Mad Monday Pt. 02

"One thing before I go," she said hesitantly. I sighed, and glanced at the clock.

Midnight. If I allowed her to suck me in (literally OR figuratively), it was unlikely that either of us would get a proper night's sleep.

"Make it quick," I responded, and she threw me a look of *such* innocence, the much more innocent Andrew of two weeks ago probably would have bought it.

"So I told you that Spike offered me..."

She trailed off. I rolled my eyes, and finished the thought before she even had a chance to drag the silence out.

"A threesome with Linda, yes. I remember."

"Lacey," she corrected, my daughter's big blue eyes working overtime. I don't think I'd ever seen eyes so wide, so deliberately naïve.

"Lacey. What's your point?"

"And obviously I can't do it."

"*Obviously,*" I said, pointedly glancing at the big clock on the wall. "Mary, it's late. We really need to...-"

"We're in complete agreement about that," she interrupted, taking a step forward. I responded instinctively by taking a step back - not the most authoritative move, but I didn't trust her so close.

I didn't trust myself, either.

"Uh huh," I replied suspiciously. "No using our daughter's body for threesomes, agreed."

No part of me wanted my cock to thicken at the thought of that. No part except my cock, apparently.

"That's what I thought," she said, turning her lips up into a smile. It was hard not to remember that just a few hours ago, my cock had been between those lips, forcefully fucking Belle's throat, using her to get off...

*Focus, Andrew.*

"So there's no problem," I said.

"Right," she said, lightly stepping backwards until she was once more in the doorframe. "No problem at all. Except..."

I sighed.

"What?"

You've got to understand; I didn't *want* to get sucked in. But my wife...she's got a talent.

Many talents. And more than one of them had to do with sucking me in.

"Except that's not what I actually told them."

Chapter 33:

I blinked twice, not quite processing what I was hearing.

"What?"

"I, um..."

Neither Belle nor my wife are stammerers. Even in the most nerve-wracking of situations, they have full command of the English language, never faltering or losing their words.

So either Mary, for the first time in her life, had lost her grasp of the English language...or she was putting it on to annoy me.

I know where I'd put my money.

"What exactly did you say to Spot," I said, my voice as cold as I could make it.

It was quickly becoming clear that we were *not* going to be having an event-free, early night.

"Spike," my wife corrected.

"Spike." I spat. "What *exactly* did you say to him?"

"Well..." Mary responded slowly, mischief flashing in her eyes.

"Tell. Me. *Exactly*. What. You. Said."

As you've probably picked up by now, I'm not the most dominant of men. When the mood is right, I can play that role in the bedroom, but for the most part I happily let Mary run the household...and pretty much run me, if I'm being honest.

But on very rare occasions, I lose my temper. I don't huff and storm about, throwing furniture or shouting.

When I get mad, I get quiet. By now, my wife knows the warning signs.

But for reasons that I was too angry to properly explore, she wasn't heeding them, or using any of her tricks to calm me down.

If anything, she was doing the opposite.

"Well, he said he was sorry. I mean, not exactly that, but..."

A low growl involuntarily left my lips. My daughter's eyes widened, her tongue briefly passing over her lips, and Mary continued.

"And then he said that if I wanted to, I - we - could fool around some time. Him and Lacey and me."

"And what did *you* say?"

"...I didn't say no."

I hadn't even noticed myself stepping forward, but there I was, towering over my daughter.

You've got to understand, losing my temper like this was an extremely rare occurrence. I generally live a placid life. I'm my own boss, I make my own hours, I have a loving wife, and while our relationship with Belle had been strained for several years, it wasn't like she was stealing money or getting arrested.

The last time I'd gotten this mad was...well, honestly, I couldn't even tell you. But the thought of Mary offering our daughter's body to *Spike*, offering to share her perfect form with him and his new slut...it just made my blood boil.

"What *did* you say?" I hissed. Again, there it was - Belle's tongue darted out, moistening her pink lips.

"Um. Um."

"Mary..."

"...I said that I'd think about it."

I paused. Not ideal, of course, but it could have gone so much...

"...and then, during gym, he asked me again."

I closed my eyes, but all I could see was red. Before I could count to ten to calm myself down, Mary continued.

"I told him I'd been thinking about it. I told him...I said that I'd been thinking about it a *lot*."

"Mary!"

"And when he asked me after history, I...oh god, Andrew, I couldn't say no."

My eyes snapped open.

"What *did* you say?"

My voice was hard as steel. As was another part of me.

"Andrew, please..."

"*What did you say?*"

"I didn't say anything."

My eyes narrowed, and a sheepish look crossed my daughter's face.

"...but I did, um, nod. A little."

"Mary!"

"Andrew, please. You don't understand. This wasn't like the basketball player."

As she spoke, Belle's hands began unbuttoning her pajama top.

"He wasn't just asking for my number - Spike was offering me *sex*. Sex, Andrew."

"Mary, I...-"

"God, Andrew, I need to be fucked. I've never needed anything so much in my life."

"I thought that once a day would be enough, I really did. But this body..."

Without missing a beat, she shrugged off her top. My daughter was standing in front of me, topless, her huge tits softly swaying as I stared at them. I felt like I was frozen, like I couldn't move.

"...this body needs more than just fooling around."

As Mary spoke, my daughter's cool blue eyes were staring at me. Through me.

"It's more than just the hormones, Andrew. Look at me."

I stared, transfixed, as Mary stepped out of our daughter's pajama pants. Underneath, she wore nothing. Belle's body was standing in my room, completely naked.

"Look at what we made."

I wanted to say something, but my mouth was completely dry.

"I need to get fucked. I *need* it. Our daughter has a body that was built for fucking."

I wanted to disagree, but I couldn't find the words.

"Andrew, if I don't get fucked, I'm going to lose it. Even with our arrangement, even with once a day...I'm climbing the walls."

"Mary..." I croaked. Adrenaline was still coursing through my body, scrambling my thoughts. My dick was as hard as it had ever been, and there was a naked teenage girl standing in my room.

Begging me to fuck her.

"I need it," she pleaded, placing Belle's arms around my neck, pressing her naked body against mine. I knew she could feel my erection through my shorts.

"I need to get fucked," she repeated. "And if you don't do it...I'm going to go to a man who will."

Like I said, I should've jerked off. Or, failing that, I should've locked the door the moment I got to the bedroom.

Or after she left the first time.

And I definitely shouldn't have let her get to me. No one knows how to work me up like Mary does - she can press my buttons like no one else. In both senses. When we first got together, we'd engage in screaming matches that lasted all night.

Sometimes the sexy kind, but more often - especially when we were first dating - the angry type.

But at the thought of Spike touching my daughter - *fucking* my daughter - the room went red once more, and the next thing I knew, Belle's naked body was bent double across the bed and my pants were around my ankles.

"No one fucks you but me," I hissed, one hand on Belle's neck. "You're *mine*."

"I'm yours," she gasped, arching her back.

It wasn't until my cock was halfway inside my daughter that I realized I'd been had. My wife isn't a liar, but she also isn't a fool. There was no way that she'd told a teenage drug-dealer that he and his new girlfriend could fuck our daughter.

She'd made the whole thing up. It was all so obvious now. She'd made it all up to trick me into taking her - *properly* taking her, not like last time, where I'd just lain there. My wife wanted me to fuck her - to really FUCK her...and I'd fallen for it.

Here's the thing though - when you're mad and horny and feel like you haven't cum since the Whigs were a major political party, and you find your dick enveloped in a teenage goddess's tight, hot pussy, and she's moaning and writhing with pleasure under you...well, 'pulling out' isn't the first idea that springs to mind.

Over the past ten days, I'd had some moments I wasn't at all proud of. I'd given into my wife's machinations far more often than I should have, and my mind had been almost-constantly filled with terrible thoughts.

But, in that moment, with my rock-hard cock sliding into my daughter's *extremely* willing wetness, I am proud to say...I resisted.

"No," I gasped. "Mary, no. We can't do this."

The look of heartbreak on my daughter's face as I pulled out was almost enough to make me regret what I was doing.

Almost.

Mary had gotten me mad, riled me up so that I'd take her, so that I'd fuck her like an animal. In that moment, I suspect she would have given *anything* for me to bend her over, hold her down, and pound into her as hard as I could.

And honestly, in that moment, there were very few things that I wanted more.

But one of them - the most important - was to be a good father...and so I didn't.

"Go to bed," I said softly. I ignored the tears welling up in my daughter's eyes. Even though I'd only been inside her for a moment, the breeze running across my dick told me just how wet she'd been. "Mary, please. Go to bed."

There was a look of real pain in her eyes as she shook her head, but I pressed on.

"Honey, we'll talk in the morning. We'll fool around tomorrow night. Anything you want. *Almost* anything. We can get through this, my love. We're in this together."

When my wife finally managed to speak, her voice was choked with tears.

"Andrew, I...I can't."

"Why not?" I asked patiently. Now that I'd gotten through the moments of madness, I was confident in my ability to stay calm, to resist.

I'd done it once, I could do it again.

"Spike..."

The hairs on the back of my neck rose at the dirtbag's name, but I forced myself not to get worked up.

"Mmm?"

"Spike and Lacey are...they're outside."

Chapter 34:

My mouth fell open.

"What do you mean they're *outside*?"

"Andrew..."

"What. Do. You. Mean."

A tear formed in my daughter's eye, and slowly rolled down her cheek.

"Mary..."

"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."

"And?"

"They're here. I just got a message."

"Mary..."

"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.

"How?"

"Like this," I said, thrusting forward with a grunt.

"Oh, *fuck*."

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.

Chapter 35:

"I'm cumming," my wife-in-my-daughter's-body moaned, so loudly I was briefly worried that my daughter-in-my-wife's-body would hear us. "Oh, *Daddy*..."

I could feel it. Wave after wave of lubrication, as my daughter's pussy got closer to orgasm.

As did I.

A part of me wondered if I should pull out. It was an unanswerable ethical question - is it better to pull out of your daughter's pussy and cum onto her sweaty, olive skin, or should you just go ahead and cum inside her?

Before I could even begin to unpack that, the decision was made for me. Belle's legs wrapped around me, pulling me down onto the bed. My body fell into hers, every inch of her bare skin pressing against me.

"I'm cumming," I gasped, and Belle's eyes widened.

"Do it, Daddy," she implored. "Please..."

My hips thrust forward with need, as I did what I'd been desperately wanting to do (and not wanting to think about) for the past week. My cock began twitching, and soon I was pumping a load of cum deep inside my naked, flushed daughter.

"Yessss...Daddy..."

Her groan was so loud, I looked up at the window in panic. It was double-glazed...but had it been open, Spike and Lacey would have undoubtedly been able to hear her cries of pleasure.

My orgasm barely behind me, I was suddenly thinking clearly again. All at once, I was acutely aware of how dangerous - how *stupid* - what we'd just done was.

The window was closed, thank Christ, but Mary's body was still in the house. She was supposed to be asleep downstairs, but if she wasn't - if she'd come up for *any* reason - my daughter would have heard the sound of her own body loudly cumming, crying "Daddy" as she did.

I should have kept my hand over her mouth. Or gagged her.

We should have been more careful. We should have waited until my wife's body had a glass of wine in her, and then locked the door.

Or, best of all, we shouldn't have been fucking at all.

But I was starting to wonder if that was even an option anymore.

As my daughter's cunt twitched around my cock, her eyes rolled back in her head, and a look of serenity appeared on her face. For the first time since my wife had switched bodies with our daughter, she didn't have the nervous energy of a horny teenager.

Despite the shortsighted way we'd gone about it, this had worked. She looked...calm.

I smiled down at her.

Next time, we'd be smarter.

As I pulled my cock out of my daughter's pink pussy, she moaned, softly protesting. I reached up and teasingly pinched one of Belle's long pink nipples, surprising myself.

For the first time in a week, I too felt calm.

She'd been right.

I'd fought against it, tried to reach all manner of compromise. I'd done everything I could to avoid the facts of the matter: my wife, in my daughter's body, needed to be *fucked*.

She needed it.

And maybe I had too.

After all we'd done - after the blowjobs, and the photos, and even the sex where I'd just lain there...after a week of being mercilessly teased by the sexiest creature the devil could have possibly devised, I'd needed it too.

I ran one hand down the side of my daughter's body. Now that I'd gotten it out of my system, now that I'd given her the fucking that we'd both so desperately needed, I was able to appreciate her form for what it was.

My daughter, somewhat unfairly, had a perfect body. Olive skin, huge tits, perfect curves, and a mostly-flat stomach. She was just old enough to have lost all of her puppy-fat, and young enough that her skin was flawless, and her tits - despite their size - didn't seem to sag at all.

Belle twitched at the attention my hand was giving her, and my eyes were instinctively drawn to her pink pussy. Sure enough, some of my cum dribbled out of her - something that drove me wild when my wife did it.

But here, now, it didn't have the same effect. Ever since the mad Monday that had started this ridiculous series of events, I felt calm enough to admire my daughter's body like one would admire a work of art - dispassionately appreciating the beauty, not being driven wild by the sexuality of it.

"You should go to bed," I said gently. It didn't sound like my daughter (in my wife's body) had heard anything. "Text Spunk and Libby, and let them know that you've changed your mind, and you're not interested in a threesome."

"'Kay," my wife (in my daughter's body) said in a grumble, a piece of vernacular I assumed she'd picked up from the kids at school. I'd certainly never heard her say it before now.