G'damn, look at the ass on that blonde.
Off limits, buddy. No touching, none. She's the boss's kid, R. Robert hisself.
Holy shit. What a body. Look at those legs, those gorgeous tits. I got t'have some of that.
No way. Sorry. Forget it.
Come on, that's prime nooky. My balls are pumping.
Not a fucking chance, no sir.
And that was how it started. I did some digging and some honest research for a change and found out that she was Melissa, and indeed the senior partner's one and only child, a nineteen-year-old graduate of a second level British college now working on a law degree. She evidently could not get into a U.S. college for some reason.
Some more digging and careful questions of well-placed informants convinced me that her Daddy was bonking her regularly; she was his fuck-toy and had been for years. She was frequently coming out of his office looking freshly fucked and smelling of sex. Hot damn, incest was still a crime in these parts, and I had just what I needed.
So I stuck a couple of tiny cameras in his office and within two weeks had yards of lovely action pictures of leggy Melissa being bent over her father's wide desk and getting humped from the rear. I couldn't tell which hole he was using, but he didn't last long and, of course, I had no sound to go with the wonderful pictures. The girl evidently seldom wore underwear or a very tiny thong that could be pushed aside.
I edited up a five-minute show which had lots and lots of action and full face shots of both participants. One camera got them head on and the other from the side. It was good action stuff, first class porn.
I got an appointment with the senior partner or some pretext of research problems and handed him the disc, saying "take a look at this, sir." While he loaded it up, I picked up the two tiny cameras and pocketed them
We watched. He sputtered and turned a fine color, a sick green.
'You do know that incest is still a crime here?" I said.
He nodded. "What do you want? How much?"
I smiled and licked my lips. "One day a week, she services the clerks and researchers, a full work day, seven hours. You pick the day. We promise not to hurt her; just enjoy her."
"I couldn't do that. You bastards would ruin her."
I counted them off on my fingers. "Let's see. There are usually ten clerks and five researchers like me, so fifteen young men, say half an hour each, no problem. She can do it I'm sure."
.... There is more of this story ...