Melissa May

Yo, Melissa May's pops is one weird bastard, and she gets that. But strolling into an empty crib while he's crooning some Costa Rica tune and thumbing through a fat stack of cash? That's next-level bonkers! Turns out the old man's the go-to supplier hooking up all those SoCal weed spots with primo buds... but this load? Nah, he's ghosting. They fronted him the dough 'cause his rep's gold, and now it's getaway time—snag the cash, spew excuses, and bolt. Plan hits a snag fast... or does it? Dad's clued in on his little girl's black cock addiction for ages, and he's pimping her out to stall those pissed-off dealers. Bonus: he gets ringside seats to the filthy fun!