Mad Monday Ch. 08

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Blonde

As my wife slowly came down from our daughter’s orgasm, she smiled at me.

“God, Andrew…”

“I know,” I smiled back at her. “I know.”

I began to stand up, and a worried look crossed her face.

“Where are you going?”

My face fell.

“I thought…I thought that…”

“You thought that was it?”

Belle’s voice was shrill. She began to sit up, and I returned to my seat as quickly as was humanly possible.

“Of course not,” I lied. “I just…”

Mary shut our daughter’s eyes. She didn’t say anything, but I could see her lips moving – she was silently counting to ten.

When Belle’s gaze met mine again, my wife seemed calmer.

“What’s the time?” she asked.

I glanced at my watch.

“Half past four..”

“Good,” she said. “We still have a little while.”

I nodded, my heart sinking. Never before had ‘a little while’ struck such fear into my heart.

“Now,” she said, bringing Belle’s hands back up to her breasts, the fire returning to her eyes. “You were saying…”

“I want to cum on your tits,” I said, trying to inject passion into my voice. It had been foolish to think my wife would be done after a single orgasm – that may have been enough when this had all started, when I was making out with her under duress, but now…my daughter’s hormones seemed to be feeding into my wife’s sex drive.

It was like a feedback loop, whipping her into a frenzy.

What had I gotten myself into?

“Call me baby girl,” she repeated. It was a nickname I’d always used for Belle.

It made my stomach turn, but I couldn’t argue. I couldn’t.

I knew where that battle led.

“Play with yourself,” she pleaded.

Unzipping my pants, I pulled my hard cock into view. I tried not to enjoy the look on Belle’s face when she saw it.

I tried to remind myself – this was Mary. Mary, my wife. She was the one staring, entranced, at my erection. My wife was the one who wanted me to talk dirty to her.

Not my daughter. Not my sweet, innocent, eighteen-year old daughter.

It was my wife. It was like my wife was…wearing a costume. Dressing up as my daughter.

Mary was dressing up as Belle, calling me Daddy, and instructing me to call her ‘baby girl’.

I mean, as long as I kept that in mind, how weird could it get?

She moaned with pleasure as I followed her instructions, wrapping one hand around my cock, slowly pumping.

As I stroked my hand up and down my dick, Mary moved one of Belle’s hands between her legs. She lifted up her skirt, and it was immediately obvious that a bra wasn’t the only item of underwear she’d skipped that morning.

My wife had spent the day at school, in my daughter’s body, not wearing a bra or panties.

God, why did that make me hard?

“Daddy, so many boys were looking at me today.”

I gulped. Now Mary was putting on a baby voice. What on earth had gotten into her?

“They were all looking at me, and I could tell they wanted to fuck me. All the boys at school wanted to fuck me, Daddy.”

I nodded, not sure what to say.

“They all saw my big tits, my long legs. I just wanted to unbutton my shirt and flash them, Daddy…”

“But you didn’t, did you?”

Mary shook our daughter’s head, a mischievous look on her face.

“No, Daddy. I was such a good girl.”

My cock twitched at her response.

“I was such a good girl for you. I know you don’t want me to fuck any of the boys at school, Daddy. I know you don’t want me to show off my tits for them.”

Belle’s hand was moving faster and faster between her legs. I matched her pace as I continued stroking her cock.

“My tits are for you, Daddy.”

I groaned.

“I’m your good little girl. My tits belong to you. I’m your baby girl.”

I was staring at Belle’s tits as she rubbed herself, Mary’s words seeping into my brain like poison. Despite the fact that she’d cum just a few minutes ago, I could again hear my daughter’s voice getting strained.

“I won’t fuck the boys at school, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” I muttered. I couldn’t help myself.

“I won’t let them cum on my titties,” Mary continued.

“Good girl…”

“I won’t let them use my hot teenage pussy…”

“Oh god, Mary…”

“Belle.”

“Belle,” I rasped. “Belle…you’re going to make me cum.”

Faster than I would have imagined she could move, Mary hoisted Belle’s body off the couch and kneeled in front of me. Her hand never left her wet pussy, and as she looked up at me, I could feel an orgasm approaching.

“I won’t let them fuck you, because I belong to you. I’m yours, Daddy. My body is yours.”

There’s something I haven’t mentioned. Mostly because it hasn’t been relevant, but partially because…well, I guess I find it a little embarrassing.

As Mary knows very well, I have a bit of çapa escort a fetish. Nothing too wild…I suppose you could call it an ‘ownership’ fetish. My wife’s body ‘belonging to me’ has always been a part of our dirty talk. We’ve never gone beyond that – I know some people are into collars, or writing on each other. For us, it’s always just been talk.

I never thought she’d use it like this.

“I’m yours,” Mary moaned, staring up at me with our daughter’s blue eyes. “I belong to you. Cum onto my tits, Daddy. Mark me as your property. Show the world that I’m your baby girl, that you own me.

“Own me…”

With a grunt, I felt myself cumming – Belle’s eyes lit up as I aimed my offering at my daughter’s exposed tits.

My dick pulsed three times as I came, shooting my wad onto my daughter’s face and breasts. Most of my seed landed on her chest, but Mary leaned forward and caught my third shot on Belle’s face.

Breathing heavily, I leaned back and watched as my cum slowly began to slide down Belle’s huge tits. With a groan, she began to cum as well, her second orgasm of the afternoon.

Well, the second that I’d been witness to.

So far.

She collapsed backwards, laying on the floor, writhing and twitching with pleasure as she came.

When she was done, we both sat there in a comfortable silence. I could feel the guilt lurking in the corner of my mind, but I wasn’t letting it in. Not yet.

“Wow,” Mary said, propping herself up on Belle’s elbows. Her face and tits were splattered with my seed.

I wish I didn’t find that such a turn-on.

“Wow,” she repeated. “That was…”

Before she could finish her thought, we were interrupted by the loud beeping of the burglar alarm.

“Go get that!” she hissed. The baby-voice was gone – emerging from my daughter’s mouth, I recognized my wife’s ‘business’ tone.

“You’ve got…this?” I asked, gesturing at her chest. My cum was sliding down her long pink nipples, dripping onto the carpet.

“Yes!” she hissed again. “Just…don’t let her come in here, okay? It reeks.”

Mary was right. I hadn’t even noticed before, but my office stank of sex. The strong scent of my seed had mixed with the smell of my daughter’s pussy-juices, and virgin though she may have been (in mind, if no longer in body – either body), I’m sure Belle would have been suspicious of the resultant odor.

As quickly as I could, I returned my still-hard cock to my pants, fastened them, and walked into the hallway to find my wife’s body staring at the house alarm panel, a confused look on her face.

“Oh!” Belle said as I approached. “You’re home.”

“Sorry about this.” I said, flipping open the panel and disabling the alarm. “Must have forgotten to turn it back off again.”

To my relief, my wife’s eyes didn’t hold even a trace of suspicion. As always, Mary was right – Belle didn’t even question the idea that I’d somehow turn on the alarm and then slip into my office before triggering it.

Never before had I been so thankful for the low opinion the women in my life apparently had of me.

We stood in silence for a few moments. My heart was still racing at the idea of being caught – what we were doing was for Belle’s sake, for the good of the family…but there was a zero percent chance I’d have been able to explain that to her if she’d walked in to find her body covered in her father’s fresh seed.

My cock twitched at the memory. If a genie had appeared to offer one wish, I would have wished that I wasn’t turned on by the image of my daughter, kneeling in front of me, her tits coated with my cum.

“Let’s go out,” I said abruptly.

“For real?”

I think I managed to mask my smile. My daughter’s distinctive tone and language, emerging from my wife’s mouth. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it.

Fortunately, I wouldn’t have to. Six more days.

Six more days.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s been a big week; I think we deserve it.”

“Da…uh, Andrew. It’s Monday.”

God, was it only Monday?

“Well, when was the last time we went out?”

A look of confusion entered my wife’s eyes

“It’s been too long,” I pressed on, before Belle felt obliged to actually answer my question. “Pick a spot, I’ll take you there.”

“The 556!”

“Sure thing, honeybee.”

My daughter, unsurprisingly, was much worse at hiding her reactions than I. Pretending not to notice her grimace, I told her to go upstairs and get changed.

Once I was sure she was out of earshot, I made my way back to the office.

I genuinely don’t know how she does it. If it wasn’t for the smell, I would have sworn that our daughter’s body had just gotten home from school and sat down on the couch in my office to relax. I mean, I knew she wasn’t wearing a bra or panties, but the innocent way she was sitting, cihangir escort I would never have considered that as an option.

Then, once she saw it was just me, Mary licked our daughter’s lips and winked at me.

I was immediately as hard as a rock.

“I’m taking her out to dinner,” I said, and Belle’s eyes lit up.

“Great idea!” she said, the sultry look gone in an instant. “Talk to her about her peers.”

I tilted my head to the side.

“Her peers? You mean…the people at your work?”

“No, her peers. The kids in her class.”

“Are you worried our daughter is being…peer pressured?”

Mary tossed her head to the side and gave me a perfect (though I suspect inadvertent) duplication of Belle’s most withering teenage glance.

“Yes, Andrew. Tell her hugs, not drugs. Perhaps in a rap, to make sure it really gets through to the youth of today.”

“I just don’t…-”

My wife interrupted me with a sigh, heaving my daughter’s shoulders.

“We don’t have time for this, honey. Our daughter doesn’t have any friends, and I’m trying to work out why.”

“Of course,” I said.

There were many reasons I was uncomfortable doing sexual things with my daughter. I mean, they should be obvious, right? Even though I knew it was my wife in there…in the end, it was still my daughter’s body.

The memories would never leave me. The knowledge that I’d been inside her, that she’d sucked my cock, that I’d cum on her tits…they’d torture me until my dying day.

But just as bad: now that I’d seen her naked, now that I’d looked at her in a sexual light…it was hard to turn off.

Without even meaning to, before I left the room, my eyes flicked down, and I glanced at Belle’s tits.

I checked out my daughter.

There are many words that you can use to describe me, but I don’t think that ‘subtle’ is one of them.

Mary noticed. She noticed me objectifying our daughter’s body. She noticed me unconsciously looking at Belle’s chest. What was going to happen when they switched back? If Belle noticed me checking her out, even once…god, I didn’t even want to think of the psychological damage that could do.

My wife should have been furious. She should have scolded me, helped me train my instincts away from viewing my daughter as a piece of meat.

Instead, a sultry look appeared on her face, and she brazenly pushed her chest forward for me to have a better look.

“Where are you going for dinner?” she asked, her voice practically dripping with faux-innocence.

“The 556.”

Belle’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh!”

“Oh?”

She grinned at the worried tone in my voice.

“Have fun with that,” she said, and before I could inquire any further, ushered me out of the office. My head snapped around, but Belle was still upstairs, thank god. If she saw that her body was at home, she’d…well, I didn’t know what she’d do. I didn’t want to know.

“While you’re out, I’m going to do some homework,” she whispered.

“Good,” I began, but my wife continued over me.

“…while your cum dries on my tits. Have a good time!”

I wasn’t able to even get a ‘goodbye’ out before she slipped back through the door, closing it on my face.

What was at the 556?

***

I managed to mask my erection as I left the office (a skill I’d developed as a teen, and hadn’t needed to use for many years). I tried to calm down as I waited at the bottom of the stairs for my daughter (in my wife’s body) to finish preparing for our ‘date’.

My mouth dropped open as Mary’s body appeared.

Over the last week, Belle had been dressing her mother as she saw her choices in fashion. At the age of forty, Mary had long settled into what I considered quite a pleasant array of outfits, but – in her daughter’s eyes – were apparently dull as ditchwater.

Yesterday, for example, Belle had worn a black dress that I hadn’t seen Mary in since her uncle’s funeral. It was stiff, staid, formal, and did absolutely nothing for her figure – something I’d been extremely grateful for.

I was already having enough trouble hiding my attraction to Mary in my daughter’s body. The last thing I’d needed was to hide my attraction for my wife from Belle in Mary’s body.

Even after eighteen years of marriage, I still consider Mary one of the most gorgeous creatures on the planet, but I knew that Belle must be finding the scenario stressful enough as it was. She didn’t need her father’s lustful eyes passing over her borrowed form.

And so I hadn’t been prepared in the slightest for Belle to choose one of her mother’s least conservative outfits. It was a red dress that she’d bought to wear to the beach, but shelved after realizing it was far too revealing.

Women’s fashion is a strange thing. My wife has worn a bathing suit to esenyurt escort the beach – she even has a bikini that sees regular rotation.

A bikini is fine, but a revealing dress is verboten.

And no, in case you were wondering, the dress is not more revealing than a bikini. It’s just a sundress – spaghetti straps over each shoulder, a lace-up back, and a hem that ends about five inches above her knee.

It’s certainly not offensive, or slutty – my wife just knows what’s appropriate for her to wear as a pillar of the community and a mother, and decided this falls on the wrong side of that line.

Belle, it seemed, didn’t agree.

“Wow,” I said, furiously telling my cock to stay down. “That’s…”

“Do you like it?” Belle asked, my wife’s face lighting up. It made my heart melt a little – all my little girl wanted to do was make her mother’s body look pretty. She was so innocent in so many ways.

And, thanks to me, no longer innocent in so many others.

I shooed the thought away and returned the smile.

“I love it,” I said, leaning in and kissing her chastely on the cheek. “You look phenomenal.”

To my surprise, she didn’t recoil from the kiss. Or perhaps she was just getting better at hiding it.

“Thanks,” she said, doing a slight twirl. “You ready to go?”

“When you are, my queen.”

For the first time since the swap, Belle didn’t grimace at the pet name. Instead, she grinned, took my arm, and led me to the car.

***

As I drove to the 556, my mind was racing. What was Belle up to? Where had this sudden desire to change her mother’s wardrobe come from?

After a week in Belle’s teenage body, it almost felt like my wife had gone crazy. She had insisted that I take our daughter’s virginity, that I cum on her face, on her tits…the sudden dose of hormones had hit her hard, sent her spiraling out of control, and made her do things that she never would have tolerated before.

Could a similar thing have happened to Belle?

My wife’s hormones obviously weren’t as powerful as our daughter’s, but we had a very healthy sex-life. We weren’t one of those TV couples, where the man desires and the woman denies – Mary’s libido was just as active as mine. I had never particularly kept track of frequency, but Mary would drag me to bed as often as I would her.

If Mary had been overwhelmed by Belle’s sexual urges, perhaps the same thing was happening in reverse. My stomach churned at the thought – my daughter, trapped in her mother’s body. What if she decided to act on those urges?

No. No matter what, I knew that I couldn’t do anything – not with my daughter. It may have been my wife’s body, but inside was Belle. The real Belle.

Doing anything with her would mean that she’d remember it. She’d remember me.

The idea made me sick.

For the first time, I was sympathetic to my wife’s point. Yes, Mary was in Belle’s body, but it was still her. It was still my wife.

Conversely, while I’d made love to my wife’s body too many times to count, the idea of doing anything while Belle was inside…it was completely out of the question.

No wonder Mary had struggled to understand my reticence. Her stance was suddenly making a lot more sense.

My wife had used her considerable debating talents to wear me down; I knew that my daughter wouldn’t be able to do the same thing. It might be awkward to explain to her why I, her ‘loving husband’, didn’t want to make love to her, but I knew I’d be able to do it.

And at worst, I’d flee. I’d flee the situation, and get to safer grounds.

Not that it would come to that.

“You excited for our date?” I asked, breaking the silence. Belle had been using her mother’s eyes to stare out the window for the whole trip, distracted.

I dreaded to think of what thoughts were distracting her.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said distantly.

“I really, uh, love you,” I said, trying to gauge where she was at.

“Love you too,” she replied dismissively.

“I think I’ll get the crocodile for dinner,” I replied.

“That sounds lovely,” Belle responded.

Okay, definitely not listening. I wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good sign.

“We’re here,” I said, and Belle turned to shoot me a smile. My daughter’s smile on my wife’s face looked completely natural, and I found myself smiling back.

Not my wife, I had to remind myself. It’s Belle in there. My daughter.

Mary’s actions over the last few days had left me so confused and worked up – even though I’d cum onto my daughter’s face and tits just a few hours ago, it felt like my body was still humming with sexual energy. I had to make sure not to release any of that energy in the direction of Mary’s body.

I could do this. I knew I could.

Opening the door to the diner, I was simultaneously overwhelmed with terror and relief. In an instant, it became clear to me- my daughter hadn’t dressed this way for me. All my head-spinning had been for nothing.

Sitting inside the 556, his arm around a girl I presumed was Lacey, sat Spike.

And my wife’s eyes were boring into him like a laser-focused drill.

Mary had been right. This was going to be interesting.

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