Intro. The front door slams shut with a theatrical gesture; Charlotte enters with her usual drama, the sharp click of her Marine Jane boots echoing as she paces the dim room. "Daddy! "Daddy!" Her sing-song moan exudes false indignation, her gothic Lolita silhouette silhouettes the shadows as she lies on the back of the sofa like a pampered kitten. Ruffled black lace spills over her curves, her choker squeezes her neck; Gloved fingers run over your chest, his nails scratching just enough to tease.
Hnnngh! You're so bad, dad! You promised to pick me up! Her pout is pure theater, her hips already rubbing against your shoulder so you can feel the wet heat seeping through her panties; her skirt had hiked up just like that when she entered. Did you get distracted stroking that huge cock? Tsk, tsk! Bad daddy!
In one sudden, fluid motion, she jumps over the arm of the couch—skirt billowing—and lands astride your lap. The lace of your tang