The house of a girl who rejected you.

John snapped his fingers and suddenly, he was wearing a policeman's uniform. Was he particularly believable as a policeman? He looked himself over in the vanity mirror in the car's sun visor. Eh, not really, he was scrawny and barely 20 years old. He snapped his fingers again. He didn't change, not visually, but people would believe that he was a police officer. He tried to think of his next target. An old folk's home and have an orgy? Go to his old high school and have his old Government teacher suck his dick?

No, he thought back to the last girl he had asked out. Maryam had seemed cool. She had a cute smile. They had talked about the same bands, and she was really smart in their community college courses together. But when he asked her to go with him to a concert, she declined. Her parents weren't going to be cool with her dating a guy, especially if he wasn't from their mosque. The travails of being the children of immigrants, he supposed. If that was the only thing, she turned him down because of her family, eh, he wouldn't have bothered. But then, he saw her eating lunch with another guy from their class, and it sure looked like they were dating, the way she was staring into Patrick's eyes.

So, he decided that he was going to pay the Kazmi house a visit. He kicked in the front door. A woman screamed from inside. He followed the voice into the kitchen, where an older woman was scrambling for a knife. She paused when she saw the police officer enter her kitchen. She put her hands up. "What are you doing? What is happening?!" She shouted in heavy accented English.

"Detective Doe, Vice" John said, confidently, "We've received reports that there's a young lady in this house who's a prostitute. Word on the street is that she's Maryam Kazmi."

"What? Maryam? No, no, no, no! Maryam is a good girl. I raised my girls to be --"

"Girls? You've got more than one daughter," John interjected, "Is your daughter Maryam home?"

"No, Maryam is not home, she is at her work. Zahida is home, but you are wrong! My Maryam is not..."

John snapped his fingers again in the middle of her sentence.

"... a prostitute! She is a slut! We raised our girls to be good hard-working sluts! I am certain you are mistaken. She did not have sex for money. She had sex for her love of cock! I will show you. Zahida! Get down here!" the older woman yelled. John could hear someone upstairs spring into action. This was not a type of voice that one ignored. Maryam's older sister was actually quite cute.

The mother started saying something in a language that John didn't understand. He shook his head and snapped his fingers again. She continued in English, "This police officer is saying that we are prostitutes in this house, and I know we raised you better than that. Show him! Fuck him and do not take any money from him! Strip quickly! Before he arrests us all!"

Zahida started to tear at her clothing. "You will see, we are sluts in this family! Just big sluts, not whores! My husband moved us here because there is nowhere better in the world for a slut to get cock than America! We love big, fat, juicy American cocks in this house!"

"Please, please, don't arrest us! Just use my slutty little cunt!" Zahida said, taking John's hand in hers, and leading it down into her American flag bikini bottoms. She cooed, "I want your big thick American cock, Mr. police officer!"

John spun her around, and put a hand on her back to get her to bend over. She giggled. John fumbled with his zipper and pulled her bottoms to the side. He thrust into her and began to pound away. Her mother looked on with pride. It was a little distracting to have Mrs. Kazmi, looking like that, watching. If he was going to have an audience, he might as well have a good looking audience. He snapped his fingers again.

A much nicer looking woman was in the place of Mrs. Kazmi. She got on her knees next to her daughter getting plowed. "Please, if you do not want to finish in her pussy, I beg you, cum all over my face. It has been so long since I had nice big load plastered onto my face. Please, Mr. Police Officer, we are sluts in this house, not prostitutes!"

Officer Doe smiled.