We lay there for a while, lingering in the afterglow, the sensations of our orgasms still shivering through our borrowed bodies. I turned my head to look at Carolyn beside me, her face now adorned with my stubble on my muscular frame. My gaze drifted to her crotch, where my softening cock rested, a drop of cum slowly escaping the tip. I brushed my fingertip over it, gathering the wetness, and played with it between my fingers before sucking them into my mouth.
“Mmm,” I moaned, “My cum is delicious.”
“Charles,” she murmured, her voice distant, “what the fuck do we do now? We have work on Monday, and I have no idea what you actually do. How are you planning on going into my office and doing my job?”
A sudden realization washed over her, her eyes widening in panic.
“Oh, fuck! Felicia! I’m supposed to help her with the wedding invitations tomorrow. And I sure as hell can’t send you. She’d think I was having a stroke!”
I purred into her neck.
“I don’t know. Maybe you could fuck some sense into me?”
I stroked the soft meat between her legs, caressed the sack of balls at her crotch, and breathed heavily into her ear.
“Charles! This is serious! How the fuck do I teach you to be me in just a day?”
Her voice and mind were saying one thing, but her deceiving cock was saying something entirely different.
I ran my tongue down her hard pecs and bit her nipple.
“Charles! Do you even care? What the fuck are you doing?”
I continued, kissed her hard abs, circled the head of her growing penis, and sucked her into my mouth.
“Oh, God,” she gave in.
I straddled her and rode us both into another wave of orgasms.
***
As we tried to get ourselves presentable enough to get to the bathroom, we realized that even such a mundane task as getting dressed was beyond our capabilities. She tried helping me with the bra, but I wouldn’t say I liked the feeling of having my breasts caged and opted for one of my familiar T-shirts. Her panties, however, felt terrific, hugging my pussy.
She thought the idea of boxers was insane.
“Not even your fucking underwear does anything to keep this fucking meat in its place!”
I watched her pull on a T-shirt and exit the room, adding an unflattering sway to my hips. I followed her, giggling at the feminine swagger to my body.
“I’m not the only one who needs training,” I said, trying to contain my laughter.
As she stood above the toilet bowl, she fiddled with her penis to try and aim but failed as a chaotic spray of urine hit the rim of the bowl and splashed to the floor.
“Fuck! How do you even…”
She gave up and sat herself down.
I stared at myself in the mirror, red marks still around my wrists where she had shackled me, and I looked down to find my ankles matched. I pulled off my T-shirt and marveled at the big, round breasts. I had to rub them.
“Stop that!” Carolyn said, “I haven’t consented to you to violate me.”
“Relax,” I told her, “You feel anything but violated.”
I pulled down my panties. The burning red heart of my pubic hair crowned my pussy nicely, and I had no intention of not acting on the urge to run my fingers through the bush and rub at my purring clit.
“Oh, God, Charles. Stop it!”
Carolyn shook her head and laughed.
“Are you done?” I said with a smile, “I need to pee.”
She got off the toilet and went to brush her teeth. She hesitated momentarily as she tried to figure out which brush to use.
Again, curiosity gripped me, and I spread my legs and separated my labia with my fingers to see how my release arced and then splashed against the porcelain bowl.
Carolyn looked at me, her worried grin reappearing.
“Charles, we’re in trouble. If we can’t grasp the mundane tasks of getting dressed, brushing our teeth, or going to the fucking toilet, how do you expect us to get through Monday?”
“Would you feel less stressed if we got into the shower, washed ourselves, and I sucked your cock?”
Carolyn admitted defeat, “Yes. That would leave me less stressed.”
***
I walked down the hallway to our bedroom, feeling the weight of Carolyn’s long hair wrapped in a towel turban on my head. The soft, damp fabric clung awkwardly, a makeshift barrier to keep her hair from dripping onto the floors.
Sarah’s door flung open with a sudden urgency that startled me, and my daughter grabbed me firmly by the arm. Her eyes darted down the hallway to ensure her dad wasn’t nearby. She looked at me with big eyes, then hurriedly pulled me into her room, closing the door tightly shut behind us.
“Oh, my fucking God, Mom!” she said in a husked shout, “That was intense!”
The heat flaming up on my face as I blushed at the sixteen-year-old’s straightforward bluntness was one thing, but knowing exactly what she was referring to made me cringe deep in my guts.
“I…” I began, but every word I tried to form seemed to suffocate in my tightening throat; whatever words escaped, evaporated in my dry mouth.
“Oh, now you decide to get all shy. There didn’t seem to be anything shy about you, bound, shackled, and gagged this morning!”
I put my head in my hands and tried to breathe.
“Aren’t you going to tell me?”
“What?” I managed to squeeze past my lips.
“How it feels! How does it feel when Dad ties you up like that? And does that to you?”
I looked up at her. Excitement shone on her face as she sat cross-legged, her ankles crossed, and her legs comfortably spread. Her red hair was a knotted disaster from sleep, and she wore the same top as last night, but I noticed she’d changed her panties. Her expression begged for a reply.
“Oh, my God, Mom! Dad’s cock deep in your ass, like that, it was so fucking hot! I fucking bruised my nipple, pinching it.”
She pulled up her top and showed me the blueish-yellow bruise on her tit.
“Fuck, Mom, did you see how hard I came? I should have left a wet floor sign before I left, the way I gushed onto your floor, but I had enough problems getting my legs to carry me out of your room.”
“Sarah…” I tried, but she cut me off.
“God, Mom, I’m soaking my panties just thinking about it. Look at me!”
I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t escape it as my eyes wandered to my daughter’s crotch, a damp spot forming on the white fabric clinging tightly to her sex.
“How does it feel, Mom, taking a fat cock like that deep in your ass?”
“Sarah, stop it; I…just stop it, ok?”
“C’mon, Mom! Spill it! I want to know!”
I took a deep breath. I couldn’t have this conversation with my daughter; I couldn’t sit there and watch her flashing her tits at me, showing me her wet crotch. If this was how a mother/daughter conversation went, I wanted no part of it. I tried to end it the only way I saw how to.
“Sarah! I’m not Mom, ok?”
Check!
“No shit, Sherlock. Mom would have scolded me for grabbing her arm like that, and if she’d heard me curse like that, she’d probably wring my neck, Dad.”
Checkmate.
She got up, kissed my cheek, opened the door, and strolled into the hallway. As she headed towards the bathroom, I heard her greet her ‘dad’ in her usual manner, ‘G’morning, Captain!’ We spent the rest of the morning playing our games of charades, a pantomime of ‘who knows what,’ ‘who does what,’ and ‘whose job is that?’—poorly, I might add. I made Dad’s pancake breakfast, ‘dad’ did Carolyn’s dishes, and Sarah sent me giggles and winks whenever her mother’s oblivious eyes weren’t watching.
Worst of all, my pussy throbbed and ached.
Carolyn found me in the bedroom, rubbing myself into a frenzy when I was supposed to be changing the sheets, but instead of scolding me as she would have if I were still me and jerking my cock, she fucked my brains out.
Afternoon broke into evening as I was lighting the barbecue, and Carolyn prepared the table when my head started thumping intensely. I dropped to my knees and crawled off the deck, fighting the raging nausea building from my guts. I managed to crawl into the bushes before my body broke into violent spasms, each convulsion trying to turn my stomach inside out before everything faded into darkness.
I woke up facing the stern wooden deck in a pool of my own sick. My rugged arms pushed me up with familiar strength until I sat upright, watching Carolyn crawl out of the bushes.
“Thank God!” she said as she regained control.
***
The sun was setting as Sarah came out to the deck. She smiled at me, something she hadn’t done a lot lately, taking her role as bitchy teenager very seriously.
“Are you ok, Dad?”
“Yeah, I’m ok, just…I’m ok.”
“Do you miss her, you know, being her?”
“Sarah, not now.”
“I made you a glass of your favorite iced tea. Would you mind if we sat for a bit?”
So, we sat there and watched the sun go down, chatting about school, the weather, her being nicer to her mother, and taking more responsibility around the house.
“I’ll try,” she said as she got up. Drink up, Dad. See you in the morning.”
She kissed my cheek and headed for the door as I finished my drink.
“Oh, and Dad? That was three drops in equal amounts of drink, yes?” she said as she emptied the glass she had left sitting at the table by the door, spun around, and giggled her way inside the house.
My mind crashed, and I sat in the engulfing darkness, trying to make sense of everything. My mind capitulated, and I went to bed.
Carolyn lay waiting for me, “What took you so long?” she said in a lush voice.
“I… Sarah…nothing,” I said.
“Good, now that’s done, come here and fuck me like I fucked you.”
***
I lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling I knew hid in the shadows, trying to avoid the lurking sleep and the day to come. But drowsiness lay its warm hands upon me, sweeping me in her blanket of deceitful comfort and toxic warmth.
Again, that haunted sleep, warm and sweaty, screaming in my head, “Wake up, wake up!” but my body was detached, participating in the chanting dance around the fire until my body burned, and my spirit escaped again into the starlit sky above.
I woke up, heaving for breath, and knew instantly, not for the stuffed bear with the missing ear and faded red heart at his chest, not for the grotesque posters adorning the walls, not for the tight panties hugging my crotch or the erect nipples of my daughter’s still blossoming breasts, and not for the red hair wrapped around my head like tumbleweed. As I dozed into that unwanted sleep, I knew this would happen.
I clasped my daughter’s slender hands to my face, muttering, “Why, Sarah?”
The chilling answer came to me through the walls.
“Oh, yeah, Charles! Fuck my ass! Fuck my ass!”
What perverted plan had Sarah constructed in her head? Was her rift with Carolyn so bad she had decided to dominate her? Like that?
The increasing thuds as our headboard slammed into the wall disrupted every thought I tried to construct until they turned into a smear of “what if…”, “but…”, “maybe…” and “This is a dream!” only I knew I wasn’t dreaming.
Enough was enough; I decided to barge in there, pull Sarah off her mother, and tell my wife what was going on, but the echoing ‘OhmyGod’s’ fired from Carolyn’s mouth stalled me and hypnotized me.
What’s more, the itch that had been growing at my crotch was now a flowing river of lust, and I bit into the pillow and squeezed my thighs together as I clenched my fists, fighting every urge to violate my daughter’s body.
It was all for nothing, as my voice thundered through the wall, “I’m fucking cumming!”, Sarah’s pussy came hard.
“That’s it, Carlie boy. You’re going straight to hell. Do not collect your two hundred bucks as you pass start!” the voice inside my head reminded me as I panted for breath in my daughter’s pillow.
I wasn’t given much time to ponder my eternal damnation as there soon was a light knock at my door. Sarah didn’t wait for an answer before sneaking into the room.
“That was fucking amazing, Dad! No wonder boys are fucking horny all the time! Holy fucking shit!”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hissed, Sarah’s voice not having the hissing authority mine usually bore.
“What do you mean, Daddy? You told me to be nicer to Mom, and she seemed really happy when I left her.”
“For fucks sake, Sarah! Did you dream up this twisted plot to fuck your mother!?”
“What? No, you got it all backward! I woke up with this thing poking up between my legs,” she said and cupped my cock in her hand through the boxers, “and I just had to stroke it. Cocks are fucking amazing! Mom’s the one who sucked you into her mouth because she just had to wake up and then mounted me. I couldn’t fucking believe it when she told me to fuck her ass. So, no, it was Mom who fucked me, not the other way around.”
I sat up.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
She pulled the covers off me and stared at her soaked panties.
“You came hard, didn’t you? Don’t you love my pussy? She fucking cums so easily. Did you rub me, Dad? Did you stick your fingers deep inside my wet hole? Listening to Mom’s moans as I fucked her ass? Mom’s fucking hot!”
“Stop fucking talking, Sarah!” I scowled at her, more loudly than I intended, “What the fuck were you thinking?”
She looked at me with a huge grin and said, “What was I thinking? Oh, Dad, you really don’t get it, do you?”
She brushed her fingers through my unruly hair and touched my shoulder.
“I was planning on fucking me, Dad.”
And with that, she spun around and left the room.
I sat myself up and held my head in my, her, hands. I heard Carolyn exit our bedroom and walk down the hallway.
“Don’t go to the bathroom,” the voice in my head begged, and to my relief, I heard her step on the creaky board down towards the kitchen.
In my mind, teenage girls always smelled like flowers, unlike their male counterparts, but I realized that was not the case. My disturbing sleep, my tossing and turning, and that intense orgasm had ravaged Sarah’s body, and there was no way of ignoring the odor finding its way to my nostrils. I lifted my arm and took a hesitant sniff at my armpit. The smell hit me full force, making me recoil. Teenage girls smell just as bad as their male counterparts.
I sat my feet on the floor and looked around, trying to navigate Sarah’s room’s clutter. Used, dirty clothes lay scattered on the floor, her laundry hamper sitting empty in the corner, taunting a smile at me. I got up and walked to her dresser, hoping to find a clean underwear set and a baggy T-shirt. Everything in that room was an unorganized mess, apart from her fishnet stockings, matching bra and panties, tight leather skirt, and a skimpy, black top, which was neatly folded on top of her dresser.
I opened the top drawer and found it to contain mostly magazines, comic pages upon comic pages, all within the same theme: a scantily clad vampire goddess with lustful eyes. I picked up the magazine on top and slowly rifled through the pages—one after another, filled with explicit, sexual actions taken by and upon the vampire woman.
“A topic for discussion on another day,” I sighed, putting the magazine down and shutting the drawer.
I had better luck with the next drawer, which was filled to the brim with panties, socks, and bras. Now, I just needed a baggy T-shirt and matching baggy pants. However, my luck turned sour when I opened the third drawer; Sarah had a plentiful collection of T-shirts, tops, and tank tops tucked in a messy heap, none big and baggy. It wasn’t the disarray or the size of the clothes that caught my attention; it was the pack of condoms tucked among her belongings that gripped my mind.
I sighed in relief, finding the seal was not broken.
“Baggy pants! Baggy pants!” my mind hissed.
The bottom drawer was my best guess, unfortunately.
Neatly arranged on a purple velvet pillow lay handcuffs, lubricants, scented oils, and a disturbing collection of vibrators and rubber dildos.
I heard my daughter’s gasping voice as I slammed the drawer shut and stood back, catching my breath. No sweet sixteen ruled this domain.
In addition to needing a shower, I desperately needed to pee, so I rummaged through the scattered clothing on the floor: tight pants, short skirts, skimpy thongs, nothing even remotely resembling large, comfortable, and baggy pants.
I heard Sarah exit the bathroom and waited for her footsteps to trail off into the living room before I grabbed the clothes I’d gathered and made a hasty run for the bathroom. Securing the door locked behind me, I let out a heavy breath as I dropped the clothes onto the floor. Hesitantly, I looked up into the mirror to see my teenage daughter looking back at me.
There was a knock at the door, and my heart jumped.
“Are you going to be long? I need to get ready!” my wife’s impatient voice called out from the other side.
I froze as I looked into my daughter’s eyes; what would Sarah do?
“Chill, Mom!” I tried, “I’m just getting into the shower! Use the downstairs bathroom!”
Sarah’s voice sounded nothing like hers. There was no teenage rebellion lurking beneath the words, and they sounded more like a plea than her usual condescending tone.
Carolyn’s heavy sigh snuck through the door.
“I need to grab a few things, ok? Please.”
I knew that tone. My wife was collecting herself, trying to find the right words and…
