Mad Monday
by Pan
Chapter 20:
“Everything okay?” Mary said, a smile upon Belle’s face. She was dressed in a tank top and jeans.
She looked surprisingly relaxed, and I suddenly realized where she’d been for the last half-hour.
And what she’d been doing.
“Yes,” I said gruffly. I now knew what my daughter’s orgasm looked like. Felt like. It was impossible not to picture it as I made eye-contact with Belle.
With my wife, in Belle’s body.
I just wanted this to go away. I wanted to look at my daughter and see my daughter. Like I used to. I wanted to look at her and see a young woman, about to start her life.
I didn’t want my mind to immediately see her bouncing tits, her flushed face.
I didn’t want to remember what her lips looked like, stretched around my cock.
Her throat moving, as she urgently swallowed my cum.
I shuddered.
“I have a plan,” she began, speaking more loudly than I would have liked.
“Mary…” I said weakly, but she ignored my protest and kept talking. With a sigh, I got up and locked the door.
I didn’t know what my wife was going to say, but I was confident that neither of us wanted Belle to walk in halfway through it.
“Tomorrow, I’ll come home from school early. We’ll turn the house alarm on, and use your office. If Belle comes home early, she’ll trigger the alarm, and we’ll have plenty of warning—there’s no chance of her catching us. If she asks, you can just say that you turned it on by accident. She’ll believe that.”
She laughed. My wife’s laugh, coming out of my daughter’s beautiful lips.
Those beautiful lips that I’d cum into.
“I mean, I’d believe it,” she finished. “What do you say?”
There was a brief silence as I stared at my wife. Belle’s eyes were brimming with hope.
“…what?”
“If you’d prefer, we can say that I turned it on, but I don’t know why we’d do that. I guess we could just say it was a bug.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The alarm.”
“No, I mean…this plan. What are you on about?”
Belle’s eyes narrowed.
“Which part of that didn’t you understand, Andrew?”
Oh, god. It was my wife’s stern voice.
“What are we doing?”
“We’re discussing the plan for tomorrow.”
“The plan to do what?”
She looked up at me with my daughter’s big blue eyes. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.
“To fuck.”
“What??”
“To fuck,” she said again. As the dirty word left my sweet daughter’s formerly-innocent lips, another shudder overcame me.
“What do you mean, to fuck?”
A smile flickered across her face, and she leaned forward.
She still wasn’t wearing a bra.
“What do you think I mean?” she said, her eyes glancing down at my crotch. “Have a wild guess…”
“Honey,” I said gently. “We…we can’t do that again.”
“What?”
The stern voice was back.
“We agreed, remember? Back…” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “…back at the cottage.”
“Yeah,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “We did agree.”
“Right.” I was confused. “So…”
“You promised me.”
I narrowed my eyes. Was she deliberately being obtuse?
“We agreed,” I repeated. “One time.”
My wife responded slowly, as though speaking to an imbecile.
“That’s right, honey. We agreed. One time. And I would like that one time to be tomorrow. So when I get home from school, I’ll…”
I held a hand up, and was surprised when Mary fell silent.
“No no no no no no no no no,” I said. “The one time was at the cottage.”
Mary scrunched up Belle’s nose.
“That?”
“Yes, that! And then, like I said, we can never do it again.”
“But…—“
“And I mean, even that was a stupid move. What if someone had caught us, honey? What if someone had walked past and seen the owner of the cabin fucking his own daughter.”
I hissed the last few words, and then slumped back, exhausted. The past few days…the past week had been too much for me. I was spent.
Spent, and frustratingly turned-on.
Mary waited to make sure that I was done before she spoke.
“That,” she said, softly but firmly, “didn’t count.”
I sat up.
“What?”
“That didn’t count!”
“What do you mean it didn’t count? Mary, are…have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?”
“It didn’t count,” she repeated, and jutted her lip out, every inch of her the typical rebellious teenager.
The typical rebellious teenager, trying to fuck her father.
“Okay,” I said. Now it was my turn to speak slowly. “How did it…not count?”
“I told you, I need to be fucked. I need it, honey.”
“Yes, but…—“
“I need to be fucked. And don’t get me wrong, it was great. It really was. You know I had a good time.”
Closing my eyes, I nodded.
“But you just…you just lay there.”
My eyebrows shot up.
“What?”
“You didn’t fuck me, honey. You just sort of just lay on the bed.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. After a moment of thought, I closed it again.
“You lay there while I did all the work.”
I shrugged, refusing to admit that she was right.
“So?”
“So I told you—this is harder than I thought it would be. It’s harder than either of us thought it would be. I get the urge to play with myself every twenty minutes and I picture myself wrapped around every guy I see. Whenever someone checks me out, I find myself thrusting my chest out and giving them sex eyes.”
“Belle’s chest,” I muttered. My wife was really starting to worry me.
“I know it’s Belle’s chest, honey. I know it is. But I’ve been in this body for a week now. It’s really starting to feel like it’s mine.”
“It’s not.”
My wife sighed, and rolled our daughter’s eyes.
“Yes! I know it’s not my body. But I’m inside it, twenty-four hours a day. If Belle’s nose gets itchy, I’m the one who has to scratch it.”
She leaned forward, and I very pointedly refused to glance down at her cleavage.
“I’m the one who has to scratch it, Andrew. That’s what I’m asking for help with. I need you to help me scratch her itch, or I think I’m going to go crazy.”
Mary is a woman of many, many talents, and persuasiveness has always been at the top of the list.
I shook my head nonetheless.
“It’s too risky,” I said. “Honey, you know it is. It’s too risky.”
“You owe me.”
“That’s not what this is about,” I said, staring her straight in the eyes. “I’m not a prostitute, my love. You can’t haggle your way into making me fuck you. I don’t care if I did just lay there, that’s not how this works. That’s not what it’s about.”
Belle’s eyes were beginning to water, but I pressed on.
“I know that you have needs, and I know that you need help relieving them. I’m going to do what I can to help, but…I can’t fuck you. I can’t.”
I continued, trying not to notice my voice cracking as I spoke.
“I love you. I love you more than anything. And I love Belle. But you can’t tell me that the only way you’re going to feel relief is if I fuck you, honey. If it’s really that bad, if you’re that out of control…maybe it’s time to switch back.”
A tear rolled down my daughter’s cheek, but she never looked away. There was a long silence, as we maintained eye-contact.
Then, to my surprise, she nodded.
“You’re right,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “God, Andrew…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t explain it. It’s like a frenzy. It’s like there’s a thousand ants under my skin, trying to escape from my…”
She gestured between our daughter’s legs. I didn’t glance down for a second.
“Puberty,” I said with a half-shrug. She laughed.
“Yeah. I just…I just want your help keeping them at bay. It’s all-consuming, my love. It really is. But you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said, and pulled her in for a hug. “I know it’s hard.”
Remembering the hug I’d just given, I made sure to position myself so that Mary wouldn’t feel my erection as we embraced.
I couldn’t help but jump as Belle’s hand reached down and found it anyway.
“It is hard,” she growled playfully. “Let’s see what we can do about that…”
Never before had I been so unexcited to hear my wife talking dirty.
“Mary, what did we just discuss?”
“I get that you can’t fuck me. I don’t necessarily agree, but I respect it. You’re right. It’s risky.”
“Yes,” I sighed.
“But what did you say? ‘Anything else you can do to help’?”
“Something like that,” I muttered. I didn’t like where this was going.
“So…don’t fuck me! There’s a lot of other stuff we can do instead…”