At least twice a week she would ask me something very much in same line. Boy was I wrong."Daddy?" she began turning around to look at me."I thought yo... were done but go ahead." Do you masturbate?"I had just taken in a mouthful of my drink when her question caused me to spray the contents all over."I beg your pardon," I coughed in shock."Well, since mom died you haven't dated so I sorta figured you weren't having sex. It follows that you must masturbate to relieve the sexual pressures." I'm not. A warm, really sexy feeling went surging through my body, and I knew she was right. I looked back at Francisco. He stared at me. I stood there naked, apart from my high-heel shoes. I guess he took that as a ‘yes, I do want you to fuck me’, because he got up from behind his desk, walked round to me, pushed me back up against the side of his desk, pushed my body down so my back was on the desk, then bent down and caught hold of my ankles. He pulled my feet up off the floor and lifted my legs. More

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