Mad Monday
by Pan
Chapter 53:
By the time Belle and Ben got home, three things were clean: me, my daughter’s body, and every part of her asshole that my tongue could reach.
I had never eaten ass before, and had been surprised by how weirdly hot the taboo nature of it was. Even ignoring the fact that it was my daughter’s ass, it felt inherently wrong. Like the mouth wasn’t supposed to go there, you know?
My cock never softened as my tongue probed Belle’s rectum, going deep into the hole my cock had entered for the first time just a day earlier.
I was so hard, and felt like I could have kept tonguing her asshole out forever—the only thing that stopped me was the knowledge that our kids were going to be home soon, and my desire to get off (and get cleaned up) before they did.
Taking advantage of the fact we were in the shower together, I came onto my daughter’s tits and face; a long, shuddering orgasm, the tart taste of her butt still fresh on my tongue.
I managed to get dried off and redressed just in time for my son and my wife’s body to re-enter, Morris’s Famous Pizza in-hand.
Mary came downstairs after half an hour, perfectly playing the part of the reluctant daughter, as if only rejoining us because the smell of food had lured her in. Belle didn’t say anything about her earlier behavior, thank god—Mary and I had been so distracted while they were gone, we’d forgotten to swap stories.
Instead, Belle just acted as though nothing was amiss. Several times as we ate, I caught my wife’s body smiling around at everyone.
It seemed that our daughter had missed family time as much as we had. She’d just needed a nudge to realize it.
“This has been so much fun,” she said, as the last of the pizza was scarfed down by the bottomless pit that was our teenage son. “We should hang out again tomorrow. Make up for the Family Day that Ben missed.”
“’Kay,” he replied nonchalantly. I suspected that Ben wanted nothing more but to catch up on all the Pokemonning he’d missed while at camp, but he was a good kid. Not the kind to cause a fuss.
Just like Belle at that age.
“Sounds good,” I said cautiously. Part of me wanted to refuse, suggest that I take Belle out to the cabin for the day. Somewhere that I could fuck her all day long with no chance of being caught; take full advantage of our last day in these unique circumstances.
But that wasn’t why we were doing this. We were doing this to reconnect with our daughter, to save our family. And if Belle was suggesting more family time—instead of doing whatever she could to get out of it—then it was working.
My daughter’s eyes lit up.
“Oh my god,” Mary said in a single breath. “Let’s have another day at the beach!”
“Good idea,” Belle replied, before I had a chance to react. “How does that sound, Ben?”
“Fine,” he said with a half-shrug. “Whatever.”
“Andrew?” my daughter said. “Are you okay?”
“Mm-mm,” I replied. “Sounds…sounds good.”
Apparently I had not been able to hide the panic that flooded my body at the idea. When we’d visited the beach a week ago, my daughter’s body had been wearing one of the skimpiest bikinis I’d ever seen…and both Belle and her mother had loved every second of it.
This would be the ultimate test. If Belle was still okay with Mary showing off her skin, parading in front of strangers while barely clothed, then it hadn’t worked. Two weeks hadn’t been enough time.
Maybe I could convince Mary to extend it, to spend another week in her daughter’s body. Another month…another year.
But if Belle saw it our way, if she agreed that strutting around half-naked wasn’t appropriate…and if she could convincingly explain why…
Then maybe it would have all been worth it.
“Beach day, beach day!” my wife sang out, bounding my daughter’s body up the stairs. We sent Ben to dump all the pizza boxes into the recycling bin, and as soon as we were alone, I turned to Belle, a look of concern in my eyes.
“Honey,” I said softly. “She’s going to want to wear that bikini again.”
My wife’s eyebrows rose, but I couldn’t read her expression. Was that a look of excitement, or dread?
So often over the last eleven days, those emotions had come as a unit.
Before she could say anything, Belle’s body had returned downstairs, still singing the “beach day” song. A few minutes later, Ben was back as well, clamoring for dessert.
I’m not much of a chef, but I make a mean banana split, and soon the four of us were enjoying the mix of icecream, sprinkles, whipped cream and fruit that I’d clumsily scooped into bowls for my family.
“This is delicious,” Mary said, our daughter’s eyes twinkling wickedly in my direction. “Is it the best thing you’ve eaten today, Daddy?”
I tried to hide my reaction at the term, but no one seemed to blink an eye at her use of a diminutive that the real Belle hadn’t used in almost a decade.
“Not even close,” I replied with a smile. “Not even close.”