The Lesbian Daughter Swapping Fantasy Club

by Amanda Clover

  The Lesbian Daughter Swapping Fantasy Club

  Mom’s Complete Collection

  By Amanda Clover

  @amandasmut

  This book and all its contents are copyright 2018 by Amanda Clover. All rights are reserved and no portions may be reproduced unless for the use of brief quotations for review purposes.

  All characters appearing in this story are over the age of 18. This is a work of parody and any resemblance to real people or situations is coincidental.

  Foreword

  Fantasizing About Hot Moms

  Mrs. Oxford. That wasn’t really her name, but it fits because she was very British. It was my second year of college and she was the mother of one of my boyfriends. No, that’s being charitable. Harold Oxford was not even a friend with benefits. He was an acquaintance and we fucked when it was convenient. It was sort of the perfect relationship for my sophomore year of college. I’m not sure why I went back home with him one weekend, I don’t even recall us fooling around in his old bedroom, but the visit made a big impression on me.

  Mrs. Oxford was a brazenly beautiful and delightfully out-of-the-closet lesbian. She liked to sit on her screened-in back porch in the heat of warm spring and drink Long Island Iced Teas in tall glasses. She wore billowy dresses over bikinis that showed off her ample curves. This was back before “thicc” was a concept, but Mrs. Oxford was a lot of woman. Not fat, not exactly, but tall and with thick thighs in particular. She had a great ass and I remember marveling at how big and soft it looked every time she bent over. It wasn’t the first time in my life that I caught myself ogling an older woman, but with Mrs. Oxford, things went past looking.

  No, I didn’t bang my boyfriend’s mom. But that Saturday night, Harold went out on the town with his old high school friends and I told him I had a headache. He left me home alone with his mom and I ended up in that screened-in back porch with a tall, cold drink in my hand. She said it was an Arnold Palmer when she handed it to me, but she also winked, and I could taste the rum under the tartness of the lemonade.

  We talked about the usual boring stuff at first; how I knew her son, what I was studying, what sort of job I wanted. Then she started telling me about catching her husband cheating. She went into all the gory details.

  “His cock was in her mouth and her ass was in his face when I walked in,” she said. “I should have slapped them both. But I just screamed until they both left. I was done with men from that point forward.”

  It didn’t take much to tease stories about her lesbian past out of her. Before she met her husband she had been a real wild woman, dating many women of all ages. In retrospect, she probably wanted me to hear her say that. She made a point of saying she was young at the time and dated older women, but now that she was an older woman, “I have an eye for young beauties. Like you, Amanda.”

  I was flattered by her attention, but she didn’t linger on me as a subject, at least not at first. She told me raunchy stories and when I pressed her for more detail she gladly revealed every dirty moment. She went down on a professor on a picnic table in the rain and had a brief, submissive BDSM fling with a mysterious woman she met at a biker bar.

  “She liked to put these clips on my nipples and then put weights on the clips,” explained Mrs. Oxford. “Then she put a plug up my arse that had a horse tail on it and she would ride around on my back. She was a tiny woman, but she knew how to make me do whatever she wanted.”

  At some point, the subject turned back to me. Mrs. Oxford started questioning me about my lesbian curiosities and experiences. They were minimal at that point in my life, although I had watched my fair share of lesbian porn. I kept from her that I had a particular taste for older women in those videos. The more we talked, the more I drank, and the more confessional I became.

  “It’s not like I haven’t fantasized about it a lot,” I said. “I mean, I am sure I will hook up with a woman eventually.”

  “You’ve never even made out with another girl? Not even just for fun?”

  There were a few kisses here and there at parties, teasing the boys sort of thing, nothing real. I told her as much and she declared, “Well, we can change that right now.”

  It happened so fast I never had a chance to even mentally question it. She took my mostly-empty glass out of my hand and set it aside. She leaned across the space between our chairs and she kissed me. Then she cradled my cheek and kissed me more. Her fingers wrapped in my hair (I think it was purple at the time) and she shoved her tongue into my mouth. God, it was so hot. I never wanted it to stop.

  But it did. She finally pulled her lips from mine, her green eyes twinkling as she smiled at me in the dim light of the porch.

  “How was that?” She asked me, still stroking my hair.

  “It was… amazing,” I said.

  In that moment, if Mrs. Oxford had spread those thick thighs and pulled up her billowy dress, I would have gone straight to me knees. I don’t know if a single kiss has ever turned me on more. I was so wet that I became self-conscious and as quickly as things heated up, I excused myself. The next morning there were exchanged glances, winks, that sort of thing, but Mrs. Oxford did not bring up what had happened again. Not even when her son was out of the room.

  I remember that long ride back to campus, sitting next to Harold, listening to him talk about how I missed out when he went out with his friends. All I could think about was Mrs. Oxford and the way her tongue seemed to reach down to my core and excite me in ways no man ever had.

  Although I never talked to Mrs. Oxford again, that one kiss did have a profound impact on the course of my life. All through college and for a few years afterward I pursued relationships with beautiful and often older women. Sometimes they were flings, sometimes I dated women for months at a time. I never thought of myself of a lesbian, but my horizons had been completely opened.

  All these years later, Mrs. Oxford still occupies a big space in my head. I sometimes masturbate thinking about how warm and soft her lips felt against mine. She would be over 60 now, but I still entertain the occasional urge to track her down and get in touch, if for no other reason than to let her know the effect she had on me. If it weren’t for her, I don’t think I would have had all those lesbian experiences. I probably would not be writing erotica. Maybe she is even reading this, fantasizing about that naïve twenty-year old she had on her porch back in the early 2000s.

  I hope she would enjoy this kinky tale of lesbian lost between older and younger women. I hope you do as well!

  XOXOXO

  Amanda Clover

  2018

  Table of Contents

  Foreword – Fantasizing About Hot Moms

  Part One – Her Husband’s Secret

  Part Two – Pleasure Over Pain

  Part Three – Taking Charge of the Teen

  Part Four – The Divorce

  Part Five - Reconnecting

  Part Six – All in the Open

  Part Seven - Exchanges

  Part Eight – Finding Relief

  Epilogue – My Strange and Wonderful Life

  Part One

  Her Husband’s Secret

  A New Beginning

  It's Thursday night and I am working up a sweat on the treadmill at Super Fitness. Even with my sports bra, my annoyingly big boobs keep bouncing up and down, earning me glances from some of the guys running on neighboring treadmills. I scowl at the guy next to me when I catch him staring. He quickly looks away. I guess I should be flattered, in the way a cut of meat might is flattered about being admired by a customer at the butcher's shop. It's just that I don't want to be eaten. Not by a guy, anyway.

  I increase the
incline on the treadmill and start feeling the burn in my calves. My playlist is interrupted in my earbuds by the chime of a phone call. I pinch the tab of my headset.

  "Heyyyyy Lindsay, how you doing?" It's my new best friend, Victoria. "Why are you breathing all heavy? You getting fucked?"

  "You're unbelievable," I laugh. "No, I'm at the gym. Trying to lose my love handles."

  "Don't lose everything. My daughter says she loves your big ass."

  "No danger of that going away."

  I can't help but go a little red at the thought of Brittany, Victoria's teenage daughter, discussing my ass with her mother. Of course, Brittany and Victoria have a relationship a lot like my new relationship with my daughter, Sofia. That's because for the past two weeks I have been swapping daughters with Victoria as part of our newly-formed club for girls-only.

  Yeah, that kind of swapping.

  "Well, I'm calling about Tyler," she says and my guts tighten up at the mention of my soon-to-be-ex-husband's name. "Sofia said that he got one of the girls at his club pregnant. This Winona girl. I just wanted to be sure you are doing--"

  "I'm fine," I cut her off. "He can spread his seed to as many teenagers as he wants, so long as he pays the agreed upon alimony."

  "Yeah, but it has to hurt a little knowing Sofia is going to have a brother or sister from this girl that lives with her dad in a trailer."

  "Actually, I hear she has moved in with Tyler at his new apartment," I say. "But I don't want to talk about it, Victoria. My marriage with Tyler was just a lie we told ourselves. I guess in the end we both wanted the same thing."

  "Teenage girls," says Victoria.

  "No! Our freedom to be ourselves and... well," I laugh, "yeah, we both wanted teenage girls."

  "Which is the other reason why I called," says Victoria, sharing my knowing laughter. "Swapping daughters with you for the past couple weeks has been fun, but that big house Vince loans us for our Sunday club is seeming a little empty. Don't you think it's time we start adding some girls to the club?"

  "We've talked about this," I say. Before I can continue, I get a plaintive beep from the heartbeat monitor on the treadmill to warn me my heart rate is getting into the extreme elevation zone. I adjust the incline down a little. "Look, I have some friends who might be interested, but it's hard to cross that line. Once I ask someone 'hey, want to join a club where I have sex with your daughter?' it is going to be hard to look them in the eye."

  "Unless they say 'yes' to your question," counters Victoria.

  I let out a sigh.

  "Alright, I have a couple of friends in mind. I will think about. But quit pressuring me!"

  "No pressure," says Victoria. "See you Sunday, sweetie. Oh, and ask Sofia to wear the school girl outfit this weekend. I wanted to do a teacher punishes the student thing and--"

  "T-M-I, Victoria!" I shout. "I'm hanging up. Goodbye!"

  I hear her giggling as I disconnect the call. My workout playlist kicks in again and I am soon back in the groove, working past the burn in my calves and keeping a good heart rate. As I am climbing the invisible hill of the treadmill, my eyes wander around the gym. The gawkers have thinned out a little bit, although I can still feel the guy behind me staring at my big butt in my purple leggings.

  I can't feel too aggrieved, because my eye is drawn to a pair of women working out on a rowing machine. Well, one of them is working out, a very young looking beauty with dark hair. An older woman, rounder in the hips and bigger in the chest, is watching and seeming to encourage the girl's efforts on the rowing machine. Both women are wearing matching white and pink workout shorts and tops. The older woman glances back at me and for a moment I lock eyes with her. She smiles and I smile back.

  They go on to working some other machine out of my line of sight and I half forget about them as I finish my workout. I've worked up quite a sweat and I need a shower. As I walk into the shower room I am surprised to see the younger of the two women is stepping out of the shower wrapped in a towel.

  "I'll meet you in the lounge area," says the older woman as she heads into the shower.

  "Okay, mom," calls the younger woman.

  My locker isn't far from the girl, so I make my approach and make eye contact. Do I pick up girls often? How about never. Brittany, Victoria's daughter, was given to me on a silver platter. I haven't been with a girl other than Brittany since before I met my husband. Soon-to-be-ex-husband, that is.

  "Hey," I say to the girl, opening my locker. "Good workout?"

  "Oh, yeah, I'm training for rowing team Freshman year," she says. "Summer is almost over and I have to earn that scholarship."

  "Sandy State?"

  She nods.

  "College is a great time to start exploring," I say.

  I start to undress for my shower as she unwraps herself from the towel. I feel a familiar warmth in my body as I steal glances at her nakedness. Tan lines on her shapely breasts, dark tan nipples and areolas, a shaved, dark strip of pubic hair, and a killer ass that swallows up her thong.

  "What makes you think I need to wait for college to do my exploring?" asks the girl, giving me a sly smile.

  She slithers into a too-tight pair of jeans that cling to her bottom like a second skin. She catches me watching her put on her clothes.

  "My name's Lindsay," I say, offering her a hand. A little awkward, since she is topless and I've stripped down to just my sports bra and panties.

  "Felicity," says the girl. I notice her dark eyes taking me in and I can't help but flush a little to be looked at by a sexy teenager.

  "I have a daughter about your age," I say and then clear my throat and look away from the pale bikini triangles of her breasts. "You're very beautiful."

  "Thanks," she says. "You're pretty hot yourself. I wouldn't have guessed you are old enough to have a daughter my age."

  "Flattery will get you everywhere," I laugh.

  "Oh?" She says, pulling on her bra and buckling it up. "Where are we going?"

  Our eyes lock for several seconds. It's on. Just like that.

  It turns out we are going to the handicapped stall in the restroom. Our kissing is loud and intense. Just kissing at first, passionate, tongue-twisting, wet and sloppy, kissed-by-a-horny-teenager smooching. I make the move to escalate things. As I thrust my tongue into her mouth, I fondle her pert, shapely breasts. My fingers creep inside her bra and her nipples are hard beneath my touch.

  "I can't believe we're doing this," she gasps. I press my thigh against the tight groin of her jeans. So tight I can feel the heat of her sex through the denim. She moans against my kiss.

  "I've never done this either," I confess. "I've been hit on by guys at the gym but... mmmmm... never... mmmmm..."

  Whatever else I was going to say is meaningless compared to that kiss. Felicity's fingers slide into my panties and stroke the damp furrow of my womanly sex. I am wet with arousal, not to mention more than a little embarrassed that she is squeaky clean and I'm drenched in sweat from the treadmill. But if Felicity minds my state, she is not letting on as she slides two fingers past my entrance and presses her hand against my clit.

  "You're so fucking hot," she gasps against my lips.

  Quite a compliment, but I'm too busy getting finger-banged to think about further flattery from the fabulous Felicity.

  "Oh, god, baby," I moan into her kiss. "Fuck me with those fingers."

  I can't believe it's happening. This sort of intense, sudden encounter never happens to me. Not even when I was interested in men. I pry my bra off, mindful of the raw redness where the tight bra has left marks on my big breasts. I lean the softness of my tits against Felicity's pert mounds, letting her feel my warmth and my sweat. I work my hips, fucking myself against her fingers as we kiss.

  Cumming is not something I had even been thinking about five minutes ago. Suddenly, it is too real to be denied. I cry out, throwing my head back and pushing my back against the wall of bathroom stall. Felicity looks down at her hand in my panties, pulling
the band to one side with a hooked finger so she can watch her fingers, three now, sliding in and out of my clutching cunt.

  "Ohhh... oh god, baby, I'm going to... I'm... hnnnnnn..."

  Being the cool and seductive older woman is right out as hot pleasure spears through my tummy. I fuck against her fingers, chewing my lip to keep from screaming as waves of ecstasy ripple through my body and my inner muscles squeeze back against Felicity's fingers. It feels so fucking good I actually tune out the teen for a few seconds. Despite my best efforts, the tiled bathroom echoes with my moans of pleasure.

  "You're so cute when you cum," giggles Felicity. Her kisses on my shoulder and neck help ground me in reality again. Her fingers slip from inside me. She looks into my eyes as she brings her glistening fingers to her mouth and sucks my juices from them.

  "I'm guessing," I pause, still trying to catch my breath completely, "that this isn't your first time with a woman."

  "Good guess," says the teen and she gives her fingers a final slow lick.

  Watching a teenage girl hungrily licking your juices? That will make a woman crazy. I start to get down on my knees, hungry for a taste of my own. Felicity stops me.

  "Not here," she whispers. "My mom will be out of the shower soon."

  "Oh, right," I say, remembering I'm not living out a sex dream and that this is actually happening.

  That's about the time I also remember my conversation (one of several) with Victoria about getting some new members for our club. Victoria's urgency to expand the roster is pretty simple: she had to give up the father-daughter version to form the lesbian club with me, but Victoria was already secretly dating my daughter Sofia. So she gained absolutely nothing except my friendship.

  Felicity starts fixing her bra and pulling on her street clothes.

  "So do you want to hook up some other time?" she asks.

  "Yes, I definitely do. But let me tell you about something very cool. I think you're going to like it."