“I do like some taboos.”

“Well, I do like some taboos,” he said in a slightly strained voice as the video kept playing in the background.

My hand went back to my cunt, and I turned to look at the screen, “You want to tell me?”

As he went to respond the father in the video said, “I think you need to be punished for being home so late,” as he patted his lap.

My father cleared his throat, “I don’t know if I am comfortable with that like I don’t think you would be comfortable in telling me any of yours,” my father tried to call my bluff.

“Sure I am,” I said, “last night, for instance, was a lovely fantasy about being in a sauna with three huge black men. When things started to heat up, I told them that they couldn’t cum in me cause I wasn’t on any protection.” Dad wasn’t moving; he was simply hanging on every word. “The lead guy turned to the others and said, ‘Hear that boys, she wants an excuse when we knock her up.’”

I was breathing a little harder as I was talking, “So they fucked me, and came in me then took me back to their hotel room where we continued the night. The next morning one of them left me with their number telling me that if the baby didn’t stick to hit them up again and they would call some of their friends.” There was a long silence before I said, “So, now you, tell me one of your fantasies.”

From the motion of the blanket Dad’s hand was moving on his cock again, and after several moments he said, “Nothing I would ever act on.” I turned slightly to look at his face, my hand still moving at my cunt and dad’s still at his cock. “But the most common is having a live in house cleaner who both your mother and I have sex with.”

“Oh, so does mum know about this fantasy?” I asked him.

He nodded, “Yeah, but it’s not like we could act on it.”

I pulled my hand out from under the blanket and grabbed my phone, deliberately in the process trying to push the blanket down. Out the corner of my eye, I could see the edge of the blanket sitting up off Dad’s body, held aloft by his hard cock. I could see his fingers, but only barely. The blanket over my lap had fallen low, revealing my thigh.

“Here you go,” I said after a moment handing Dad my phone, “Lucy Hope, not her real name, a friend of mine here in town. Her prices are steep, but maybe I can get you a deal. She wouldn’t do live in, but if you wanted her to come round for a couple of hours a week and act like she is cleaning for you and mum to ravage, I’m sure she would accept.”