The Lesbian Daughter Swapping Fantasy Club

by Amanda Clover

  “Bitch,” I hiss through my clenched teeth.

  “You still don’t get it,” she giggles. “This isn’t some game I’m playing. This weekend, like it or not, you are going to introduce me to Victoria and I am going to wrap her around my finger as easily as I wrapped you around my finger.”

  I get it. It’s not about blackmail for fun; this is some sort of revenge against my daughter. She intends to seduce Victoria, the woman who is in a serious relationship with Sofia. As far as I know, Sofia and Victoria have a strong but open romance. I’m not sure how Malora thinks she can disrupt that, but I believe she can do it.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Mrs. Brody.” She gives my nipple another twist. “I thought we were friends.”

  “I’ll do what you want. That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

  “Oh, I know what makes you happy, Mrs. Brody.” She slides her legs off my lap and leans in like she intends to kiss me. At the last moment, she pulls her lips away and yanks my hair painfully. I let out a whimper of pain. She pushes my face towards her pussy. “Go ahead. Lick it some more, mommy.”

  I slide off the couch and onto my knees. For the next forty minutes or so, I do exactly what Melora demands. She gives me another workout between her teenage legs. Before she kisses my cheek and pulls her panties back on, we have made plans for me to pick her up at her house on Saturday morning.

  “Not a word of any of this to Sofia,” she warns as I show her to the door. “If she finds out, the whole world finds out what I have.”

  “You can stop making threats. I get it. I get what you want.”

  “Good,” says Melora. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

  The Twelfth Visit – Victoria and Melora

  “I’m going to be late,” I say, noticing the clock on the stove in the kitchen. I slide my feet into my Christian Louboutin high heels and wriggle my toes inside my soft stockings. “She is not going to be happy if I’m late. Do you know what to do, honey?”

  “Yes, mom, we’ve gone over it like five times.”

  Sofia is dressed in a loose shirt that hangs from one slender shoulder to reveal her pink bra strap. Not quite enough to hide her ample baby bump. She is only a few weeks away from the due date now. I’m impressed how little weight she has gained overall, mostly just her belly and breasts. Her hair is pulled back in a wild ponytail and she is wearing baggie sweats that hide what she thinks is her big butt. It’s not big. It’s cute.

  “Do I look good? I have to look good.”

  “You look hot as hell, mom,” she says, circling around me. “You went all out for her.”

  She’s right, I did go all out. I bought a new black mid-thigh bodycon dress that I feel a little self-conscious in because it’s so unbelievably tight. I have to look in the mirror, or ask my daughter, to confirm that I don’t look like an exploded sausage. The length shows off my shapely legs, the tightness shows off my fairly slender waist and round ass, and the neckline, which plunges below my breasts in a V, shows off my plump breasts. It’s a work of Herculean logistics and a little bit of tape to keep my nipples from popping out every step I take.

  Under the dress, I am wearing black stockings, garter, and look-through panties, freshly bought from Agent Provocateur. Malora may be right that I will never quite lose some of the weight of being a mother, but I can buy designer lingerie in hot body sizes again and that is pretty wonderful.

  “Thanks, baby. I feel naked in this dress.” I twist my waist and look over my shoulder, down at my body in the dress. “Or like a Kardashian.”

  “Your eyebrows aren’t dark enough,” she points out.

  Also I don’t have the perfect tan and huge lips and dark, silky hair, but who is keeping track, right? I give my daughter a boob-squishing hug and hit the road. I hate driving in the high heels, but there’s no time to be changing back and forth between sneakers and my heels. I imagine that every minute I am late to pick up Melora she is going to come up with another punishment for me. I have to continue to play the total submissive to her domineering little bitch. At least for now.

  Her posh house has a gate and a butler who buzzes me through. I feel like my car is a piece of shit as I drive past a Porsche and a Land Rover. At least I had my interior detailed recently. It's immaculate.

  The elderly butler answers the door and shows me into a high-ceilinged den area lit by the natural light streaming through the ten-foot windows.

  Melora makes me wait. I pace for a few minutes. The butler returns and offers me some lemonade, which I decline, because I don't trust a fucking drink in Melora's house. For all I know she wants to drug me, strip me naked, and take pictures of me with nasty things written all over my body. Worse, that idea is almost exciting to me. I have to stay in character, but I also have to stay in control of my desires.

  "You clean up nicely," says Melora, descending the stairs into the den.

  Her dark hair is done up in fat ringlets that spill around her bare shoulders. She is wearing a strapless princess gown with a brocaded bodice and a puffy pink skirt. I have to resist the urge to laugh. She looks gorgeous, but she is wildly overdressed for our club. She approaches me in a sweetly perfumed cloud and slaps me right across my face.

  "That is for being late," she says. "Now, I have told Alexander to spend the next half hour in the kitchen. Get down on your knees."

  I assume Alexander is the butler. I have one guess what this gorgeous teenage bitch wants me to do on my knees.

  "Melora, they are going to start without us," I object.

  She raises an eyebrow and gives me a hard look.

  "Then text them and tell them we are running late. Then you will get on your knees."

  I send the text and look at her uncertainly. We're standing on a hardwood floor and I feel as if I'll burst out of my dress if I get down on my knees. Annoyance flashes on Melora's face.

  "Now, Mrs. Brody. On your knees."

  She shoves me down and my knees knock painfully against the hardwood. She looms over me, a great, frilly pink goddess in her dress. Her skin looking as annoyingly flawless as I remember from her visit to my house.

  "I was going to let you lick my sweet pussy," she says, gathering up her skirt and sliding it up her thighs. "But since you were so late that you might have made me wait, I am going to punish you."

  She's wearing pink satin panties with a look through front and a back window of pale lace. I can see the dark triangle of her pubic hair and the shape of her vulva. She smiles cruelly as she begins to turn.

  "Consider yourself lucky," she says, "That I am going to allow you to lick my ass."

  Her firm bubble butt looks amazing in her satin-framed panties. The look-through back reveals the delicate curve of her crack.

  "Pull them down," she commands.

  I slide my hands up her slender legs and over the firm mounds of her bottom. My fingers curl into the waist of her panties, feeling the warmth of her body as I slide her panties down her thighs. I expose her inch by inch, her cheeks so round and yet small and firm, her pussy revealed as a nearly-hairless peach between her toned thighs. She bends forward and thrusts the roundness of her ass towards me.

  "Don't make me tell you twice again, Mrs. Brody," she sighs. "You are already testing my patience by making us late. I thought about sending those pictures. Now I'm thinking about... oooohhh... yes... that's it."

  My hands stroke the firmness of her bubble butt, squeezing those toned globes as I lean down and inhale her scent. Nothing but perfume and body wash and the faint hint of arousal emanating from the hot pink of her pussy. My hands spread her ass. Her hole is as annoyingly perfect as the rest of Melora; a pale knot nestled between her firm cheeks.

  I moan as I press my face into the warmth of her crack, breathing her scent and pressing my lips against the inner tenderness of her ass. She reaches a hand to the back of my head and pulls me roughly against her ass.

  “Taste it, dyke bitch,” she laughs. “Dirty ass-licking lesbo mom! Eat
it!”

  What can I do? I’m not so worried about the blackmail material she has collected on me, but I have to do whatever Malora wants. I guess I’ll just have to eat her hot little asshole.

  I moan lustily as I begin to tongue her clenching hole. The hot suck of her breath tells me I am doing something right. I rim her tight pucker, getting it nice and wet with slow, swirling licks of my tongue. She thrusts her ass and practically smothers with me. I begin licking her more vigorously. My spit spills down her crack. I shake my face from side to side in her crack, my tongue wildly lashing against the hot divot of her anus.

  “That’s it you nasty bitch,” she moans. “Put your tongue up my ass. Come on. Get it in there.”

  She pushes again on the back of my head. What choice do I have? I am forced by Malora to tongue-fuck her hot teenage ass. I thrust one hand under my skirt and between my thighs. I stuff my hand into my panties and furiously frig myself as I drive my tongue in and out of Malora’s clenching hole. She fucks back against my tongue. Her rolling hips smear the saliva coating her crack all over my face.

  “Oh, yes,” she moans. “Oh, Mrs. Brody, you ass-eating MILF bitch. Make me cum. Make my asshole cum on your tongue.”

  I drive my tongue deep into her hot pipe. My fingers fuck in and out of my pussy as I push my tongue all the way into Malora’s teenage asshole. I can feel her fingers stroking her clit only an inch or so from my chin. My moans of pleasure vibrate up my tongue and send the domineering teen over the edge.

  “I’m cumming on that tongue,” she grunts. “Oh, god, yes. You dirty ass-loving bitch. AAaaaah!”

  I can sense her orgasm in her shuddering thighs and shaking hand, but most of all I feel it in the way her asshole squeezes with rapid contractions against my tongue. I punch my tongue in and out of her spasming asshole, tasting deep in her teen pucker as my own orgasm rises to greet my stroking fingers.

  I cry out with my face pressed tight against Malora’s ass. The depravity of so readily servicing the teen’s hot asshole is not lost on me. I relish it, savoring the dwindling clench of her ass around my tongue as shuddering waves of orgasm work through me.

  “Cumming just from eating my ass?” Malora steps away from me, depriving me of her clenching hole. She pulls up her panties and drops her skirt back into place as she turns to face me. She laughs at me, “Look at you, Mrs. Brody. You’re addicted to me already. That’s okay, I’ll give you a taste now and then, as long as you do everything I say.”

  “Yesssssss,” I moan. “Anything you want.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” She cradles my chin and, to my shock, she drools a long strand of spit onto my lips and into my open mouth. I try to flinch away, but Melora holds me fast as her spit drops onto my face. “Right now, you are going to take me to the club.”

  I wipe her spit from my face and stand up. My knees hurt terribly from kneeling on the hardwood. I follow Malora to my car and she gets into the back seat like I am her chauffeur. That’s fine with me. I’d be afraid I might be distracted if she were sitting next to me. I might hate the way she is using me to get to Sofia, but Melora is right: I’m already facing addiction to the overbearing teen. The meaner she is, the more I am enjoying it.

  It’s a cool, crisp fall day and nearly lunch time when we arrive at the clubhouse. The drive is packed with cars.

  “Now, remember,” I say, “you are my niece. You found out about the club from Sofia and I thought it was alright to let you give it a try.”

  “Ugh, I can’t believe people are going to think I am related to you,” she rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ve got it. I’m your niece.”

  “And my brother’s name is Gary,” I say, which is a total lie, but so is the rest of it.

  “Got it. Anything else in this ridiculous story I need to know?”

  “Nope,” I say with a smile at her in the rearview mirror. “Victoria and Brittany are waiting for us.”

  Melora eyes the front of Vince’s vacation house as we approach. I try to clasp her hand, but she shakes loose of my grasp and flashes an annoyed frown at me.

  “It feels weird going up to the door,” she says, more to herself than to me. “I watched Sofia going in from the trees and wondered what was happening inside. Now I am finally going to know.”

  “Oh, yes, you’ll find out,” I say, my smile almost betraying the trap I have carefully set for Melora.

  “Don’t look at me like that, you perverted dyke,” she growls. “You were eating my ass twenty minutes ago. If I told you to lick my feet right now, you’d have to do it.”

  “Yes, of course,” I agree and lower my head submissively.

  “Good.” She looks at the door. “Do we ring the bell or what?”

  “Just walk right in,” I say, opening the door and holding it for her.

  She leads the way into the spacious, lodge-like lounge area of the house. The large couches are empty, the biggest of the TVs is tuned to women’s gymnastics, and Victoria and Brittany are sitting at the bar in the back of the room. They see us walk in and I can tell Victoria is struggling not to laugh at the Barbie pink Cinderella outfit Melora is wearing.

  “Oh, hey!” Victoria rises from her stool at the bar. She is wearing a sleek, simple black slip dress that shows off her long legs. “You must be Melora. Oh, wow, you are gorgeous. I am such a lucky woman.”

  Victoria dares a wink at me. The bust blonde reminds me of myself sometimes, when I’m not busy being jealous of her intimate relationship with my beautiful daughter. Brittany is a younger, prettier version of her mother. Not quite as busty, but just as beautiful. I hug her and grab her ass through her red slip dress. It’s an even shorter cut than her mother’s dress and really shows off Brittany’s unbelievably toned legs.

  “So, ladies, this is Melora. Melora, this is Brittany and Victoria.” I put an arm around Melora’s bare shoulders. “She has limited experience with this stuff, Victoria, so please go easy on her.”

  “Mom will be so good to you,” says Brittany. “She seems aggressive, but she’s a total pushover. Just get a finger up her butt and she’ll do whatever you want.”

  Melora’s face goes red hearing Brittany talk about fingering her own mother’s ass. It’s amusing to see the beautiful teen who has been dominating me cruelly suddenly disarmed with embarrassment. I give her a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder. She gives me an annoyed glance.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be just fine,” says Melora.

  She takes Victoria’s hand and the pair go up the stairs, chatting softly on their way to the voyeur room. The room includes a one-way glass mirror with a hidden room and, more importantly, numerous video cameras and audio pickups that feed into a room just across the hall. It’s a recent addition to the house. It has the look of a late 90s travel lodge motel room, but that’s all part of the roleplaying that goes on in the room. Sofia told me that Vince came up with the idea and he likes to pretend it’s a prostitution or drug sting.

  It’s perfect for our purposes today. Brittany and I head into the recording room across the hall.

  “All of the equipment is set up and already recording,” she assures me, but I don’t want to take any chances. There are several computer monitors in the small room and a clicking server that is recording the audio and video. I turn on the monitors and full-color views of the room from a dozen different angles appear on the screens. There is even a camera in the shower in the bathroom.

  Melora and Victoria walk into the room. The resolution is so good on the video I can see Melora’s disappointment in the dumpy room. Their mouths are moving, but I can’t hear any sound. Brittany acts before I can even ask her what is going on and taps a function key that unmutes the audio.

  “—ow Sofia pretty well,” says Victoria.

  “Oh, not that well,” says Melora. “She is a good girl, but I don’t think she is interested in many of the sorts of thing I am interested in.”

  “Well, what are you interested in, besides coming here?” asks Victoria, ta
king Melora’s hands and leading her to the bed.

  “To be honest,” Melora plays coy, “she confessed to me that she was seeing this gorgeous older woman. I told her I was exploring my sexuality and she mentioned the club. Then she told me about you.”

  Victoria sits Melora down on the bed and holds the teen’s hands in her lap.

  “What did she tell you about me?”

  “That you were sexy and sweet. That, um, with what is going on with her stepdad she thought, uh, I don’t know how to put this, she was worried you’d be lonely.”

  “Lonely?”

  “Yeah,” says Melora, lifting her nervous gaze and looking into Victoria’s eyes. “She said once the baby is born she is going to be full time with Mr. Brody. She won’t be able to see you anymore. She likes you and, um, I think she wants to be happy. So she suggested I should come meet you.”

  “I had no idea,” says Victoria, playing up her shock. “I mean, I suppose I should have known. He is the baby’s father; after all, she will want to be with him more. But, I thought she loved me.”

  “She is very fond of you,” says Melora. “She wants you to be happy. And I want to learn, um, how all this works.”

  Victoria is a good actress. She wipes away real tears and acts utterly convinced by Melora’s tender naiveté.

  “So that’s why she didn’t come today,” says Victoria. “She’s setting you up with me as a way of moving on. That bitch.”

  “No, no, no,” says Melora, taking Victoria’s hands and giving the older blonde a run for her money in the Oscar competition. “Don’t call her a bitch. She is helping both of us. She knows I am attracted to beautiful older women and she doesn’t want to leave you without anyone. She actually cares for you quite a bit.”

  I see what Melora is doing. It’s the sort of ruse that might almost work, if I hadn’t warned Victoria in advance and if her relationship with Sofia weren’t as solid as any relationship I know. Yeah, the doors are open in the bedroom, but Victoria and my daughter communicate constantly. That’s a sign of a healthy relationship.