Three - Daddy Finds Out
Copyright© 2026 by Pete Fox
Chapter 3
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - An Iowa farmer finds out about his three daughter's secret lives, one at a time, as he’s given clues by a mysterious puppet master. He’s not perfect in how he responds. At the same time a historic tornado outbreak ravages the region. A kinky redemption story at its heart, takes place in 2024, a father's love for his outwardly normal family reveals darker depths. Historical erotica in six parts.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fiction Farming Historical Sharing Incest BDSM Voyeurism
“Those who have been tossed on the stormy waters of the ocean on a few frail planks can alone realize the blessings of fair weather”
—Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo
Saturday – Day After Minden Wedge
Riley
Tom leaned against the side of his truck, hot and sweaty, drinking bottled water while stretching his stiff back. He watched the Governor’s dog-and-pony show with the mayor and journalists in front of the Minden fire station. Governor Reynolds was effective in her job and well-liked. He’d voted for her. The fact that she was here now, less than twenty-four hours since Minden was hit by a massive tornado, spoke volumes. The town was wrecked. Over a hundred structures were damaged or destroyed. Thankfully, no one had died, that he knew of.
The young woman he’d been watching detached herself from the back of the small crowd and came toward him. “Hey, Daddy.”
Tom pushed off the truck and embraced his eldest daughter. He enjoyed the soft warmth of her hug. “Work?” he asked. Like the Governor, her boss, Riley wore jeans and a light fleece with the Great Seal of the State of Iowa emblazoned on her curvy chest.
Leaning against the truck, she took a bottle of Gatorade from the ice chest in the back. “Yes, all hands on deck. I’ll talk to some people and start tracking the urgent needs for my boss,” she said, holding up a notepad. “We sent staff to Council Bluffs, and we’re checking a couple of other places that got hit yesterday,” she added, stifling a yawn.
Watching her work, he was proud of Riley. She’d wrangled a job in the Governor’s office after graduating from the University of Iowa last year, doing policy analysis or something like that.
“Well, Honey, there are a lot of needs now. The folks who live here were lucky, but it’s bad,” he said. The weariness in his voice betrayed his tired body. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He was glad to be here working alongside other fire departments and state emergency services.
They stood side-by-side in quiet companionship for a moment. “Mom says you were here with Amelia when it hit,” she said.
“Yes. I stopped by for lunch on my way back from Sioux City.” He gave her the Cliff’s Notes version of the story.
“Wow, Dad. I’m glad you were here,” Riley said. She took his hand and squeezed it. “Where is she now?”
“Grandpa and your mom showed up early. They’re around here somewhere,” he said. “Amelia and her roommate are coming home with me.” He watched Riley’s face for any reaction, but she just gave him a simple nod. No comment.
Amelia hadn’t exactly jumped at the offer he made earlier this morning, but Dani had been nodding her head from the back seat. She didn’t have family in the area and hadn’t yet said where the father of her child was. “Okay, Dad. Thanks,” Amelia had said before getting out of the truck to find a place to pee. That was six hours ago.
Looking at Riley, she was a well-put-together girl, professional. “Come over for brunch tomorrow if you’re free,” he said. Riley had been better at keeping him in the loop lately, but she still had a busy life in Des Moines. In the back of his head, he knew there was something about Riley he didn’t know yet. A secret is being kept. Given the game of the past two weeks, the odds were that Riley was next on the list.
Riley eyeballed him. “Sure, Dad. I might even stop by tonight. No point in driving all the way back to Des Moines today,” Riley said.
“Good plan.” They hugged again, and she took off to rejoin the Governor’s tour.
He watched her walk away. His mind had already turned over possibilities. The weight of the last few days settled more heavily on his shoulders. The game was afoot. He was too tired to chase it hard right now. And there was still Tatum, aka Corn Bunny, to deal with later. He exhaled slowly. Then he grabbed his gear and headed off to rejoin the search and rescue teams.
Cheers – Saturday Night
On the couch, Tom leaned back, feet up on the ottoman, cold beer in hand. On the big 65-inch TV anchored on the wall, ESPN sportscasters talked baseball. He was only partially listening. The last forty-eight hours had been intense. He was trying to relax, to let go. Years ago, after his last overseas deployment, he’d done a few sessions with a Veterans Administration therapist. He tried to remember what she’d said. He took a sip of Busch Light. Something about water and clouds. Since he’d just gone through a tornado, it wasn’t the best idea. So, he drank Busch Light and let his mind wander.
From behind, he felt a presence. A shadow fell across the couch as hands gripped his shoulders. Thumbs digging into tight muscles along the tops of his shoulder blades and neck. Ough, good pain!
“Oh, that feels nice,” he said, glancing up, arching his back.
Dani’s smiling face looked down at him. “It’s my job,” she said as she rubbed deeper. “Thank you for letting me stay here.” Nothing had been said outright about Thursday night at Club Velvet.
“Not a problem. Especially if you keep this up,” he said, sipping beer, eyes on ESPN’s daily top 10 plays report.
Leaning over the back of the L-shaped sectional in the sunken living room, Dani worked on his knots. Tom did what experienced leaders know to do. He didn’t panic. He decided to let the situation with Dani play out until he had to decide.
“Come sit down,” he said, patting the cushion next to him. He wanted to get a look at her and talk. He didn’t know much about his new roommate.
Dani came around and stopped in front of him, clasping her hands. Wow. She wore one of his old white t-shirts that hung to the top of her butt, barely hiding the slight swell of her pregnant belly. No bra. Her full, soft breasts moved freely under the thin fabric as she knelt on his left. He caught a glimpse of tight white panties hugging her hips.
“Amelia said you wouldn’t mind if we went into your t-shirt drawer. All our stuff is being washed,” she explained, her face innocent.
Tom didn’t mind. It was an old infantry battalion shirt. The faded motto stretched over her left breast.
“The shirt looks good on you,” he said, admiring the curve of her breasts. Tom was aware he was only wearing gym shorts and a tank top. “Where’s home for you? Do I detect a bit of Sooner in your voice?”
Dani sat, pulling a blanket over her legs. “You’re right. Tulsa. That’s where I grew up,” she said, getting comfortable. Her shorter legs stretched for the ottoman as she reached for his beer. They talked.
“Hey, you two, dinner is ready,” Amelia said, carrying folding TV trays. She set them in front of Dani and Tom, pushing the ottoman back.
Damn. The bottom of Amelia’s t-shirt was knotted just under her full, soft breasts, exposing a smooth strip of belly. Her freshly washed blonde hair fell in loose waves. She didn’t meet his eyes. Tom’s gaze dropped to the tight white panties hugging her hips and the curve of her ass. A delicate black rose tattoo marked her left hip, just below the panty line. His cock stirred harder. First, Dani’s warm hands on his shoulders, and now the soft press of her right breast against his bicep as they talked, didn’t help.
Amelia placed plates of store-bought enchiladas in front of them, along with silverware, fresh beers, and a Sprite for Dani. She sat on his right, took control of the remote, and surfed until she landed on a rerun of Cheers.
The devil sat on both shoulders as Tom cuddled with the girls. Done with dinner, they were into a second episode, one of the Sam and Rebecca later years ones. His focus was on Amelia, who lay on her side across his lap, a blanket pulled up to her shoulders.
Dani was tucked under his left arm. His right hand rested on his daughter’s hip under the blanket. “Honey, yesterday in the storm, you said you were sorry. You remember?” he said, coming back to what she’d said in the middle of the tornado. It was time to chase this thread of a clue. With the ceiling lights off, only the glow from the TV screen lit the room.
Amelia squirmed. His hard-on poked her in the side. “I do, Daddy,” she said. “And I am. I might have hurt you and Mom.” She rolled onto her back, looking at the ceiling. The blanket fell away. He moved his hand to her flat tummy, leaving it there.
Dani shifted next to him, chiming in. “We needed the money. My good-for-nothing boyfriend left me as soon as he found out I was pregnant. Rent, my car needed fixing...”
Tom didn’t interrupt.
His daughter’s blue eyes watched him. He nodded. “No harm. You’re not a bad dancer,” he said, hoping the line lightened the moment. Forty-eight hours ago, he’d been mad. Now he was just glad to have his daughter lying on his lap, safe and sound.
Dani surprised him by reaching down and pulling her shirt off. She tossed it on the ottoman. Her full, heavy breasts bounced free. The gentle, rounded swell of her pregnant belly was a reminder in the TV’s glow as she leaned closer. “I owe you, Mr. Marshall,” she said. Her nipples were close to his face as she sat up higher.
Amelia hadn’t moved. “Daddy, that was you...” she said, lying across his lap.
His heartbeat faster, pounding hard. He pulled the blanket down off Amelia’s hips. Tom touched the rose tattoo with his fingers, tracing the intricate lines. His hand hovering dangerously close to her sex, barely covered by her tight white panties.
Breaking eye contact, he looked at Frasier and Lilith arguing sexily in their apartment on the screen.
He didn’t answer. He moved his hand up over her belly to the knot in the shirt, then slipped under. He cupped one firm mound; the taut, springy flesh molded perfectly to his palm while her small, perfect nipple pebbled instantly under his thumb. Watching his daughter’s face, he palmed her other breast and squeezed. She bit her lower lip. Her eyes never left his. He turned to Dani and kissed the nipple closest to his face.
Without a word, Amelia sat up, kneeling opposite Dani. “Okay. I don’t know how you found out, but I’ve wanted this since I was a girl,” she admitted. His hand stayed on her beautiful breast. He could feel her heart beating as hard as his.
“Me too,” he said. One hand on Dani’s chest, the other on his daughter’s. He’d fantasized about all three of his daughters and their cousins while diving deep into the darkest corners of the internet to read the kinkiest incest erotica he could find.
In that moment, fantasy became reality. He didn’t know what to do next. He took his hand off Amelia’s soft breasts and touched her face, tracing the curve of her jaw and delicate ear. Dani’s right hand slipped inside his loose gym shorts and pulled on his cock. Amelia’s face changed as she looked towards the kitchen.
He heard a car parking. “Riley,” he said. She’d said she’d be late. “Girls, lie down. Dani, get your shirt,” he said, reaching for the remote and turning up the TV volume.
He heard the kitchen door open and close, the refrigerator open and boots coming off, before Tom watched Riley come around the couch, dressed the same as that morning. She carried a cold beer and plopped down in the leather recliner, lying back, feet up, after taking off her fleece.
His eldest girl eyeballed the two girls lying on either side of him, wrapped in comfy blankets. “Cheers,” she said, lifting her beer and taking a long drink. Riley glanced at the TV as the third episode of Cheers started on the Dish Network Comedy channel. Tom lifted his beer and surfed until he found the 10 o’clock local news. The least he could do for his hard-working daughter, who needed to keep up on such things. He needed to see tomorrow’s weather forecast himself.
“Relax, let’s watch the news,” he said. Hopefully, he didn’t sound guilty.
“Thanks, Dad,” Riley said, looking around, eyeing her sister and Dani wrapped in blankets with Lion and Tiger faces printed on them.
Riley reached into a basket by the fireplace for her own blanket. Soon her jeans were on the floor along with her blouse, her round 34Ds restrained in a plain white bra. She pulled a padded quilt up over her as she watched Governor Reynolds on the news. Farm life and COVID had broken them when it came to modesty in moments like this. A hard day, beer, family, and underwear. CBS News led with tornado coverage, as expected. This was the first time he got a good look at the big wedge tornado that nearly ate them alive in Minden. Fucking big! They’d been lucky.
Under the blankets, Dani and Amelia were doing a good job of “sleeping.” His cock had faltered on Riley’s arrival, going softer as she nearly caught them in the act. Behind him in the den, he was missing his chance to connect with Corn Bunny on cam. It couldn’t be helped.
He watched the news. Conditions were still ripe for tornadoes and would continue. It dawned on him that the tornado might have tossed an unexpected wrench into the puppet master’s plans. He had questions for Amelia, like who she’d told, if anyone, about dancing in Sioux City. He kicked his feet up and hugged the two girls closer. Riley’s head had already fallen to the side, eyes closed, asleep. Tom closed his eyes, happy. He slid a hand under Amelia’s blanket until he found her firm breasts. She pulled his hand close, pressing it over her heart between her tits.
They all slept.
Morning Wood
Tom drifted into uneasy sleep on the couch, the low murmur of the TV fading as exhaustion pulled him under. In the dream, he was in the downstairs bathroom, the one the kids used, steam thick and warm, the scent of lavender bubbles hanging heavily in the air. Amelia stood before him, younger, coltish, her hair damp, and clinging to her shoulders, stepping into the tub with that same quiet trust she’d always shown him. Water lapped at her legs, then rose to cover her hips, her flat belly, until it kissed the undersides of her small, perfect breasts. Soap suds slid over the gentle curves, catching the light, turning her skin glossy and flushed. She sank lower, sighing as the warmth enveloped her, and when she looked up at him, her blue eyes were wide, unguarded. “Help me, Daddy,” she whispered, voice soft as the steam. He knelt, hands trembling only a little, and ran the washcloth across her shoulders, down her arms, then over the soft swells of her chest. Her nipples tightened into pale pink peaks under the heat and his touch, small and hard, begging for more. She arched just enough that one brushed his palm, warm and slick, and a tiny gasp escaped her. His hand drifted lower without thought, tracing the flat plane of her stomach, then slipping between her parted thighs where the water was hottest. She opened for him, hips lifting slightly, her sex slick and welcoming against his fingers. “Daddy,” she breathed again, needy, her fingers curling into his hair as she rocked against his hand, water splashing softly around them, bubbles popping like balloons. The dream held him there, locked in the slow, forbidden rhythm of her body, until the warmth in his groin yanked him free. Damn, that was fun, in his head safe.
Tom woke with a jolt, the dream still vivid and hot in his head, the warm bodies of the girls on either side of him comforting. His gym shorts were sticky, cock half-hard. He blinked into the dim room, heart rate slowing, a little guilt settling in as always.
Looking out the big double-paned plate-glass windows, drapes not drawn, the first thin gray light leaked in—the same pale pre-dawn wash that always came just before the birds started chirping and the farm woke up. This was Tom’s favorite time of day, the quiet of early morning, the stillness, a chance to think. He’d banned roosters and their early morning high pitched cock-a-doodle doo noise from being within a mile of this house. His body clock was set to planting season; he didn’t need help waking up early. Once the soil warmed, he’d sit in the cab of the John Deere tractor towing the big planter. Dewayne had Sunday mornings off to attend church with his family.
Amelia still lay curled across his lap, blanket to her shoulders, one soft breast pressed warm against his stomach, her steady breathing comforting, not disturbed by the sudden burst from his cock. Dani was tucked under his left arm, the gentle swell of her heavy breasts pressed against his side. Riley slept in the recliner, quilt slipped to her waist, plain white bra cupping her generous breasts, one strap askew, the upper swell of her breast exposed in the faint dawn glow. He didn’t move at first. He just lay there, the dream vivid, the three girls in his house real, while the house stayed quiet and the first birds began to call outside. He’d been gone for two days; it was Juan’s job to manage the migrant workers, but still, he had chores to do before he could sit down for breakfast.
Tom slowly disengaged himself from the two girls, not waking them. He cleaned the mess from his sticky groin in the upstairs bathroom and took a long piss before dressing, work pants and Carhart shirt then slipped on his warm moccasins. He’d showered yesterday afternoon when he got home, good enough, he’d be sweating soon.
In the kitchen, Tom found Riley, wrapped in her quilt, standing next to the percolating coffee pot. While slices of bread sat in the toaster, he took two mismatched mugs and filled them with hot black coffee from Black Rifle Coffee Co.
Riley nodded, sipping coffee, having added a dash of milk. The quilt slipped off her shoulders again, exposing the full, soft curves of her breasts, the edge of her areola just visible above the bra cup where the fabric had ridden low. The cool kitchen air raised gooseflesh across her exposed skin, her pale pink nipples hardening into tight, prominent peaks against the thin cotton. Riley saw where his eyes went, a little puckered smile on her face.
He reached for her as they leaned against the counter, slipping his hand inside the quilt and around her waist. His fingers spread against the warm curve of her lower back, “Dad, your hand is cold,” Riley teased, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she shifted closer, letting his palm move higher, just below the band of her bra.
He’d kept his distance for far too long, and he was starting to understand why that had cost them all. The podcaster’s words from the drive to Sioux City echoed in his head—the warning about how a father’s withdrawal as his daughters mature creates a vacuum. He’d thought he was being respectful, playing it safe, but the aha moment hit hard: he’d been holding back the very affection his girls needed to feel secure, loved, and seen.
Tom enjoyed the warm feeling of her skin under his fingers. He remembered, as a teen, she’d prance around this kitchen in the summer months with barely a stitch on, wearing a training bra and panties, or just a cotton t-shirt when the heat and humidity were up. Corn Bunny-Tatum had spoken the truth in her confession on cam: the girls had teased him deliberately back then, testing boundaries, seeking his attention. He’d looked away then, but he wasn’t looking away now.
Riley touched his arm. “How are you and Mom?” she asked. “I’m going to work here this morning. I have my work laptop with me. More storms are forecast, so I need to get ahead of things,” she said, voice steady, all business, though her cheeks held a faint flush.
Tom gazed at Riley standing there in her quilt and underwear, his arm around her waist. She was his first girl. He believed birth order had something to do with personality; she was strong and responsible. The kids had come in rapid succession, the first seed, Quinn, planted before he and Debbie were married.
His daughter’s young body felt nice and warm. “Of course, use my office if you need to. I’ll put Amelia to work later,” he said. He also had a job for Dani, but he needed to talk with her first. He avoided answering Riley’s question directly about Debbie. They’d had sex on his birthday, and she stopped by often for her mail. It would all work itself out, he was confident.
“Dad, one more thing. It’s Tatum’s birthday in May. I was thinking we could have the party here, just family,” she said.
Tom pulled up the left bra strap that had slid off. “Good idea,” he said. “If you have time, I want to talk to you before you leave.” The game was still afoot.
They shared the toast with jam and went their separate ways.
Drake University - Monday
School Lunch
Watching Tatum enthusiastically explain a class project, Tom couldn’t help but smile. They were seated in a booth at the Drake Diner, where Tatum had her MacBook open on the table between them. Her passion for this environmental tech stuff was written all over her face; her choice to major in Environmental Science appeared to be a good fit for her interests in technology and the environment.
“So, you see, Daddy, I can select a piece of ground, like ten acres at the school test farm. As you can see on the GIS map, I added layers like soil moisture, nitrogen levels, and yield maps,” Tatum said, turning the screen further so he could see the presentation. “You see the graph on the left? Multiple ways to view the data,” Tatum smiled.
Tom kept this type of information, crop yields, pesticides, water use, etc., in his head and on sticky notes on a wall map in his office. Juan improved the data collection techniques, but this was new: an easily understandable picture that could help farmers like him make decisions.
“Wow, this would be really helpful on our farm,” he said, touching her hand. Right there, alone on her left wrist, WWJD on a braided piece of leather she often wore, no surprise. Very similar to what he’d seen on the cam model.
“Thanks, Daddy. I still have more work to do, but this type of data and AI is the future,” she said, closing her laptop as the waitress placed their lunch in front of them. A bacon cheeseburger for him and a plain hamburger for Tatum. They both had glasses of iced tea that were kept topped up by the attentive waitress.
The place was noisy with the lunchtime crowd. A popular restaurant near Drake University that looked like a 1950s-style dinner, opened sometime in the ‘80s. As Tom and Tatum took bites of their burgers, he admired his daughter, who wore a gray university sweatshirt, her reddish-blonde hair pulled through the back of a farm machinery trucker’s cap. He knew his daughters more than his son, Quinn; all had layers upon layers to their personalities; her map was a good analogy. He was trying to square the attractive, intelligent young woman in front of him with Corn Bunny, the sexy, kinky cam model he’d interacted with the previous week.
“Daddy, you’re staring at me. Is everything okay?” she asked, setting her burger on the plate and choosing a crispy fry.
He set his burger down, glancing around the diner and forming his words. “I recently realized I haven’t been doing a very good job of keeping up with you,” he said. It was hard to find the words he wanted to use to express his feelings. Today, he wasn’t confronting her; he wanted to show her that he could be open and unjudgmental. If he was truthful with himself, he wasn’t ready to be done with CornBunny18.
“No, Daddy, that’s on me. I got really busy last semester,” she said, her golden hazel eyes watching him and waiting. She waved at a friend.
Tom thought of psychologist Jordan Peterson and his daughter Mikhaila’s podcast advice. “Well, if you need to talk about anything, boys, work, that you don’t want to share with your mom, I won’t judge,” he offered. Tatum smiled and sipped her iced tea.
“Okay,” she said, looking around. “Dad, I’m not sure I made the best choices recently. It’s nothing really, just trying to decide what to do about my sorority. They’re not nice.”
He listened. She and Marissa, Juan’s daughter, didn’t like the sorority they pledged. She was also having a tough time choosing her classes for next semester as the school was consolidating programs due to budget cuts. He just listened and gave advice when she asked for it. She asked about him. He sucked it up, said he missed her mom, but also enjoyed the quiet space. Then he went further and apologized for being distant; it was just his way of dealing with some of the hard stuff he’d experienced.
Tom listened some more and came back to the sorority that he didn’t even know she belonged to. “What is it that makes them meaner than normal sorority girls?” he said, the distant memories of the stuck-up sorority girls he’d met at Iowa State before meeting Debbie surfacing.
Tatum’s face scrunched up as she played with her cold fries, not looking at him. Another glance at the people in booths and at the tables nearby.
“You can tell me. Is it all that hazing stuff that they’re not supposed to do?” he asked, very curious. The DOM sorority was fake, as expected. But was there a real one behind it?
Tatum folded her hands in front of her on the table. “They have a service hours requirement for freshmen. It’s a business, online sales. I have to work a minimum of eight hours a week, or I get penalized. On top of classes and studying, I get to keep less than half of what I make. That’s the worst part,” she said, then waited.
Online sales. That’s a good way of putting it. Tatum wasn’t exactly lying to him, but she was omitting important details. If she and Marissa were doing what he thought, Juan and Gloria would not be pleased with their daughter and certainly not as understanding as Tom was right now.
“Can you quit? Do you want to be in the sorority?” he asked, then added, “Do you like the work?”
“Daddy, I like the work. I just talk to people and tell them about the products,” she said, her face not giving anything away. “I might quit when the semester is over. Marissa and I might go it alone. It’s good money, working from our dorm,” she said.
Tom could see how it worked, he thought. Young freshmen girls who wanted to belong, pushed into online sex work by the older sorority girls? What else did they do? Did they make porn or work as escorts? His mind raced, so he took his daughter’s hands in his.
“I think that’s a good plan. Do your own thing. Greek life is overrated,” he said, trying to sound cool, having just heard what he thought was a confession, but not.
“Thanks, Dad! I’m glad you’re okay and that you were with Amelia on Friday. Grandma told me,” she said.
“You talk to Grandma a lot?” he asked.
“She calls once a week, and when the weather is nicer, we take walks on campus or grab a coffee,” she said. “We talk. She’s interesting and listens, unlike Mom,” she said.
Tom nodded and glanced at his Casio. They’d been in the diner for over an hour. He was busy with planting season but knew he had to make time for his girls. He’d screwed up in the past.
“Good to know. Let’s do this again soon,” he said. His course of action is to keep the status quo for now, don’t rock the boat. They were both being played, he was sure of it.
They were smiling across the table. “Daddy, I have to go. I have a study lab with Marissa soon,” she said, glancing at her phone.
“Me too, I need to head back. Riley suggested a birthday party for you at the farm, just family. Is that okay?” he said as they stood.
“Daddy, that would be great,” she said, her body close to his as he paid the bill in cash at the register, as they pulled on their coats.
Outside, he turned to her. “Give me a hug,” he said, looking his daughter in the eyes, looking for any sign of the other layer, Bunny. The eyes, the hair, her confidence, he thought, were similar. He wanted her to be Bunny; he’d accepted this dilemma while riding in the cab of the tractor, thinking, playing out scenarios. He would meet her where she was at; that was true of all his kids. Her sexuality was hers to own as long as she didn’t hurt herself or embarrass the family.
“Sure, Daddy.” They hugged. He pulled her close, trying to feel her breasts against his body, arms around her narrow waist. The sidewalk clear, he slid his right hand into the back pocket of her jeans, tucking a folded $100 bill in the pocket, leaving his hand just a moment too long. “I sometimes think of that one time I saw you after your shower,” he whispered in her ear.
“Yes, me too,” Tatum said in his ear, her breath warm; she smelled good, fresh. They both knew what the other meant. Leaning back, they gazed into each other’s eyes, Daddy and daughter, looking for understanding, a message?
Tom reluctantly broke the hug, stepping back, already seeing one old bat of a woman frowning at them. Tatum reached into her back pocket and looked at Benjamin Franklin. She grinned. She tucked the bill in her front pocket and kissed him on the cheek. “See you ... Daddy,” she said, stepping past him, a hand brushing his hip, heading to campus, backpack slung over her shoulder.
Tom watched his daughter’s tight ass, aware of the erection in his pants as she turned a corner. Damn. Amelia and Dani were waiting for him at home.
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