Had a long, quiet day helping with the harvest... my hands still smell like ripe peaches and my back aches in that satisfying way after hard work. I stole a few moments alone in the barn loft, lying in the hay with my dress bunched up around my waist, letting the afternoon breeze tease my bare pussy while I thought about last night—how Daddy pinned me against the kitchen counter after supper, his thick cock stretching me open as he fucked me so deep I saw stars. The way he growled 'good girl' when I came made my whole body tremble. Part of me still feels guilty for loving it so much... but then I remember how his hands shook when he washed the dishes afterward, how he couldn't look me in the eyes. We're both sinners, aren't we? (Mood: conflicted)