﻿Under His Spell

by Pan



Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2023-08-19
Packaged: 2024-02-16 23:09:57
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,523
Publisher: mcstories.com
Story URL: https://mcstories.com/UnderHisSpell/index.html
Author URL: https://mcstories.com/Authors/Pan.html
Summary: A housewife finds herself unable to resist the advances of her daughter’s new boyfriend.
Erotica Tags: mc, md, mf





TABLE OF CONTENTS


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4



	Chapter 1

When I felt the hand of my daughter’s boyfriend on my ass, I didn’t say anything.

How would you have reacted? We’d been asking Georgia to invite her boyfriend around for weeks now—we didn’t know anything about him, except that the two of them seemed to be getting along. My husband and I had literally no idea what to expect—and yet, Ash still managed to surprise us.

He was eighteen, the same age as Georgia, but he held himself with the confidence of a much older man. He walked with…well, with a swagger. He was wearing ripped jeans and a black jacket, made of faux leather, which he refused to take off all through dinner.

Georgia couldn’t keep her eyes off him—she was clearly besotted…and, honestly, I could see why. He was exactly the kind of “bad boy” I would have been keen on when I was her age. He never broke eye-contact—in fact, he spent most of the meal staring straight at me. I’m well into my forties now, but I have to admit, I felt myself blushing slightly in response.

It’s just so rare to get that kind of direct attention from a young man, at my age…and especially such _direct_ attention. I don’t think my husband noticed anything odd in either Ash’s behavior or mine, but Georgia surely must have noticed the inordinate amount of attention her suitor was paying me.

She didn’t say anything, and neither did I. And later, when Ash came into the kitchen and put his hand directly on my ass, I didn’t say anything then, either. We were alone—I was washing up, and my husband had offered to show Georgia and Ash the latest modifications he was making to his car.

I have no idea how Ash managed to sneak away, and I didn’t ask. I just stood there, doing the dishes, while Ash’s hand firmly grasped my rear end. Neither of us said a word—I suppose a part of me was just hoping if I didn’t acknowledge it, he would stop.

But he didn’t. In fact, when it was obvious that I wasn’t going to offer up even a token resistance, he took it a step further. His hand started caressing me, and he stood directly behind me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck—he was tall, taller than my husband—and his other hand came around and started groping my left breast.

I didn’t say anything. But I did shiver—a shiver of fear, I suppose, or possibly arousal. I didn’t know what this young man was doing, or how I felt about it…but my body was responding. I could feel myself getting wet, as the teenager dating my daughter openly groped me in the kitchen.

He used his feet to spread my legs, gently pushing first one leg and then the other. The dishwater was starting to get cold, but I continued the illusion of housework, even though all I was doing was polishing one wet dish over and over again. Ash moved his hand from my ass to my thigh—I was wearing a floral dress that went down past my knees, and as his left hand found my hard nipple and started tweaking it, his other hand slowly started inching my dress higher and higher, until my inner thigh was within reach.

My breathing was heavy as his hand made contact with my skin for the first time since we’d shaken hands at the door earlier that evening. I couldn’t help but wonder: even then, had he been wondering what it would be like to touch me? Had he known how easy I would make it for him, how I was somehow unable to resist his advances?

What we were doing was wrong for so many reasons, but I put the final dish on the drying board, and moved my hands to the edge of the sink, gripping tightly. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I wanted to be able to support myself when it did.

His mouth moved from near my neck to my ear, so close that I couldn’t hear anything but his slow, controlled breathing. I tried to slow my own breath down as well—I’d involuntarily begun panting as his hand slowly moved higher on my thigh, so close that I’m sure he could feel the heat of my pussy.

I’d had no reason to suspect that anyone would see my underthings that night (my husband and I only ever make love on Saturday nights, when Georgia is at netball) and so the pair I was wearing were large, and hardly flattering. I don’t think Ash cared—he moved them to the side with ease, and I involuntarily shuddered as his fingers brushed against my tangled pubic hair.

Before long, I was biting my lip to prevent myself from crying out—despite his youth, Ash seemed to be far from inexperienced. His fingers found my wetness immediately, and soon he was plunging them deep within me. I don’t even know when exactly he undid the top few buttons of my dress, and slipped his hand inside, reaching inside my bra and tweaking my nipple directly. My head was so foggy—all I could think about was how wrong it was, what we were doing, and the unexpected amount of pleasure that Ash was able to provide with his roaming fingers.

Ash’s fingers went deep, and I arched my back, pressing my ass against his pants and feeling his hard cock within. I didn’t allow myself to question what was happening—a part of me knew that if I did, it would have to stop, and I didn’t want it to stop. Not yet.

Grinding my ass against his erection, my eyes shut and my mouth struggling not to make any more noise than the huffing I already was, Ash’s talented young fingers brought me to orgasm. Right there, in my kitchen, my husband and daughter not two rooms away, I came—something I hadn’t done with anyone but my husband for more than twenty years.

As I came down, reality came crashing back. What had I done?? I’d not only betrayed my husband’s trust, I’d betrayed Georgia as well—this boy was nothing to me, but she was my daughter.

I’d stabbed my only daughter in the back.

My breathing grew steady, and I turned to tell Ash that it could never happen again, but he was gone. I was alone in the kitchen with my washing up, my partially-unbuttoned dress and a pair of soaking wet panties.

* * *

When Georgia and my husband returned a few minutes later, I was composed once again—on the outside, at least. On the inside, my mind was whirring, going over what I’d done. I’d let a boy—a _boy_ , less than half my age—feel me up, touch me, and…get me off.

What had I done?

Ash returned a few minutes later, and though I avoided looking at him, I could feel his eyes on my face, on my body. I could feel his scorching gaze—was he remembering how wet I’d been for him, how easily I’d let him past my defenses—and how much I’d enjoyed it.

He didn’t stay long after that—he was taking Georgia to see a movie, so less than five minutes later, he was out of my house. But in those five minutes, I could tell he was undressing me with his eyes. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between us—it was so obvious to me that I felt sure my husband would notice, or Georgia would say something…but they just smiled and made polite conversation as if nothing had ever happened.

Those five minutes were hell. At any moment, I was sure that Georgia was going to smell me on her boyfriend, or my husband was going to notice my odd behavior. I couldn’t relax—I tried not to give anything away, but I can’t ever remember being that tense before.

And worse, I was turned on.

Knowing that the kid who had just finger-fucked me was making polite conversation with the love of my life—it was strangely thrilling. Combined with the fact that Ash wouldn’t stop blatantly checking me out, and the memory of what we’d just done…by the time Ash and my daughter left, I was practically dripping, and if I didn’t know that it would have raised suspicion, I would have thrown my husband down right there on the couch, and ridden him to orgasm.

Instead, knowing that he’d be up for a few more hours, I claimed tiredness, and went to bed early. For the next few hours, I just lay in bed and masturbated, roughly thrusting two fingers into myself, trying to mimic the exact way that Ash had done it. I managed to get myself off twice before my husband came to bed, and I had to pretend to be asleep.

* * *

The next time Georgia brought her boyfriend home, I was alone in the house.

It was a Tuesday night, and my husband was out with his bowling buddies. Since Ash’s last visit, I’d been insatiable—as soon as Georgia had left for netball practice on Saturday, I’d practically jumped my husband, but even several hours of love-making hadn’t been enough to satisfy me.

There had been no warning that Ash was coming around again, and his appearance startled me so much that even my daughter noticed. I assured her that I was all right, and her attention quickly went back to her beau.

I could certainly see why she was so fascinated by him—Ash was quite classically handsome. He had cheekbones to rival Bowie’s, and his piercing stare managed to make you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

At least, that’s how it made me feel.

Georgia had lost something in her room, and as soon as she left to fetch it, Ash’s hands were all over me. He didn’t ask permission, he didn’t wait to see how I’d react—he just stepped forward, planted one hand on my ass and pulled me toward him, while the fingers of his other hand ran up and down my neck.

I knew that what we’d done last time was wrong. And even as I masturbated to the memory, I told myself that it could never happen again, that it wasn’t fair to Georgia, and that it certainly wasn’t fair to my husband. I’m not good at lying, or keeping secrets, and it was eating me up inside.

But the gentleness, the soft way he touched me…I immediately melted. I was putty in his hands—even with my daughter due to return at any second, Ash could do anything he wanted to me—and he knew it.

Again, not expecting company, I wasn’t wearing anything remarkable—a pair of black pants with a high waist, and a simple, striped shirt. As Ash leaned down to smell my throat, everything went blurry for a few seconds, and when I realized what was happening, my pants were unbuttoned, and Ash had discovered that—just like last time—I was sopping wet.

He took half a step backward, and without saying a word, took my hand in his, and led it to his pants. My eyes widened in shock as, for the first time, I felt his hardness with my hand. Through his dirty blue jeans, true, but there it was—in my hand.

My mouth fell open—even in my fantasies, I hadn’t predicted this. I thought that he just wanted to touch an older woman—maybe as a power thing. I thought he was just interested in getting me off, but it was clear that he wanted something in return.

As he stared deeply into my eyes, his fingers began playing with the front of my panties. It was the lightest of touches, but it was all I needed to roll my eyes back in pleasure. I couldn’t believe how much power he had over me—I wanted to beg and plead for him to play with me like he had the previous week, but he just stood there, one hand brushing against the front of my panties while the other continued lightly playing with my neck.

Ash leaned forward, and planted his mouth upon my neck. My eyes rolled back into my head with pleasure, and before I knew what was happening, I’d unbuttoned his jeans, and was holding his plump cock in my hand.

There was so much wrong with the situation as we stood there: me, a middle-aged housewife, and him, an unemployed teenager dating my daughter, his cock in my hands, and his hands down my panties. But I couldn’t bring myself to care—all I could focus on was the pleasure that his slim digits were bringing me, and the hard-on I had in my grasp.

As his fingers slipped between my folds, I began stroking his cock—I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d given a hand-job, but it’s one of those things you never forget, and by the soft moans coming from Ash’s mouth, I could tell he was enjoying it.

His hand stopped toying with my neck, and instead gripped the back of my head. Aside from a slight moan as his hand pulled out of my underwear, I didn’t even try to resist as he guided my head down—soon, I was on my knees in front of him, staring at his beautiful cock, my mouth open wide.

In tandem, we groaned in pleasure. His hard-on slipped between my lips, and soon I had one hand wrapped around the base as I gave the most enthusiastic blow-job I can ever remember giving. A part of if was gratitude—he’d given me such pleasure last week, I wanted to return the favor—but a large part was simple enjoyment. I’ve always loved giving head, and in that moment, I was so turned on that I don’t think I would have stopped had my husband walked in.

I gagged slightly as I took Ash’s cock deep into my throat (he was slightly larger than my husband) but soon I was taking the entirety of his erection, coating it in my saliva as I blew the teen boy with gusto. There was a brief pause as he reached down to guide my other hand, but it didn’t take me long to work out what he wanted, and soon I was fervently rubbing myself, as I swallowed as much of the unfamiliar cock as I could.

Even as I blew Ash, he never took the hand off my neck. He showed me the rhythm he wanted, guided my head as it bobbed up and down. I could feel his orgasm approaching with mine, but just as he was about to cum, there was a noise behind me.

My eyes opened in panic, but Ash’s hand continued to grip my neck, preventing me from turning around, and forcing me to continue blowing him. I didn’t resist—I knew I was fucked no matter what I did. There was no talking my way out of the situation, and so with nothing to lose, I continued to fellate Ash, using every trick I knew.

A pair of legs entered my peripheral vision, and I was shocked as I realized that it was Georgia. She was wearing nothing but a black pair of panties and a matching bra, and she didn’t say a word, just leaned against the side-board next to Ash, and spread her legs as he reached down and slipped a finger inside her panties.

Perhaps due to overload, perhaps due to the orgasm that was approaching, my brain simply switched off at that point. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening, and so it became irrelevant. My daughter’s presence, her unusual dress, and her complete lack of reaction to finding her mother giving her boyfriend oral sex—none of it mattered. All I cared about was the feeling between my legs, and the cock in my mouth.

Ash’s finger slipping in and out of my daughter’s pussy was right next to my ear, and the sound quickly mixed with the other sexual noises in the room—Ash’s moans of pleasure, my own masturbation, and of course, the sound of fellatio. Soon, the three of us got into a rhythm—each time my lips reached Ash’s pubic hair, he would thrust two fingers inside Georgia—she’d gasp with pleasure, and I’d force my own fingers deep inside my wet cunt, pretending that they were Ash’s.

He was the first to cum—I could feel it approaching, and sped up accordingly. He didn’t say a word as he came, and I looked up to see his lips were locked with my daughter’s, their tongues intermingling. _He’s never kissed me,_ I noted, but the thought was immediately swept out of my head as I tasted Ash’s cum spurting into my mouth, and felt my own orgasm begin.

As I came, perverse thoughts burst into my head, and I couldn’t stop them. As my pelvic muscles spasmed around my finger, I wondered if Georgia actually found this hot—if the sight of her boyfriend filling her mother’s mouth with seed was actually something she enjoyed.

The orgasm washed over me, and I did all I could not to think about it, but I was unable to look away as my little girl started cumming, her body twitching and writhing in orgasm as Ash’s fingers plunged deep inside her, and his thumb ran over her clit.

We all sat there in silence for a few seconds, panting, coming down from our orgasms. I could feel my daughter’s eyes burning through the top of my head as I took Ash’s cock out of my mouth and pulled my pants up. Without saying a word, I began to leave the room, turning around at the doorway to find Ash’s eyes still on mine, and Georgia still staring adoringly at him.


	Chapter 2

The next time my daughter brought her boyfriend around, he didn’t even wait for her to leave the room before starting.

My husband was in the other room, and I could faintly hear the sound of the game on the television. He was unlikely to stop watching, but if he did, we most likely wouldn’t be able to hear him moving around, wouldn’t get any warning if he decided to come in.

Perhaps he didn’t know, or perhaps he didn’t care, but it didn’t seem to worry Ash in the slightest. The second he came into the room where I was sewing, he took my hand and gestured for me to stand up.

As soon as I was standing, he reached out with both hands and grabbed my breasts. My face didn’t move in response, but my knees buckled slightly, and when I glanced over to see how my daughter felt about her boyfriend groping her mother, I noticed that she wasn’t even looking at me.

She had a slight smile on her face, and the entirety of her attention was directed at Ash. It was obvious that in her eyes, he could do no wrong—a part of me was worried for my daughter, about the sway that this boy seemed to have over him, but then I realized…he had the exact same sway over me. I should have been objecting to his actions, especially with my husband in the house and my daughter in the room…but instead, I just stood there, somehow unable to resist as he felt the full weight of my breasts in his hands, and found my nipples, even through the pastel cardigan I was wearing.

When Ash gestured for me to take it off, I wanted to resist. I wanted to tell him that enough was enough, that he couldn’t just come into this household and have his way with anyone that he wanted. Instead, I shrugged the cardigan off, and couldn’t help but feel proud when he gave my now-revealed cleavage an impressed glance.

It had been just four days since Ash had come over last, but since he’d left on Tuesday, I hadn’t been able to get his previous visit out of my head. Anywhere I was, anything I did, I was acutely aware that Ash could just pop up at any moment, and…have his way with me. He never gave any warning before showing up. Even at the grocery store, I had started to fantasize about him meeting me at the checkout, groping me while I paid for the household’s shopping.

Now, it was as though my fantasies had come true. Here he was, and even with my daughter in the room, watching us, I knew I’d do whatever he wanted.

Ash unbuttoned the front of my blouse, and as my bra came into view, I took a deep breath. Knowing that he could appear at any moment, knowing that no matter the day of the week or the place of our meeting, he could strip me…I’d started wearing my laciest bra and panties everywhere I went. I’d even bought a few new sets, so that I would never again be embarrassed by what I was forced to reveal.

The half-smile on Ash’s face seemed to show that he was pleased with my choice, and I was surprised by the wave of relief that washed over me. He pulled my blouse over my head, and when the room came into view once more, I blushed at the sight in front of me.

As she was watching us—him, really—Georgia had reached into her tight-fitting jeans, and was slowly stroking herself, biting her lip. I didn’t know how to feel about that, but before I could think too deeply on it, I was distracted by Ash reaching behind me and undoing my bra.

The bra fell to the floor, and my nipples grew hard at the cold air in the room. If my husband caught us, it would be impossible to explain the situation away. There was no reasonable explanation for why I was standing topless in front of Georgia and her boyfriend while she played with herself.

I knew what I was doing was wrong. Of course I did. I love my husband, and had no desire to cheat on him. But there was just something about my daughter’s teenage beau…I couldn’t resist. The situation was so erotically charged…it was far too easy to put my morals aside, and get caught up in the utter wrongness of what we were doing.

Without a word, Ash stepped forward and lifted one of my nipples to his mouth. I shuddered with pleasure as he began nipping and sucking at it, and chills of arousal grew in my stomach, began to run up and down my back, and quickly moved down in my damp pussy.

As if he could read my mind, Ash’s hand moved to my white pants next, unbuttoning and unzipping them. He began fingering me through the lace panties, pushing them into my slit, making me gasp at the unfamiliar sensation. I don’t know how long we stood there, his mouth on my nipple, his hand down my pants, but all too quickly, he stopped.

Taking my hand, he moved it to my own pussy, and I obediently began playing with myself, replicating his movements, pushing the soaked lace into myself. My eyes lit up as Ash unbuttoned his dark jeans, but before I could drop to my knees, he held out a hand and gestured for me to stay where I was.

Cold though the room was, I was coated in sweat—one of my hands had moved up to my nipple, but even my best efforts couldn’t come close to simulating what Ash’s mouth had been able to do.

To my shock, Georgia fell to her knees as soon as Ash’s cock came into view. She couldn’t…they couldn’t…surely they didn’t expect me to stay in the room while he..while she…

I watched in horror as my daughter’s mouth closed over Ash’s cock, and her head began bobbing up and down. It was clear that this wasn’t her first time—one hand toyed with his balls, while the other slowly pumped the base whenever her lips left room for it.

Obviously the sight in front of me was both horrifying and sickening, but the smell of sex was thick in the room, and it was making it hard to focus. I found myself admiring my daughter’s technique, a bizarre pride coming over me…and as she continued to fellate her boyfriend, I never once stopped masturbating.

There was something so hot about watching my princess’s ruby-red lips bob up and down on Ash’s magnificent cock, and I couldn’t look away. She, in turn, never stopped looking up at Ash’s face, and when I finally brought myself to look at Ash, I was shocked to find that he was staring directly at me.

I have no idea, but that was the hottest thing about the situation. Ash was clearly getting off on watching me watch my daughter blow him. He had a strange, erotic power over both of us, and it was somehow gratifying to know that even though she was servicing him, he would be looking at me when he came.

It didn’t take long. I’d only seen him cum once, but I easily recognized the signs. So did Georgia. When I saw his orgasm was approaching, I stared at his cock. I don’t know why, but I wanted to see my daughter swallow his cum. I wanted to see her do what I’d done, just last week.

Sure enough, she didn’t disappoint. As Ash’s hips bucked, Georgia didn’t miss a beat, drinking his seed even as she milked the last of it out of him. My own orgasm followed shortly, and as I shuddered with pleasure, I could feel the eyes of both Ash and Georgia on me.

This was the second orgasm I’d now had with my daughter in the room, and just like last time, I was immediately mortified. Too embarrassed to speak, I silently put my bra and blouse back on, the young couple watching me all the while, and left to join my husband on the couch.

* * *

The next time Ash came around, my daughter wasn’t with him. He didn’t say anything, just came into my study (where I was taking care of the bills) and unzipped his trousers. I didn’t even notice he was there before his cock was out, but neither of us said anything as I leaned forward and began to slowly suck it. The message was clear—my pleasure was irrelevant. My mouth was his, any time he wanted it.

That should have repulsed me, but as soon as he left the room, I started playing with myself, the thought running through my head over and over.

It won’t until I’d cum that the thought struck me: I wondered who was better at giving head—me, or Georgia?

* * *

Before Ash entered my life, my husband and I had been in a bit of a dry patch. Nothing too serious, but our lovemaking had gone from once every week or two to once every month or two…

Since everything had started, however, I’d found myself constantly turned on. I was also terrified of being caught—I’m not a good liar. And so, while I would have happily woken my husband every day with a blow-job, and ridden him into the early hours every night, I had restrained myself to Saturday evenings, which has been our scheduled time for as long as I could remember.

That Saturday night, while Georgia was at netball, no sooner had I lowered myself onto my husband when I looked up to see Ash’s face at the window, staring straight at me. I have no idea how he found out that Saturday night was sex night—perhaps he’d turned up for other reasons and just happened to catch us—but it almost gave me a heart-attack.

Fortunately, my husband didn’t notice a thing—I haven’t been able to get Ash out of my head for weeks now, so perhaps my distracted state was nothing new. He just kept on pumping, even as I stared, slack-jawed, out the window, and watched Ash watch my naked form gyrating, repeatedly thrusting my hips forward as I sat on top of my husband.

It only took me a few seconds to start moving again, but I never broke eye contact with Ash as I did. A flush began to spread all over my body—I’ve always liked sex, but I’ve never been _watched_ before. I was suddenly hyper-aware of everything about my naked form—the way my hips moved, the bounce of my chest as my husband thrust into me, the way my legs must look; bare, spread out on either side of me. I was embarrassed to realize that I was still wearing socks.

I didn’t have to imagine Ash as I fucked my husband this week—he was here, standing right in front of me, watching me. Before long, I was cumming, clenching around my husband’s cock, making an effort not to moan the wrong name. I closed my eyes as the full force of an orgasm hit me, and when I opened them again…Ash was gone.

I continued to ride my husband for another few minutes after that, until he finally came, rolling over and going to sleep almost immediately. But after Ash’s face had disappeared from the window, it hadn’t been the same—it had been dry, dull, almost a chore. The thrill had completely disappeared.

Fifteen minutes later I was in the shower, masturbating, reliving the experience—how good it had felt to have Ash’s eyes on me while my husband’s dick filled me up.

As I clenched around my fingers, I realized something: without my daughter’s boyfriend watching, sex with my husband would never be the same again.

It couldn’t be.

What was I to do?


	Chapter 3

The next time Ash came around, he didn’t even touch me. I was reading a book when he entered—I immediately put the book down, of course, but he didn’t even look at me. As he began unbuttoning his jeans, I wanted to stand up, to offer my body to him, but it was like I wasn’t even there. To my horror, Georgie followed suit, and soon I was seeing more of my teenage daughter than I ever thought I’d see. As soon as she was naked, he pulled her toward him, and as his hands started roaming across her skin, I found myself desperately wishing it were me.

Ash was still fully clothed—his dirty red jeans were unbuttoned, but they weren’t even lowered. Without hesitation, my daughter knelt in front of him, and began giving one of the most passionate blow-jobs I’ve ever seen.

A large part of me was horrified, of course—no mother should see this side of her daughter. Also, just like last time, I couldn’t help but notice that Georgia’s technique was impeccable…a strange thing for a mother to be proud of.

But most of all, I was just distressed. I was so used to Ash leading the interactions, including me in the sick games—but now, it was as if I didn’t even exist. A small part of me wanted to leave, but I knew that I wouldn’t. Not without being told, and not when there was still a small chance that I would be the next target of Ash’s attention.

And so I just sat there, feeling disgusted with myself, too timid to leave, and too proud to start playing with myself…tempted though I was.

Watching my daughter expertly blow her boyfriend, I realized that Ash was willfully playing with me by not playing with me. I’ve been around long enough to know a power move, and this was Ash’s way of telling me that he called the shots.

Why did that make me so wet?

Instead of cumming in the mouth of my naked daughter, however, Ash tapped her head and pulled her up. Maybe they determined this beforehand, or maybe they just know each other, but without needing to say a word, Georgia turned around and put her hands on the bookshelf of the study.

I gasped, and very nearly said something. Surely he wasn’t going to…not here…not in front of her own mother. Again, as if he could read my very thoughts, Ash turned and stared at me, that cocky grin back on his face. The worst part of it—I got a small sexual thrill form his attention. I felt included, and that—sick as it is—was enough to turn me on.

My daughter let out a long, ragged moan as Ash pushed forward, and I couldn’t help but lean forward to watch. Ash’s cock had been the source of so much joy for me—I was unable to stop myself from getting the best possible angle of his long cock as it penetrated my baby girl.

She twitched with pleasure, and her mouth opened wide, as if shocked by what must have surely been a regular occurrence. The idea that it wasn’t—that I was watching my teenage daughter lose her virginity—was repulsive, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. It just kept swimming around, over and over.

Ash, deflowering my precious angel, while I sat there and watched. My daughter Georgia, having her cherry popped with her mother in the room.

It was wrong. It was sick. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and the more I fixated, the hotter the idea got.

As the thoughts raced through my head, Ash continued to stare at me, and I kept sitting there, breathing harder and harder, as he slowly thrust in and out of my daughter. She was panting and moaning, and even though I wanted nothing more than to reach under my dress and touch myself, I couldn’t.

I couldn’t debase myself like that.

Not without permission.

Georgia reached between her legs—my eyes were uncontrollably drawn to the action, and so I watched as she began to rub herself. I wanted to look away, I wanted to look at anything else, but wherever I looked I just saw the same thing—my daughter’s naked flesh, her flushed skin, her nudity as she was penetrated by Ash.

His movement was smooth. It was clear that he’d done this before—I didn’t want to think about how many women he’d taken, how many women he’d used for pleasure before my daughter.

Before me.

As his rhythm increased, I knew he was approaching orgasm. I knew he was going to cum inside my precious little girl. He wasn’t wearing a condom—I hadn’t even questioned that until now, but my daughter was being fucked bareback.

God I wished it were me.

I was still watching Georgia’s hand as it frantically rubbed at her clit, watching the way that she ran her thumb over her little pleasure button, occasionally dipping down into her own juices to get it wet.

But something told me to look up, and I did. I looked up to see Ash staring at me intensely. As we made eye contact, he began to cum.

I sat and watched as my daughter’s boyfriend came inside her. It was clear that his orgasm triggered hers as well—her knees buckled, and my eyes were uncontrollably drawn back to her pussy.

As she twitched with pleasure, some of Ash’s cum escaped, dripping onto her thighs. I was horrified.

Horrified and turned on, in equal measures.

I didn’t even blink as Ash slowly removed his softening cock from my between my daughter’s legs. I should have been surprised when he turned to face me. I knew I should have objected as he approached.

And when he pushed my book to the side and slipped his flaccid penis into my mouth, there were a thousand things I should have done instead of dutifully sucking it, cleaning away the last few traces of his cum.

Cleaning away my daughter’s wetness.

No mother should know what her daughter’s arousal tastes like. No mother should be responsible for cleaning her daughter’s sex from another man’s cock. But I never even considered questioning it, I never even considered resisting.

Instead, I shut my eyes, and tried to pretend that the tang I could taste on Ash’s skin wasn’t what we all knew it to be.

* * *

It was well past midnight the next night when I saw him.

I should have been sleeping, but I couldn’t. The knowledge of what I’d done was overwhelming—I was filled in equal measures with self-loathing and a more powerful arousal than I’d ever before encountered.

The previous night I had barely slept a wink. As soon as I was sure that my husband was asleep, one hand was between my legs, the other exploring my body. I tried desperately to think about anything other than my daughter’s juices in my mouth. I even tried to think about the first time Ash had made me cum, or my time on my knees in front of him.

I constructed elaborate fantasies of Ash sneaking into my room, taking me in my marital bed with my husband right beside me. Sometimes we were quiet, to avoid waking him up, sometimes we were loud, not caring if he knew, _wanting_ him to hear.

Wanting him to know that his wife was the property of a scruffy-looking teenage boy.

But ultimately, no matter what I tried to imagine, no matter how hard I attempted to avoid the thought…whenever I got close to orgasm, it was the same image that returned to my mind.

My daughter, naked, panting in the corner, while I cleaned her cum off her boyfriend’s flaccid penis.

Flaccidity is far from arousing, but just remembering how it felt on my tongue, the total debasement I felt from being used like a wet towel…

If my husband wasn’t a heavy sleeper, I’m sure the whimpers that came from my mouth would have been more than enough to wake him.

That night, I knew I couldn’t repeat the events of the previous night. Each and every time I brought myself to orgasm I felt worse than before. Cheap. Broken. Dirty.

I was a bad mother.

Not only for letting Ash do the things that he did to me. Not only for letting Ash do the things he did to my daughter. But for wanting _more_. For enjoying it.

I was a bad person, and a worse mother.

Instead I was laying in bed, staring out the window, trying to sleep.

And that was when I saw him.

Just for a moment. Just a short glimpse. But I’d spent hours picturing his face—there was no doubt it was him.

He glanced my way, and then disappeared.

And I knew where he was heading.

Making sure not to disturb my husband, I slipped out of bed. I didn’t bother getting dressed—I was spending more and more time without clothes these days, knowing that if Ash wanted access to my body, I’d be naked before too long anyway.

I padded down the hallway in the nude, and—sure enough—heard the sound of my daughter’s bedroom window opening.

Silently opening the door, I saw my daughter’s face light up as Ash entered her room. It seemed that Georgia had begun sleeping in the nude as well—her bedside lamp gave me a clear view of her increasingly-familiar naked form.

Ash didn’t even say a word. He reached between my daughter’s legs, and smiled arrogantly as she emitted a soft moan. Within a few seconds, she was writhing on the bed in pleasure, and soon his pants were off and his hardness was exposed.

I silently moved forward, disgusted by how desperate I was to see his cock up close. Ash grinned as he noticed me, and gestured to the foot of the bed. Surely he didn’t want me to sit there.

Surely he didn’t expect me to sit next to two rutting teens…one of which was my daughter.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, and I found myself rushing to obey his silent command. I sat on the end of the bed—if Georgia knew I was there, she certainly didn’t seem to care about my presence.

I was less than two feet away as Ash positioned himself at my daughter’s entrance. I could practically see every pore on her skin, every freckle. I could see her wetness beginning to glisten as her boyfriend’s hardness ran up and down her lips for lubrication, before pushing forward and entering her in one smooth motion.

And I could hear her every breath. She was whimpering, moaning, groaning with pleasure. Ash’s breathing was heavy but not loud, while my daughter seemed to have lost all control.

I knew that feeling. But I wanted to be where she was. I wanted to be the target of Ash’s lust, to feel him entering me, filling me up, using my wet cunt to cum inside.

As my daughter moaned, I found myself moaning as well. Not with pleasure, exactly, but with need—with lust. I couldn’t remember ever being so full of desire, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Georgia’s legs straightened, and I found one of her feet in my lap. Like a drowning man grasping onto a life preserver, I gripped it with both hands. I could feel tremors of pleasure traveling through her body, twitches of lust. As I held her foot, her toes curled and her sole arched. Holding her foot was like a little microcosm of my daughter’s joy—I couldn’t be the one fucking Ash, but I could almost feel it by proxy.

Again, it wasn’t long before Ash was cumming. Again, my daughter’s orgasm seemed to exactly match his. Again, as soon as he was done, he withdrew from my daughter’s wetness and presented me with a flaccid penis to clean.

And again, I took the opportunity. Releasing my daughter’s foot, I bent double and ran my tongue over every inch of Ash’s penis.

As soon as I was done, he redressed and left—not through the window which he’d entered, but through the bedroom door, firmly shutting it behind me.

My face was bright red—since my first encounter with Ash, I hadn’t been alone with my daughter, not even for a minute. It took me a few seconds to muster up the courage to even glance in her direction—she was smiling, a dreamy look on her face.

When she noticed me staring, she directed her smile at me, and before I could say a word, she’d clambered over and sat on my lap—something she hadn’t done for at least a decade.

Neither of us spoke. Neither of us said anything as I slowly wrapped my arms around her, embracing her, holding her tight.

The silence grew more comfortable as I hugged my naked, freshly-fucked daughter. It was more than half an hour before I kissed her on the forehead and left her to sleep, returning to my room and getting the best night’s rest I could ever remember having.


	Chapter 4

The next morning, I didn’t get dressed.

My husband had already left for work. Normally I’d be alone in the house, but my daughter was on holidays. I knew she wouldn’t say anything. I knew she wouldn’t object.

I knew that if Ash was happy, she’d be happy.

Perhaps I should have been more surprised when I entered the kitchen to find that Georgia wasn’t dressed either.

I stood there at the doorway for a long time before she noticed me. When she did, she smiled—not a lustful smile; it was obvious that she wasn’t excited by the sight of her mother’s naked body. She was just pleased.

Ash was pleased, so she was pleased.

We stood there for several minutes, just sharing our nudity. Sharing our bodies. I’d seen my daughter naked before, of course, and vice-versa but—ignoring recent events—not for several years. And every time I had, it had been completely innocent; standard mother-daughter bonding.

Now, it was something else.

Now, it was a reminder. A reminder of what we’d done the previous night, a reminder of the taboo experience we never should have had. That no mother and daughter should ever had.

But more than anything, it was a reminder of him.

Ash.

A soft moan left my mouth at the thought, and I felt myself turning red. God, just the _thought_ of my daughter’s boyfriend was enough to make me moan with pleasure. Georgia didn’t say anything, just smiled.

She knew. Of course she knew. She knew everything I’d been through. Perhaps she didn’t know that Ash had watched me fuck her father, but the rest of it. She knew that I’d been touched by her boyfriend, that I’d touched him.

She knew that I’d watched him fuck her the previous night.

Did she know how desperately I’d wished it was me? That I’d have given anything for Ash to touch me again, let alone fuck me. Take me, like he’d taken her.

Of course she did. It was spelled out all over my body. If my facial expression and body language hadn’t made it clear, I bet my smell did.

The smell of my arousal filled the room, tempered only by the smell of Georgia’s. No mother should ever know what her daughter’s arousal smells like, but I did.

Not just smelled. Tasted.

I knew what my daughter looked like when she was turned on. What she tasted like, her juices coating Ash’s dick. And I knew what noises she made when she came, when Ash fucked her. When he came inside her, triggering her own orgasm.

Just like she knew.

Georgia had never watched me get fucked, but she knew what it looked like when I was turned on. When I came.

I shuddered at the thought, but—just like that first evening in the kitchen—I couldn’t tell you if it was disgust or arousal.

We spent the rest of the day naked. Normally Georgia would spend her time in her room, on her phone or her laptop, IM-ing her friends or watching YouTube video. But for whatever reason, she stuck to me like glue.

My daughter and I have always been close. There’s nothing she can’t tell me. But we didn’t speak at all that day.

Instead, we shared in a different kind of closeness: touch.

Perhaps it was just the usual amount of touch. Perhaps I was just hyper-aware of it. But whenever my daughter passed me, whenever she needed to reach past me to grab something, her hand would casually make contact with my skin.

Casually to her, perhaps, but I was hyperaware of it. Every touch, every light graze—every time Georgia’s bare skin rested briefly on mine, I noticed. I noticed her every move, her every breath. At some point, I turned the TV on, but I never watched it.

Neither of us did.

I watched Georgia, and she watched me. Just two naked women, watching each other. She saw me blush, she saw my nipples harden. She saw goosebumps appear on my skin, she saw me tremble.

She watched me as intently as I watched her.

We didn’t go any further than that. Just watching, occasionally touching. I found myself touching her as much as she was touching her—again, I don’t know if it was more than normal. All I knew was that it felt like more. A month ago, if I’d rested my hand on her thigh, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

Now, as my bare hand touched the skin of her inner thigh, I wanted nothing more than to draw patterns on it, to trace my fingers up and down her skin.

To explore. To touch her wetness. Just briefly. Just enough to feel it.

I could hear her breathing. At some points we were so close, I could feel it on my cheek, on my shoulder, on my neck.

But we didn’t go any further than that. And when her father came home, we each went and got dressed. Her in a simple t-shirt and jeans, me in a pair of shorts and a tank top.

The next day was a repeat of the first. As soon as my husband left, both of us were naked. We didn’t discuss it; we didn’t need to. We knew that this was the new normal. The new status quo. That if we were alone, we were naked. It didn’t matter that we were mother and daughter, it didn’t matter that there was no reason for us to be nude, it was a simple fact. There was no shame, it just... _was_.

Was Georgia touching me more than normal? Surely while we sat and ate lunch, not saying a word, it wasn’t normal for her hand to be on the back of my neck, tracing patterns on my shoulders. Surely she hadn’t always rested a hand on the base of my spine, running her fingers along it, gently caressing her mother’s bare skin, watching her blush.

And just like the day before, I returned the favor. That, I was sure, was new. When my daughter stretched out and lay down on the couch for a catnap, I knew I wouldn’t normally have knelt beside it, strangely desperate to be closer to her.

Even as she slept, I couldn’t keep my hands off of her. I couldn’t stop myself from tracing her body, touching her everywhere.

No. Not everywhere. Just...where it was safe.

Where a mother and daughter should touch each other.

I was almost relieved when my husband came home. After an entire day of touching, caressing, occasionally cuddling on the couch, I felt like an elastic band stretched past its breaking point. It was as though tension had been building for two days with no relief.

Putting clothes on didn’t provide relief either, but at least the tension was no longer growing. Building.

Threatening to burst.

That night, I broke my own rule and fucked my husband. It didn’t help, not really. Without Ash watching, without his face at the window...it wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t enough.

When my surprised husband finally came inside me, I was just as frustrated as when we’d started. More, perhaps—the last time I’d ridden him, I’d at least had Ash’s face in my mind, his body.

His dick.

But after the two days I’d had, all I could think of was Georgia. Her perfect, naked, teenage body. How her hands had felt on my body, on my skin. How _right_ it had felt to cuddle up with her in bed, even though both of us were naked.

_Especially_ because both of us were naked.

Ash had awoken something in me. A sexual energy that I hadn’t felt in years. When had my marriage become so stale? When had my husband and I agreed to once-a-week sex, so rote and predictable that I could set my watch to it?

My daughter’s boyfriend had lit a fire inside me, one that I somehow knew only he could help with. I’d just fucked my husband in the middle of the week, something I hadn’t done since before Dennis Hopper had been alive, and I felt just as unfulfilled as I had before we started.

But where Ash had lit a sexual fuse, what I felt with Georgia was something else. It wasn’t sexual, not really.

I craved closeness.

Comfort.

I don’t think my husband and I had ever spent even a full day naked around each other. Even in our honeymoon period, it...it just hadn’t been like that.

But for two days now, my daughter and I had shared nudity. Touch. Closeness, without ever needing to speak.

I’d felt seen. Truly seen. It was something I should’ve gotten from my marriage, from a man. Definitely not from my daughter.

But I did. I don’t know why, just that...I had. Georgia had seen me. Seen all of me. She’d seen all of me, and I’d seen all of her, and it had been beautiful.

The sound of my husband’s snoring filled the room. I stared at the ceiling, my mind spinning. Thoughts of Georgia filled it, thoughts that a mother shouldn’t have about her daughter. They were thoughts of her touch. Of her skin. Of her lips.

Did I want my daughter? No. No, that...that would be wrong. I wanted Ash. That, too, was wrong, but at least it made sense. The young man had done something to me that no man had ever been able to.

So what did I want from Georgia?

I wanted sex from Ash. And from my daughter, I wanted...love. Comfort. Closeness. But those weren’t things a mother should want from her daughter. Those were things that a mother should want from her husband. From a man.

Holding my breath, I slipped out of bed. My husband’s cum dripped down my thigh as I crept down the hall to my daughter’s room.

Georgia was asleep. The light was on, casting a soft glow over her body, her hair spread out on the pillow. As I watched, she shifted slightly in her sleep, and perhaps I just saw what I wanted to see, but I swear her hand reached out toward me.

She didn’t wake up when I crawled into the bed and slid my hand under her shirt, across her stomach, over her hip. I traced my fingers down her body, feeling the heat of her body beneath my palm. Then I moved my hand lower, over her leg.

Her leg. Her skin. So soft, so warm.

I pulled her hand to me, kissing it gently. And just like that, she woke up. She opened her eyes and saw me there, staring at her with a hunger in my eyes that she recognized.

She didn’t say a word, she just smiled. I don’t know how, but she knew what I was there for. She knew what I needed.

And as she reached her arms out invitingly, I knew that she was right. She knew me better than anyone else in the world.

More than my husband. More than Ash, even.

Her smile broadened as I fell into her embrace. And a light moan left her mouth as my lips met hers.

I’d never kissed a woman before. I’d never wanted to. But as Georgia’s tongue pressed against mine, I don’t know how I ever lived without it. And as her hands began to explore my body—truly explore it, not the glancing touches of the past two days—my moan grew in volume to match hers.

My hand found her breast, cupping it firmly in my palm, feeling its weight, the smoothness of it. I heard Georgia gasp as I touched her, and I felt myself respond in kind.

She slept naked, of course, and I felt every inch of her skin against mine as I pulled her closer, as I kissed her deeper. As our tongues danced, becoming more passionate and more urgent by the moment, Georgia rolled us onto our sides and pinned me beneath her. Her hand went between us and touched my wetness—still full of her father’s seed—and she slowly slid two fingers inside of me.

I felt her slick fingers slide into my pussy and I was surprised at the sensation. It wasn’t at all like when Ash had done it, but it was different enough that I enjoyed it. Georgia smiled at my reaction and increased the pressure on my clit—hard—as I twitched with pleasure all over her hand.

It was everything I could do not to cry out, to beg for more. Instead, I moaned again, louder this time, as her hand pumped faster. I had only felt like this once before: when her boyfriend had touched me in the kitchen, when Ash had touched me on that fateful day.

That had been the highlight of my sexual life, but it was nothing compared to this. Nothing at all.

I came almost instantly, and Georgia held my body as it spasmed with pleasure. I cried out, gasping for air, trying to get control of myself.

But Georgia was already on top of me again, her hand stroking me, teasing me. I grabbed the back of her head, pulling her down for another kiss, my fingers running through her hair as we both moaned. I knew my husband wouldn’t hear; he was dead to the world after our unexpected mid-week tryst.

That was now the second-most unexpected tryst of the night.

I reached between my daughter’s legs, hesitantly, unsure. She stared into my eyes, encouraging me without words. When I pushed a finger inside of her, he gasped and arched her back, her body tightening around me.

I looked up at her as I did, and for a second I thought she was going to tell me no. That we were wrong and that I had to stop. But then her lips met mine and she kissed me with such passion and intensity that all of my fears were gone.

All of my worries. All of the guilt.

I was afraid I might hurt her, but instead I felt her tighten further, squeezing my finger. I tried to do what she’d done to me, what I knew I wanted, and it wasn’t long before I felt her body tense and shudder as I made my daughter came.

I knew in the morning I’d feel awful. She was my daughter, the girl I’d raised, and yet...I’d just...had sex with her. She was a teenager, my husband was asleep just two rooms over. What we were doing was so, so wrong.

But it had felt good. It had felt so good, and I knew I didn’t want to stop.

We lay there together for a few minutes, neither of us saying anything, just savoring the closeness. Our bare skin pressed together, touching. It felt like heaven.

Georgia’s lips met mine and we shared a long, deep kiss as we both recovered from our climaxes. Her eyes were wide open, and they searched my face as we lay there together. She was smiling: confident. So sure of what she was doing.

What we were doing.

Moving her hand to my mouth, she had me taste my own juices. No, not just mine: her father’s, too. I sucked my husband’s juices off my daughter’s slim fingers, tasting them on her skin. It turned me on even more.

When I was done, when I’d licked my daughter’s hand clean, she moved it between my legs once more. I couldn’t help but gasp when she touched me, her hand sliding in and out of me. Her fingers were slim, but she pushed in deeper.

It didn’t take long before I was panting again, moaning. My daughter didn’t stop though, and soon I was writhing beneath her touch.

And when I was done, she made me cum again. Again and again and again I came, until I couldn’t come anymore. Until I were exhausted and spent.

And that’s when she made me return the favor. She took my mouth and guided it to her breasts, letting my tongue play over her nipple. My hands were shaking as I moved down her body, my tongue tracing the curve of her belly before finding her folds.

There, in her most intimate place, I tasted her for the first time. For the first time from the source, anyway.

I’d never done anything like this before—never _thought_ I’d do something like this before, especially with my daughter!—but it wasn’t hard to learn what pleased her. My daughter was vocal, moaning when she liked something, pushing my head down, urging me to continue.

I discovered what to do by instinct and experience. By watching her reactions and how she responded to my touch. Soon, I had her hips bucking against my face, crying out with each orgasm that shook her.

I don’t know how long I spent with my mouth between my daughter’s thighs, but it felt like hours. Hours and hours of getting Georgia off, making her cum again and again. Just like when I’d gone down on Ash, I felt proud.

She was so young. So sexy. And yet I was the one getting her off. My tongue on her clit, my mouth on her pussy. I was doing that. Her mother.

I felt powerful. Like I could do anything.

Finally, when it seemed she’d had enough, I gently withdrew and moved back up the bed, my hand trailing along her side as I did. Georgia turned and looked at me with a mixture of love and fear in her eyes.

We lay beside each other, breathing heavily, our skin still joined together. Neither of us said a word; we didn’t need to. We knew that what we were doing was wrong, but at the same time...so right.

_So_ right.

Finally, I kissed her on the forehead and pulled away from her body. She was trembling slightly as I did so, and I smiled at her.

I kissed her lips gently before leaving the room, strolling naked back into my bed. I would’ve given anything to spend the entire night with Georgia, with my beautiful daughter, but I knew my husband would be suspicious if he woke up and I wasn’t there.

He was snoring when I slipped into bed beside him. I smiled to myself. I was still throbbing with the greatest pleasure I’d ever felt, the memory of my daughter’s body still fresh in my mind.

I moved into my husband’s embrace, and he wrapped his arms around me. I sighed happily into his shoulder, knowing that even though I smelled like Georgia, he’d never suspect a thing.

He’d never suspect a thing.

* * *

To support my writing and access my work months before it goes online anywhere else, check out [my Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites)!


End file.
