"Yes, yes, thank you."
As they walked into the living room, Sally was the first to speak up. "Rhonda," she said, "why don't you make my father a drink. I'm sure he can use one."
Rhonda's voice stuck in her throat. "Your what!" she blurted out.
"That's right, Rhonda, my father, not John Smith, but John Nichols."
Rhonda got up from where she sat and fixed a double Scotch for him. Carrying it back, he said thank you.
"John," Rhonda said, "what is she talking about? Are you really her father?"
He nodded. Yes he was.
Rhonda burst, out in laughter. "Well, if that isn't a kick in the head. Looks like tonight is going to be more fucking fun than I thought. I've seen a son fucking his mother in my time, but I've never had the privilege of watching a father fucking his daughter. Should be fun."
Sally was becoming excited by Rhonda's crude remarks. Standing in front of her father, Sally slowly stripped until she was nude in front of him.
"Well, Dad, what do you think of the way I turned out? Do you like what you see?"
As he looked up at her, Sally spread her legs and at the same time began to softly caress the mounds of her boobs, tweaking her nipples with her fingertips until they were standing out, hard and rigid.
Sally felt a sadistic pleasure as she taunted him. She was thinking of her mother. Thinking that she deserved better than she was getting from him. She wanted to punish him!
"Say, Daddy, how would you like to lick your baby daughter's cunt? It's all nice and juicy for you… or maybe, maybe you would like me to suck your cock. Would you like that? Would you like to feel my mouth, all nice and warm sucking your beautiful hard prick? Did Mother ever do that for you? Did Mother ever suck on your cock?"
There were tears in his eyes as he looked up at her. He reached out to her. His last word was more like a groan. "Sally."