Blurred Lines

"Was that good?"

I smiled, "That was oscar-worthy."

"Oh my god," she cried out with the enthusiasm of someone fresh off a roller coaster, "Cumming is great."

She crawled off of me and walked out into the bathroom.

"Hey, get up, lemme show you something."

Tears of sweat dripped off her ass as I followed her into the shower.

"I do this everytime I get out of the sauna."

She faced away from me and draped her hands over my shoulders.

"Turn the cold water on."

I obeyed, and an icy stream of water sprayed into us. She cried out in glee and shook. I wrapped my hands around her stomach and laughed. After a few seconds she shut off the water, she walked out and grabbed a towel and began drying off.

"Nobody knows I do that. Mom would freak if she knew I did the sauna naked."

She got on her tippity toes and looked out the basement window. It was a half-pane, with glossy glass, but at close distances you could see what was outside.

"Mr. Harris is in the front yard, look."

I walked over to her and peered out.

"Talk about a guy who never stops staring...I caught him looking at me when I sunbathed a few months ago."

She turned, her breasts swaying. "Come over here, stand against the wall."

Not certain of what she wanted, I obeyed. She jumped into my arms. I nearly fell, but managed to catch her.

"Put it in me. I want to look at him with you inside me."

I jumbled around a bit and found an angle, but my cock wasn't quite hard yet.

"I'm not there yet, hun."

She turned, and nuzzled my nose, "OK," she said. She kissed my lightly, then started to peck at me with her tongue. We french kissed, and she ran her hands through my hair. I don't know how, but I managed enough of an erection to fulfill her wishes. I put the tip of my cock in her.

"Ahhhh" she breathed as I entered, "....oh, look he saw me. I bet he knows it's me."

Her breathing was deep and hurried.

"He doesn't know you're inside me. We could go out there and talk to him, and he wouldn't know you just fucked me. Or that I looked at him with you in me."

I put my nose on her shoulder. Her ass felt incredible.

"I know it's weird, but that's hot to me."

She jumped down and grabbed my wife's robe off the door. She jubilantly scrubbed her hair with a towel, then ran her fingers through it. I found a towel tossed at my chest, and my daughter smiled.

"I had fun today," she said.

"Yea," I said, "Yea me too."

We sort of let the light mood hang in the air.

"Back to normal now, for awhile," she said, "I'll let you know when we can do this again. Let's keep it special."

I was glad to hear she wanted a break. I didn't know if my body could take much more. "Hey Sarah...nobody knows about this. Nobody. Right?"

Her face glazed over with calm, "Never."

And with that, she walked out of the room

--

Over the next month, everything was normal. Not so much as a knowing glance was shared between us. I thought it would be hard having my own personal sexual fantasy walking around the house, and I was still scared to death she would snap out of her accepting state and tell the world what a piece of crap I was.

She came home one Saturday afternoon with some kind of flu. I took a bit of a nursing role towards her, making her soup and visiting her in bed. It was the only overtly strange thing I had done since the time in the sauna. It was always her mother that took the role of caretaker when one of our kids was sick. And she took notice.

"You're being awfully doting over Sarah," she mentioned as I washed the dishes.

I shrugged, hoping it wasn't too apparent, "She's sick. What do you want me to do?"

I caught some kind of knowing stare from her, and it sent chills down my spine. I just kept my head in the sink. The crazy thing about a long marriage is how telepathic it can seem at times.

--

Two more weeks passed, and still nothing. I was watching football in our upstairs media room one Saturday when Sarah came into the room and shut the door. She laid her head on my lap and snuggled up next to me.

Believe it or not, I didn't think anything of it. Until she started to stroke her hand over the top of my sweatpants.

"Your mom is home," I warned.

"We'll hear her come upstairs. I miss it."

After stroking me for awhile, I was hard enough to strain against my sweatpants. She peeled my pants down and laid her head on my crotch, my cock up against her forehead.

"Mmmmm, I missed it," she said as she buried her nose in my pubes. We laid like this for at least twenty minutes. I put my hand on the exposed skin above her waist and stroked it softly. There was something very tender and normal about it. It wasn't anything terribly different from a typical girl snuggling up against her dad, except, well, the cock worship.

She sat up, covering me back up, then looked to the door. She pulled up her t-shirt over her breasts, and I drank her in like a dying man in the desert.

"Get a taste real quick. I think mom is going to visiting grandma, she'll stay the night. Billy is staying at someones house. So...."

She leaned forward and I put my hand at the small of her back. I put her nipple in her mouth and she quietly cooed as I bit and licked it softly. She pulled away.

"I'll be here when they're gone. Put on some nice clothes."

---

Six o'clock couldn't come soon enough. My wife closed the door and the house was quiet. After I threw on a shirt and tie, I ate a quick sandwich in the kitchen, slowly, feeling the anticipation. She came downstairs, dressed to the hilt in a tight strapless black dress, her face fully made up, carrying a small bag.

"We're going somewhere," was all she said.

"Where? Dinner? I just ate..."

"Just get in the car and I'll tell you."

--

When we climbed into the car, she plugged an address into the GPS. It was an hour and a half away from the house.

"What...? Where are we going Sarah?"

She gave me a sly smile, "You'll see."

During the drive, she laid an egg on me.

"I'm moving to New York after graduation," she said, "I know I can get a modelling contract through someone my photographers knows. And I'll take classes at community college there, maybe try to get into CUNY."

I was quiet in response.

"Mom is going to freak out."

I sighed. I guess I thought the sex was all altruistic. I should have known, not that I cared.

"I'll take care of it."

She waited a moment, then rubbed my thigh in thanks.

--

We approached a gravel drive, which led me to a huge victorian-style mansion. Lines of cars were outside of it, and I found it hard to park.

"I heard about this place from another model. Don't get mad, but I came here last month."

I stopped the car. "What is this place?"

She shrugged, "A place where we can be free. I thought you'd like it. When we're inside, I need you to look after me. I had a close call last time. I think it's hard for someone who looks like me to be here."

I was mortified, but I didn't protest. I wanted to play it cool. After all, she was in control. I glanced in one of the grand front windows to see a party filled with mostly middle aged adults. They were drinking, eating appetizers...and a few had their shirts off or their dicks out. And a few more were copulating in the corner. This was a sex party.

"Sarah!" I shout-whispered. I walked over to her eagerly, "You cannot go in there."

She rolled her eyes, "I already have, and we're going to, because in case you forgot, you're a rapist, and therefore, my big-dicked Ken doll."

I steamed a little, but I had no authority to protest. Still, I didn't want to see her harmed, "Well what the hell happened last time?"

She sat back on her foot and thought, "I made out with a guy who claimed he was married, and he wasn't, and he got kind of pushy. Luckily another guy came in the room and helped me."

I scoffed, "Sarah, a woman like you can't walk around a place like this. These people will eat you alive. There's diseases..."

"It's a point-five percent chance of getting HIV through vaginal intercourse, if they aren't on the herpes pill you can see it from a mile away, and you paid for me to get a damn HPV vaccine. Everything else is a pill I can pop, so just fuck off with the overprotective stuff. Rapist."

"What about me? You can't come to me?"

She rolled her eyes, "Who would want to keep fucking their own dad to get off? I mean, seriously? Did you think we were monogamous or something?"

It hurt, but I couldn't fight back. "But....these are just a bunch of middle aged people in shitty marriages that want to use you, they-"

Her look said everything. I stopped myself mid-sentence to do a little introspection. This is why trying to have authority over her would always fail. Rather than make a scene, give her a reason to turn me in, or leave her to the buzzards circling inside, I decided it would be better if I went along with her plan.

"Fine. But make sure I know where you are."

She reached into her purse, "Here. We get in free if we're married since I'm so young," she said as she handed me a wedding band. Placing them on our fingers was a strange ritual. When she took my hand as we walked to the door, it was surreal. For all of ten seconds, I was fake-married to a woman like her, and despite the obvious absurdity, it felt a little exciting.

We made our way to the door. I think I might have been more nervous than she was. It was one thing to think about going to a swingers party when you are newlyweds with nothing to lose. Being blackmailed into it at forty five only an hour or so outside of the community where you live and work, well, you could be committing suicide in every way except the one that really counts.

I will hand it to Sarah, the place was far cleaner and formal than I would have ever imagined. We were greeted at the door by a stately looking gentleman in the suit, who asked our names and if we'd made a reservation. Sarah introduced us as "Cindy and Mike" and we were crossed off a list and let inside to the foyer. Sarah took me aside, placing her hands on my shoulders.

"Listen, don't hover over me but stay kinda close. Have a drink, have fun. For the most part this place is awesome and the people are nice. And if you do or say anything I don't tell you to do, this is all over. OK?"

Here I thought I'd have a nice candle-lit taboo love making session at home. Now I was an enslaved bodyguard at a high-class swingers party. Any way I played the angles, there was nothing I could do to escape the situation. C'est la vie.

We went through a small sitting area to a grand ballroom. It was quite a sight to see. Groups of otherwise ordinary looking couples could be seen chatting like it was a social mixer. A lot of tall, groomed young men with nice builds and tattoos sauntered about, looking to pick off a frisky married woman (or man). And a few who decided escaping to a bedroom was too private were clawing at each other on a sofa or in a shadowy corner.

I walked to one corner of the main ballroom while she went to another. The way the eyes followed her as she walked across the room can't be aptly described. Absolutely every single male in the room stopped what they were doing, whether it was lightly chatting or rutting away. With the way she looked, there was no way anyone in the room knew she was still in high school. She was prey and every man in that room was rabid to taste her. For a minx who loved to be in control and feel bathed in attention, it was heaven.

I asked for a scotch from the bartender and was greeted by a married couple. Neither looked anything less than drab, which I always assumed was the norm for these types of places. The wife had her breasts out on full display. It wasn't a terrible rack, but it was sagging with age and it didn't perk my interests. I guess I'd been more than a little spoiled with my recent sexual insanity.

"Hi, we're Bob and Sally. Seems we haven't seen you here before?"

I remembered my stage name. "Mike," I replied, shaking their hands.

"Gosh, we never knew about this place until six months ago. It sure is a step up from Vegas and other people's homes, wouldn't you say?"

I nodded, "Well, uh, this is my first time. Our first time, actually."

The wife gave a look of surprise, "Well hey, how about that? We like to give newcomers a free time on my girls. This one is Bertha, and this one is Bonnie."

I gave a sly smile in response to her joke, but she wasn't kidding.

"Come on now," she said putting her hand on the back of her head, "Ya'll know your limits and a little suck off a tittie can't be out of bounds."

I looked behind me and couldn't find Sarah. I felt I had to oblige, so I leaned down and gave the woman's nipple a light peck.

She scoffed at me, "No honey, that's not how this group does things."

She leaned in and started to kiss me. I wasn't terribly attracted to her, but it was my first time truly cheating on my wife with another woman that wasn't....well....my own daughter. I opened up a bit and left myself enjoy it. When her tongue escaped mine, I leaned down and gave her the old Harvard-try at a nipple taste. She rubbed the back of my head and was smiling when I was done.

"See? Now we're a little connected, a little closer. It's a beautiful thing."

I looked over at the husband, who didn't look to be much more than a doormat. He was balding, out of shape, and had this little sunken face that matched his short height and frame. I felt a bit repulsed realizing how ho-hum it was to sexuall touch another woman my age. I realized the swinging fantasies I'd held onto all these years were a little...embellished. It was a bummer.

"Say, did you walk in with the young blonde? She sure is striking..."

I nodded, "That's my wife. Cindy."

He nodded, "She got my juices flowing as you can see," he smiled, showing some yellow teeth as he pointed to the bulge showing in his pants. The thought of him so much as looking at my daughter made me want to punch him into oblivion.

"And she's off to an early start..." the wife said, "She sure isn't shy..."

I turned around and noticed the crowd of people formed in the corner. The rest of the ballroom was sparse at best, probably occupied by couples with a wife who refused to let their men gawk at Sarah out of jealousy. I made my way to the pack.

She was in the middle of a crowd of men, mostly surrounding herself with the younger set, the ones with the tattoos, Ed Hardy shirts and chiseled bodies. The real scummy single guys who don't know another way to get laid than to pay an entry fee. Her arms were laid back across the shoulders of one, while another was in front, more men along her sides. A hand would reach out and grab her tit from her dress, anonymously, copping a feel. The guy behind her held her around tummy, possessing her. She wore a bright smile, making everything seem so playful.

"I already had two shots, but I'll have another," she said, accepting a drink. An eighteen year old with three shots of hard liquor wasn't someone with solid judgement.

"You look nice," she said to an older man, not much better looking than the man whose wife I had just kissed, "Let me taste you."

He leaned in and kissed her, swapping tongues. The man had no right to be within fifty feet of a woman like her, and he knew it. The whole horde of them thought they'd found the honeypot.

"Mmmm, you taste nice," she purred, then laughing seductively. He tucked a finger into her dress and pulled it down. Her tit slowly slid out, and she made wide eyes coupled with giggle, as if it was a happy accident.

This brought on the horde like nothing else. The dicks started coming out. Grown men were hypnotized and jerking themselves to the scene while their dejected wives and girlfriends could only look on, feeling every crack in their self esteem shatter. I don't know if my daughter knew what she was doing. At any moment the scene could collapse into anarchy. Maybe it needed to happen to her. Sometimes the only way to teach a lesson to the naive is to let them get slapped in the face.

Hands, a web of hands, reaching from the circle, gropped her exposed tit. She leaned back and kissed another stranger, moaning, making eye contact, smiling and putting them under her spell.

Connections, as the older woman had called it. Feelings.

One of the younger men took her nipple in her mouth, driving off the competition. His hand went up her stocking-clad legs and touched her womanhood. Another strange hand came out of the group as the circle around her got smaller, pulling down her dress, leaving the other breast free. She closed her eyes and submitted as another man lifted her by her ass. The hands kept coming, groping. She laid back into a man's arms and another man's cock was jerking relentlessly, ready to spray its seed on her dress. As she asked to taste another stranger, the cock exploded, putting a line of cum along the material. She barely flinched. She sunk further back, and if the man behind her let go, she would fall to the floor. The horde would just descend on her, and it would get ugly. At just the right moment, when she approached the brink, she motioned and let them have her stand up.

"Let's go to a bedroom...." she said, scanning the crowd. She eyed a black man who was perhaps in his 50s, "You," she said pointing. She turned to the man behind her, "You," she said. In a move that made no sense to me, she pointed to a rather portly old bald man with a zit-covered back. He looked like the type that lived in a van parked a little too close to grade school, "And you. And everybody else come with if you want!"

With her tits bouncing about she made her way through the crowd, accepting casual gropes and smiling as the men around her masturbated.

"This is bullshit," I heard a disgruntled wife say, "What is she even doing here?"

Her pudgy friend chimed in, covering her own sunken tits, "Who does she think she is?" she chimed in.

I had to hurry. If I was supposed to "stay close," I had to at least be in the room. When I found the horde inside a large master-sized suite, I saw her standing on a chair.

"There he is!" she said, pointing at me, "Let my husband through."

It wasn't only men in the room. Some of the more open-minded and enterprising women were also around. Or perhaps they wanted to keep an eye on their husband so their jealousies could reach fever pitch.

I pushed my way through the crowd to her. She put her hand on my shoulder and pulled me on to a wine-shelf, maybe a foot wide, just large enough to perch on. She stood between my legs, sat on my lap, and looked over the men she'd chosen. They all had their pants down, their eyes darting between her eyes and her breasts...the same way I had at the dinner table weeks earlier.

"You," she pointed to the old black man. He was gray and balding, a navy tattoo on his arm. A solid gut was in front of him, but he looked like a sane adult at least. No evidence of drugs, or aggression...yet.

"You're bigger than my husband. My husband Mike," she said, laughing drunkenly, "Come here, let me tell you a story."

He smiled and said, "Ok, ok," like a nervous flirt on a first date.

She laid back across my chest, inviting the man to suck on her chest. He did so, and the top of his head was inches from my face. Watching another man do this to her up close was an emotional firestorm for me. I'd have given anything to smack the hell out of him, either as a father or a lover, or both. I was trapped. I started to see where her game was going...or so I thought.

His head rose up and they kissed. Not like feral lovers, but like two old souls deeply in love. She really knew how to bring the artificial girlfriend experience. The man was totally at her mercy.

"You can put it in," she whispered to him, "Rip off my panties."