Daddy Fucked My Ass At The Wine Cellar

The underground wine cellar was a cathedral of oak and darkness, rows of bottles stretching into shadow. My father Arthur was a connoisseur, and he brought me to his private tasting room. Candlelight flickered across the stone walls. We tasted Bordeaux and Barolo, his fingers brushing mine over each glass. The wine went to my head. But so did he.