Irresistible Girl

You can be shocked if you want, but you don't know Melissa. Maybe you've seen a body as nice as hers, and maybe you've heard a voice as sexy—but heaven help you if you've experienced all that in combo with such hypnotic powers of persuasion and pure animal lust. Once we broke the taboo there was no turning back. I needed her desperately.

Her mother and I had been going through the motions for years. Anna lost interest in sex before I lost interest in her soft plump curves, and I took no joy in those nights when she did her wifely duty—mainly because that's exactly how she described it: doing her wifely duty.

Lying there faking a moan now and then seemed to me less like duty than charity.

Melissa sensed it when she came back home after her freshman year of college. "What the fuck?" she told me one afternoon when Anna was off showing a house. "Why bother staying married? Handsome guy like you needs a tiger, not a walrus."

"Honey, she's sensitive about her weight—there's no need for name-calling."

She spun my office chair around. "Daddy. I'm the tiger." And she pounced, straddling my lap and sucking my tongue into her mouth. I should have resisted but she was indeed a tiger, a taut, lithe, aggressive little sex machine, exactly the kind I fantasized about when thrusting into Anna. So, to Melissa's surprise, not only did I not resist, I took over. I pushed her t-shirt up, pulled her bra cups down, and began sucking and biting on my daughter's hard nipples. She was overjoyed. "Oh god oh god, I had no idea how you'd react," she laughed and moaned.

I slurped at those tight pink buds and worked my hands into her shorts. "How long have you been thinking about it?"

"Two nights. It never crossed my mind until I saw you try to kiss Mom and she turned her head away. It was like a bomb went off in my head and all of a sudden I realized that if you were one of my professors I'd be throwing myself at you."

"So your presence on the Dean's List—?"

"Perfectly legitimate," she said, smiling down at me. "There are pretty strict rules, you know."

"What are we going to do now?"

She pulled off her top. "What lovers do, naturally."

x x x

We spent the summer arranging our affair around Anna's real estate schedule. Arranging our affair, fucking like bunnies, call it what you will. We only came close to getting caught once, when we were in the den and Melissa squirted on my face just as her mother was coming in the front door. She got her pants up quickly and went to greet Anna in the living room; I rearranged my pants to hide my bone, but then a quick glance in the mirror showed I had moisture in my beard and on the collar of my gray polo shirt. I heard the women discussing the weather while I was changing.

Their relationship had been contentious from the time Melissa hit middle school, and while there was a certain détente now there were also long-standing grudges: Anna, jealous of her daughter's natural sex appeal and perfect body; Melissa, resentful of her mother's hovering, her overprotective nature, and the constant assumption of guilt. It was I who negotiated the peace treaty after Melissa called her mother a pig and left home to stay with friends for the better part of a month.

"I don't respect her," she admitted one day as she smeared my semen up and down her thighs. "I don't respect her because of the way she left you hanging. Studly 46-year-olds need regular pussy, so if I had ever found out you had a girlfriend on the side, I wouldn't have blamed you. Fuck that shit. You don't have a girlfriend on the side, though, do you?"

"Only you," I said, tilting her face toward mine.

"Sweet romantic Daddy," she sighed. Then she licked what was left of my goo off her fingers.

x x x

That summer there were a couple of news stories that gave me pause. One from somewhere down south, where a farmer was found to be keeping his wife and daughters as sex slaves—breeders, essentially—and selling his infant children/grandchildren on the black market. The other was from Michigan, where a sting operation caught a state representative in bed with her adult son. The taboo was in the news, and if anything it turned Melissa on even more. "We aren't trash like those people, Daddy. We're grownups in love."

"In love and unable to show it in public."

"We could move to somewhere where nobody knows us."

"What about your mother?"

"I'm working on that one. How do you feel about putting your foot down and saying 'Anna, you ignorant cow, I deserve a hot young girlfriend'?"

"I can't see it going over."

"Do you love her?"

"I don't want her hurt."

"I think that's unavoidable, Daddy. But I'm working on it."

So yes, the news stories gave me pause but Melissa gave me something far more visceral. I was enamored of her sexuality and she was impressed (and at times necessarily patient) with my stamina. Anna didn't seem to mind that I no longer pressed against her and erectly requested her wifely duty, and when Melissa returned to college for her sophomore year, we made a rule: Newsy emails from her regular school account, sexy missives from Hotmail. She was Daddysgirl382236 and I went with TigerLover6969. Her first choice, Daughterfucker, seemed like it might be a tad indiscreet. She also volunteered a rule of her own: "I'll understand if Miss Piggy decides she needs to get serviced, but I won't be sleeping with any boys."

In October I found Anna reading a novel called The Liberation of Mary. I only noticed because of the handcuffs and bright red lipstick prints on the cover, which didn't seem like Anna's cup of tea. "Have you heard of this series?" she asked, blushing a little. "They're best sellers, and they're—well, they're pretty frank about things."

"What kinds of things?" I smiled.

"Spankings and things. Did you know there are little clampy things that go on your—?" She indicated the tip of her breast.

"I've heard about them, yes. Nipple clamps, nipple clips."

"I think that would hurt, but—"

I could see where this was going but couldn't believe it. "But?"

She hid her face in the book. "I know it's going to sound weird, but I think I want to try this. Some of it. Not all of it. Parts of it. Am I weird?"

"Of course not. I mean, I don't know how good I'd be at—"

She dog-eared a page, turned the book around, and flipped through the pages, revealing several scenes in yellow highlighter. "This might help," she said, bolder than I'd seen her in years.

x x x

The character of Mary, it turned out, was the same age as Anna. She was divorced and unhappy with her life, and had begun spending her evening hours exploring the world of internet porn, which led to reading the personal ads at Hornypeople.com, which led to finding a boyfriend in his 30s. A dominant. A master.

The writing was definitely frank and surprisingly not bad, and it was clear from the highlighted passages what Anna was curious about trying: spanking, obedience, name-calling (which surprised me), and nipple clamps. "And if you see something you'd like to try," she said, "just spring it on me and if I don't like it I'll use a safeword."

I was a little surprised she knew that word existed.

"Friday night ok?" she asked, and I told her I'd penciled it in. Appointment: Spank wife.

I talked to Melissa on Thursday evening. She was studying and didn't have time for phone sex, but definitely wanted to hear more about her mother's sudden interest in being submissive. "I think It's hilarious," she said. "Promise you'll call me and leave the phone on while you're making her your bitch."

I did some prep work at the local sex shop, picking up a soft leather slapper, some nipple clamps, and a couple of surprises. I figured I might as well venture off-script a little, just to make things interesting. After dinner Friday night, Anna excused herself to get ready and I stripped down to a black banana hammock and black gloves. I called Melissa, who said she'd popped popcorn and was ready to put me on speakerphone. "Good luck, Mr de Sade," she giggled. "Make her scream."

With the phone in my pants pocket and my pants hanging on the clothes tree. I waited. Anna emerged from the bathroom packed into a white corset and shiny white panties. She'd applied a modest amount of makeup and curled her hair, and she looked beautiful. She looked like my bride from almost 25 years ago. My heart stirred, and I felt myself eager to give her the pleasure she wanted.

"I'm ready, Master," she said, blushing.

I gestured to the foot of the bed. She came quickly and shot a lascivious look at my thong. "What are you looking at?" I demanded. "Face the bed."

"Yes, sir."

I attached soft cuffs to her wrists and used extender straps to secure her to the bedposts, then consulted my mental list of highlighted passages. Challenge her—

"Why are you here?"

"Because I've been bad."

Page 37: "You're here because you're a worthless piece of cuntmeat."

She shuddered. There was an unmistakable hint of a smile on her face. "Yes. I am cuntmeat, sir."

I stood beside her and unzipped the corset. "What the hell is this? Why are you hiding your body?"

"I was trying to look sexy for you, Master."

I tossed the corset aside and her big soft breasts jiggled free. "I'll decide what makes you sexy, cuntmeat. I want you naked." I jammed my hand down the front of her panties; she noticed my genuine gasp of surprise.

"Are you surprised, Master?"

"You shaved completely."

Anna nodded shyly and turned her head to face me. "Spank me," she whispered. "Spank my butt and my pussy. I want to know what it feels like. I'm sorry, I know that's bottoming from the top. Or topping from—I don't know, something like that."

"It's okay."

From there we put on quite a show for Melissa, who heard dozens of slaps and pleasured shrieks. She heard her mother's uncertain moans when I attached the nipple clamps, uncertain moans and happy moans and "I changed my mind" and then "No, it's okay, leave them." She heard me demand to be sucked hard. She heard me say things to her mother that I hadn't said to her: "Worship me, cuntmeat." "Get on your back and open your legs like a fifty-cent whore."

Eventually she heard a couple of loud orgasms and then silence, as Anna whispered "Thank you" and curled up beside me. I held her close and drifted off.

There was a text from Melissa when I woke up next morning: "Riveting performance, my love. Keep it up. Make her your slave so eventually she can be OUR slave. Who do you think sent her that book?"

x x x

In the next two months, Anna read every book in the "Mary" series and I made many more trips to the sex shop. She put her limits to the test, always demanding a few more swats after she was sure her ass had had enough. She requested buttplugs and paddles and ball gags. One night when she was blindfolded and tied to the bed, she noted that she wouldn't be able to do anything about it if I were to open the blinds and expose her body to any snooping neighbors. Our house was at the end of a cul-de-sac and our bedroom faced a wooded park, so any snooping neighbors would have needed a telescope and a team of lumberjacks to see inside. Nevertheless, I raised the blinds and told her a crowd had gathered on the lawn below. Her nipples stiffened visibly at my words. The mere idea of public humiliation was enough for both of us.

And running parallel to this sexual reawakening was the mutual lust between Melissa and me, a lust that was beginning to fade. In our phone conversations, we looked ahead to a time when she and I reigned over a household in which Anna served us both as sex slave and maid. But I shouldn't have been surprised to find myself less dependent on Melissa. She was a voice from a thousand miles away. She might as well have been a phone sex girl who got paid to call me Daddy.

And there were nights when I didn't have a chance to call her because Anna was so revved up.

One night in early December, Melissa admitted to being a little jealous. "Sometimes it seems like you're enjoying Mom a little too much."

"We're having fun," I told her. "Like we used to, except now she gets off on being called cuntmeat."

"She is cuntmeat, Daddy. You and I belong together. I don't care if it's the three of us, but she and I are switching roles, guaranteed."

"I know, baby. We'll find the right time for it. But for now, she's out for another couple of hours, so let's talk about me holding her while you spank her pussy."

"Let's talk about you getting her a tattoo on her fat ass," she said. "Something like 'Property of my husband and daughter.'"

"All right. Let's run with that."

"I mean for real."

"Definitely fun to imagine, but—"

"No, Daddy. For real. Send me a picture when it's done."

I paused to let it sink in, to listen to her seething in her dorm room. "Baby, you know that's not going to happen."

"Then maybe you don't need a hot young girlfriend after all. I'll bet it won't be hard for me to find someone who does."

"Melissa—"

"Have fun fucking the old lady, Daddy."

Click.

I don't know how we got from "You and I belong together" to a hang-up in under thirty seconds, but once she decided it was over, it was over. I supposed it was official the night she called me and left the line open while she apparently got laid by some frat boy, so I wrote it off as a mistake. I crossed the line, I violated the taboo, and it ran its course. The next communication I received from Melissa was an email with her flight information. "Pick me up. Be on time. Thanks for nothing."

Anna and I went out for dinner on Thursday the 13th, the night before Melissa was scheduled to arrive home. She reminded me that it was our last night to get loud and crazy for a while, so on the way home I made her masturbate with her right hand while waving to other drivers with her left. Before long she was tied spread-eagle to the bed with clamps on her nipples. I strapped a ball gag on her and told her the world would just have to do without her cuntmeat wisdom for a while—she smiled at that. I spent a half-hour toying with her nipples, taking the clamps off and putting them back on, making her squeal against the gag. (Her safeword while gagged was a hummed do-re-mi, but there was no music, only moaning.) I teased her with a vibrator, keeping it away from her most sensitive areas until she practically lifted the bed up with her bucking. I was in the process of lubing up a buttplug when Melissa walked in. She smirked at the sight of her mother in bondage; Anna's eyes flashed and she pulled against the restraints.

Melissa threw her coat over the chair. "Am I interrupting something?"

"What are you doing here?"

"You tell me. You're the one that bought me my ticket. I can't help it if you believed me when I said I was coming tomorrow. How you doing, cuntmeat?"

Anna seemed to be trying to cover herself up. I moved to the bedpost to release her left ankle, but Melissa said No. "Leave her tied up. Nice shaved beaver, Mommy—you missed a couple of hairs, though." She quickly stepped out of her jeans and pulled her tiny pink thong aside. "This is what a pretty little muffin is supposed to look like, Mommy. I'll have you feel inside it later so you can see how tight it is."

"I think you need to leave us alone."

"No, I think I like this view. Helpless Mommy, just like we planned."

So the secret was out. Anna's eyes widened. I went for the restraints again—this time the one on Anna's left wrist—but Melissa jerked my thong down and grabbed at my cock. I pushed her away and got Anna's hand loose, expecting her to remove the gag and free herself. Instead she lay as she was, stretching her arm out as if it were still tied to the bedpost. "Anna?"

My wife nodded at Melissa, who smiled and removed her top and stood there with that perfect body. "You should have read the sixth book in the series, Daddy. Mary gets a mistress. You're not the only relative who finds this irresistible."

Anna's eyes met mine and she pulled the ball out of her mouth. "She's very persuasive—and I want to experience her too."

"That's enough, cuntmeat," said Melissa, securing Anna's wrist once again. She straddled her mother's plump belly and began inching her way up. There was a "Daddy's Girl" tattoo on her left butt cheek. I watched Anna disappear beneath our daughter's legs and heard the sexy sound of muffled slurping. Melissa threw her head back and said "Welcome to Slavetown, Mommy." I was overcome with love and lust for both of them.

x x x

Nothing makes a Christmas break memorable like mind-blowing kinked-out sex with your family. They told me the whole story the next day: Melissa sent the first book ostensibly as a peace offering, woman to woman. "She told me it might improve our sex life," said Anna, "and after I read it I began confiding in her. We began confiding in each other." Melissa broke in: "And when the time was right I turned on the charm." She eventually introduced her mother to phone sex, and they concocted the early-December "breakup" in order to set up the surprise. It was a pretty neat plan.

So yes, you can be shocked if you want.

But twenty steps from where I write this, there's a tiger tied to a bed and another one strapping on a dildo.

I'm not rocking this boat for anything.