Ramesh sat in the cheap hotel room in Mumbai, his cock already half-hard from the pictures on the escort site. He’d picked the young one with the dark eyes and full tits, the ad promising “tight Indian pussy, no limits.” At fifty-two he didn’t get much anymore, so he paid extra for the full night and waited, stroking himself through his trousers.
The knock came at nine. He opened the door and froze. Standing there in a short black dress and heels was his daughter Priya. Twenty-two years old, the same girl who had left home two years ago after a fight about her “wild ways.” She looked up, recognized him instantly, and her mouth fell open.
“Papa?” Her voice was small, then it hardened. “Fuck. You booked me?”
Ramesh’s cock twitched harder at the word. He should have slammed the door. Instead he stepped back and let her in. The room smelled like cheap perfume and his own sweat.
Priya closed the door behind her. “You want to cancel? I still get the money either way.”
He shook his head. His eyes dropped to her cleavage, the way the dress barely covered her ass. “You’re a call girl now.”
“Yeah. And you’re the client.” She walked past him, hips swaying. “So what do you want, Papa? You paid for everything. Mouth, pussy, ass. All night.”
Hearing her say those words in that voice made his head spin. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him. Her body was soft and warm, tits pressing into his chest. “You’re really going to fuck your own father?”
Priya reached down and squeezed his hard cock through his pants. “You’re really going to pay to fuck your own daughter? We’re both sick. Might as well enjoy it.”
She dropped to her knees right there, unzipped him, and pulled his thick brown cock out. It was heavy, veined, already leaking. Priya licked the head once, then took him deep into her mouth without hesitation. Ramesh groaned and grabbed her hair, fucking her face in short thrusts while she gagged and drooled down her chin.
“Dirty little whore,” he muttered. “My daughter sucking cock like a pro.”
She pulled off, spit stringing from her lips. “You like it. Your cock’s throbbing in my throat.”
He hauled her up, spun her around, and bent her over the bed. The dress rode up; she wore nothing underneath. Her pussy was shaved smooth and already wet. Ramesh slapped her ass hard, then shoved two fingers inside her. She was tight and hot, gripping him.
“Fuck me,” Priya said, pushing back. “Put that father cock in your daughter’s cunt.”
He didn’t need more invitation. He lined up and slammed in to the balls in one thrust. Priya cried out, half pain, half pleasure, and started rocking back to meet every stroke. Ramesh fucked her rough, the wet slap of skin loud in the small room. Her juices ran down his balls. He reached under and rubbed her clit in fast circles until she came, pussy pulsing around him, moaning “Papa, fuck, Papa” like the filthy girl she was.
He didn’t stop. He flipped her onto her back, yanked the dress down so her tits spilled out, and fucked her missionary, watching her face while he pounded her.
Priya wrapped her legs around him and clawed his back.
“Harder,” she demanded. “Use me. Fill your daughter’s pussy.”
Ramesh lost it. He drove deep and came hard, pumping thick ropes of cum into her. Priya kept moving, milking every drop until he collapsed on top of her, breathing like he’d run a race.
They didn’t speak for a minute. Then Priya laughed softly, reached down, and stroked his softening cock. “You paid for the whole night. I’m not leaving yet.”
She rolled him onto his back, straddled his face, and lowered her cum-filled pussy onto his mouth. “Clean it up, Papa. Then fuck my ass.”
Ramesh licked his own cum out of his daughter while she ground on his tongue. His cock stirred again. By the time he was hard she had turned around, spit on his shaft, and worked it into her tight ass. She rode him slow at first, then faster, dirty talk pouring out of her the whole time.
“Tell me how much you love fucking your call-girl daughter. Tell me you’re going to book me again.”
Ramesh grabbed her hips and thrust up into her ass. “Every week. I’ll pay whatever you want. You’re mine now.”
They fucked until the sun came up—her riding him, him taking her from behind again, her sucking him clean after each round. When the night was over Priya dressed, counted the cash he gave her, and kissed him on the mouth, tasting like sex and sweat.
“Same time next week,” she said at the door. “And don’t be late with the money, Papa.”
Ramesh watched her walk down the hallway, already planning the next booking. The guilt was there, but so was the thick, hard throb in his pants. He knew he’d be back for more.
