Aunt Jenny. And it was real, Dad. It was the most real thing I’ve ever felt. And I realized that the only person missing was you. The only person I still hadn’t let myself be completely honest with. And I don’t want to go to bed tonight still pretending.”
She squeezed his hands and looked him straight in the eyes.
“I want you, Dad. Not because Emma talked me into it. Not because Mom is pushing me. Because I want to know you the way I know myself now. Because you’re the person I love most in this world and I want to love you in every way there is. And if you don’t want that, if this is too much, I’ll understand. I’ll never bring it up again. But if there’s any part of you, even a small part, that wants what I want, then please, please, don’t be afraid of it.”
The room was still. The air conditioning hummed. The pool filter cycled outside. Bob held his daughter’s hands and looked at her face, and the war inside him was visible. Not a violent war. A quiet one. The last skirmish of a battle that had already been decided.
“I didn’t know it was there until tonight,” he said slowly. “What your mother said, what you’re saying, it’s like you’ve shone a light on something I didn’t know was in the room. But now I can see it. And you’re right. It’s there. I don’t know when it got there or how, but it’s there.”
“Is that a yes, Dad?”
“It’s a ... God, Abby. It’s a yes that terrifies me.”
“Good. If it didn’t terrify you, I’d be worried.” She stepped closer. Close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. “Can I kiss you, Daddy?”
He didn’t answer with words. He cupped her face with both hands, the way Mandy did, the same gesture, and he lowered his mouth to his daughter’s.
The kiss was soft. Careful. A man stepping onto ice he wasn’t sure would hold his weight. His lips trembled against hers. Abby held still, letting him set the pace, letting him find his way. Then she opened her mouth slightly, the tip of her tongue touching his lower lip, and the sound Bob made was quiet and broken and full of release. He pulled her closer and kissed her for real. His tongue finding hers. His hands sliding from her face into her damp hair. His daughter pressed against his chest, kissing him back with a tenderness that made his knees weak.
Mandy watched from across the room, her hand over her heart, her throat tight. Not sad. Not afraid. Full. So full of love for both of them that she thought her chest might crack open from the pressure.
The kiss went on. Neither of them wanted to end it. When they finally pulled apart, Bob’s forehead rested against Abby’s, both of them breathing hard, their hands on each other’s faces.
“I love you, Daddy,” Abby whispered.
“I love you too, princess. More than I know how to say.”
“Then don’t say it. Show me.”
Mandy crossed the room and put her hands on both their shoulders. They looked at her, and she looked at them, and the three of them stood there for a moment, a family on the edge of something irreversible.
“Let’s go to bed,” Mandy said. “All three of us.”
The bed was made with Bob’s military corners, crisp and perfect. Mandy closed the door behind them, and the click of the latch sounded louder than it should have.
Abby turned to her father. She held his eyes while she reached for the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head. No bra. Then she hooked her thumbs into her sleep shorts and pushed them down. No underwear. She stepped out of them and stood naked in front of her father, her damp hair falling over her shoulders, her body still warm and flushed from the shower.
She let him look.