The Lesbian Daughter Swapping Fantasy Club

by Amanda Clover

  Brittany has the window seat next to me. Victoria and Sofia are sitting together about three rows up. We find our seats and soon enough the plane takes to the sky. We leave New York just before nightfall, flying into the sunset. The lights lower in the plane and a lot of the passengers begin to doze off.

  The night before, I was fantasizing about getting into some mischief with Brittany during the long flight. When I turn to suggest we share a blanket, I see she has already fallen asleep staring out the window at the ocean. I suppose I could grope her in her sleep, but that veers a little too “rapey” for my taste.

  A few rows up, I can see Sofia and Victoria are making out like a couple of teenagers at a movie theater. The blanket over their lap is not doing a very good job of hiding Victoria’s hand under my daughter’s sweater, stretching it with her fingers as they caress Sofia’s breast. The stewardess walks past and gives them an icy glance. She’s one of those holdover flight attendants, the sort of woman who can still remember the days when men grabbed asses on planes and got away with it. She clearly doesn’t like seeing my daughter making out with a much older woman.

  But I like seeing it. I’ve come to terms that I like to watch. I enjoy Sofia’s soft lips pressing against Victoria’s. The way my daughter caresses the older woman and laughs between kisses, awakens my desire. I stand and pretend to mess around with my luggage. It gives me a better view of the action. I can’t see much of Victoria’s face, but I can see her hand as it brushes Sofia’s auburn hair aside and exposes her ear. Victoria nuzzles against Sofia’s neck and sucks at her earlobe. Sofia gasps and tilts her head back.

  I want to do a lot of things a mother should never even consider. I have to stop staring at them. What was I thinking allowing myself to be trapped on this plane with them? I have to get away from the sight of Victoria and my daughter. The stewardess is returning with a drink cart as I decide to head to the bathroom. She moves the cart as far over to one side as possible so I can squeeze past. I look at her, smile, and fail to notice the passenger standing up from their seat.

  The passenger is a young woman, maybe eighteen, dressed like a teenager and sitting with her sleeping father. She has a drink in her hand and as I bump her, and she bumps me, I turn and the drink spills all over my chest. The shock of the cold liquid is accompanied by the faint prickle of the carbonation on my skin. Ginger ale by the smell of it. It completely soaks the white blouse I am wearing and exposes the pink shape of my bra and my left breast. The teen has candy-colored waves of pink and blue in her blond hair. Her eyes go wide and she looks positively mortified.

  “I’m so sorry, oh my god!” She reaches for her hoodie on the seat between her and her father. “Let me wipe it off. Oh, jeez, I’m such a klutz.”

  “It’s alright,” I say.

  She presses the hoodie against my chest, soaking up a little of the soda and squeezing my chilled mounds in the process. She seems to realize she’s doing a little too much fondling and she quickly pulls her hand off me and looks away.

  “S-sorry,” she stammers.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. I’ve got a clean blouse in my carry-on.”

  “I get so nervous flying,” she says. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

  I glance back down the aisle and see my daughter still locking lips with Victoria. The sight sends another thrill of lust through my body and gives me new resolve to do something to get away from the sight. I glance at the clumsy teenager’s father. Seeing he is sound asleep, I try to make a bold move.

  “Why don’t you come to the bathroom with me,” I suggest. “You can help me dry off my blouse.”

  “In the bathroom?” She seems to sense the motive behind my offer.

  “I could use the extra set of hands,” I suggest. “Let me just grab that clean blouse.”

  She chews her lower lip for a moment and then decides. “Um, okay. I’ll help.”

  Crowded into the airliner’s bathroom, she has trouble meeting my gaze. She has big, brown eyes, much like Sofia. She is skinny and a few inches shorter than me. Her slender hips are matched with two of the biggest breasts I’ve ever seen on a teenager. They look almost comically huge, despite her best efforts to contain them under a fairly baggy long-sleeved tee. I can only imagine the sort of self-consciousness those huge breasts have caused this girl. All the unwanted attention to her body from boys at school. All the teasing.

  Despite her obvious shyness, I catch her stealing glances at me as I begin to unbutton my wet blouse.

  “My name is Lindsay,” I say.

  “Addison.”

  She glances up at me as I peel the blouse from my breasts and shoulders. The wet fabric pulls at my mounds, lifting them slightly before they jiggle back into place. My nipples strain against the damp pink lace of my bra. Addison can’t help but look at my tits. Her face flushes a deeper shade of red and she averts her gaze again. Her shyness is adorable.

  “Here, hold this,” I say, passing her my ginger ale soaked blouse. “I think the bra is wet too. I’ll have to take it off.”

  “Mhmm,” is all she can manage as she holds my blouse and stares at the wall.

  To be fair, I think Addison might have bigger tits than me. It looks like she’s wearing a d-cup sports bra under her baggy shirt and it looks like, based on shape alone, that her tits are squeezing out of that bra like dough that has risen too much. That doesn’t mean unsheathing my luscious breasts can’t be a bit distracting for the teen. I pop the cups free of my mounds and reveal the paleness of my titflesh, glistening slightly from the sticky soda, and the pink of my areolas and plump nipples. I catch Addison stealing a look at them. She wets her lips nervously.

  I drape the pink lace of my bra over her arm. My hands gather the soft flesh of my breasts, lifting and squeezing them, plucking and gently stretching my nipples before allowing my mounds to settle back into place.

  “Sticky, sticky,” I murmur, stepping closer to Addison and crowding her against the sink. “I can’t put a blouse back on over this stickiness. I’ll have to wipe it all clean.”

  As she leans back to try to give me room, I lean into her face, reaching past her and letting my dangling breasts press against Addison’s face. She turns aside, trying to avoid being smothered and moaning as my sticky mounds crush against her cheek and ear and the silkiness of her hair. I take my time gathering several paper towels and wetting them in the sink.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, as if just noticing the uncomfortable position I placed her in, “it is a little… tight in here. A bit like sharing a sleeping bag.”

  “Your boobs are really nice,” she blurts and immediately goes red again.

  “These old things?” I look down at my chest and lift them with a supporting forearm. My nipples are exquisitely erect and surrounded by the tiny bumps visible on my areolas. Yes, my tits have a little droop since crossing into my forties, but I’ve kept it to a minimum by wearing bras almost all the time. “I think yours might be even nicer. Teenage boobs are usually so magnificently pert. You’re eighteen, right?”

  “Yes,” she says.

  “Then we’re both adults,” I bring my tits closer to her face again. She’s standing up now, so our heights are more even, but if she leaned her face down a little she would be smothered. “We can do whatever we want in here. Nobody can stop us.”

  I delicately pinch the blouse and bra she is supporting on her arm. I yank them away and toss them into the sink. She looks up at me, her face so deliciously flushed and her eyes heavy with desire, that I can’t resist her. I lean my lips down to hers and kiss. It’s a long kiss, but very delicate. Our lips stay closed, mine against hers, holding her there in the thrall of my mature desire.

  I pull back and look her in the eye. I see her epiphany in those brown eyes. It is the realization of what she wants and what is happening, that teenage blossoming where Sapphic secrets are finally acknowledged and explored in the warm embrace of another woman. Or maybe cold and sticky embrace, in this
particular instance.

  Seeing that awakening, I know the door has been opened. I lean in to kiss her again. Addison surprises me by ducking beneath my kiss. Her warm hands touch my breasts, gently, as she presses them together and lowers her lips to my soft titflesh. She kisses the inner curve of my cleavage and I moan with satisfaction. It is clear she has been thinking about touching a woman this way. Her fantasies are unleashed as her lips roam over my breasts. Her hands fondle my sticky mounds. Her exploring kiss bends my nipples beneath her lips.

  “Yesssss,” I hiss, sliding my fingers into the multi-colored wave of her hair and pulling her against my chest. “Clean me with your tongue.”

  She moans with lust and a moment later I feel the hot caress of her tongue, slipping and sliding over my ginger ale flavored breasts. She swirls her tongue around a nipple and can’t resist sucking at my tender bud. I moan and pull her harder, force my tit against her open, sucking mouth and my nipple against her tongue. Her lips pop and she slurps eagerly, the suction sending hot pulses of pleasure from my aroused nipple to the straining button of my clit.

  She finally pops her lips free and looks up at me, asking, “Did I get it all?”

  “Not quite,” I say, squeezing my other breast and directing my other nipple to her mouth. There is no ginger ale on my nipple, but Addison moans with her lust and eagerly begins to suck at my breast. “Yessss, suck there. You’ll get it all.”

  Her hot tongue does circles on my areola, sliding over my nipple before she takes it into her mouth and slurps wantonly. She clamps her soft lips around my areola and sucks as she looks up into my eyes.

  “Oh, Addison,” I purr, smoothing a blue lock from her face, “I think some of your ginger ale… ooooohhh… has spilled down to my lap. It’s so wet down there.”

  I take her hand and slide it under my skirt. I press her fingers against the panty-clad mound of my pussy, letting her feel the heat and moisture soaking through from my throbbing mound. She gasps as she feels the heat.

  “I’d better clean it all up,” she cries, looking up from the pillows of my breasts. “I’d better clean it with my… my tongue…”

  I tease her as if I am about to kiss her on the lips. Instead, I push Addison down to her knees and lift one of my feet up onto the closed lid of the toilet. I hold the no-longer-shy teen’s head in one hand and use the other hand to gather up the hem of my skirt. I lift my skirt above my sopping pink panties and pull Addison against my mound. Her hands slide up the backs of my thighs and she squeezes my big ass with both hands. Her lusty mound vibrates into my body as she presses her face between my thighs.

  “Lindsay,” she murmurs and says something else, but it is lost as she says it against the soft, smothering mound of my panty-covered pussy.

  “That’s it,” I moan as her kisses press against my panties. “You might have to take off my… mmm… yes…”

  Addison doesn’t need any further encouragement. No more playing games to tease her. She desperately yanks my panties out of my ass and down my quivering thighs to my knees. I push them the rest of the way and step out of them as she grabs my ass against and press her mouth to my sex. Her tongue tastes me, testing my slick slit before plunging into the hot trench of my folds. I cry out as her tongue drives deep into my honeyed channel and her fingers squeeze the softness of my butt.

  “Yesssss,” I hiss, holding her head with both hands as much to steady myself as keep her against my mound.

  Whatever the teen lacks in skill, she makes up with enthusiasm. She has clearly been fantasizing about this moment and my blond-furred pussy is just what she’s been wanting. Addison tongue-fucks my hot peach until my juices are running down her chin.

  “Lick my clit,” I gasp, pulling her mouth to the swollen button of my pleasure.

  “Mmmm yessss, let me… nnnnn…”

  She interrupts herself, further revealing my clit with her thumb pressed just above it and leaning in to lap hungrily at my little bullet of lust. There is no subtlety to Addison’s approach. She behaves like a porn star at the climax of a scene or a nymphomaniac gone ravenous from sex starvation. Her furious lapping presses me back against the wall of the bathroom. I hold tight to her hair just to keep from tumbling over as I feel my pleasure rising.

  “Oh! Oh my god!” I cry, trying and failing to keep my voice down. “Oh, fuck. Ohhh… Addison… I’m cumming!”

  “Nnnnhnnnn!” she agrees.

  Her fingers are inside me without warning. Two, maybe three, pushing to the last knuckle into my hot channel. I squeal with pleasure as her tongue beats a rapid drumroll against my clit. The wet sound of her tongue and the smell of my own arousal fills the room. For one instant I have perfect clarity of the situation, my big thighs around her face, her mouth against me, eyes looking over the blond tuft of my pubes, nipples still glistening with her spit, my fingers disappearing into her multi-colored hair.

  Then all that clarity drowns in a tidal wave of pleasure. I close my eyes to keep from getting dizzy and I can see starburst in the darkness, flashing in perfect synchronicity with the explosions of orgasm in my tummy. The ripples of contractions propagate through my body. My inner walls flex and clamp against Addison’s fingers. I know I’m screaming, but I can’t stop myself.

  The bathroom is filled with the sound of my breathing as I come down from my orgasm. It’s so loud in the tight space that it competes with the steady whine of the jet engines. I’m shaking. I never shake after an orgasm but I can barely keep still. Whimpering with aftershocks, I push Addison’s mouth away from my pussy and slide down to my knees to join her.

  “That was… oh…”

  I can’t describe it with my words, so I kiss her, trying my best to explain what she just did to me with the hungry passion of my mouth. Her tongue is just as eager and we share my sweet flavor from her lips to mine. I reach around to her little ass and squeeze the firmness of those buns through her dark, body-hugging sweats. Addison and I spread that sweet nectar back and forth until there is nothing left but the hot press of our lips and the wet slither of tongue against tongue.

  “I’m so wet,” she gasps against my lips. “Lindsay… I need you to—“

  A loud banging on the bathroom door interrupts her words and sends a panicked jolt through us both. We separate and I realize my flushed and disheveled state.

  “Come onnnnnn,” says a man’s voice through the door. “People out here need to use the bathroom.”

  Leave it to a man to interrupt a magic moment. Addison flutters her lashes at me and I’m tempted to ignore the pounding on the door and devour her like jiggling, top-heavy slice of cake. I kiss her again, but it is fleeting.

  “Paris,” I say. “We’ll meet again. Put your number into my phone while I get dressed.”

  She nods and wordlessly begins to obey. I pull on my clothes and run the sink to cover the noise a little more. Addison hands me my phone. The teen is still red faced as I button up the pink blouse I brought with me. It’s tight over my breasts. I smooth a multi-colored lock of hair from her pretty face and she leans her cheek against my palm.

  “It’s alright,” she whispers. “Paris.”

  I dab a little of my perfume on her and a little on me to cover the obvious scent of sex that fills the air of the bathroom. Opening the door, the guy waiting for us goes from annoyance to awe in the span of a millisecond. He stares, wide-eyed, as we brush past him and return to our seats.

  I can’t help but steal a glance at Sofia and Victoria canoodling in their seats as I return to mine. They’re sharing a blanket and both women are looking a little mussed and overheated. Clearly they’ve been having fun while I was enjoying Addison’s tongue. Sofia glances at me, and at Addison, and my daughter gives us a knowing smile.

  When we reach Addison’s seat, I stay crowded against the teen, forcing her to turn and press her firm little ass almost right into my hand to stow her damp hoodie in the overhead compartment. I give it a surreptitious squeeze as I brush past her. Back in my se
at, no amount of Candy Crush is going to take my mind off of what happened in the bathroom. I try to direct my thoughts towards Paris and what might happen with Addison there. The teen glancing back at me every few minutes is not helping the flight go faster. I want to ravish her with my tongue. I want to suck those huge breasts until she squeals for me to stop and I want to taste her little pussy and spread that little ass.

  “Dirty thoughts?” Brittany stirs beside me. The teen beauty has a sleepy look on her face, but mischief in her smile. She slips her hand between my thighs, running her caress under my skirt to touch my panties.

  She giggles and purrs into my ear, “Someone has been having dirty thoughts.”

  Her fingers stroke my panties into the damp furrow of my sex. I squirm and let out a soft cry of pleasure as she finds my plump clit as it strains beneath the lust-soaked fabric. I try to look away from Brittany, but she flashes those amber eyes at me. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face. Her pert, teenage breasts are rise beneath her workout pullover, the hard pebbles of her nipples outlined beneath the pink material.

  Brittany doesn’t need to know that my fantasies have advanced a little beyond “dirty thoughts.” In fact, Brittany does not give me the opportunity. She nibbles at my ear and slips her nimble fingers into my panties to caress the tufted mound of my sex. I arch in my seat and suppress a gasp of pleasure as her fingers go straight to the eager button of my clit.

  “Mmmmmmhmmmm,” murmurs Brittany. “We’re going to have so much fun in Paris. I want to go to the Eiffel Tower with you, see all of Paris, and then get fucked in my tight little butt with that strap-on you smuggled through the TSA.”

  “Ohhhhh,” I cry as her fingers strum my clit. An old woman a few seats over gives me a dirty look and I close my eyes so I don’t have to see her. There’s no blanket covering what Brittany is doing to me, just the slight privacy of my skirt hiding her hand.

  “I want to drizzle Parisian chocolate all over those big, beautiful tits.” Brittany’s voice is hot in my ear. “I’m going to lick it all up and then sit my little tushy on your face. I bet you’d like that. Smothered under my teenage ass.”