Bets Ch. 01

She trailed off. We went a little further and came to a stoplight.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is...it took me some time to feel normal around him again. And I'm not apprehensive about things that I used to be apprehensive about."

I nodded. I was there in the capacity of a concerned mother. My baby was clearly in a bit of turmoil. "Like what? Any examples?"

After a sigh, she continued. "If he gives me a hug, or especially if he doesn't give me one when he could, I want more. To like, have him hold me, and talk to me. I want to be back in the place where we were, where we didn't have that kind of...wall. And those feelings are fading, everything is getting back to normal. I just thought, given how icky and weird it was, that nothing like that would linger. I couldn't even put my finger on it for days."

I just didn't know how to address what she was telling me. Was I to be supportive of her intimate feelings towards my husband? Was I going to be cold and distant to her confession? Luckily, I think she just wanted someone to hear her words.

"Mom, we should have listened to you. The money was worth it, and I'm fine, I really am. But the world is a weird place. We don't need to bring that stuff into our lives."

I nodded, "I agree."

We pulled into our destination and I was about to shut off the car.

"Mom?" she asked.

"Yes, hun."

She smiled, "Can I ask you, like, a dumb question? Dumb but fun?"

I nodded, "OK."

She blushed a little, "Is dad, like big?"

I shook my head, "What?"

She motioned with her hands a little, "Big. Like...more than other guys."

I crossed my brow and she laughed hard. She saw it as a relatable, girl-talk moment. I wasn't quite feeling that way.

She threw her hands up, "I mean this was never a topic of interest for me before, but, having been through that...I was really kind of wondering."

I sighed. I didn't want to indulge her anymore.

"Your father isn't a plaything. He's my husband. He is married to me and faithful only to me. I don't find any of this funny."

Her smiled turn around and she was apprehensive..." Oh, mom..."

"I know, I know, you thought it'd be something we could have fun with. Things like this you can't have fun with. You need to leave it all alone."

She nodded sympathetically, "Ok, ok, sure. I'm.... I'm really sorry."

After my outburst, I felt a bit bad.

"I'm sure you're psychologically dealing with a lot. Just know that I love you, and I forgive you both."

I turned the car off and opened the door to a cold, winter breeze before she could reply.

--

Two weeks later, while we watched television in the living room, my daughter texted my husband and I, even though we sat mere feet away. I believe it was to protect my son from being even remotely involved in the sick games the "bidder" was playing with our vulnerable family.

He contacted me.

Immediately we looked up and shared looks of trepidation. The fifteen minutes before my son's bedtime seemed to drag on forever. I desperately wanted to know what this degenerate pervert had to say.

I came downstairs to see my husband and daughter at the kitchen table. Sara's tight spaghetti strap camisole was riding up her body and the top of her ass was clearly visible. I sat and asked her to read the message.

"It's bad," she said.

I looked at my husband. His eyes were sunk, and he seemed to dread the situation.

"Maybe," he grumbled, "We just ignore it."

I contemplated his proposition. I shook my head.

"It's just words. Go ahead."

My daughter nodded, "OK, here's the first part."

Best photo I have ever seen. So much love. Blood confirmed, you have a special daughter! She has a handsome, protective daddy. There is a package at your front door.

--

My husband and I dragged the large box into the living room and assembled what was inside. Two pieces fit together to make a short chaise lounge chair with high, imposing arms. I would guess it was four feet in length by two feet in width and rather unusual. A tiny blanket suitable to cover a small dog accompanied a DVD case.

As I bundled up the trash from the box, I saw a detached look glaze over my daughter's eyes.

"Here's the second part...I knew it'd be something like this..."

Daughter and dad: watch the movie, nude. No one can touch the floor, no sitting on the arms, both of you in the chair. No birth control, send blood to confirm. Blanket can cover one of you, nothing else, must always be visible to camera. Record in 4k video, capture sound as best you can.

She took a deep breath before reading the last part of the message:

$120,000.

--

"No," my husband said, "It's a flat no."

"I understand baby," I said. I was so happy to see him drawing a line.

He crossed his arms. I had forgotten how muscular he looked when he was bunched up with consternation. "This is the most disgusting idea I've ever heard. And we don't really need this.... this isn't pure desperation like last time. Who is this sick fuck and why would he do this to us?"

I could see he was visibly disgusted, and I took comfort in it. We bantered on for a bit before mutually agreeing to reject the idea. I felt like my husband's wife once again.

When we returned to the living room, my daughter was seated on the sofa.

"Can I just talk to dad for a minute?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. I didn't know if I was making a mistake by somehow acknowledging their newfound "intimacy."

As I watched my daughter passionately plea to my husband, I saw his eyes dart down at her chest when she broke eye contact.

I shouldn't have let them talk. I shouldn't have done a lot of things.

--

"It's like she said," my husband said, psyching himself up for the shoot as he sat in the living room, naked, "If we don't get this money, she has to quit school. Otherwise I wouldn't do this."

I sighed. I had put up a fight the night the package arrived to try and get them to listen to reason, but it was to no avail. My daughter showed that, financially, even with her insane commute, she wouldn't be able to continue her studies after this semester. More importantly, she was mentally and physically exhausted and didn't want to continue the routine. She was downright forceful, if not demanding, that we follow through with this request.

Knowing my husband's refusal was one of a protective father based on Sara's response, and the immense pressure of our financial situation, his resolve waned. Once he knew my daughter was fully on board and unconcerned, he had a hard time telling her to quit her education, and absolve our family of this awful period, just because he didn't want to watch a movie in the buff while holding his daughter. I had fought and lost. By the time I acquiesced, I somehow found the idea of resisting ludicrous, given the massive payday we would receive. So, so many problems would be solved...why get in the way?

The kicker? Because the last photo had gone so horribly, I was tasked with making sure the shoot was professional. I wouldn't go so far as to say I was recording my husband and daughter in a pornographic film...but it was close. I had our son stay with a family friend for the night. I felt we all just wanted to get it over with. I took out my best 4k camera and set up a boom mic over the proceedings.

My husband sat in the chair.

"If I sit up, like this," he said, motioning, "I don't think it will be a big deal."

I nodded, "It's just like watching a movie with her normally. Keep that thought in your head,"

"Right, right. I really hope this pervert pays us even if nothing exciting happens. Is the movie some kind of porn or something?"

I placed the remote control on the chair's arm and gave him the small blanket to cover himself.

"It's...actually, some box office flop...some random action movie sequel. Two and a half hours long."

My husband shook his head, "I... don't get it.... maybe because of the length?"

I shrugged, "This seems easier than I thought."

I walked and positioned the camera. I used an old lighting rig to light the scene. My husband looked even more handsome than I expected. The light helped to bring out his jawline and his rigid forearm muscles. For an old father, he had decent pecs, and I always loved his skin.

"OK," I shouted to our daughter, "Come out."

Sara came out in her bathrobe and saw the proceedings. She looked and smiled with approval as she looked over my camera, boom mic, and lighting rig.

"You're good at what you do, mom."

She turned to my husband. "I'm ready to get this over with."

"OK," he said, "My eyes are closed."

I felt pangs in my stomach as I watched my daughter begin to untie her robe.

"Wait!" I said. Sara looked up just before the robe fell away, "Come into the kitchen and talk to me."

My husband kept his eyes closed for good measure as my daughter and I made our way into the other room.

"Are you sure about this, honey?" I asked.

My daughter looked a little choked up and white in the face, "It's just a couple of hours, mom. I've snuggled with dad while we watched a movie before."

I took her hand by the wrist. "Hun, remember what you said in the car..."

She gulped a little and shook her head slightly, "That was when we were face to face. This isn't the same. This is will be easy."

"What about putting in a diaphragm? As a precaution? I can't even imagine-"

She rolled her eyes, "I'm not having sex with anybody. God, that's so gross...."

I flashed a look of concern, but before I could speak, my daughter took me by the shoulders.

"Mom," she said, "One hundred and twenty thousand dollars. For two hours of work," she said, "My school paid for, my future finally open. It'll be ok. Let's do this."

Before she turned away, she kind of gave me a long look, like I was supposed to react. Like I was supposed to...stop her. I didn't, and she walked into the living room.

Her father still had his eyes closed as I moved to ready the camera. She turned to face me and opened her robe, exposing her ample breasts and tight torso. I wasn't sure if my daughter shaved her nether regions on a regular basis, but that night, she was bare.

"Don't turn the camera on until we're in position," she said, "I don't want this guy to see any more than he has to. And remember, don't talk, or move. OK? He can't know the cameraperson is you."

I nodded, and she dropped the robe. She walked backwards and straddled her nude father, making sure to not look at his flaccid cock. I felt some kind of appreciation for her...bravery.

"No matter what, we go until the end of the movie. I don't want to do this twice," she said sternly, "And I definitely don't want to do this for nothing."

I looked towards the monitor of the camera and put my monitoring headphones on.

Eyes glued to the TV, she lowered herself onto him, and put her legs onto the lounge. After a lot of shifting and negotiation, it was clear the only comfortable position placed my husband's cock just below the crack of her ass, with her head nestled between his left shoulder and neck. With tact, she used the small blanket to cover their crotches. I could just barely see where the top of their thighs touched, and nothing controversial. Once they hit "play" on the movie, I became the camerawoman. The intense emotions of seeing such a lewd and unnatural display were suppressed as I didn't want to fail my family by somehow forcing them to repeat this macabre task. The boom mic needed a bit of adjustment, but otherwise, we were off to the races.

And...it was rather quaint.

My daughter's illustrious breasts heaved slightly as she laid back and watched the film, and my husband had a nostril full of her gorgeous blonde hair. For all intents and purposes, they were two platonic people watching a movie. There was a time when I thought the entire affair would pass over like water down a quiet stream. It seemed almost silly.

Until, around a half hour into the show, when my daughter deeply exhaled, and her eyes shot wide open.

It was apparent that she'd been suppressing something, some kind of tension or shock. I looked to the blanket and my daughter pressed it harder against her lower abdomen as she began to breathe more heavily. My husband shifted in his chair some, but Sara quickly put him in his place.

"Don't move," she gulped, as her cheeks flushed red, "It'll make things worse."

For a solid fifteen to twenty minutes, they jostled around, trying desperately to find an angle that ceased whatever was churning beneath that blanket. My husband tried bending his toes to divert his blood from his erection, and my daughter tried to push up on her legs to avoid contact. At one point, pushing on the tiny chaise caused her foot to slip and nearly touch the floor. She darted her foot up at the last second, and the resumption of contact with Rick's naked body caused her eyes to become saucers. She let out something close to a sexual, guttural moan. Did something happen beneath that blanket that she hadn't intended?

A quick shift changed their course. My husband began to grit his teeth. He looked to be near tears as they tried desperately to stand still. I felt like I was dying inside, unable to help them as they drifted towards new, unthinkable feelings.

They settled for a while, but then my husband started to try to get his hands beneath the blanket. I presumed he was trying to masturbate himself so the friction between them would cease.

"Dad..." my daughter whispered. The act of opening her mouth caused her to groan, hard, again, "Dad..."

"Honey, I can't get my hands down there..."

"Just stop...stop and look at the movie dad...," she said breathlessly. But it was apparent from her glazed, blank eyes that she was deeply aroused. Because it allowed me to see things my eye could not, I zoomed in to catch their various expressions and reactions.

"I'm not going to touch it...." she said,

My husband whispered something into her ear. He was lovingly rubbing her hair, as if to comfort her. This intimate, non-sexual contact between them gave me every urge to start screaming and end the whole charade. Somehow, it was worse than skin on skin contact. But, I stayed the course, following my daughter's instructions and filming the action as best I could.

As he talked to her, a draining look of defeat rolled over her face. I was further alarmed as his hand moved to her taut belly and he began to lovingly massage her. She tried to hold the blanket in place as he moved his hips beneath her. The motion was so disturbing to me, and my daughter's disposition was one of someone on borrowed time. Something was whispered in her ear. He appeared to wait for an answer to a question, and she gave him one.

"Fast," she said, "Go, go fa-"

His hands engulfed her breasts and he dug his head into her shoulder. My daughter didn't expect it. The look on her face was a mix of horror and relief. Seeing the contrast of his old flesh against her pert, supple skin was jarring. I knew what those hands felt like, right down to how he turned his thumb into the sides of her tits when he clamped down and started thrusting.

The motion under the blanket became pronounced. I was convinced they were making love. The deep hatred I felt for my husband was real. To have him enter her, when it truly wasn't necessary, was the basement of disgrace. But then I saw how unnatural their motions were and the angle of his movement. There was only skin to skin contact, and their loosely defined standards were still in place. He started to quicken, and my daughter was clearly gaining steam towards an orgasm.

Then, over the headphones, I heard a faint sound, like water falling against a tarp. I looked and visibly saw my husband's face contort. My daughter let out a low moan and looked under the blanket in a panic, breaking her own unwritten rule to not look at her father's engorged cock. When she saw what occurred, it visibly upset her, and she plastered the blanket back down. I couldn't get my eyes on what was happening, I could only try to force my imagination to stop creating images no mother should have to comprehend.

My husband laid back, an expression of ease and relief across his face. I, too, took stock in seeing him tactfully and quickly resolving the "issue." I wasn't sure why he needed to grope our daughter's breasts, but if it expedited them to this point, I let it go. They had to break out of that torturous tension.

Except, Rick's deflating cock wasn't doing anything to stop Sara's rolling orgasm. Her face was completely flush, and her teeth were bare to the world as she panted like a dog. Her father sat back and languished in his newfound relief, but our daughter kept humping into him, trying to further her arousal.

The tryst bought my husband a good half hour of relief. He kept things platonic and focused as he concentrated on the movie. My daughter, still flushed and growing ever hornier, sat in some kind of mixed agony. Eventually, she reached under the blanket and carefully found her neglected clit.

Her father took notice of her gyrating and panting.

"Please stop that," he warned. But she kept going.

"Sara, please," he pleaded, but she continued.

"I gotta get off...I'm going crazy..."

Her motion and the heat from her pussy must have started to titillate his cock. Not long after she started, I saw his hands disappear under the blanket. From the angle, it was to hold her hips as he humped against her somehow. At least, that's what I prayed he was doing.

Soon, one of his hands mauled her breasts as another did something uncouth beneath the tiny blanket. I heard the raindrops against the "tarp" again. Another load.

A half hour later, another. As much as my psyche was jarred, it was some comfort that he hadn't crossed the final line. The cum flying against the blanket meant it was anywhere but inside my daughter.

--

With ten minutes remaining, my daughter was practically a foghorn with her incessant moaning that accompanied her animalistic humping. Her rolling orgasms simply never had time to subside since an erect cock was rubbing against her shaven pussy without fail. The sight of my husband grinding his hands into my daughter's breasts had now become something close to commonplace. I knew they were both racing to cum, trying to relieve the never-ending pressure. I was just praying for the entire ordeal to end and for both of them to be free of this horrible struggle.

My daughter changed her head position for the first time, cuddling into her father's shoulders, as she breathed and groaned through another orgasm. I imagine her neck and back were exhausted from sitting in such a tense position This changed her hip position, and I could tell from the look on my husband's face, something was wrong. My daughter followed with a wide eyed, concerned expression of her own. There was movement, and they both settled. Once it did, my daughter's disposition changed.

Now, with her head snuggly in the crook of my husband's shoulders, she stared at him with intent. For his part, he moved his head and averted her gaze, but there was something building in her mind. Something triggered her to cease all inhibition. With both his hands kneading into her breasts, he moved his head ever so slightly in her direction. She immediately lunged forward and tried to kiss him.

This was when I really, truly wanted the madness to stop. It was clear the euphoric torture had overridden her senses and given her no control over her lust.

"Sara, no..." my husband breathlessly said, but she persisted. When it became apparent he was avoiding her lips, she started to jostle up and down under the blanket.

"Then put the head in until I cum. Pull out..."

"No, no, not that..." my husband protested. I watched as both sets of their hands disappeared beneath the blanket. When it lifted slightly, I saw the unsettling sight of my daughter's small hand trying aggressively to point the slicked head of my husband's cock into her pussy.