Krysta 844-332-2639 Ext. 410
Around the Holidays, my family gets together to watch old home movies. My Dad loves photos and videos. Almost every memory I have of him includes his phone in his hand, pointed at my sisters and me. We didn’t think it was unusual because it’s just how things were. He would say some people miss important moments in their lives because they don’t know what’s important until it’s over. Dad claimed he didn’t want to miss a thing.
This year, my mom was away to take care of my grandma, and my sisters were busy with their lives, so it was just Dad and I parked on the couch, ready to watch some of the home movies he’d taken. The first one he played was of little Krysta decorating the Christmas tree.
Decorating The Christmas Tree
A smile spread over my face looking at how cute I was—still the same chubby cheeks but a much flatter chest. I was wearing a little cartoon nightie, but it looked a few sizes too small for my bigger than most my age body. My hair was a wreck, but it added to my charm as I squealed over the box of ornaments waiting to adorn the tree.
The room in the film was dim, only lit by the twinkle of the lights on the tree and the camera’s light. From behind the lens, Dad asked me, “What else do you have in there, Krysta?”
My sigh was curious, and then I bent over to dig into the box of decorations. I was shocked at what I saw. I wasn’t wearing anything under my nightie, and as I floundered in the box, it was very obvious. I gasped and looked over at my Dad, who was smiling.
“So precious, right?”
But it wasn’t. It was inappropriate. And so was the hard-on in his pants.
Krysta 844-332-2639 Ext. 410