Daddy Fucked My Ass At The Vintage Market

The night market was magic. String lights crisscrossing overhead, antique stalls overflowing with vinyl records and vintage jewelry. My father Arthur walked beside me, his hand brushing mine as we browsed. He bought me a silver cameo brooch. He fastened it to my dress. His fingers lingered on my collarbone. The swing band struck up a song, and he pulled me onto the dance floor. A perfect vintage evening that became our own piece of history.