My mouth fell open.
“What do you mean they’re outside?”
“What. Do. You. Mean.”
A tear formed in my daughter’s eye, and slowly rolled down her cheek.
“I really did nod,” she replied, her voice no louder than a whisper.
My eyebrows shot up.
“You nodded,” I echoed, trying—and utterly failing—to mask my anger.
“And they said they’d come and get me,” my wife gulped. “Tonight.”
“They’re here. I just got a message.”
“I’m sorry!” she said quickly. “God, Andrew, I’m sorry. But I wasn’t kidding. This body…these hormones…I can’t control them.”
“You have to try har—…”
“I’m trying,” Mary interrupted, clenching our daughter’s hands. “Fuck, Andrew! Do you think I’m not trying? But I…I can’t.”
In the next few moments, two things occurred to me at once.
The first was that I’d managed to simultaneously overestimate and underestimate my wife.
I’d really thought she had made the whole Spike and Lacey thing up to trick me, to trick me into fucking her.
To trick me into fucking our daughter.
And the reason I’d overestimated her…was because at the same time, I’d underestimated her.
My wife is a wonderful woman. I’m unabashedly in love with her, as much as I was the day we met. More, even—I’ve watched her grow and blossom. She’s more her than she ever was, and we’ve spent twenty years building a beautiful life together.
She’s smart, beautiful, and she doesn’t take shit from anyone. (Including, to my frequent frustration, me.)
I’d assumed that she would be more than a match for the hormones of a teenage girl.
I’d been wrong.
So that was the first thing.
My second realization was that despite—or perhaps because of—my wife’s confession, I was once more rock hard.
I was rock hard, and my cock was pointing directly at my teenage daughter’s bare cunt.
As I absorbed those two facts, they combined to form a third, more powerful realization.
My wife needed to be fucked.
My wife needed to be fucked…and if I didn’t do it, someone else would.
“You need to keep it together,” I grunted, leaning over my daughter’s naked body.
“I know,” Mary sniffled.
God, the sight of a tear running down my daughter’s face definitely shouldn’t have made my cock throb, right?
I tried not to think about it.
“You’re losing control. There’s only a few days left, Mary—you need to get on top of this.”
“I’m trying,” she said, staring at me balefully.
“I’m going to help you.”
Belle’s eyes widened. Her voice was questioning, hopeful.
“Like this,” I said, thrusting forward with a grunt.
My wife moaned, louder than I would have liked. My hand moved instinctively, covering her mouth.
If that had happened half an hour ago, I would have assumed that she made the noise specifically to make me gag her.
Now? I wasn’t so sure.
She was really starting to worry me. Fucking the crazy out of her seemed to be the only thing I could do that would really help.
At least, that’s what I told myself. That’s what I needed to believe.
Because otherwise, I was fucking my teenage daughter for the sheer pleasure of it.
“Mmmf,” Mary moaned, my hand preventing anything more coherent from leaving our daughter’s mouth.
The first time I’d fucked Belle—Mary in Belle’s body, that is—I’d been laying on the bed, and yes, she’d done all the work.
The second time my cock had entered my teenage daughter’s pussy, just a few minutes ago, she’d been bent over the bed.
This time, she was facing me. I could see her face as I entered her, as I slid inside my daughter’s wetness. I could see the look of shock as inch after inch of my cock filled her up.
This time, I was in control. I was in control, and I could see her face as I fucked her.
Pushing Belle back onto the bed, I lay on top of her. My wife always loved the feeling of my body above her; she said it made her feel vulnerable and safe, all at once.
I suspected that she’d like it just as much—if not more—while inside our daughter’s body.
“Mmf,” she said again, as I pulled out of Belle’s tight cunt, and started fucking her in earnest.
It had been less than two weeks since my wife and I had last made love, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Even from within Belle’s body, it was a familiar experience—she’d push against me as I entered, gasp as I pulled out, and she pulled and tugged on our daughter’s long pink nipples, knowing how much I loved watching it.
It wasn’t long before I recognized the signs—Belle was cumming. My wife, in my daughter’s body, was cumming around my cock.
And my own orgasm wasn’t far behind.