The Lesbian Daughter Swapping Fantasy Club

by Amanda Clover

  "Mommm!" cries Felicity, hurrying down to her mother. "Oh my god, that was amazing. Did you have fun?"

  "Yes, honey," says Christina, squeezing Brittany's thigh. "I had a great time. But your father is going to be home in less than half an hour and we need to go. I almost came up to get you."

  "That would have been weird," I say, imagining Christina opening the door to the sight of me tongue-deep in her daughter's asshole. It certainly would have left the older woman with an indelible image. "Sofia, hun, I think we'd better get going too. Victoria, Brittany, we'll see you next week."

  "Actually," says Victoria, "I'm taking the girls bowling on Tuesday. You're welcome to join us. You too, Christina and Felicity."

  "I'm not much of a bowler," confesses Christina.

  "I'll go," says Felicity. "I love bowling."

  The three teen laugh together and start talking in that rapid-fire way that only teenage girls and possibly auctioneers have truly mastered. Brittany is a dancer and it shows in her athletic body. Sofia and Felicity are just normal, very fit girls. Well, beautiful too.

  Once we've managed to separate our talking daughters, we all head out to our cars, offering up hugs and air kisses where minutes ago we were tongue-to-slit with each other's daughters. It's a weird sense of camaraderie among the six of us that was lacking when there were only four and I can't imagine something quite like it among the guys version of our little club. There's no jealousy. No protectiveness. Just friends of all ages who happen to have a very interesting sexual arrangement.

  Dangerous Confessions

  I've never asked my daughter what she does with Victoria at the club. Sometimes she shares things, like I knew about the schoolgirl outfit and the light bondage stuff, but not the "grisly details" of their encounters. That doesn't mean I'm not curious. I love Sofia and I want to be sure she's having responsible fun behind closed doors.

  Something about introducing a new mother and daughter pair to the group finally gives me the courage to ask her what's been going on with Victoria. We're in the car on the way home and she is fidgeting with the hem of her little schoolgirl skirt. Her tanned legs shift. Her socks are rolled up almost to her knees. She looks sexy, I think, and then I quickly look away.

  "So, did you have fun at the club today?" A perfectly innocent question.

  "Hmmm?" Sofia looks up from her phone. "Yeah, of course, mom. I always have fun with Victoria."

  We sit in silence while my mind turns over and over with what sort of fun my daughter might have been having in her cute schoolgirl outfit. What the hell am I thinking about? I'm getting excited picturing my own daughter in various BDSM scenarios with Victoria. I nervously clear my throat and try to focus on the road.

  Perhaps thinking my throat-clearing was a hint to ask me about my time, Sofia asks, "How was the new girl? She is super cute. Her mom is hot too."

  "Yeah?" I grin. "Yeah, Felicity and Christina are both hotties. I had a lot of fun with Felicity. She, um, she's very energetic."

  "Like what sort of fun?" asks Sofia, putting her sock-covered feet up on the dash.

  "The grisly details?"

  "Sure, why not. Tell me all of it, mom." She switches off her phone and gives me her full attention. "I'm curious to know if you get as wild as me and Victoria."

  "Well, um, there's a lot of kissing," I confess. "And, uh... Felicity was very hot and so she took, um, took her dress and..."

  My heart is pounding like I just did an hour on the treadmill. Why is it so hard to admit what Sofia knows I have been doing behind closed doors with Brittany and now Felicity? My daughter looks at me sympathetically. She pats me on the arm.

  "It's weird to talk about, right?" She folds those long legs under her butt and smoothes her skirt to hide the edge of her panties. "I'll go first then."

  "We used the classroom, which is like also where Vince usually likes me to go with him, so I'm used to it, but Vince is a terrible roleplayer. Once he sees my pussy he just wants to go down on me or make me go down on him." She flips her hair as casually as if she's talking about a sleepover she had with her friends. "It's way better with Victoria. She has all these props like an apple and a ruler and she had already written some math problems on the board. She watches while I try to answer them, but it was algebra and you know how I am with algebra."

  I did know. She failed it the first time and barely skated by with a "C-" the second time.

  "So then, when I can't get all the questions correct, she accuses me of failing to study my homework. I make up some story about being sick, but she's not buying it, so she has me bend over her desk and lifts my skirt up. She gave me like ten whacks with that ruler before taking my panties down and finishing with her hand. She knows just how to touch me so it hurts a little, but it drives me crazy."

  Sofia runs her hands up to her pert breasts and squeezes them through her sweater vest.

  "She does the same with my nipples, by the way. Mmmm. It feels so good when Victoria plays with my nipples. Anyway, of course getting spanked by Victoria totally made me wet, which she noticed when she rubbed her fingers over my... are you alright, mom?"

  Sofia is staring at me. My face must be as red as a stop sign. She's talking about it all so casually and I realize why: this is how she talks about it with her stepfather. And talking about it with her is having the same effect on me it probably has on him. It's turning me on. The key difference being that Sofia is my flesh and blood. I cannot allow myself to become aroused listening to my daughter tell me about her escapades with an older woman.

  "I'm, um, fine, sweetie." I force a smile. "I just don't think I'm quite as ready to hear about it as I thought."

  "Oh, yeah? I forgot that you're still new at this stuff." She smiles and gives my leg a squeeze. "It's okay, daddy didn't want to talk about it at first either, but he got over being shy about it."

  "He's not your father," I quickly point out. "He's Tyler."

  "Mmmhmm." She nods her head a little too vigorously. "Yeah, right, mom. Tyler."

  We drive the rest of the way home in relative silence. I want to pry into her continuing relationship with Tyler, but I don't want to hear about it. Knowing for certain that she's still having sex with him would make it almost impossible to live in the same house as Sofia. I have a good thing going. I know it.

  "Gonna work on some homework, mom," says Sofia as we arrive at the house. She hurries upstairs to her bedroom, her skirt lifting as she climbs the stairs, unwittingly flashing her panty-clad bottom at me. She glances over her shoulder as she gets to the top of the stairs, catches me looking, and gives me a very knowing smile.

  Maybe that flash of her butt was a little more witting than I thought. Which just makes things between me and my daughter even weirder. Why is she flirting with me? A more disturbing question: why do I like it?

  I head to the bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom and draw a hot bath. I feel like I've just worked off a pint of ice cream at the gym, but it's all the fun with Felicity catching up with my middle-aged body. I can still do all the things I did when I was nineteen, I just pay the price for them later in the day with my aching muscles. A hot bath will help with that and maybe it will give me a chance to clear my head.

  Undressing in front of the mirror gives me a few reminders: I still look good and I'm not getting any younger. If I get my face close to the mirror I can see a disheartening number of wrinkles beginning to form, particularly around my eyes. When I flex my butt a little cellulite is visible, despite all that time I spend on the treadmill. I let out a long sigh of defeat to entropy and sink into the warm, soapy waters of the bathtub.

  The warm bath seems to embrace me and cure me of the worst of my aches and pains. My mind wanders to Felicity and my hand wanders to the detachable wand on the edge of the tub. I turn it on and bring the force of the water current against my clit. I lift my hips and my mound clears the surface and warm water splashes from the wand onto my clit.

  As the stroking force of the water begins
to awaken my pleasure, my mind moves on from my memories of Felicity, briefly touching on images of Brittany and then I am with Sofia. Victoria has her skirt up and my daughters lovely bottom is visible as a wooden ruler is brought down again and again. Jiggles travel up Sofia's ass and she jerks a little with each impact, her full lips full open and her hairless pussy beginning to glisten with her juices.

  I try to stop myself, to push the fantasy from my head, but as the pleasure grows, so does the scene of Victoria punishing my daughter. The dark-haired older woman runs her fingers gently up Sofia's glistening groove and makes my daughter taste them. Sofia turns and runs her tongue around Victoria's fingers. She sucks one and then two as Victoria's other hand begins to play with Sofia's breasts, roughly pinching and twisting one of Sofia's tiny nipples.

  "Ahhhhhh!" my cry of pleasure echoes in the bathroom and matches the sound of Sofia's pleasure in my fantasy.

  The older woman pushes Sofia down to her knees and Victoria begins to lift her own gray skirt, up her shapely thighs to expose the furry mound of her womanhood. With one hand on the back of my daughter's head, Victoria feed her mature pussy to the teenager. Sofia begins to eagerly lap at Victoria's slit, each swipe of her tongue beating against Victoria fat clit and against mine.

  My orgasm catches me in its throes. Sofia is licking and sucking at Victoria's pussy. The older woman's juices are pouring down my daughter's chin. The first rippling spasms of pleasure radiate from my water-massaged clit to my tender depths. I see Sofia squeezing Victoria's big, round ass and pulling her against her face and in that orgasmic moment, my fantasy turns the final corner and it is me standing there. Sofia's tongue is on me, her lips sucking me and urging me to spill the nectar of my pussy into her teenage mouth.

  I cry out my pleasure through clenched teeth. The tension leaves me and the guilt pours in to fill the space it left. I seat the water wand back onto the edge of the tub. I can still feel the aftershocks of my orgasm, but my guilt is smothering me. I just fantasized about my daughter, first as a voyeur and then on the receiving end of her eager tongue. I hate Tyler with ever fiber of my being for the way he violated his parental bonds with my daughter, but he was not her flesh and blood.

  The perversion of what I have just done forms a new resolve within me. I cannot, I will not, allow myself to go to this place again. I love my daughter and I will never allow lust to poison that relationship.

  I hear my phone vibrating just out of reach on the bathroom counter. I get up, dripping and glistening with the soapy water, and make my way over to see Tyler's horribly handsome face on my phone. I don't want to answer, but maybe I just want someone to direct my loathing at other than myself.

  "What?" I snap as I answer the phone.

  "You sound like you're in a bad mood," says Tyler. "Should I call back?"

  "Hearing your voice puts me in a bad mood. What do you want, Tyler?"

  There was a long quiet from my soon-to-be-ex-husband. I almost thought he had hung up on me, but I could still hear the soft sound of his breathing.

  "I guess Sofia probably told you," he said.

  Something about the tone of his voice, the fatalism in it, made my stomach do a flip-flop inside me. I almost didn't want to know what meant, but I had to know. I had to ask the question.

  "What do you mean?"

  "She didn't tell you." He let out a long sigh and when he inhaled it was like the gasp of a drowning man. "I should let her talk to you. She should be the one to tell you."

  "Tell me what?"

  More silence, which I perforate with, "Damn it, Tyler. Don't play this game. What the hell are you talking about?"

  "Lindsay," he begins, his voice heavy with regret, "Sofia is pregnant with my baby."

  He says more than that, but I can't hear it over the ringing in my ears. I turn slowly and walk out of the bathroom. The towel slips from my breasts and falls at me feet on the floor. Naked, cold, I fall face down on my bed.

  I don't even have the energy to cry. My beautiful girl is pregnant. And her piece of shit stepfather is the man responsible. He's living with another pregnant teenager, but it wasn't enough. He had to ruin the life of the girl who still calls him "daddy." He had to spread his poison deeper into my heart.

  And Tyler is going to pay for it.

  Part Two

  Pleasure Over Pain

  Oceanside Distractions

  Finding out my daughter, Sofia, is pregnant with my soon-to-be-ex-husband’s child is a little too much for me to handle. I don’t blow up at Tyler. I don’t force my way into Sofia’s room and tear into my daughter. I throw a bunch of clothes into an overnight bag and I go to the beach. It’s about two hours to this little spot along the coast where I used to go with Tyler when I thought we were falling in love. Maybe we were back then. Maybe it was real and then it just disappeared over time.

  Did it really get so bad that Tyler could knock up his stepdaughter? Is all of this my fault for letting it happen?

  I don’t have answers to those sorts of questions, only more stupid questions. I pick up a bottle of sangria, a pint of butter pecan, and I check in at the Beachcomber, the little seaside motel I used to stay at with Tyler. It’s as rundown as I remember, with the same sunworn old couple managing it. The neon clamshell of the Beachcomber’s sign shines through the curtains. The room is shabby and smells like the sea and cigarettes. The last thing I need to do is start smoking again. I quit years ago, before I was even pregnant with Sofia, and I don’t want to go back to that.

  I put on a movie and eat way too much ice cream followed by drinking way too much sangria. The room is spinning as I stretch out on the bed and slip into unconsciousness. I dream of Sofia, naked and touched by Victoria, my friend and co-conspirator in our little lesbian daughter swapping club. I watch far longer than I should as the older woman touches my sweet daughter. When I finally tear my eyes away from this vision, I see Daphne, a girl I have not thought about since college.

  Daphne was a cheerleader. She was everything that you don’t think of when you think of a lesbian. Guys drooled over Daphne and yet there she was, in my dorm room, stretched out on my bed and licking my teenage pussy. Just like that I am back in the dorm with her, our innocence shed in caresses and our bodies connecting the way I had never quite connected with a boyfriend. The dream passes in sensations and images. Our tongues slipping together. Her kiss on my clit. The rich, soft, silky blond hair of her pussy covering my mouth. My hands on her firm ass and her sweet juices filling my mouth. I suck and lick at Daphne’s soft folds until my impossible thirst is quenched.

  I awake with a headache and a definite dampness in my panties. It’s early morning and the light of the day is red through the windows. I get out of the hard motel bed, see I have a bunch of missed calls and messages from Tyler, from Sofia and from Victoria, and I grumble with dismay. Instead of checking them, I crawl into the shower.

  The warm shower cleans me of my drunken funk and wakes me up a little. I need to do something to offset that ice cream or I’ll go into a self-loathing eating spiral like in my mid-thirties. I’ve been in pretty good shape since forty and I’d like to keep that way. I put on my blue and yellow striped bikini and decide that my big ass needs a pair of shorts to cover it. I slide on a gray pair of soft workout shorts and lace up my sneakers.

  It’s still a little chilly this early in the morning and my nipples rise beneath the taut fabric of my bikini top. My tits are big, and they’re going to look outrageous bouncing up and down while I job, but I should have the beach to myself. It’s a secret spot that rarely has visitors. I pop in my earbuds and jog across the early morning traffic. Down the steps to the beach and its golden sands.

  Running on a beach is a good workout. I feel the burn after a hundred yards and have to dig in to keep going by the half mile mark. The Pacific laps at the coast and the sun slowly climbs into the morning sky, which passes from gold to perfect blue. My tits bounce with every step and by the one mile mark I regret wearing that bik
ini. I pass a guy jogging and he actually stops to ogle my tits. I flip him the bird as I run past, though I do appreciate the attention as long as I don’t have to hear some nasty comment.

  By mile three, I have to stop and catch my breath. I realize I am near a towel and a small cooler and when I cast my gaze out into the ocean I see a solo surfer working the morning curls. The surfer rises on the arch of a wave. She’s good and holds it longer than I think possible. When she comes up from the water closer to shore, I get an even better look at her. She is you and blond, tall and gorgeous, and for a second I see Daphne stand there in the surf.

  Then I realize this beach babe is looking right at me. She stows her board under her arm and waves to me with her free hand. I return the wave and feel obligated to wait for her to walk over to me on the beach. She’s long-legged and incredibly fit. Her pert tits look amazing in her black bikini and her bottoms ride low on her swinging hips.

  “Hey, you looked good out there,” I call out as she approaches.

  She sets her board aside and says, “I hope I look good all the time.”

  That would probably add a good bit of color to my face if I weren’t already flushed from my run. I smile at her and she shoots me this huge, white-toothed grin that melts me like a heat ray. She pulls her damp hair back into a ponytail and ties it with a rubber band. There isn’t an ounce of extra fat on this girl, perfect model-flat tummy with a hint of definition and arms and legs to match. Her ass is a miracle in that black bikini and the top is not keeping many secrets of her youthful C-cups.

  “Julie,” she says, turning to me and sticking out her hand. I take it, find it callused in unusual spots, and give her a good shake.