I was becoming more certain of it. Erica's remembrance, and mine, of that party long ago seemed to indicate that her one night stand with an instructo... was, in fact, me. I was Emma's father. Perhaps.The Italian restaurant we went to was a favorite of Emma's. We had been there two times before. She enjoyed it, so we were spending her birthday there. She was wearing a rather low cut dress. It was tighter than I thought it needed to be. I even imagined she was wearing the bustier I had purchased. I desperately tried not to laugh at her play-acting, and I wondered if her comment ‘use my body any way’ was a subtle suggestion for me to finger her arse again. I noticed on the side table there was a bowl of water, some liquid soap and a small washcloth, so I would be able to clean my fingers properly after probing her ‘back door’, to avoid a possible UTI. So Alexa was hoping for that again today. I wondered if she had been trying to stretch her arsehole with some butt plugs, I would have to. More

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