The Dirty Virgin

By: Cassandra Dee

“You’re such a little slut,” he murmured into my ear. “But you’re my little slut.”

“Daddy!” I squealed, writhing in his grasp. “You’re the one who’s bad! What about all those people waiting still? They’re probably wondering where we are, and I don’t even have a dress to wear now,” I said, nodding at the torn scraps of red fabric on the floor of the car.

“Baby, who gives a fuck what they think?” he rumbled into the soft skin of my neck. “They work for me, make them wait,” he moaned, as his cock twitched in me once again. “I’ve just rediscovered you, and I want to do it again … second times are always better,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

And I smiled sweetly, clenching my bottom around his stiffening cock. Daddy was, and has always been, my love, my life, and this was only the beginning of our partnership.



After our abrupt departure, I can’t say that I was looking forward to facing the Hustler crowd again. I’m sure everyone was talking about the CEO of News Enterprises escorting a barely-clothed stripper out the door. And the hubbub of gossip was to be expected.

“What the fuck happened in that room?”

“Wasn’t Cleo Jones a stripper before?”

“Did that whore just call Drake Markham ‘Daddy’?”

The talk kept going for a while as rumors and lies swirled around us. But I just lay low, minding my own business. I’m not performing now, I let my stable of girls take the spotlight on CleoWorld, and the Donkey Club hasn’t come knocking, probably because of my changing body.

That’s right, I’m pregnant … with Drake’s baby. Daddy had the vasectomy reversed at my request, and we weren’t sure if it was going to work, so I was ecstatic breaking the news to him.

“Daddy,” I whispered, as his cock was still buried deep in me after another session of wild lovemaking. “I have something to tell you.”

“Mmm?” he rumbled, his eyes still closed as his hands languorously traced my body.

“I’m having a baby. He or she is due in July.”

And his hands stilled immediately, although his eyes didn’t open.

“Honey,” he rasped, “are you sure? You know it’s something that wasn’t guaranteed to happen, vasectomy reversals don’t always work.”

“I’m sure,” I whispered. “I went to the doctor today and we saw the little one, heartbeat and all.”

Drake swept me into his arms, burying his head in my neck, holding my curvaceous body close. “Cleo,” he ground out. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, you and this baby. Marry me?” he asked.

I paused for a moment. “But you’re still married to Lorena.”

That posed a difficulty. My mom was long gone but that didn’t mean that Drake was automatically divorced. Instead, we had to go through a lengthy process of trying to locate Lorena before going to court, and so far our investigators haven’t had any success. They’ve even gone to Lima, Peru, Lorena’s birth place, and talked to various Jones family members, but no luck yet.

And so I grew large with our baby, basking in the loving, approving glow of Drake. We weren’t married yet, but will be once he gets a divorce. Did I feel bad that he was leaving my mom? Well yes, but Lorena had done such a trip on us that I just wanted her out of my life, and certainly out of my daughter’s.

Because we know that the baby’s a girl, and Drake’s going to be a phenomenal Daddy. It’s ironic because I still call him “Daddy” sometimes, but he’s going to be my little girl’s Daddy for real.


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