“Good nap?” Dad asked.“I guess so,” I replies groggily.“I should have had you do the chauffeur duties so I could grab a little shuteye. Hell... I nearly dozed off myself a couple miles back. Good thing this truck has autopilot.”“Good thing the autopilot didn’t fully engage, or we’d be fishing ourselves out a ditch back there!” I observed.“Well, at least we made it in one piece. The bad news is that it looks like your mom and Erika made it back before us, so there’ll be no chance for a proper. There is no way she is stopping.The girl runs up the stairs. “I’m sorry, Daddy!” she screams. “I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me! Please!”She heads for her room. She’s fast, but he’s faster. Rory runs through the door and slams it. But her father catches it and steps through the doorway. He’s breathing hard from running. His eyes are dark slits of rage. “Rory,” he growls. “You disobeyed me ... again...” The girl cowers and backs away from him, bumping into her desk. She’s trapped. “I told you to stop,”. Her riding motion became more urgent and wild and she stopped kissing me, burying her face into the bed beside my head so that I could still hear her muffled pleasure moans. I buried mine in her hair, smelling her sweet perfume and whispered in her ear "Are you going to cum?". Lauren answered by moaning louder. Within seconds she straightened her legs tensing her thighs and began quivering all over, she gasped and let out a squeel as she came for the first time by someone elses hand. Her. And before you could say 'sexualised, cliché perpetuated by patrimonial figureheads for their own perverted gratification', I'd wiggled into my charcoal, pleated, flicky, micro-mini skirt and managed to secure the white, near-sheer, tie-fronted, cropped, blouse between my perky, pokie, breasticules, and pulled the over-knee socks to midway up my thighs, and pushed my toesies into the black, patent leather, ankle-strap, shoes with their five-inch, metal, stiletto heel. Which just left twirling.