Chapter 6
In his office two days later, Tim Daltrey was busily at work, assisted by his secretary. He would dictate a letter, write a check to accompany it, and give it to Sally, enclosing a hand-written note saying: "Balance at the end of the month. Tim Daltrey." With each one, he felt as though a great weight were being lifted off his shoulders. At last, thanks to Rose Molina's generous loan, he felt sure his business would stay afloat. With the five thousand she'd already given him, he could begin to pay off his creditors and even order some of the new equipment he'd been putting off, but desperately needed.
"That's the last of them, Mr. Daltrey," Sally informed him, gathering up her steno pad and the pile of accompanying checks and correspondence.
"Sally, those words are music to my ears," the good-looking blond businessman replied jauntily. "For a while there I didn't think we were going to make it."
His secretary, a pert little redhead, smiled back at him. "Well, it's sure nice to see you smiling again," she said brightly. "I guess your friend's loan came just in time, didn't it?"
"It certainly did. And Sally, I want you to know I appreciate your sticking it out the way you have. You didn't get much of a Christmas bonus this year. . . what would you think about an extra week's paid vacation to make up for it?"
The girl's face creased into a delighted smile. "Oh Mr. Daltrey, that would be wonderful. I've been wanting to go to New York, but it just seemed too expensive. Now I can do it! But you don't have to do it, you know," she continued. "I stayed because I like it here. I hope you know that."
"Thanks for saying so, Sally. But any boss who wants to keep his employees knows a little extra green power now and then doesn't hurt. So take the extra week and enjoy it, okay?"
"I sure will," Sally replied, on her way to the door. "And thanks again."
Tim smiled expansively and watched the bright-eyed, efficient girl go out the door, noticing the way her short dress flared out around her shapely legs and clung to the well-developed mounds of her breasts. He'd never really noticed his secretary's appearance before, but lately, in fact since his galvanic standup fuck with Rose Molina in this very office two days before, he'd been a lot more alert to female charms. Indeed, he had realized with a shock just how tightly under wraps he'd been keeping his normal male responses over the past several years. He'd been so absorbed with business and with being a model husband, father, and pillar of the community, that it hadn't even occurred to him to notice that gradually something had begun to be missing in his life.
But Rose had changed all that. For the first time in years, he felt like a fully potent, alive male again, ready to tackle the world, and it wasn't just because he had, with a stroke of her pen, set the business back on its feet again. No, there was something else responsible for his new feelings of zest for life. The fact of the matter was that he hadn't had such a good fuck since...since the last time he'd fucked Rose, sixteen years ago. He'd tolerated Myrna's lame excuses, assuming she just wasn't "that kind" of girl. And when the pressure got too great, he'd taken his "baser urges", as his wife called them, to a whore. But now, for the first time in years, he strongly desired a woman, and the amazing thing, the thing that made him suddenly feel twenty years younger, was that she apparently returned his feelings full measure!
He was still musing contentedly on this new, happy state of affairs when the intercom buzzed and Sally informed him that Miss Molina was on the line.
"Put her on," he replied, switching to the outside line.
"Hello, cara," the soft feminine voice on the other end of the wire crooned. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, Rose, just fine," he answered heartily, enjoying the little quivers of lust that her sultry tones produced in his muscular body. "And you?"
"Oh, since Monday, I feel very relaxed. All I want to do is lie in bed and think about tall handsome blond men with big stiff cocks. You think something's wrong with me?"
"Why no, Miss Molina," Tim jested, assuming a professorial tone. "That sort of activity can be very healthy, provided..."
"Yes?"
"Provided you eventually find a tall handsome blond man to join you in the bed."
Rose laughed intimately. "That's what I'm calling you about."
"I'm delighted. When can I...uh...be of service?"
"Well, how about tonight? My accountant called and said the money has been transferred from Phoenix, so I thought you might like to come out for dinner, and a long, cozy evening."
"Sounds wonderful. What time?"
"Right after work?"
"Okay. I may have to run home first to check on Beth, so why don't we say six-thirty, seven at the latest."
"Wonderful. I have to go now, cara. I'll see you tonight."
He hung up the phone, lit a cigarette, leaned back in his chair, and basked in a state of pleasant euphoria for a few seconds. Then he buzzed Sally on the intercom and asked her to remind him to ring Beth at four. He was sure there wouldn't be any problem, as he sometimes had to leave her to have dinner on her own when he had a meeting in the evening. But for the past few days, he'd noticed that his normally cheerful, well-behaved daughter had seemed troubled about something, although when he asked her what was bothering her she insisted there was nothing wrong. Well, kids went through things like that, he reflected. Probably she had a crush on some pop singer and was mooning over that. Still, he did want to check in on her himself, and tell her he wouldn't be home for dinner.
"Who knows?" he mused aloud before getting back to business, "Maybe next time I see Rose for dinner, Beth can come along. I think it might be a good idea for them to meet each other."
Realizing that his mind was leaping much too far ahead, he put all thoughts of the two women in his life resolutely aside, and began perusing the pages of an office equipment catalog.
At about six-thirty that evening, Beth was seated on the living room couch watching the evening television news and munching desultorily on a cheeseburger, washed down with swallows of milk. Although her father told her, when he called that afternoon, that she should treat herself to dinner at the local MacDonald's, the deeply troubled teenager just hadn't felt up to going out. In fact, for the past two days she had wanted only to stay inside, and not have to face anyone at all. She had used a headache as an excuse to stay home from school the previous day, and she had also called in sick both days at her library job. She just couldn't face the possibility of Jose reappearing, and she didn't know what she would do if he sought her out again after she went back to work. Maybe now she should quit her job and look for another, one where he wouldn't be so likely to find her again.
Of course, there was every possibility that he would never try to contact her again. From what that woman said...Beth shuddered at the memory of the dark-haired woman who had degraded her so shamefully...he was in the habit of picking up girls and bringing them to his room. Numbly, the blue-eyed teenager confronted the possibility that she had been, not the fulfillment of a cherished romantic dream, as he had initially implied, but just another cheap tramp, a source of kicks.
Wearily, the brutally awakened adolescent carried her plate with the half-finished sandwich back into the kitchen, and began clearing up the cooking utensils. The familiar household tasks, which she normally performed cheerfully, even with a certain amount of pride, held no joy for her tonight. Ever since her mind-shattering encounter with Jose on Tuesday afternoon, she had felt strangely at odds in the house, as though whatever change had taken place in her had separated her irrevocably from her old life, her familiar self.
Well, he had told her that by putting on the mask, people became very different, able to do things they would never even consider under normal circumstances. But was that the person that she was, underneath the socially acquired surface of neat, well-behaved schoolgirl? A...a lust-crazed female animal who could go to the bedroom of a boy she had only known for little more than an hour and, kneeling naked on the floor in front of him, suck on his penis like it was a lollipop, until he spurted his torrential semen deep into her mouth? And then, afterwards, submit to the perverted desires of a woman she had never before seen in her life, a woman who insulted and humiliated her verbally and then, in the worst degradation of all, licked and sucked on her naked vaginal flesh until she actually enjoyed it so much that she had her first real orgasm?
Waves of shame coursed through Beth's young body, and suddenly she burst into tears and buried her head in her hands. "Oh no," she sobbed, her whole body wracked with torment, "No! Oh, how did I let this happen to me? How?" Feeling overwhelmed with shame, she left what remained of the dishes and went back into the living room, turning off the television set and sitting down again on the couch. She had enough of her own horrors to deal with, without absorbing the news of the world.
"If only there were somebody I could talk to," she whispered to herself through her tears, "someone I could tell all this to, and they'd understand."
But there was no one, she knew. None of her girlfriends had ever experienced anything like her encounter with Jose, she was sure. And her father, to whom she had always run with the slightest thing that troubled her, was out of the question. She could never reveal to him how shamefully she'd violated his trust. He was so proud of her, and always delighted in telling friends and relatives of her accomplishments. How could she shatter his belief by telling him about Jose? How could she even bring herself to use the words that would be necessary?
For a moment she wished her mother were still alive. Perhaps if she hadn't died, she would have been a confidante, someone Beth could tell her troubles to. But a moment's reflection convinced her that her fair, elegant mother, whose only mention of anything remotely connected to sex that Beth could remember was to tell her that she had found her "under a water lily", would have been the most horrified of all. If she weren't already dead, the story of her daughter's lewd activities on the third floor of the Rancho would have killed her.
No, this was something she was going to have to deal with on her own. Somewhere she would have to find the courage to live with the most horrible fact of all, that she had enjoyed every single minute of what had happened, from the minute she went into Jose's room! That she had even been hoping something like that would happen, and that that was why she'd gone there in the first place! True, his employer's appearance on the scene had been unexpected, but if she was honest with herself, she had to admit that even that had given her a dark, forbidden kind of pleasure. In a way, it was the best part of all, for through the angry brunette's lascivious tongue-fucking, she had at last found some measure of relief from the sensual torment that had set her young body on fire!
Maybe she was, just as that woman said, a whore. Certainly she had acted like one with Jose. And even though the past few days had been the most traumatic of her young life and should, she thought, have left her with a determination never to make the same mistakes again, she was horrified to know that she still trembled with passion whenever a scene or a feeling from their lewd meeting returned to her mind. If she were confronted with Jose again, she knew, despite the shame and degradation he had inflicted on her, she would still feel the same way!
Her mind was churning with these troubling thoughts when the phone rang. For a moment she was tempted not to answer it. It was probably just Kathy calling to ask her about the homework assignment. Then she realized that it might be her father, and she got up from the couch and went to the extension in the hail.
"Hello?" she asked, trying to make her voice sound even and undisturbed.
"Beth? It's me, Jose."
Tim's daughter felt her body tremble with a sudden cold shiver of anxiety at the sound of his voice. This was followed by a spasm of anger. How dare he just call her like that? How dumb did he think she was, anyway?
"Yes?" she replied coldly. "What do you want?"
"You are very mad with me, yes?" His voice sounded serious and concerned, and Beth fought down the temptation to believe he was sincere.
"No, Jose," she finally managed to say coldly. "I'm more angry at myself, I guess. I should have known better than to come see you."
"Beth," the amoral young seducer went on, "I am very sorry for what happened. My boss, did she hurt you'. '"
"Let's just say that she made me very ashamed of myself, Jose. So ashamed that I'm afraid I never want to see either her, or you, ever again." There. She'd said it, as firmly as she could.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line before her caller spoke again.
"I can understand how you feel," he finally replied. "But...I'm afraid there's a problem..." his voice trailed off uneasily.
"What kind of problem?" the blonde adolescent asked, beginning to shiver again with apprehension.
"Well you see, Miss Molina, my boss, she have pictures of us together...naked...in my room..."
"What?" Beth's voice came out in a horrified whisper. "How can that be? We were alone!"
"I don't know, but she have them. Maybe she come in sooner than we think. Now she says she give those pictures to the police and tell them you are a whore if you don't give her money."
"But didn't you tell her that wasn't true'. '"
"Of course I tell her, but she only laugh. She say, if this is such a nice girl, Jose, then her family pay much money to keep her out of trouble. I think you better come and see these pictures, Beth. Maybe you can talk to her."
The terrified young blonde trembled at the thought of seeing Rose Molina again. She wanted to avoid that at all costs, but with a sinking feeling she realized that perhaps her ordeal wasn't over yet. If anything, it was getting worse by the minute. That horrible woman was talking about her family paying money to keep her out of trouble. That meant. . . her father! She was threatening to take photographs of her nakedly sucking on Jose's cock to her own father! She couldn't allow that to happen. She had to prevent that, no matter what! And first of all, she had to see those pictures, to find out just how damaging they were.
"Is she.. . is she home tonight?" the humiliated teenager asked, deciding there was no time like the present to get it over with.
"She have a very important guest for dinner. But I have the pictures. She has the negatives, but she give me the pictures to show to you."
"Can you...can you come over?"
"No, maybe I have to drive her somewhere later. Can you come here?"
"I...I guess I'll have to. I'll take a cab. But I want it clearly understood, Jose, this is just to get the pictures. No funny business."
"No funny business," he agreed solemnly. And then after Beth hung up, he said aloud, "Don't worry, cunt, by the time tonight's over, you aren't gonna be laughing at all!"
Less than an hour later, Tim Daltrey's young daughter was once again making her way fearfully up the back stairs of the Rancho. This time she had made certain that she wasn't at all provocatively dressed. Over her jeans she was wearing a high-necked blouse with long sleeves, and over that a pullover sweater, both to keep out the evening desert chill, and to make access to her body difficult, in case Jose had any ideas. She was more than a little dismayed to realize, however, that even though her mission was of a sordid nature, the thought of seeing Jose again made her heart beat faster. Inwardly despising herself for her weakness, she crept up the back stairs like a thief.
On the landing of the second floor, she froze in her tracks, for down the hall she could hear the sound of voices and a record of soft cocktail music. She stood stock still for a few seconds, until she was sure no one had heard her, and then quickly darted around the corner and up the stairs leading to Jose's room. She had no way of knowing, of course, that the male voice belonged to her own father, that he was the guest Jose had referred to, and that he was at that very moment sharing a sumptuous meal with the woman who had licked and sucked on her virginal pussy only two days before!
As soon as Jose opened the door for her, it was apparent to Beth that the evening was going to be difficult. He hadn't even bothered to get dressed, but was wearing his wine-colored silk robe tied loosely around his waist. From the way it fell open when he walked, revealing his naked legs, she knew that he was wearing nothing under it except for his underwear, and even that was doubtful. Well, she reproached herself angrily, what did you expect after the other day? A suit and tie?
Once she was inside the room, Jose closed the door behind her and cautiously locked it, pocketing the key. He'd been looking forward to her arrival, and in preparation had drunk a fair amount of Sangria, not enough to spoil his fun, but enough to whet his appetite for the teenage blonde's ripely curvaceous body. Now, following her to the center of the room where she was standing uncertainly, he slipped his arm arrogantly around her shoulders and bent down as though to kiss her.
"Buenos tardes, little gringo," he said a little drunkenly.
Smelling the alcohol on his breath, and offended by his brusque nonchalance, Beth twisted out of his grasp resolutely.
"The pictures, Jose," she demanded. "I only came for the pictures, remember?"
"Oh yes, the pictures," he replied. "Where are those naughty little pictures? Aaaahhh, here!" He handed her an envelope from his bureau. "You want some wine while we look at the pictures?"
"No, thank you," Beth replied stiffly as, with trembling fingers, she opened the envelope and began pulling out its contents. The first one she saw almost made her faint with shame. There she was, full face to the camera, naked to the waist, and Jose, behind her, was pulling down her pants! "Oooohh!" she groaned, trembling with shame. "How horrible!"
"I like this one," Jose declared, standing beside her with a full glass of Sangria and Hipping through the photos until he found a particularly vivid reproduction of Beth kneeling I on the floor in front of him while he plunged his penis in and out of her leather-rimmed mouth.
"I get very horny when I see you sucking on my cock like that."
Ignoring his crude remark, Beth moved away. "But...she can't do anything with these pictures. You can't see my face. Nobody would know it was me."
"Yes, but later you take the mask off, remember?"
"Yes...yes I do remember, but...I was standing in front of the mirror.. . " Suddenly her mouth fell open in shock. "Jose, could that be a...a two-way mirror? What's on the other side of this wall?"
Jose shrugged, grinned and fell back on the bed, still sipping his wine. "Go look," he suggested. "It's the door next to this one."
Beth went to the bedroom door, tried it and found it was locked. "The door's locked, Jose; give me the key so I can get out."
Jose got up from the bed, sauntered over to the door and tried it. "You're right," he grinned, "it's locked. I guess you have to stay here till it's not locked any more."
Beth looked at him, shocked. "Come on, Jose; don't be funny. Give me the key. You just opened this door for me, so you must have it!"
Jose giggled drunkenly and looked down at her. "Key? I don't have no key," he replied, his eyes glinting with cruel laughter. "Maybe my boss, she lock us in again." And he sauntered away to pour himself another drink with apparent unconcern.
Beth stared after him, open mouthed. Suddenly the reality of her situation began to dawn on her. She was locked in with him, in a room that apparently had a two-way mirror! What kind of a situation had she gotten herself into? Her heart pounded with fear, and suddenly she felt blind panic, worse than anything she'd ever known in her life. She had to get out of there!
"Jose, you...bastard!" she burst out suddenly, hurling herself across the room after him, "Give me that key and let me out of here!"
Quick as a cat, the wiry Latin turned just in time to grab her wrists in an iron grip as she came flying toward him. "Oh, you like to wrestle?" he taunted. "That's good; I like to wrestle too. It gets me hot, wrestling with pretty blonde gringos with nice tight pussies! Makes me want to fuck!"
"Let me go!" Beth screamed, her anger and panic mingling as she struggled with all her might to free herself from the grip of the deceptive chauffeur who, she could now see, was indeed totally naked beneath the silk robe. She tried to get into a position where she could kick him in the balls, but he hooked his own leg behind her knee and knocked her off balance, sending her hurtling to the floor with him on top of her. Gripping her wrists tightly in one hand, he used the other to grab her mane of blonde hair and yank her head into a position where he could kiss her. He pressed his lips down on hers cruelly, painfully, forcing her mouth open and flicking his long wet tongue into her mouth.
Beth tried to struggle further, but the effect of his kiss was more than she could resist. Although she fought against it with all her might, hot flashes of latent desire began to ripple through her helplessly pinioned young frame, and after a few seconds it wasn't even necessary for Jose to hold her hair any longer. Still kissing her, he let his hand travel down between her legs, forcing them apart with his knee and began massaging her vaginal area. Even through the thickness of her jeans, Beth felt his lewdly probing touch like a Firebrand, and a low, lust-filled moan escaped from her throat, though she tried to suppress it. At the same time, she could feel his thick rigid cock churning nakedly against her thighs, and the contact with its lewdly throbbing length made her quiver with irresistible feelings of lust.
Finally Jose broke from the kiss and, still keeping his hand on her heatedly pulsing vaginal entrance, he grinned down at her flushed face lasciviously. Beth, overwhelmed with shame, couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.
"You don't fool me," he murmured, whirling his tongue hotly around the outer rim of her ear.
"You like it, don't you? Don't you?" he asked again, jerking her head harshly so she had to face him.
Even as she hated him for what he was doing to her, Beth had to acknowledge that he was right. She was as helpless as a rag doll against the powerful sensual feelings that he excited in her.
"Yes," she murmured weakly, blushing furiously. "Yes, I do."
Smiling triumphantly. Rose Molina's chauffeur got up off the floor and pulled Beth to her feet after him. "Good!" he declared. "That's gonna make things easier. Now, why don't you get out of those clothes, and we can have some fun?"
Meanwhile, downstairs on the second floor, Beth's father, totally unaware of the ordeal to which his naive young daughter was being subjected on the floor above him, was just finishing the last of a sumptuous dinner and was relaxing over a cup of coffee served by his attractive hostess together with a very pleasant-tasting liqueur and a box of the most expensive Cuban cigars.
"Wow, I didn't think you could get these things anymore," he marveled, leaning back in the comfortable armchair at the intimately candlelit table in Rose's large combination bed-sitting room. Like the living room, the walls were all white. Against one wall was a huge, round double bed that seemed to have every luxury known to modern design built into it. She had already demonstrated to him how the control panel in the headboard operated the lights and the record player and had promised to demonstrate the film projector later, after dinner, implying coyly that she had some "very interesting films" to show him. All in all, he was definitely impressed with his past and present mistress's lifestyle.
"If you know the right people, you can get anything you want," Rose replied, shrugging her shoulder casually. She was wearing a long, one-shouldered black dress of a softly clinging fabric that molded itself to her hips and breasts like a second skin, sheer enough to suggest the sensual treasures beneath, but not to reveal them too explicitly. Her hair curled in soft waves around her shoulders, and in her ears she was wearing an exquisite pair of dangling red earrings that looked to Tim's inexperienced eyes like real rubies.
She got up from her chair and undulated gracefully across the room to a small writing desk in one corner. "Before I forget," she said, returning with a small pile of papers, "here's the check and the loan papers for you to sign. Look them over to make sure everything's in order."
"I'm sure it is, Rose. You seem to know what you're doing where business is concerned." He glanced quickly at the forms, then took his pen out of his pocket and was about to sign.
"Wait a minute, the carbons for the bank," Rose said, getting another group of papers from the desk and slipping them under the original.
Tim signed his name on the dotted line, pressing hard on the ball point pen to make sure it penetrated to the carbons, then handed them back to her.
"I can't tell you how much this means to me. Rose," he said as she took the papers back to the desk and then began clearing the dinner plates onto a wheeled serving cart which she then pushed out into the hall for tjie servants to pick up in the morning, "and to Beth, too. I've been so preoccupied with business lately that I'm afraid I haven't been much of a father to her."
"You're very fond of her, aren't you?" Rose asked, staring at him intently.
"Beth? You bet. If anything happened to her, I don't know what I'd do . . .just fall apart, I guess."
"Doesn't it worry you to leave her alone at night like this?" The voluptuous brunette directed her remarks to him from across the room, where she was loading a reel of film into the projector. "I mean she might be inviting boyfriends over, getting herself into trouble."
"Not Beth. I'm telling you Rose. I hate to sound like a typical braggart father, but my daughter's one in a million. If she didn't forget to put her clothes away once in a while, I'd think she was too good to be true. But you'll have to meet her for yourself some time. Then you can tell me whether I'm crazy or not."
"That would be delightful," his ravishingly beautiful mistress replied, somewhat noncommittally. "Now," she came back to his chair and, slipping her tapering, well-manicured fingers around his own, began drawing him over to the bed, "why don't you relax, have another drink, and we'll watch some films?"
"Take your clothes off, make yourself comfortable," she invited, pouring him another glass of liqueur. Slightly embarrassed, but titillated also by her frank invitation, Tim took off his jacket, shoes and tie and loosened the top buttons of his shirt.
"Oh, you can do better than that," the calculating brunette teased, reaching down to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way, while Tim sipped on the liqueur.
"This stuff is really good," he said appreciatively as the fiery liquid coursed down his throat. "What is it?"
"Oh, something special a business acquaintance brought me from Mexico. I warn you, it's supposed to make you feel very sexy!" Mentally, she added to herself, In fact, if you don't slow down, you 're gonna be unconscious for a week!
"You know, I don't mean to pry, and if you'd rather not talk about it, we can just forget it, but you've never told me what kind of business you're in."
"I don't mind talking about it," Rose replied, making sure the projector was positioned properly and then lowering herself onto the bed beside him. "I run a whorehouse."
Tim's eyes opened wide in astonishment, and he stared at her in disbelief. "You're kidding," he finally managed to say.
"Not at all. Have you ever heard of a place called La Dona's in Phoenix?"
Tim nodded his head slowly. He certainly had. The wealthier men in town had often spoken of its unique atmosphere after a few drinks at business luncheons and of its incredibly beautiful proprietress, a sensual Mexican woman who would provide a man with anything he wanted, for a price.
"Well, I'm La Dona. It means 'the lady,' so you can get some idea of the kind of place it is."
Tim whistled appreciatively. So that was where she got all her money. He could understand why she'd done well her place was one of the most expensive brothels in the Southwest, maybe in the whole U.S., frequented by multimillionaires who knew what their jaded tastes required and were willing to pay well for it. He didn't know quite what to say. The news came like a thunderclap, and he was both shocked and flattered to know that the legendary La Dona was none other than his former mistress, and even more exciting, that she was at this very moment stretched out languorously beside him, at the beginning of what promised to be a very entertaining evening.
While his mind was still reeling with her sudden revelation, she switched on the movie projector, and the opposite wall was immediately filled with an image so erotic that his mind was distracted momentarily from thinking about Rose's true identity. For there, large as life on the screen, was a half-naked girl, being lewdly massaged on her bare breasts by a darkly handsome Mexican youth who stood behind her.
"These certainly aren't your run-of-the-mill home movies, are they?" he asked wryly.
"Well, they're home movies, or maybe 'house' movies is more accurate," Rose laughed. "The man is my chauffeur, Jose, and the girl is some little chippie he picked up around here. She didn't mind letting the camera watch, so we made a few films. I'll be able to use them in Phoenix."
"A local girl?" Tim asked, amazed.
"Sure, you know, a little teenager with hot pants. They fall for Jose like flies. He could probably get them to turn tricks if he wanted to, but I pay him enough so he doesn't have to."
Tim knew he should be disturbed at the things Rose was telling him. It was shocking, after all, to think that young girls were prey to the designs of men like the lusty young Mexican who was now peeling off the panties of the well-built young girl on the screen. But he was already feeling the effects of the aphrodisiacal drink Rose had given him, and in addition, he was unaware of the pleasant sensation of her hand closed over the pulsing mound of his genitals and massaging them softly.
"I was so pleased to be able to get this film," she was murmuring while her hand teased his sensitively responsive cock into tingling hardness. "She's quite a little cunt, isn't she? Wouldn't you like to stick your big hot cock up into her pussy?"
Tim's mind reeled with vividly lustful images as the brunette continued to whisper lurid things about the naked blonde girl who, although he didn't realize it, was his very own daughter!
"I wouldn't mind," he answered hotly. "I wouldn't mind at all."
Rose giggled mischievously and, sitting up on her haunches beside him on the bed, began unzipping his fly so her hands could reach inside for his thickly throbbing pole of male hardness.
"Maybe it can be arranged," she cooed. "In the meantime, why don't you shove that nice huge piece of hot meat up into my cunt instead, while we watch the movie? I planned this especially for you, cara, because I know you like it wild!"
Her hands were driving the increasingly drug-fogged father nearly out of his mind with lust, and he felt more hotly aroused than he ever had in his life! To be able to fuck Rose...no, not Rose, but La Dona, the most famous whore in the southwest, practically a legend, for free, while watching pornographic movies of a teenage blonde in a leather mask sucking on the cock of a dark Mexican youth...it was better than his most imaginative pornographic fantasy!
Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he seized Rose's warm body roughly in his hands. "Baby," he growled lustily, "you don't have to ask twice!"