It’s the perfect opportunity. My wife’s out shopping and my daughter’s out playing tennis. The house is empty and I’m alone. I go to my daughter’s bedroom. My heart’s pounding with a mixture of guilt, anticipation and lust.

The walls are girly pink, the fluffy toy she’s cuddled since she was two is still there on her pillow. The picture of her in that so short tennis skirt when she won the college tennis tournament last year is on her dresser. My eyes linger on her long tanned legs and her firm young breasts bulging under her thin white top. Even then at twenty, a year ago, she was a...