Still, it was hard for James to watch. Instead he turned and saw his youngest leaning back against the taut canvas of the tent. Her eyes shut. Molly's blonde curls rolled over her tan shoulders. Her legs were pulled up tight to her chest, and her cute little p***y, exposed in this position, had settled into a deep pinkish. She was barely moving. Chest rising and falling in sleep. She'd seemed so agitated before. Of course, they both had been.
James had wanted it, too. To fill his progeny with... well, more progeny, he supposed. In the moment it was almost like there was a voice shouting his head -- a fist grabbing him by the balls -- demanding that he inseminate his daughter. But he'd thought of Christine, of what she'd asked, and he knew his marriage was worth more than that. Some ration
