Not A Problem

With a wink, Walter clicked a button on his iBod, loading in a vocal preset. When he spoke again, Tim was greeted by the sultry tones of Scarlett Johansson. "There. Is that better?"

"Fuck, that's freaky."

"It's cool, right?" she purred. Walter stalked closer. "Now you don't have to worry about my voice putting you off. You can do whatever you want."

Tim backed up as his father-turned-supermodel came closer and closer. "You're still my Dad, though. I can't just screw around with you!"

"Oh, Tim," she chuckled. "I'm no longer your father. My DNA is entirely Monica's. I'm as much your dad as Monica is your girlfriend."

He winced. That was a low blow, even delivered so sweetly in that syrupy voice. But he couldn't deny there was a growing tightness in his pants, or that the scent of his father's breath on his neck wasn't arousing. "Fine! I'll do it. But you're not Monica, or my dad, or Scarlett Johansson. So... give me a name to call you by."

She paused for a second, posing as if she were in thought (though really Tim knew it was to flaunt her scantily clad ass) before smiling. "You can call me Avila."

She accentuated her name with a hard tug on his nipples that made him groan. "Yeah, that's right, big boy. You know you want this."

Soon, Tim found his hands fumbling around with the clasp on his belt, but she stopped him with a single finger against his chest. "Not yet. Get the camera rolling, then you can have me however you want."

"However I want?"

"Anything in you desire, I can make it come true," she whispered, her long eyelashes batting innocently as her breath grazed his neck, sweet and heavy with lust. Her dark eyes flicked upward to meet his.

"So tell me. What exactly do you desire?"