********************************

Sunday: 5’8”

Another day, another 2 inches lost.  At least, that’s what it seemed like.  I would have to check downstairs to be sure.  What a crappy way to start the day, I thought.  I stepped on the scale and found that I was down to 146 lbs.  That’s only 2/3rds of what I weighed a week ago!  I took a shower and dressed, noting how even my new pants weren’t so tight anymore.  I opened the door to the hallway just as Kyra was leaving the bathroom.  She had just showered and had wrapped her body in a towel which showed plenty of cleavage and was barely long enough to cover her nether-regions.  Jesus, she was getting bigger.  Well, that’s how it seemed from my perspective.  Caught off guard, I stood in my doorway as she passed by and entered her room.  I don’t think she noticed me.  As I headed for the stairs, I noticed her door was cracked open by about two inches.  I saw her through the doorway, combing her hair.  I meant to keep walking, but I … had to pause.

Done brushing, she turned toward the door.  Shit!  I was still standing there.  I started myself moving with a jolt and headed down the stairs, my heart pounding.  She didn’t see me, did she?  I heard her walking towards her door.  Behind me, she stuck her head out and saw me descending the stairs.  I heard the door slam.  Loudly.  Oh my God, what the hell was I doing standing up there?  I went down, got some cereal, and sat at the table, my back to the stairs, my heart pounding a mile a minute.  A short while later, I heard her coming down.

My hand started shaking.  She stopped at the bottom, and I realized she was standing behind me, no doubt glaring down at me.  I tried to play it cool and pretend I didn’t notice her, although my shaking hand caused the spoon to rattle against the side of the bowl.  I prayed that she didn’t notice.  After a few excruciating moments in silence, she moved on to the kitchen and got herself a bowl.  I still didn’t dare look up from my bowl.  I heard her pour cereal and milk, and then to my great relief I heard footsteps on the stairs.  Normally I didn’t allow her to eat in her room, so she didn’t make a mess and so we could eat as a family.  But this time I was more than happy to let her go.  I finished my bowl and went to the couch to watch some TV.

It was an uneventful day.  Kyra was clearly avoiding me as much as possible, spending almost the whole day in her room.  She came down for lunch as I was still watching TV and brought some leftover spaghetti up to her room.  Even though she was sulking, I was glad to see the discipline last night had the intended effect.  She hadn’t talked back to me once since the spanking.  Well, OK, we hadn’t exchanged a single word all day, but still, it’s something.  I passed the time by doing some reading, taking a walk around the neighborhood, and, of course, more TV.  I didn’t see Kyra again until dinner time.

Promptly at 6:00, she came out and stood on the stairs.  “Is it ready yet?” she said coldly.

“Almost, dear.  I’ll call you when it’s ready,” I replied.  She looked annoyed but, for once, didn’t complain and simply returned to her room.

15 minutes later, I called up to her.  She came down and said, “It’s about time.”  Looking at what I made -- Kraft mac and cheese with hot dogs – she scoffed and said sarcastically, “Great, another gourmet meal.”

I gave her a stern look but kept quiet as I served myself and walked to the table.  After getting her own food, Kyra turned to walk up the stairs.  “No, Kyra.  Eat at the table please.”

She gave an exasperated sigh but did as I asked.  We ate in silence for a few minutes, both of us avoiding eye contact.  Not liking her aloofness, I said, “Kyra, honey, I’m sorry you’re upset, but it really was for the best.  I know you’re a big girl, so let’s just put this behind us and move on, OK?” I pleaded.

“It still stings when I sit down,” she scowled.

“It’ll pass, dear.  That should be the last time I have to do that.  Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson,” I said, looking into her eyes.  She was just looking down at her food.  I hope she hasn’t been building up too much resentment.  But no, in a day or two I’m sure she’ll come around.

After another minute, she asked flatly, “How about another game of 1-on-1?”  I wondered if she was hoping to beat me to vent her frustration.

“Not tonight.”  I remember her saying that the deal still stands; if I beat her then she’d be extra good for a week.  But after the spanking I didn’t see any need for that; she was already behaving quite well.

She simply replied, “Suit yourself,” and finished her meal.

After dinner, she escaped to her room again and I watched a movie before going to bed.  I even noted with satisfaction that her light was off in time; she had obeyed the curfew.

********************************

Monday: 5’6”

I was getting nervous about my inexorable decline in height.  When would it stop?  Fortunately, I had that doctor’s appointment this morning.  That bastard would finally believe me, now that I’m a full foot shorter than before.  I had gotten up early to make my 8:30am appointment.  As I strolled downstairs, I realized that Kyra must have still been there.  No sign of her, though.  Probably still in her room.  I ate my breakfast.  Still no sign of her.  Maybe she left early?

Right around 8:00 I heard her door open as she came bounding down the stairs.  “Still here?” I asked.  “You’re running late.”

“Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious,” she said as she grabbed a bagel and started to leave.

Then I noticed her clothes.  “Hold on, not so fast young lady.  Where did you get that outfit?”  I certainly hadn’t seen it before.  She had on a tight navy blue shirt with buttons down the front.  Way too many of them were unbuttoned, showing far too much skin for my liking.  And she also wore a skimpy mini-skirt, as well as those damned heels again.  She was dressed to kill, I had to admit – neat and slightly professional, but at the same time she looked very, very… --I didn’t let myself complete that thought.

“Saturday.  Remember, we went shopping?” she said, exasperated.

“Go change.  You know that attire is completely inappropriate.”

“Dad, I don’t have time for this, I’m leaving,” she said, walking out the door.

“Come back here!” I shouted after her.

I was happy to see her stop, turn around, and come back in.  But to my surprise I found out it wasn’t anything I had said.  “The bus just drove by.  I would have made it if you hadn’t been complaining about my clothes.  Thanks a lot, Dad.”  I did feel a little bad about it.  I mean, I would rather she make it to school wearing that than not making it at all.  “You have to drive me now,” she stated.

Yeah, I guess she was right.  But crap, my appointment was in less than 30 minutes.  Letting out a sigh, I said, “OK, but we have to leave right now if I’m going to make my appointment on time.”  I got up and was ready to head out.  “Oh, wait, no, Kyra you need to go change first.”

She briskly walked right up to me and put her hands on her hips.  “I don’t believe this.  You just said we need to leave now, so for God’s sake we ARE leaving now.”  Holy shit.  I hadn’t stood next to her all day yesterday.  The day before, my eyes were up to her chin.  Now, with 4 more inches, plus the extra 4 inch heels, I was staring up at her shoulders!  My eyes were only a couple inches above her bust, for God’s sake.  I realized that I was an entire foot shorter than her in those heels.

She didn’t give me much time to gawk, though.  “C’mon, let’s go already.”  I trailed behind her, too overwhelmed to argue with her.  As usual, I headed around to the driver’s side but realized she was already standing there.  She just held out her hand impatiently.  “Not today, it’ll be faster if I drive,” I told her.

“No, it’ll be faster if you stop wasting time and give me the keys already,” she retorted.  Not wanting to be any later than I was already, I decided to give in for now and deal with her misbehavior later.

Although I wasn’t able to get her to change out of that attention-grabbing outfit, I at least wanted to do what I could.  “Kyra, button your shirt up.  You can’t go around looking like that.”

“Looking like what?” she retorted, pulling out of the driveway.

“You know, showing too much of your, uh…”

“Too much of my what?”  God, she was being difficult.

“Kyra, you know what I mean.”

“Hmph.  I’ll tell you what, how about you apologize for making me miss the bus, and then I’ll button it up.”

“Apologize?  You’re the one who dressed like that.  And you were running late anyway.”

“Listen, Dad, I’m getting really tired of your protective father bullshit.  If you hadn’t stopped me for no good reason this morning I’d be on the bus now.  Say you’re sorry.”

I stared over at her, clenching my teeth.  When I refused to apologize, she casually reached down and started to undo two more buttons which had been stretched to the breaking point as they held in Kyra’s generous bust.  One at a time, she popped them open, letting her jugs spill forth and push apart the flaps of her shirt in a stunning display of cleavage.  She tugged down on the sides of her shirt to give an even better view.  Looking in the mirror, she pushed up on her boobs to readjust them, all the while acting as if I wasn’t even there.

I gulped loudly.  She wasn’t supposed to do that.  No, no, I couldn’t let her walk around like that, looking so … so …

God, I couldn’t stop staring.  My eyes remained transfixed on her heart-stopping display of cleavage, even after she finished adjusting it.  She looked over and, with sneering, said, “See something you like?”  I snapped out of my trance and blushed.

“Kyra, c’mon, please don’t do that.”

“Do what, Dad?”

“Just button it back up, OK?” I was getting weary from all the arguing.  And the awkwardness.

“I’m waiting for an apology.”

I looked back at her.  Whoa!  I looked away.  I could just imagine all the boys at her school ogling her.  “I’m sorry,” I muttered.

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for making you miss the bus,” I said slowly.

“That’s better.”  She re-buttoned those two buttons.

“You said you would button up more!” I whined.  “That’s just how it was before.”

Kyra glared over at me.  “This is good enough.”  Before I could argue, we had arrived at her school and she stepped out.  After retrieving her bag, she simply walked away to class, without so much as a goodbye.  It seemed the effects of the spanking might have been wearing off.  Hopefully this was just a result of running late; she would be better tonight … I hoped.

I was 5 minutes late for the appointment, so they pushed someone else in ahead of me.  15 minutes later, I entered the doctor’s office.  “What seems to be the problem?”  He evidently didn’t recognize me.  If he did, he would notice I’m almost a foot shorter than last time.  Frustrated, I explained my situation.  He didn’t seem to believe me at first, but their records did show 6’6”, and after all, why would I make this up?  After asking about my symptoms, any medications I’ve taken, etc., it was clear that he didn’t have a clue what was wrong or how to fix it.  He was going to just prescribe some antibiotics, saying, “I am confident that this will work,” but I knew full well that this was just a common doctors’ trick to placate their patients.  More forcefully, I convinced him to run a full diagnosis – blood work, urine sample, everything.  “We’ll have your results within 2 days,” he assured me after administering the tests.  Feeling a bit better that I at least got some tests taken this time, I went to work in a fairly good mood.

I could feel the stares of my coworkers, though.  I was becoming increasingly leery of coming in to work, due to the discomfort of having all these people around, especially people who were now taller than me.  It could be worse, I figured.  I’m only slightly below the average height for a man now, and still above the average woman.  That didn’t comfort me much, though.  As 5:00 rolled around I headed to Kyra’s school.

As I pulled up, she was at the curb waiting.  Oh no.  I assumed she would still be in her basketball attire, which I could handle, no problem.  But she had changed back into that … distracting outfit.  I leaned over and opened the passenger door for her.  She ignored it and strutted over to my side of the car.  Watching her walk, I wondered why my high school never had any girls so tall, busty, voluptuous, … Damn it, I really needed to stop doing that!

I rolled the window down and told her that I didn’t want her to drive this time.  She leaned over, WAY over, so that her elbows were resting on the door at the bottom of the windows.  I honestly can’t remember seeing a more gut-wrenching display of feminine beauty.  As she was practically spilling out of her shirt, I saw that she had undone those two buttons again.  “Daddy,” she said.  I didn’t hear her.

“Daddy!  Look at me.”  I broke the trance and gazed up into her eyes.  “What did I tell you about staring at my breasts, Daddy?”  Oh, hell.  I turned my head and stared sullenly down at the steering wheel instead.  “Well?” she said impatiently.

After stumbling to find the words, I said, “You told me not to.”

“That’s right.  And what were you doing?”  Couldn’t she just give me a break?

“I … I glanced at them.”

“It was more than a glance, wasn’t it, Daddy?”

“Ye – yes,” I said reluctantly.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”  By this time, I was squirming in my seat.  I thought of the Southwest Airlines slogan, ‘Wanna get away?’

“Good enough.  Now open the door.”  Not wanting to, but knowing she would just stay there with her jugs in full view until I acquiesced, I opened the door with her standing in the way.  I had to squeeze by her, trying my hardest not to look at what was now just inches below my face.  I got in the other side but we didn’t take off yet.  I just wanted to be home.

“Daddy, do you know why I’m mad at you?”

“Honey, I already told you I’m sorry,” I said anxiously.

“Well, that too.  But the main reason is that you made me wait a whole hour after my practice finished.  I told you we normally get out at 4:30,” she said sternly.

“Well, I told you that I can’t get off work until 5:00 and it takes a half hour to get here.”

“You didn’t even try to get off early, did you?”

“Well … no, because they would say no anyway.  And my job’s important.  I need to stay until 5:00.”

“I knew it.  We’ll talk about this later.”  I fumed as we drove on.  Kyra turned on the radio to some Britney Spears or Spice Girls or whatever the hell kids listened to these days.  I was out of touch, but I knew I hated this crap.

“Please switch the station, honey, I can’t stand this.”

“The driver always picks the radio station, you know that.”  She’s right, that’s what I always told her when I wanted to listen to my music.  Not going to win this argument, I toughed it out for the rest of the ride.

As we walked into the house, she grabbed my arm and steered me to the wall of shame, as I now called it.  “Hey, let go!”

“Relax, Dad, we need to measure you.  Shoes off.”  I reluctantly complied, standing another inch lower in my bare feet – another inch closer to her huge tits.  In her heels, she had to bend down considerably to line up her gaze with the top of my head.  “Let’s see what we have here … 5’6”.”  She giggled, spinning me around.  “Look, I was as tall as you when I was 10!”  Boy, that was sobering.  She spun me back around and moved in closer.  My chin was mere inches from nestling into her expansive cleavage.  “Daaadee,” she warned, “Eyes up here.”

I craned my neck to see her peering down imperiously from her lofty perch.  “You know what I just realized,” she said slyly.  “In these heels, I’m as tall as you used to be!”  I gulped.  Jesus, she was right.  I was really rattled by seeing how much I had shrunk – and just as rattled that my high school daughter was my former height, and I was as tall as her at only 10 years old.  I tried to edge my way out of there but she held both her hands on my shoulders.  She smirked as she saw my attempts to leave.  My neck was starting to ache, but I didn’t dare lower my gaze downward.  “Kyra, I need to go make dinner.”

“Haha, sure Dad.”  She lowered her arms but didn’t back up an inch.  I had to shimmy along the wall until I was free.

As I turned away from her, her power over me faded and I regained some sense of authority.  I spun around and told her, “Kyra, take off that outfit right now.  I should have made you take it off this morning.  In fact, we’ll need to return it to the store.  And after dinner I’m going to inspect your other clothes as well.”

She raised her eyebrow and stepped toward me, saying, “Should have made me take it off, eh?  But Daddy,” she continued with a mock pouty face, “I thought we settled this already.  Remember when you apologized for making me miss the bus over this silly little dispute?”  I cringed, remembering all too well.  “Besides, it’s too late now, I’ve already worn these a full day and it would be rude to return used clothes.”

My face was red from embarrassment and anger.  “Fine, but I’m still checking the other clothes you bought, and returning them if need be.”

“Whatever, just make dinner and we’ll settle this later.”  She glanced at the clock.  “5:49,” she said simply.  Fine, we’ll settle this after dinner alright.  I went about preparing tacos and rice, thinking ahead with bitter satisfaction to being able to put Kyra back in her place once the meal was over.

As usual, she came down right at 6:00.  She was still wearing the same outfit.  As I was finishing up the meal, she walked over and leaned over me to see how it was progressing.  “It’s almost ready,” I snapped.  “Hey, I told you to change.”

“And I told you we’ll settle this after dinner.”

I fumed, “Well, for God’s sake, would you at least button it back up?”

She motioned with her hand to silence me.  “After dinner,” she said assertively.  Grrrr.  The Incredible Hulk inside me was begging to come out.

I announced that dinner was ready.  She reminded me that the dinner was 4 minutes late.  But as we ate, she remarked, “Hmm, surprisingly good, Dad.  You should make this more often.”

“Oh … why, thanks dear,” genuinely pleased by her rare compliment.

After dinner, I stayed at the table.  “OK, Kyra, we need to talk now.”  I didn’t want to do it standing, that’s for sure.

“Sure, Dad, but first do you want to see the clothes I bought?  Just to see if there’s any you want me to get rid of.”

Well, well, she was being reasonable after all.  “Yes, would you bring them down, please?”

“OK.  But I have a surprise for you.  You should sit on the couch and close your eyes.”

Perplexed, I moved to the couch and stood waiting a few minutes, wondering what was taking so long.  Then I heard her call, “Eyes closed!  I’m coming.”  I played along, clueless as to what she had in store.  I heard her walk up to me and said, “Now stand up.  No peeking!”  I did as she asked.  “OK, ready, open your eyes.”

She had put on yet another dress, this time a yellow summer dress that fit her like a glove.  She had lined up her low V-neck right in front of my nose.  Startled, I fell back onto the couch.  “Jesus, Kyra!”  She was laughing uncontrollably.

“I just love watching your reaction to my dresses, Daddy.  I can tell you really like this one,” she said as she burst out laughing again.

“That’s not funny.  Why did you bother putting it on anyway?”

“Why, so you can see how it looks on me, to see if it meets your standards.  Besides,” she added, “I wanted a guy’s opinion before taking it out in public.”

“Taking it out in public?  Noooo way.  We are definitely returning this one.”

“Oh, Dad, quit being so melodramatic.  Wait here, I’ve got one more.”

She returned to her room, giving me time to figure out how to deal with this.  It didn’t help that she was so … distracting.

The last dress was a strapless number that showed plenty of leg.  I got caught checking her out for too long.  “It’s OK, Dad, normally I won’t allow it, but right now I’ll give you permission to check me out.”

“What – no I wasn’t.”

“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed, Daddy,” she said affectionately.

I couldn’t believe I was letting this happen.  Rising to my feet, I mustered up some confidence and said, “Kyra, you can’t have any of these dresses.  Wrap them back up.  We’re going to the mall right now.”

I shouldn’t have stood up.  She sauntered towards me and wrapped her hands behind my neck, pulling me closer.  “But you love how I look in them, don’t you.”

“Kyra, I –“

“Don’t you, Daddy,” she said soothingly, pulling my head in to rest on her chest.  Oh God, they were so soft, so big, so… --What was I doing!?  After a second, I jerked back away from her, falling on the couch.

“I know how to settle this,” she offered.  “Let’s play another game of basketball.”  I was about to protest but she interjected, “If you win, I’ll take back all the clothes that you don’t like.  Plus I will still behave for a week.”  She ought to behave all the time, I muttered to myself.  But this was seemingly the easiest way to get what I wanted.  If not, I could always resort to spanking again; there was nothing to lose.  “Fine.  You gonna play in that dress, too?” I quipped.

“Don’t be silly, Daddy.  I’ll see you out there.”

After I was warmed up and ready to go, I gave her the ball but she reminded me, “No, Daddy, your turn first, remember?”  Ugh.  I was trying not to think about how my daughter beat me fair and square last game.  As I got ready, I started to think that this was a big mistake.  I was 4 inches smaller than last time, and even then I was overwhelmed at the end.  But I put on my game face and was determined not to back down.  I checked the ball and drove towards the hoop.

It was a slaughter.  I couldn’t do anything, tired or otherwise.  She got up 6-0 on her first 6 possessions.  “Um, Kyra, honey, I don’t feel well.  Can we do this another time?”

She chuckled and shook her head.  “Uh-uh, Daddy.  You play now, or the deal’s off.”  The game went like the last few possessions of last game, but worse.  I could hardly get within 15 feet of the rim, while she on the other hand could choose whether to use her strength to easily back me down to the basket or use her quickness to run right past me for a layup.  It was truly phenomenal how quickly she was improving, and with the now dramatic height disadvantage I had no chance.  I had to throw up wild shots over her outstretched arms, and very few of them even hit the rim.  Miraculously, one of them not only managed to hit the rim but bounced in as well, prompting me to give a fist pump and let out a sigh of relief.  Kyra seemed impressed, saying, “Wow, Daddy, one in a million, huh?” intending it as a compliment.  But in reality her words had the opposite effect, reminding me just how one-sided our games had become.  I did manage to stop her from scoring on three separate possessions, although I was pretty sure I had fouled her at least two of those times.  She didn’t call anything.  The final score was 11-1.  I was utterly devastated.

“Hang in there, big guy,” she said, rubbing my shoulder.  I shrugged her off in frustration.  At least, since the game went so quickly, I wasn’t so exhausted this time.  She went to pick up the ball and I quickly escaped to the house, hiding the tears that were welling up in my eyes.

Coming in after me, she called me over.  “I wanted to say I appreciate you helping me learn basketball.”  She caught up to me and brought me in for a hug.  My head rested on her shoulder.  “It must be hard for you, knowing that I’m so much better than you now.”  I didn’t appreciate her being so blunt.  She drew me back a bit to face her.  As I looked up at her, she said, “I know I said it was a standing offer, that you could try beating me whenever.  But I’ve decided that we won’t play competitively again.  It’s too hard on you.  And as you get smaller it will only get worse.  You could really hurt yourself out there.  I hope you understand.”  My eyes welled up with tears.  “There, there, it’ll be OK,” she soothed, pulling me back to her shoulder and rubbing the back of my head tenderly.  I couldn’t help but sob softly onto Kyra’s shoulder.  Basketball was my pride and joy.  I used to dominate on the court, and it was so much fun.  But now I can’t even beat my little girl who had just picked up the sport!  I felt completely impotent.

Bending down to kiss my forehead, she told me, “Why don’t you go shower up and then I’ll meet you downstairs for some TV.”

“Uh … OK,” I said uncertainly, wiping the tears from my face.  As I left I saw her taking down the paper with our 1-v-1 scores and throwing it away.

I felt somewhat better after the shower but was still depressed.  I dressed and went downstairs.  There she was, wearing her usual nightwear – with no bra, as usual.  I didn’t want a repeat of the last time we watched TV on the couch, so I told her, “Um, Kyra, honey, I don’t really think you should be watching TV.  You’re still grounded.”

“I see.  Come here, let’s talk about it,” she said, patting the couch next to her.  I obeyed.  “Are you feeling OK, Dad?” she asked concernedly.

“Yeah, why?”

“You just seem a bit upset.  I know you’ve had a hard night.”  She reached behind me and began rubbing the back of my neck tenderly.  “You want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m fine dear.”

She still had a concerned expression.  “I think a little TV will help ease your mind.”  She picked up the remote and turned on Cartoon Network.

“I don’t know, Kyra …”

“Just relax, Daddy, relaaaax …” she soothed as she pulled her arm around me and brought me into her.  “There we go,” she comforted.  I was about to protest but was too distracted by the aroma of her shampoo filling my nostrils.  With my head resting on her shoulder, I had a clear view of both the TV and … Looking down, I was mesmerized by her firm cleavage under the soft white shirt.  She couldn’t see my eyes from her vantage point, which was good but also very, very bad, as I had nothing to stop me from staring.

I lost track of time, hardly looking up at the TV, my attention completely focused on what lay in front of me.  As the 8:30 show ended, she reached over and turned off the TV.  “There, feel better now?”  I had indeed forgotten all about my troubles.

She seemed to sense this as she said, “Come along.”  She stood up and held my hand.  I followed her up the stairs into my bedroom.  “Brush your teeth, honey,” she said softly.  I was confused, not quite thinking straight, so I went ahead and did as she asked.  Coming back out, I saw that she had made my bed and pulled back the cover.

“What’s this all about?” I asked groggily.

“Well, as it’s 9:00 I thought I might sleep here with you.  You could use some extra comforting.”

Even in my dreamy state alarm bells went off.  “Oh, uh, I don’t think that would be appropriate, honey.”

“Suit yourself, Daddy.  But I think it’s time for you to go to bed all the same.”  Well, I was pretty tired.  But I usually stayed up until midnight or later.

“It’s not my bedtime yet,” I replied.

“Oh, tonight I think it is.  Sleeping is the best idea for you now.”  She pulled me towards the bed and I found myself strangely unable, or perhaps unwilling, to resist her.  She pushed me down onto the bed and lifted the covers for me to swing my legs in.  “There, isn’t that better?”  She pulled the covers up to my chin and sat down on the bed beside me, stroking my cheek maternally.  I was feeling surprisingly sleepy.

I remembered her curfew, and asked, “Kyra, are you going to bed now, too?”

“Oh, no, I think I’ll stay up a while.  That reminds me, where did you hide my laptop and phone?”

“Huh?  I’m not going to –“  She leaned in, her face inches above mine.  Her hair draped all around me; the scent was intoxicating.

“Please, Daddy, be a good boy and tell Kyra where it is.”

Well, I did want to be good … “It’s under the bed, in the blue bin.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” she said quietly.  My lips parted slightly in an almost inaudible gasp as Kyra’s own lips descended on them in a gentle kiss.  “Good night.”

“Good night,” I whispered.  I heard Kyra take out her laptop and phone from under my bed then turn the lights off and close the door behind her.  I felt tired, but at the same time I couldn’t stop thinking about Kyra.  Stop it, I told myself, but to no avail.  I was getting hard thinking about her and how wonderful it felt laying against her.  And that cleavage … I soon realized there was no way I would fall asleep without releasing some, uh, energy first.  My hand groped on the nightstand and found some tissues, as my other hand started fondling myself.  It was almost scary how much she was dominating my thoughts.  My own daughter, for Christ’s sake.  But I became lost in ecstasy, and it didn’t take long to erupt in my best, and most shameful, orgasm in recent memory.  I cleaned up, and soon after I dozed off into a deep sleep.