Mad Monday
by Pan
Chapter 30:
My wife had been right not to take me seriously when I’d claimed I was going to find this difficult. I was so charged up, I almost immediately began fucking her throat.
Hard.
It wasn’t easy to ignore my parental instincts—when Belle started coughing and choking, I wanted to stop, to make sure she was okay. But I knew my wife would do something if she wasn’t, and so I overrode my parental instincts (as I’d been doing so much lately) and focused on the task at hand.
I was starting to get genuinely concerned being caught—we hadn’t set the alarm like the previous day—and wanted it finished—and my daughter’s face cleaned up—as quickly as possible. So despite her spluttering, I continued fucking my daughter’s throat as intensely as I could.
Even as Belle’s eyes began to water, my wife didn’t slow down for a second. I was pounding into her mouth as hard and fast as I could while she played with my balls with one hand, pulling and tweaking at her hard nipples with the other.
Before long, the dam broke—Belle’s overly-thick makeup began to run down her face as my cock pistoned in and out of her face.
After several minutes of this, I could feel myself on the verge of cumming. I was tempted to pull out, to cum on my daughter’s face and take that photo…but that wasn’t what my wife had requested, and I didn’t want to give her any excuse to force a repeat of today’s experience.
And I knew my wife. She would.
So instead, I picked up the camera, forced my daughter’s face down until her lips were at the base of my cock, and stopped.
“Smile,” I said, and Belle’s big, blue, lust-filled eyes looked up at me with picture-perfect need and desperation. “Good girl.”
Click.
My daughter’s loud moan filled the room as the camera whirringly began to print the instant photo. I could feel my wife’s conflicting desires, so I pulled Belle’s face off my cock, and held my daughter close as we watched the photo develop.
It only took a minute or two for the photo to develop—unlike the famous lyrical suggestion, I did not ‘shake it’ (in fact, moving a developing photo adversely affects the chemical process)—just watched, and waited, as the image slowly faded into view
“Fuuuuck,” my wife said, breathing heavily at the sight of our daughter’s lips around my cock. I don’t consider myself much of a photographer, but it was hard to deny—the image was an erotic masterpiece. The mascara running down Belle’s face, the look of pure animal lust in her eyes, her red lips stretched obscenely around my cock.
We probably could have sold it to a nudey magazine for a decent chunk of change. Y’know, if we wanted to ruin’s Belle’s life.
More than we already had.
I noticed my wife had moved our daughter’s hand between her legs. She was stroking herself as she looked at the perverse image in front of us; physical proof of what we’d done.
Of what, I knew, we’d do again.
“Touch me,” she begged, turning those big, blue, wanton eyes in my direction. It hadn’t been part of our deal, but I couldn’t resist—I reached between my daughter’s legs, and replaced her hand with mine.
“Look at yourself,” I murmured, my voice a low rumble. “Look at what a slut you are.”
“Daddy…” she whined, unable to tear her eyes away from the photo we’d taken. “God, Daddy. Please…”
“Look at what a slut our daughter is,” I whispered.
“Daddy…”
“Look at what you’ve done to our baby girl.”
For whatever reason, that was the phrase that did it. Belle’s body began to shake, and my wife grabbed my hand, pushing it hard against our daughter’s pussy mound.
“Dadddeeeee…” she wailed, twitching with pleasure. My eyes widened as I looked down and realized that my wife was squirting. That Belle was squirting.
She’d never done that before. In either body. I’d had a girlfriend who squirted, back in college, but I hadn’t known it was something my wife could do.
Of course, maybe it wasn’t.
“Good girl,” I said, holding her close as she came down from her orgasm. “You’re Daddy’s good girl.”
I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth, but Mary seemed to appreciate them, shuddering in pleasure as I held her body against mine.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the lighter that I’d stashed there earlier, when I’d grabbed the camera. Belle’s eyes were closed, but they shot open as soon as she heard the ‘click’.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, as the small yellow flame began to blacken the edges of the photo we’d just taken.
“You promised,” I said. It took several moments for the flame to catch—as it did, I set the opposite edge alight as well.
“But…”
“No buts,” I said firmly. “I promised that we’d take the photo, and you promised we’d burn it.”
My wife fell silent as we watched the sexiest image either of us would ever see slowly turn into acrid smoke.
When it was done, she turned to me, her eyes a mixture of sadness and lust.
“I want you to cum in my mouth,” she purred, and I shook my head.
“On my face?”
“No, Mary,” I said gently. “You told me you wanted a photo, and a photo we took. We’re done for today.”
“What??” she asked, a slightly frantic look on her face. My wife has always enjoyed sex, but I swear…until she started inhabiting our daughter’s body, she never used to bear such a resemblance to an addict.
But I stood firm. I wanted to cum; of course I wanted to cum. But I’ve learned a thing or two in my time as a parent, and one is that boundaries are important.
Not that this was my daughter, of course. I tried not to think about how blurred the lines were becoming.
“Tomorrow,” I said soothingly.
My wife was not soothed.
“That’s not fair,” she whined, and I rolled my eyes.
“Mary. Honey. You’re forty years old.”
I could tell that she wanted to stamp her feet, to argue, but she took a deep breath and nodded.
“Fine,” she said with a huff. “Tomorrow.”
I smiled as she walked off. For the first time since Mary had switched bodies with Belle, it felt like I’d won.
* * *