“Honey,” I said gently, as my wife picked Belle’s body off the floor. “You’ve got to get out of here.”
“Why?” she asked, and for a moment it was easy to see nothing but my daughter’s innocent face, easy to pretend that everything was business as usual.
Then the image of my daughter’s face twitching in orgasm crossed my mind, and I was forced to look away.
“Because, I’ve…I’ve got to cum.”
“Oh my god,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god Andrew, please. Please. Let me see it.”
“No!”
I stared at her, aghast. Maybe it was the intensity of my reaction, maybe it was the fact that she’d just cum, but – for the first time since switching bodies with my daughter – Mary backed down.
Whether or not the contrite look on her face was genuine, I couldn’t say, but she backed down.
“Of course,” she said, and almost immediately, I was alone.
I swear, no man has ever loaded up a porn site as quickly as I did that afternoon. I knew that Mary – well, Mary’s body – was going to be home within the next half-hour, and so it was a race against the clock.
I was hard as I could ever remember being, I was right on the edge…but, to my horror, I immediately found a problem in every video I loaded up.
One porn star had the same hair-color as my daughter; the next was wearing a school uniform. The next video took place in a den far too similar to the one that I was sitting in…I clicked through video after video, wanting nothing more than to cum, unable to find anything completely safe.
I had never seen my daughter’s tits (and was never going to), and so I was safe for a few minutes with a titty-fucking video…until I realized that the porn-star’s skin was the exact same shade of olive as Belle’s.
“No no no no,” I muttered, before the obvious solution occurred to me.
Clumsily typing “black chiscks” into the search bar, I was delighted to find that the dark-skinned beauties populating the results page had ZERO physical similarities to my daughter.
I was safe.
Running my hand up and down my hardness, I allowed myself to get lost in the video: a black woman getting plowed from all sides by equally-dark men. I’m sure there was some semblance of a plot; all I cared about was getting off without any chance of my daughter’s body entering my mind.
Before long, my balls were gleefully emptying themselves into a tissue that I’d prepared for that very purpose. With a sigh of relief, I cleaned everything up and pulled up my pants…
And that was when I heard it.
“Belle?”
Shit. Mary was home.
Well, Belle was home. Belle in Mary’s body was home.
I cleaned up as quickly as I could, and opened my office door. My ‘wife’ was standing there – Belle had managed to do a better job at Mary’s makeup today, although her stance was all wrong. My wife has many vices, but slouching is not one of them.
The worried look on her face was really what concerned me.
“Honey-blossom?” I asked, hoping she couldn’t smell anything on me as I moved towards her. “What’s up?”
“Belle was…”
“What?”
“When I came home, Belle was kneeling outside your office.”
I tightened my jaw.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. What were you doing in there?”
“Oh, we’d just had a bit of a fight,” I lied smoothly. “I’d told her she couldn’t wear that damn bikini, and that I was going to get rid of it.”
“What? She looks great in that bikini!”
My first instinct was to argue, but then I remembered who I was really talking to. I remembered the reason we were doing this in the first place.
“I know,” I said after a pause. A fight wouldn’t help anyone here. “But surely you can agree she’s too young to be showing off that much skin.”
“Uh, she’s not a child. She’s old enough to make her own decisions.”
I bit my tongue, and took a deep breath before responding.
“You’re right,” I said calmly. “Yeah, that’s a good point. What do you think we should do?”
“Let her wear the bikini. Where did you hide it?”
“In the safe,” I said. “That’s probably why she was spying – trying to see the combination.”
“Ha!”
Hearing my daughter’s derisive laugh coming from my wife’s lips was an odd experience. Of course, it wasn’t even in the top ten ‘odd experiences’ I’d had over the last few days, so I didn’t dwell on it.
“Hmmm?”
“Doesn’t work.”
“What?”
“You can’t see someone unlock the safe from there. You can only see your chair, and…”
Belle trailed off, my wife’s eyes avoiding mine as she realized what she Atışalanı Escort was saying.
“Probably.” she awkwardly concluded. “I mean, that’s what I reckon. What do you think?”
I decided to keep playing into my daughter’s perception of me.
“Probably,” I casually responded. “I’ll get the bikini out after dinner.”
“I can get it!” my daughter offered, far too quickly. “What’s the combination?”
I stifled a smile.
“Don’t worry about it, honey. You’ve had a long day. Let me take care of this.”
###
“I know. I screwed up.”
I stood in my daughter’s doorway, leaning against the frame. I had done the disappointed father act so many times, but this was the first time I felt like it was actually working.
Too bad it was on the wrong person.
“I know.”
I didn’t say a word, just raised one eyebrow.
“God damn it, Andrew, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…”
She let out a sigh so despondent, I would have thought she was putting it on, but then I noticed her eyes were watering.
I sat down beside her on the bed, and put one arm around her.
“It’s okay, honey. Just…we need to be more careful, okay?”
“I know.”
“In future, just…”
“Andrew, I know.”
“You can’t let those hormones…-”
“Andrew…”
I decided to drop it. Giving my daughter an awkward fatherly side-hug, I kissed her on the top of the head, and – for the first time in a week – started to feel as though things were getting back to normal.
###
The next day was a Saturday. No school, no work.
Well, technically any day could be a work day for me; the benefit of being your own boss. But we’d decided many years ago to make Saturdays ‘Family Day’, something that Belle had loved as a little girl (and increasingly resented as the years went by).
She hadn’t been home for a Family Day in almost a year – probably off with ‘Spike’.
When my wife (in Belle’s body) entered the kitchen and put on some toast, Belle (in my wife’s body) practically squawked in alarm.
“Honey!” she said, slightly too intensely. “What are you doing here?”
“Family Day,” my wife said, rolling Belle’s eyes.
“Yes,” my daughter replied, through Mary’s gritted teeth. “But what about…you know.”
“What?”
I had to admit, my wife was doing an excellent job of aping my daughter’s mannerisms and attitude. If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t have been able to tell there was anyone but Belle in there.
“You know. The game!”
“Mo-om! God, you’re such a freak. How do you know about the game? Are you spying on me?”
“No, no!”
It was almost funny, watching my daughter try to desperately back-peddle.
“No, I just, uh, heard about it. From Spike’s mom. She…wanted to know if we were coming.”
“God, you’ve been talking to Spike’s MOM? What is wrong with you?”
“Honey, he seems to be…he seems to be a, uh, a nice…young…lad. Yes.”
To my surprise, tears welled up in my daughter’s eyes. Mary really knew what she was doing.
“Well he can’t be THAT nice because he’s been sleeping with LACEY for the last two months!”
“What!? That SLUT!”
I looked away to stifle a laugh, and when I glanced back, I noticed that my wife’s eyes were growing wet as well.
Crap. I had forgotten that this was the first Belle was hearing about her own break-up.
“Uh, honey,” I said, putting a gentle hand on my wife’s arm. She pulled it away in anger, before realizing what she was doing.
“Sorry, sweetie-pie,” Belle said, clenching my wife’s teeth. I made a mental note to move up her next dental appointment; I very much doubted my daughter was brushing. “I just…I didn’t know that my daughter had been dumped.”
“I didn’t even know she was dating.”
“You don’t know anything.”
There was an awkward pause as my two girls realized they’d said the exact same thing at the exact same time. I side-stepped the entire situation, picked up my iPad, and pretended to continue reading the news.
“Honey,” my daughter said, in a fairly good impression of my wife. “Are you okay?”
“Like you even care,” my wife muttered, doing a superb impression of my daughter.
“Of course I care,” Belle said, opening my wife’s eyes slightly as she realized the truth of what she was saying. I tried to keep my attention on the tablet screen, but it was hard – was this the breakthrough we’d been looking for? Was Belle finally getting it?
The next words she said sent my hopes crashing through the floor, and almost Atışalanı Escort Bayan doubled my heart-rate.
“Belle, get your bikini – we’re going to the beach!”
###
It would have been far easier to avoid noticing my daughter’s body…if my attention wasn’t constantly being drawn to it.
“Look at her, cuddle-pot!” my daughter said excitedly, using my wife’s hand to point. As if she needed to point – the bikini-clad teenager would have stood out in almost any crowd. The half-dozen families building sand castles provided zero competition.
“I see her, chicken licken.”
“Doesn’t she look great?”
My wife’s eyes were shining with pride, and I realized what was happening. We never really get a chance to see ourselves, not really. Everyone is their own worst critic, and looking at your body through your own eyes means you’re never going to truly appreciate what’s there.
Especially, I suspect, if you’re a teenage girl.
“She’s beautiful, honey,” I responded simply, and she patted my arm with joy.
Mary, for her part, seemed to be having a great time. She’d dropped our daughter’s trademark slouch, and returned to her own familiar gait – shoulders back, chin held high.
She was wandering up and down the waves, and seemed to almost be feeding off the stares she was getting. As I mentioned, Belle’s body was without comparison – her legs were long and toned, her stomach was flat, and her breasts were…well, they were larger than I’d been expecting. Not comically large, but certainly quite ample on her young teenage frame.
I was so glad I’d gotten off the night before. I started scanning the beach, trying to see if there were any black women in bikinis I could use to distract myself.
Before I could find anything, Mary’s hand gripped my arm.
“They’re here,” she said excitedly.
Too excitedly.
“Who?”
She struck an innocent pose.
“Just, uh…just some of Belle’s friends from school.”
“Oh no,” I muttered under my breath.
I’d never met the guy. I would have been quite happy to go the rest of my life without meeting him. But the moment I laid eyes on the boy, I recognized him.
Spike.
He was exactly my daughter’s type. Piercings, tattoos…and who comes to the beach in a leather jacket? Somehow, he managed to avoid looking like he was about to melt.
Somehow, I was loathe to admit, he looked…cool.
I immediately hated him.
Judging by the daggers shooting from my wife’s eyes, I guessed that the piece of arm candy draped over him was Lacey.
“I thought he had a game,” I murmured to myself.
“They always come to the beach after the game,” Belle responded, using my wife’s arm to tug me forward. “Let’s go.”
“Wait, what?”
“Let’s go. I want to see what’s going to happen.”
“Button-pants,” I said softly, “isn’t this…y’know, Belle’s business? Shouldn’t we give her some privacy?”
“Oh! Oh, yeah.”
My daughter fell back, the soft smirk never leaving Mary’s lips.
“We can see everything from here anyway.”
I nodded.
“He doesn’t look like a football player to me.”
Belle rolled my wife’s eyes.
“He doesn’t play football. Duh, Da-…”
She cut herself off, and quickly tried to recover.
“…aaaffodill. Daffodil. He just hangs around the game, and, uh…”
“Sells drugs?” I quipped, and the look on my wife’s face told me that I’d inadvertently guessed it.
Jesus. What had our daughter gotten into?
“Just pot,” she quickly informed me, before going slightly red as she realized what she’d said.
“You’re such a good Mom,” I said, deciding to let her off the hook slightly. Not that she deserved it – dating a pot dealer? What the hell was she thinking?
I intertwined my fingers with hers and continued. “I don’t know half of what goes on under our roof.”
“That’s my job,” she replied thoughtfully. “To keep track of what’s happening in…our daughter’s life.”
The ‘confrontation’ was short, and uneventful. Lacey tried to kick sand in Belle’s eyes, and fell over in the process. My wife used our daughter’s body to point and laugh – Spike sneeringly stayed out of it, and before long he’d taken his bimbo and left.
I suggested we go home, but I was immediately shot down. Apparently the real football players were coming, and “Mary” wanted to show our daughter off to them.
Something told me this was a bad idea, but I couldn’t work out how to get everyone back in the car without drawing suspicion, and so I bit my Escort Atışalanı tongue.
My instincts were right.
As soon as the football players arrived, my wife started showing off our daughter’s body. She touched their arms, laughed at their jokes, and before long one of them had an arm around her.
Even from across the beach, I could tell she was enjoying the attention. Even from across the beach, I could tell she was getting far too much enjoyment out of the teens’ lusty gazes.
“Isn’t she popular?” Belle said dreamily, and that’s when I realized I was the only one here who was going to stop what was happening.
“That’s it!” I said, standing up. “We’re going home!”
###
The entire car-ride home, I was met with a barrage of complaints. Neither my wife nor my daughter wanted to leave – for, I’m afraid, much the same reasons. Belle used my wife’s lips to berate me, with Mary using my daughter’s to join in.
I held fast, however. Tracking my daughter’s orgasms was yet another item on the ‘never wanted to do this, horrified that I have to’ list, yet there I was, knowing that she hadn’t cum for at least five hours.
Based on what she’d told me about how her school days had been, staying at the beach would have quickly led to her sneaking off with a football player, and…
…well, I didn’t even want to think about what she’d have done with him.
Didn’t want to, but was unable to prevent myself from doing so.
When we got home, I fully expected them to both go to their rooms and slam the doors, but my wife surprised me.
“Mom,” she said, making fine use of Belle’s blue eyes. “Can you go to the store for me?”
“What?”
“I’m out of pink lipstick, and I need some more.”
“Can’t your father go? He was the one who wanted to end Family Day early.”
“God, Mom. Think about it. You want to send DAD to get lipstick. Please, Mom – I have a date tonight.”
Apparently those were the magic words, because (visibly thrilled that she got to drive the ‘big car’) my wife’s body was almost immediately out the door, and on the way to ‘Stephora’, whatever that was.
Not sending me was a smart move.
The moment I heard the car peeling out of the driveway (making sounds that were loud enough to be slightly alarming), Belle’s body was on my lap, her lips on mine.
“Oh my god, Andrew…”
“Honey, we…-”
“Oh, god, shut up and kiss me. Did you see all those eyes on me today? Me! They were all looking at me.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but it was immediately filled with my daughter’s tongue.
“Touch me,” my wife moaned, pulling my hands to Belle’s breasts. “Oh god, Andrew, touch me…”
“How far away is Thesaura?” I asked.
“Twenty minutes. We’d better be fast!”
I’d spent the day unwillingly staring at my daughter’s bikini-clad body, so it was difficult to mentally replace her with ‘Ellen’.
Still, I did my best. Anywhere I moved my hands, I was met with soft teenage flesh and loud, impassioned moans. Avoiding her ‘swimsuit areas’ meant that I was running my hands over my daughter’s bare skin, and Mary seemed to be doing her best to push inappropriate body-parts into my hands.
“I can’t,” I said, as – for the third time – she twisted our daughter’s body to get her large, firm tits into my hands.
“I need to be touched, Andrew, please. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh please. Please, honey. Touch meeee…”
I glanced at the clock. Holy shit – had it been thirty minutes already? We needed to speed things up.
Mary took advantage of the distraction to, for the fourth time, manoeuvred our daughter’s bikini-top into my hands.
Considering the time pressure, I gave in, and set my mind firmly to Ellen.
Kneading my daughter’s teenage boobs, I desperately pretended they belonged to my wife’s fictional sister.
“Harder,” she moaned, and I unwillingly obliged.
“Cum for me,” I said insistently, trying to ignore the needy tone in my voice. “Oh, god, cum for me…”
“Yesss!” she erupted. “Oh touch me touch me touch me touch me TOUCH me.”
For the next thirty seconds, I stared anxiously at the door, praying to god that I wouldn’t see my wife’s face before my daughter’s climax had finished. The entire time she came, twitching against my hands, she kept on repeating it.
“touch me touch me touch me touch me touch me touch me…”
After what felt like an eternity, she came down from it, she pulled back, and stared at me lovingly. It was a look that I was familiar with from both my daughter and my wife…although admittedly, it hasn’t been one that Belle has given me lately.
“Andrew, you’re…fuck me, you’re a god.”
“Language,” I said with a watery smile.
“Honey, come on. We have one more week. We might as well enjoy this.”
Before I could respond, we heard the sound of the car re-entering the driveway.