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The drive home was quiet. It took several minutes for my wife to muster up the strength to cover our daughter's body once more. Even after several minutes of driving, she would still sporadically twitch with pleasure.

For my part, I couldn't stop thinking about how stupid we'd been. How stupid I'd been.

Fucking my daughter was bad enough. I knew that the images - the sensations - would be permanently burned into my brain. But doing it in broad daylight, with the curtains open?

Anyone could have seen. And it would just take one glimpse, one rumor to...

No.

God.

We were doing this for our family. We were doing this for Belle. I knew it was hard for my wife, but we had to be safe.

We had to be smart.

And that meant we couldn't fool around. Not even so much as a kiss. If someone saw - if Belle saw...

It wasn't worth the risk.

###

When we got home, Belle (in my wife's body) was in the kitchen. No one in our family is much of a cook (we order out a lot) but I could see that Belle had made an effort. Some kind of pasta bake. It looked like she'd even attempted to include a vegetable or two.

"What's the special occasion?" I asked, trying to force a jovial tone. Trying to think about anything besides my daughter's cunt, twitching with pleasure as she came around me again and again.

Belle sat my wife's body down next to mine, and grabbed my hand. It felt...natural. Normal. Nice.

Had my wife switched back? Had my words gotten through to her, and she'd realized that I was right, that we couldn't be doing this? Had she given in?

"Da-...t's a good question," she said, clumsily turning 'Dad' into a different word. A word that doesn't even start with the same letter.

Nope. My wife was still my daughter, and my daughter was still my wife.

"Oh?" I said, re-plastering the smile onto my face.

"Yeah," she said, and sighed.

Oh, shit.

Did she know? Had she...had she somehow seen?

I took a deep breath, and realized how stupid I was being. No, after catching her former body having sex with her father, I was sure that Belle's first reaction wouldn't be to bake a casserole.

I felt like I was losing it.

Sitting patiently, I waited for her to muster up the courage to say whatever she was going to say.

Sitting patiently, I tried desperately not to think about my erection, so recently buried in my daughter's wet, quivering pussy.

"There's something I want to tell you," Belle said, closing one of her mother's eyes. I remember our daughter doing that when she was just learning to talk, as though that one eyelid would magically hide her from the world, while letting her keep an eye on the other person's reaction. "And it's not going to be easy."

"Of course," I said, my voice calm, my mind determinedly not thinking about our daughter's perfect, bouncing tits as she rode me.

"I just want to say...I'm sorry."

I blinked twice. For a brief moment, Belle's words had actually distracted me from remembering the warm, wet feeling of my daughter's pussy lips sliding down my cock.

"Pardon?"

"I'm sorry."

I hadn't actually been counting, but it felt like it had been approximately eight hundred years since I'd actually heard my daughter apologize.

Of course, she thought I thought she was still my wife. I knew I had to play along.

"For what?"

"I know I can sometimes be difficult," she said, clearly choosing her words carefully. Apologizing to her father while pretending to be her mother. I imagined it wasn't an easy task.

"True," I said with a smile.

"But I know that you work hard. And I know that..."

Belle sighed, and I suddenly noticed a tear running down my wife's cheek.

"...I know that you love me. And, y'know. I just wanted to say...I love you too."

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I was all choked up.

"I love you," I eventually said, more gruffly than I'd expected.

"Come here," she said, sniffing, and before I knew what was happening, my wife's arms were wrapped around me as my daughter pulled me into a hug.

It was a touching moment (literally), but the mood was quickly shattered.

You see, even after half an hour of being ridden by a buxom, horny teenager, I still hadn't come. I mean, how could I?

I couldn't.

I couldn't.

But the images seemed to be permanently burned into my brain.

And so I was...I was still hard.

Just hours ago, my wife - in my daughter's body - had felt my erection buried deep inside her.

Now, my daughter - in my wife's body - had inadvertently felt it press against her as she pulled me into a hug.

"Oh my GOD," she shrieked. "DAD!!"

I gawped at her, speechless. In that moment, the entirety of the English language escaped me. I remembered the words 'buh' and 'fluh', but decided not to bring either of those out right now. Neither of them seemed appropriate.

Before my vocabulary could begin to rebuild, Belle Atışalanı Escort realized what she'd done.

"Uh. Uh. Uh. Dad," she repeated, I could almost hear the gears grinding. "...called. My Dad called. He said Ben is having a great time at Code Camp."

For the past few days, our son had been staying with Mary's parents, going to a special camp for 'junior coders'. Maybe her Dad really had called - that was a conversation I would have loved to hear. Belle pretending to be Mary, speaking to her father/grandfather.

"Oh," I said, suddenly remembering how to talk. "That's great. That's great, honey. Thanks for letting me know. Thanks."

"Igottagonow," my daughter said in a quick breath, and before I could muster up a reply, my wife's body was dashing out of the room.

Fuck. Fuck. As if fucking my fucking daughter wasn't enough, now I'd...

I shuddered.

I'd pressed my erection against her. Against my daughter. The real one. She'd have a memory of that for the rest of her life.

As would I.

This was not my day.

And as Mary sauntered Belle's body into the room, I somehow knew it was about to get worse.

"Everything okay?" Mary said, a smile upon Belle's face. She was dressed in a tank top and jeans.

She looked surprisingly relaxed, and I suddenly realized where she'd been for the last half-hour.

And what she'd been doing.

"Yes," I said gruffly. I now knew what my daughter's orgasm looked like. Felt like. It was impossible not to picture it as I made eye-contact with Belle.

With my wife, in Belle's body.

I just wanted this to go away. I wanted to look at my daughter and see my daughter. Like I used to. I wanted to look at her and see a young woman, about to start her life.

I didn't want my mind to immediately see her bouncing tits, her flushed face.

I didn't want to remember what her lips looked like, stretched around my cock.

Her throat moving, as she urgently swallowed my cum.

I shuddered.

"I have a plan," she began, speaking more loudly than I would have liked.

"Mary..." I said weakly, but she ignored my protest and kept talking. With a sigh, I got up and locked the door.

I didn't know what my wife was going to say, but I was confident that neither of us wanted Belle to walk in halfway through it.

"Tomorrow, I'll come home from school early. We'll turn the house alarm on, and use your office. If Belle comes home early, she'll trigger the alarm, and we'll have plenty of warning - there's no chance of her catching us. If she asks, you can just say that you turned it on by accident. She'll believe that."

She laughed. My wife's laugh, coming out of my daughter's beautiful lips.

Those beautiful lips that I'd cum into.

"I mean, I'd believe it," she finished. "What do you say?"

There was a brief silence as I stared at my wife. Belle's eyes were brimming with hope.

"...what?"

"If you'd prefer, we can say that I turned it on, but I don't know why we'd do that. I guess we could just say it was a bug."

"What are you talking about?"

"The alarm."

"No, I mean...this plan. What are you on about?"

Belle's eyes narrowed.

"Which part of that didn't you understand, Andrew?"

Oh, god. It was my wife's stern voice.

"What are we doing?"

"We're discussing the plan for tomorrow."

"The plan to do what?"

She looked up at me with my daughter's big blue eyes. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.

"To fuck."

"What??"

"To fuck," she said again. As the dirty word left my sweet daughter's formerly-innocent lips, another shudder overcame me.

"What do you mean, to fuck?"

A smile flickered across her face, and she leaned forward.

She still wasn't wearing a bra.

"What do you think I mean?" she said, her eyes glancing down at my crotch. "Have a wild guess..."

"Honey," I said gently. "We...we can't do that again."

"What?"

The stern voice was back.

"We agreed, remember? Back..." I lowered my voice to a whisper. "...back at the cottage."

"Yeah," she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "We did agree."

"Right." I was confused. "So..."

"You promised me."

I narrowed my eyes. Was she deliberately being obtuse?

"We agreed," I repeated. "One time."

My wife responded slowly, as though speaking to an imbecile.

"That's right, honey. We agreed. One time. And I would like that one time to be tomorrow. So when I get home from school, I'll..."

I held a hand up, and was surprised when Mary fell silent.

"No no no no no no no no no," I said. "The one time was at the cabin."

Mary scrunched up Belle's nose.

"That?"

"Yes, that! And then, like I said, we can never do it again."

"But...-"

"And I mean, even that was a stupid move. What if someone had caught us, honey? What if someone had walked past and seen the owner Atışalanı Escort Bayan of the cabin fucking his own daughter."

I hissed the last few words, and then slumped back, exhausted. The past few days...the past week had been too much for me. I was spent.

Spent, and frustratingly turned-on.

Mary waited to make sure that I was done before she spoke.

"That," she said, softly but firmly, "didn't count."

I sat up.

"What?"

"That didn't count!"

"What do you mean it didn't count? Mary, are...have you been listening to anything I've been saying?"

"It didn't count," she repeated, and jutted her lip out, every inch of her the typical rebellious teenager.

The typical rebellious teenager, trying to fuck her father.

"Okay," I said. Now it was my turn to speak slowly. "How did it...not count?"

"I told you, I need to be fucked. I need it, honey."

"Yes, but...-"

"I need to be fucked. And don't get me wrong, it was great. It really was. You know I had a good time."

Closing my eyes, I nodded.

"But you just...you just lay there."

My eyebrows shot up.

"What?"

"You didn't fuck me, honey. You just sort of just lay on the bed."

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. After a moment of thought, I closed it again.

"You lay there while I did all the work."

I shrugged, refusing to admit that she was right.

"So?"

"So I told you - this is harder than I thought it would be. It's harder than either of us thought it would be. I get the urge to play with myself every twenty minutes and I picture myself wrapped around every guy I see. Whenever someone checks me out, I find myself thrusting my chest out and giving them sex eyes."

"Belle's chest," I muttered. My wife was really starting to worry me.

"I know it's Belle's chest, honey. I know it is. But I've been in this body for a week now. It's really starting to feel like it's mine."

"It's not."

My wife sighed, and rolled our daughter's eyes.

"Yes! I know it's not my body. But I'm inside it, twenty-four hours a day. If Belle's nose itches, I'm the one who has to scratch it."

She leaned forward, and I very pointedly refused to glance down at her cleavage.

"I'm the one who has to scratch it, Andrew. That's what I'm asking for help with. I need you to help me scratch her itch, or I think I'm going to go crazy."

Mary is a woman of many, many talents, and persuasiveness has always been at the top of the list.

I shook my head nonetheless.

"It's too risky," I said. "Honey, you know it is. It's too risky."

"You owe me."

"That's not what this is about," I said, staring her straight in the eyes. "I'm not a prostitute, my love. You can't haggle your way into making me fuck you. I don't care if I did just lay there, that's not how this works. That's not what it's about."

Belle's eyes were beginning to water, but I pressed on.

"I know that you have needs, and I know that you need help relieving them. I'm going to do what I can to help, but...I can't fuck you. I can't."

I continued, trying not to notice my voice cracking as I spoke.

"I love you. I love you more than anything. And I love Belle. But you can't tell me that the only way you're going to feel relief is if I fuck you, honey. If it's really that bad, if you're that out of control...maybe it's time to switch back."

A tear rolled down my daughter's cheek, but she never looked away. There was a long silence, as we maintained eye-contact.

Then, to my surprise, she nodded.

"You're right," she said, breathing a sigh of relief. "God, Andrew...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't explain it. It's like a frenzy. It's like there's a thousand ants under my skin, trying to escape from my..."

She gestured between our daughter's legs. I didn't glance down for a second.

"Puberty," I said with a half-shrug. She laughed.

"Yeah. I just...I just want your help keeping them at bay. It's all-consuming, my love. It really is. But you're right. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said, and pulled her in for a hug. "I know it's hard."

Remembering the hug I'd just given, I made sure to position myself so that Mary wouldn't feel my erection as we embraced.

I couldn't help but jump as Belle's hand reached down and found it anyway.

"It is hard," she growled playfully. "Let's see what we can do about that..."

Never before had I been so unexcited to hear my wife talking dirty.

"Mary, what did we just discuss?"

"I get that you can't fuck me. I don't necessarily agree, but I respect it. You're right. It's risky."

"Yes," I sighed.

"But what did you say? 'Anything else you can do to help'?"

"Something like that," I muttered. I didn't like where this was going.

"So...don't fuck me! There's a lot of other stuff we can do instead..."

My wife stared at me with our daughter's beautiful Escort Atışalanı face, my cock in our daughter's beautiful hand as I contemplated my options.

I couldn't fuck my daughter again. I just couldn't. It was so wrong, on so many levels. SO many levels.

Irregardless of how amazing it had felt, sex was completely off the table. It had to be.

But...well, my wife needed me. She was doing this for our daughter. She was doing so much.

The least I could do was meet her halfway.

"Okay," I said, breaking the silence. My daughter's face lit up.

"Okay??"

"Yeah," I said. "Tomorrow, after school. Set the alarm, okay?"

"Okay," my wife said back to me.

I knew that I'd do anything to make her eyes fill with that look of love. Belle - and Mary, of course - are the most important things in the world to me, and I knew I'd do anything to keep them happy and safe.

Well, almost anything.

###

When my daughter's body arrived home from school the next day, I was disappointed to notice that she again wasn't wearing a bra.

Disappointed both that she wasn't wearing a bra, and that it was noticeable.

"Mary..." I said, but she held up a hand and cut me off.

"Andrew," she said, moving towards me. "We only have so much time before Belle gets home. I really don't want to waste it fighting with you."

I dropped it. She had a point.

"What do you want to do?" I asked. A grin crossed our daughter's face.

"What's on the table?"

"Anything," I said reluctantly. I'd spent all night thinking about it. Mary was doing so much for us, for our daughter. For our family. It was only fair that I do my share.

"Anything?"?

"Not that," I said, throwing her a glance. "Anything else."

"Very well," she said, sitting on the couch.

I meant it, too. Aside that, I was willing to do whatever my wife requested. I wouldn't enjoy it, but it was what Mary needed.

Well, I hoped I wouldn't enjoy it.

I really, really hoped I wouldn't enjoy it.

"I know what I want," she said, after a pause.

"Oh?"

"I want you to watch me."

I waited for the end of the sentence, but it never arrived.

"What?"

"I want you to watch me," Mary repeated, Belle's eyes burning into mine.

"Okay..."

"I've been thinking about this all day," she said, leaning back on the couch in my office. "I've been thinking about it all week..."

I sat down on my office chair, confused and grateful. Confused about exactly what I was going to watch, and grateful that Mary didn't want me to...

Well, there was a long list of what I was grateful Mary didn't want me to do.

Watching? Watching, I was okay with.

My daughter's eyes never left mine, as my wife reached down and began unbuttoning Belle's shirt.

Obviously my instinct was to look away, but that wasn't the deal. Mary wanted me to watch, and so - loathe though I was to look at my daughter's naked form yet again - I watched.

I hated to admit it - I really, really hated to admit it - but Belle's tits were the finest I'd ever seen. Even in her hay-day, my wife's breasts had never stood quite so proudly on her chest.

To my annoyance, I could feel my cock starting to stiffen in my pants.

A better man would have been able to watch his daughter undress without getting aroused, but...god, I just couldn't help it. It wasn't just how perfect they were, either. Seeing them reminded me of what I'd seen...what we'd done.

What we were probably going to do again.

"Do you like these, Daddy?"

I grimaced at the term.

"Mary, what are..."

"Shhh," she said. "Honey. Please. You said anything."

"Yes, but..."

"We only have an hour, Andrew. Please."

I shut up.

Mary and I had roleplayed once or twice, but it had never been anything particularly kinky. She'd been a stranger at the bar, or a frisky maid. She'd never shown any interest in...something like this.

"Do you like these, Daddy?" she repeated. I shifted uncomfortably on my seat.

Belle was the only person who'd ever called me Daddy. I knew it was a fairly common term of endearment, but none of my previous girlfriends had ever used it, nor had Mary.

Until now.

Hearing the word from my daughter's mouth was...well, it made me uncomfortable. But what part of the situation didn't?

"Tell me you like my tits, Daddy..."

With a sigh, I answered.

"I like your tits, sweetie."

"Call me your baby girl."

"Mary..."

My wife shot me a glance. Even filtered through my daughter's face, I knew exactly what it meant. And so, against my better judgment, I conceded.

"I like your tits...baby girl."

Mary groaned, and grabbed Belle's breasts. Every instinct was telling me to turn away, but I continued watching.

It was the least I could do.

"Do you want to cum on them?"

"Yes," I replied immediately. Not because it was true, but because it seemed like a lifeline. Cumming on Belle's tits...just the idea was morally repugnant, but it seemed a lot more palatable than many of the alternatives.

I wasn't going to fuck her. I didn't want to touch her. And I'd watched my daughter swallow my cum once before; no part of me wanted to repeat the experience.