Mad Monday
by Pan
Chapter 29:
I blinked twice at my wife’s request. I couldn’t work out what was more shocking—the request, or the matter-of-fact way she’d made it.
“What?”
My daughter’s eyes stared back at me, unblinking, as she repeated the request.
“I want you to fuck my throat…”
“Mary!”
“…so hard you make me cry…”
“I’m not doi—…”
“…then take a photo…”
“Mary, we—…”
“… of your cock in my mouth…”
“Please, can we ju…—”
“…and the eyeliner running down my face.”
There was a silence, as I stared into the eyes of my teenage daughter, her body inhabited by her mother.
“No,” I said simply.
“What?”
“Honey…”
I sighed. I felt like we’d had this conversation over and over again, every day since the switch.
“Honey, we can’t.”
I tried not to think about the fact that over the dozen arguments, I’d never won.
“But you promised.”
“I did not promise to take a photo of…of…”
“Of your cock in my mouth, eyeliner running down my face.” It practically came out in a purr. I’d been so shocked by the request, I hadn’t even noticed how much the idea obviously turned her on.
I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Something told me this was going to be another battle I wasn’t going to win.
But I had to try.
“Mary, you know we can’t take any photos. If anyone finds a photo of my cock in my daughter’s throat, I’m finished. Our entire family is finished.”
“Who’s going to know it’s your cock?”
“What if Belle finds it, honey. How the fuck do you explain that photo to our daughter?”
My daughter’s face winced slightly at the language, but whether from shock or arousal, I couldn’t tell. And didn’t much want to find out.
“We’ll keep it in the safe,” she said. “She’s eighteen—it’s not child pornography.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, hypothetical: you die, and the police suspect me.”
My wife returned my eye-roll; a familiar expression on our daughter’s face over the last few years.
“Go on,” she grumbled.
“They open the safe and find that. What do you think they think is happening?”
“They won’t know it’s your cock…”
“No,” I said emphatically. “But they’ll know it’s a photo of my daughter’s face, a cock in her mouth in my safe.”
“The safe in my desk,” my wife replied. “At work. I’ll keep it there.”
My eyes widened.
“How is that better!?”
Another sardonic glare. “Because then you have complete deniability over why it exists.”
“But you won’t.”
“I’m willing to take that risk,” Mary replied, looking up at me with Belle’s eyes. “Please, Andrew. I really want this.”
“We can’t.”
“I’ll take full responsibility of it.” Her tone hardened. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“No, but I am the boss of photos of my own cock.”
There was a pause, and I felt like I was actually gaining ground.
“We’ll burn the photo,” she said. “We don’t need to keep it, I just…I just want to take it.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“…why?”
“God, Andrew,” she said, her voice deep with lust. “I don’t even know. I just can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t explain it.”
“Try.”
There was another pause. I tried to subtly adjust myself; my daughter’s eyes had gone hazy with lust.
How was I ever going to see her as my sweet innocent girl again? How was I going to look into those eyes without remembering this moment, when she was so turned on she literally couldn’t focus?
Before I was anywhere close to formulating an answer, my wife continued.
“I want to see,” she said, half-speaking, half-moaning. “I want to see what it looks like. What I look like. What our daughter looks like.”
I gestured to the mirror, but Mary shook our daughter’s head.
“I’ve tried that. I’ve given head to a cucumber in front of the mirror, just to see what it looks like, but it’s not the same. I want to see it like you do. I want to see what you see—I’ve been inside this body for ten days now, and I can’t stop thinking about how you see our daughter. She’s so full of hormones, honey…she’s such a slut.”
Mary practically spat the last word, and my cock twitched, reminded of the mantra I’d found myself mindlessly repeating yesterday as I came.
My daughter’s a slut. My daughter’s a slut. My daughter’s a SLUT.
“I have to see, honey. I can’t stop thinking about it. I have to.”
“Mary…”
“Please, Daddy,” she begged, her moan becoming a high-pitched whine. “Please…”
I held up one hand before she threw herself onto her knees in front of me.
“We can take a photo,” I quietly conceded. “But not of that. I…I don’t think I can hurt our daughter, Mary.”
She smiled—it combined with her smouldering eyes to give her a half-crazed look.
“Andrew, honey, you took her virginity.”
I winced.
“That was a mistake.”
“But you did it. And now you’ll do this. I promise, by the time we switch back, she won’t know anything has happened.”
“What if she comes home halfway through?” I asked, aware of how thin my excuses were getting. Mary laughed.
“I’ll get us out of it,” she said, waving away my fears. And I knew she was right; she’d get us out of the most compromising of situations. It’s what my wife is good at.
It’s one of the things my wife is good at.
“But…”
I fell silent. This was a bad idea, obviously…but so was so much of what we’d done, what we were doing.
“Fine,” I sighed. “But: we burn the photo?”
Belle’s eyes filled with glee, and she nodded.
“We burn the photo,” she said, her voice so throaty she could have been competing in the sex-line Olympics.
“So let’s do it,” I said with a half-shrug, and my daughter’s hands clapped with sheer delight.
“Oh Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy…”
I shuddered. For reasons I didn’t understand, I knew my wife was getting off on using our daughter’s body to call me ‘Daddy’. I still found it pretty disturbing.
Worst of all, it was starting to have an effect on me. Just another of the many ways these two weeks were destined to fuck me up for life, I figured.
“Go get the Polaroid,” I sighed. We’d bought an instant camera to use at our 15-year wedding anniversary; everyone had loved being able to get the photos back straight away. We hadn’t really used it much since then, but my wife returned in less than a minute, the Polaroid camera in our daughter’s hands.
She’d been waiting for this.
“We burn the photo,” I reminded her, and she nodded, practically vibrating with excitement as she stripped naked in front of me.
My wife had used our daughter’s body to blow me several times now, but it had never been this…calculated before. I’d always felt tricked into it, or done it simply because I’d been overtaken by lust.
By suggesting something so much more extreme than a simple blowjob, my wife had stopped me from arguing the blowjob itself.
My eyes narrowed. Had that been her intent all along?
I unzipped my trousers—I was hard as a rock, of course. For all my protestations, I couldn’t deny that there was something perversely hot about Mary’s idea. Our daughter’s innocent face, made up like a whore, my cock in her mouth, using her like a slut, eyeline dripping down her face…
Belle’s eyes lit up at the sight of my erection; in no time at all, she’d enveloped me with her mouth, taking the entire length of my cock down her throat like she’d been doing this for years.
I suppose she had, in a sense. Not my daughter, of course—Mary. She’d been sucking my cock for more than fifteen years, and she’d never struggled to swallow down the entire thing. Almost two decades of sexual experience, inside a body less than two decades old.
If I wasn’t careful, I was going to cum before taking the photo.
“Are you ready?” I asked, and when my wife responded with a muffled ‘mmf-hmmf!’, and took our daughter’s hair into my hand.