His shaft was as hard as those nipples, throbbing more with the hungry surging of blood within it as his balls pumped so insistently below. His hands continued to roam over her skin, searching the flawless smoothness, finding the velvet valleys and lingering there in awed adoration. Kathy Collins was such a beautiful girl, modeled small, but with exquisite jewelling; a fineness that fitted thigh to hip, that hinged the knee and sculpted the delicate foot.

He poised above her, watching her lashes rest against the curve of her cheek, seeing the damp humidity of her mouth and the graceful line of her throat. And nowhere could he find in that appealing pixie face, the stamp of her father.

Craig Collins should have been born with a hardhat welded to his bullet head, and probably had emerged with his fists swinging. The man was build powerfully, square-jawed and muscled, and not all his muscles were on his chunky frame; a lot of them were in his head.

Collins operated a successful string of cut rate hardware stores, and his headquarters was only a few blocks from the high school his only child attended. A widower, he appeared to have no vices other than a closed mind and a wide open mouth. It was too bad that he was the most influential member of a school board already shaky from a recent homosexual scandal in the junior high.

“Dallas,” Kathy Collins said to him, soft purple eyes open now. “That was the greatest. You were wild with me, but so, so tender, too. It was wonderful, darling. Now let me do it to you.”

Slowly, he spread his knees and slid up her legs, feeling the satiny brush of her slim hips against his inner thighs as he moved. What would redneck Craig Collins do if he could see his daughter now, naked and freshly sucked and now ready to give head to her teacher, especially the teacher that Collins was trying to have fired for growing his hair too long?

After the original shattering explosion, Collins would no doubt shout, “See, damnit! I told you that hippie bastard would contaminate all our kids! See, you should have listened to me when I first said fire the hippie son of a bitch.”