Then it came to me. Just hide the SD card. Done.I opened the door and Emily, who was now dressed, stormed in.‘Where is it,’ she screamed again. Sh... saw the camera on my bed and lounged for it.‘Don’t waste your time. I pulled the card out’.Emily turned to face me. ‘You are so dead. I’m telling Dad as soon as he gets home’, she hissed.‘On really? Well when you tell him I hid in the shower be sure to tell him you were stroking your monkey with a vibrator. And if he doesn’t believe you, hell I’ll. ? The officer said. ?Take them to the van.?The girls were in shock. The guards had clearly planted that on Patricia. They wanted her to get a more severe sentence, as she was prettier and would do harsher time. Much harsher time. The girls stood no chance against the many officers as they were led to a police van and thrown in the back in the clothes they had prepared to wear to bed. Two officers accompanied them in the back. The van began its journey back to the prison the girls would. "I don't feel ready for that yet". I kissed him again, almost apologetic for exciting him. "There's something else I can do for you though".He looked confused."Has anyone given you a blow job before?" I asked."No", he said. "Never." Would you like me to?" I asked him. I almost regretted the question the moment it left my lips. I felt so embarrassed the moment I'd asked the question, but I needn't have been.He responded by tugging at his shorts, trying to release his straining, erect penis. I. I groaned, pressing my lips tighter against my daughter, my hijab brushing her thighs. My nose rubbed on her clit, my every inhalation full of her wicked scent.Such an intoxicating thrill ran through me as I cleansed my daughter, helping her perform for her client. She squeezed her thighs about my head, grinding her hot snatch against me like a wanton slut, so eager for her orgasm.My cunt itched to be touched, to be stroked. I ignored it, concentrating on the performance.My tongue probed into.
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