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Chapter 17

Are Rose And Mary Mad?

Yes

The entire car-ride home, I was met with a barrage of complaints. Neither my wife nor my daughter wanted to leave - for, I'm afraid, much the same reasons. Rose used my wife's lips to berate me, with Mary using my daughter's to join in.

I held fast, however. Tracking my daughter's orgasms was yet another item on the 'never wanted to do this, horrified that I have to' list, yet there I was, knowing that she hadn't cum for at least five hours.

Based on what she'd told me about how her school days had been, staying at the beach would have quickly led to her sneaking off with a football player, and...

...well, I didn't even want to think about what she'd have done with him.

Didn't want to, but was unable to prevent myself from doing so.

When we got home, I fully expected them to both go to their rooms and slam the doors, but my wife surprised me.

"Mom," she said, making fine use of Rose's blue eyes. "Can you go to the store for me?"

"What?"

"I'm out of pink lipstick, and I need some more."

"Can't your father go? He was the one who wanted to end Family Day early."

"God, Mom. Think about it. You want to send DAD to get lipstick. Please, Mom - I have a date tonight."

Apparently those were the magic words, because (visibly thrilled that she got to drive the 'big car') my wife's body was almost immediately out the door, and on the way to 'Stephora', whatever that was.

Not sending me was a smart move.

The moment I heard the car peeling out of the driveway (making sounds that were loud enough to be slightly alarming), Rose's body was on my lap, her lips on mine.

"Oh my god, Andrew..."

"Honey, we...-"

"Oh, god, shut up and kiss me. Did you see all those eyes on me today? Me! They were all looking at me."

I opened my mouth to respond, but it was immediately filled with my daughter's tongue.

"Touch me," my wife moaned, pulling my hands to Rose's breasts. "Oh god, Andrew, touch me..."

"How far away is Thesaura?" I asked.

"Twenty minutes. We'd better be fast!"

I'd spent the day unwillingly staring at my daughter's bikini-clad body, so it was difficult to mentally replace her with 'Ellen'.

Still, I did my best. Anywhere I moved my hands, I was met with soft teenage flesh and loud, impassioned moans. Avoiding her 'swimsuit areas' meant that I was running my hands over my daughter's bare skin, and Mary seemed to be doing her best to push inappropriate body-parts into my hands.

"I can't," I said, as - for the third time - she twisted our daughter's body to get her large, firm tits into my hands.

"I need to be touched, Andrew, please. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh please. Please, honey. Touch meeee..."

I glanced at the clock. Holy shit - had it been thirty minutes already? We needed to speed things up.

Mary took advantage of the distraction to, for the fourth time, manoeuvred our daughter's bikini-top into my hands.

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Considering the time pressure, I gave in, and set my mind firmly to Ellen.

Kneading my daughter's teenage boobs, I desperately pretended they belonged to my wife's fictional sister.

"Harder," she moaned, and I unwillingly obliged.

"Cum for me," I said insistently, trying to ignore the needy tone in my voice. "Oh, god, cum for me..."

"Yesss!" she erupted. "Oh touch me touch me touch me touch me TOUCH me."

For the next thirty seconds, I stared anxiously at the door, praying to god that I wouldn't see my wife's face before my daughter's climax had finished.

Does Mary Cum In Time?

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