Chapter 220 - SOPHIA’S

My breath caught, and my body froze; I felt the blood drain from my face. The phone in my hand subtly trembled as I looked at the text I'd just received.

The familiar face, large expressive brown eyes, dark wavy hair cascading down around her face, over smooth, lightly tanned shoulders. The familiar mischievous grin I knew so well, smiling at me, eyes twinkling.

Then, the less-familiar aroused nipples erect like little erasers atop soft, curving bare breasts. And the utterly unfamiliar graphic display of wispy trimmed pubic hair framing open labia, glistening with moisture as I'd never imagined. Never could have imagined.

My daughter Sophia. I was holding an explicit nude photo of my 19-year-old daughter.

Myriad emotions flashed through my psyche: confusion, shock, bewilderment. The text was from my daughter—or at least, her phone. It was only the photograph, no accompanying message. How did I get this? She accidentally texted the wrong person? A third person sent it? Why? What should I do? I don't want this on my phone, for god's sake. Fuck.

As I struggled to comprehend the photo I'd just opened, part of me realized how beautiful Sophia had become—a beautiful, sensual woman—a sexy, mature, attractive woman. But she was my daughter, my little princess, who loved ponies and kittens and danced around the house in a costume tutu and tiara. The juxtaposition of the contrasting images was bewildering.

I remembered to breathe and took a deep, cleansing breath. I dropped my arm down, closed my eyes, and tried to regain my composure. With another deep breath, I peeled open my eyes and stared vacantly at a drop of condensation tracing its way down the side of a glass of iced tea I'd poured just before getting the text.

Okay. It's just a picture. Might not mean anything. It must have been sent by accident, wrong number and all. Then who was she sending nude pics of herself like this to? A boyfriend? I don't know of anyone she's seeing.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts of such tangential concerns. Not really my business who Sophia was texting naked photos to—she's an adult, a grown woman who can do whatever she likes in this regard. But still. Almost against my will, as if drawn by some outside force, I lifted the phone and examined the photo again.

My little girl—my same smiling, cute little girl—somehow had a woman's body attached to her smiling face. I blinked slowly and looked at the photo more carefully, with less shock and confusion than with my first viewing.

Obviously, I recognized her. And I'd seen Sophia topless at our pool many times over the years, including that summer—as recently as the week before. Over time, in passing, I'm sure I'd clinically noted that her breasts had developed. To me, however, they were just a natural part of my daughter—she had a cute figure and corresponding cute compact boobs. I'd also occasionally seen Sophia fully nude, but usually briefly, in passing or at a distance. But never like this.

The photo in my hand showed my daughter totally naked and graphically posed. Sophia faced the camera squatting with her legs open, with one hand on her inner thigh next to her pussy, pulling it slightly to the side and the other cupping and lifting her breast. Her smile wasn't mischievous after all; it was an alluring, sensual half-smile. Her sexual expression, eyes boring into the camera with wanton desire, was something unrecognizable on my daughter. Not my little Sophia.

As I looked at the toned young woman on my phone, I noted her soft, well-formed breasts—a whole handful at least—with deep pink, perfect nipples, and I felt a warm flutter in my belly. Her toned abs reached between her hipbones and her rounded mons and vulva. Her wavy inner labia peeked out between soft, closely trimmed, almost black feathery pubic hair and aroused puffy outer lips.

My cock stirred involuntarily in my shorts. I was seeing my daughter Sophia for the first time as a sexy, hot woman. A naked, aroused woman. I looked away from the phone and tried to will my swelling dick to stop reacting. Fucking, hell, man, you're getting turned on by your own daughter. Get control of yourself here.

I gave a final quick glance at my daughter's pic—okay, maybe a lingering look—and swiped the phone back to its home screen and slipped it into my pocket. Took a few deep breaths. Didn't have a clue how to react or what to do.

I sat down heavily on a stool at our kitchen island and pondered. I took a long swig of iced tea. As I mulled things over, I absentmindedly swirled the base of the glass in the rings of condensation on the counter. I batted and spun my wife Angeline's phone with my finger; she'd left it on the counter before going upstairs to shower after an afternoon of sunning and swimming. I kicked my foot lightly on the side of the island. My mind raced.

Reasoning that sending the photo was accidental, I could make light of the error and text Sophia back, telling her I believed she had meant this for someone else. That would be embarrassing for her, but it would address the matter, and we could laugh and move past it.

Or, I could wait and see if she catches the mistake and says or does something herself. Or wait and mention it in person. That might be uncomfortable and embarrassing for us both.

For a millisecond, a niggling thought flashed that maybe the text was not an accident. I instantly shoved that idea back into the dark recesses of my mind to join the ranks of the unthinkable and dismissed it. My daughter couldn't have intentionally sent a sexy nude to her Dad. Certainly—well, pretty sure—not.

I considered whether a different person sent it to me using Sophia's phone, either accidentally or intentionally, as a joke or to embarrass Sophia. I also weighed whether to tell Sophia's mother, Angeline, before doing anything else to get her take on things.

Finally, I decided the best course of action was to talk with Angeline because I knew that she and Sophia were very close. I hoped that my wife might have a better feel for how to handle things.

Standing to go upstairs, I noticed a text message notification on Angeline's phone. We knew each other's passcodes and often used each other's phones to answer, make a call or text, check our mutual calendar, or send messages. I casually picked up her phone and opened the text without a second thought.

The text was addressed to "Mom & Dad," part of a chain discussing our summer plans to go to a local lakeside resort. My eyes widened as I saw that the most recent text was from Sophia, with an attached photo—THE photo.

I paused as I absorbed this new information and shook my head. I looked at my phone and noted that the photo I'd received was also in the "Mom & Dad" chain, but I hadn't noticed Angeline was included when I first saw it. My surprise turned to amusement. I chuckled, firmly convinced by this new information that the photo had to have been sent by accident. Oh, this is rich; Sophia accidentally sent the nude to both of us. Can't wait for Angeline to learn about this; teasing our daughter about careless texting will be fun. I felt relieved to no longer be alone in this debacle.

I dropped Angeline's phone into my pocket and headed off to surprise my sexy, hopefully still-naked-showering wife with our daughter's little blooper. But I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and quirked my head with a random logical thought. How would it have happened for Sophia to text the picture accidentally? To both of us. She would have seen the previous conversation with our names in the chat.

I reasoned that maybe Sophia's intended recipient had a text next to our chat in a list of her text conversations, and she could have inadvertently clicked the wrong one. I supposed that was possible.

As an alternative scenario, I again considered the possibility that a third person had used Sophia's phone and sent the text and picture, maybe without Sophia's knowledge. I pulled out Angeline's phone again and opened it to her texts. "Mom & Dad" was the most recent text—our group chain that included the nude.

The message before that was to "Mom." Curious but without particular expectations, I clicked on the messages in that chain. There was a long, sporadic exchange of earlier texts over time: going shopping, notifying going out, asking to borrow the car, that she'd picked up dry cleaning, a picture of Sophia and her girlfriend in a restaurant eating sushi, and some GIF of a dog kissing a duck or something. I scrolled to earlier messages and stopped at one that caught my attention.

The text read, "Remember this?" A photo showed Sophia standing nude in the kitchen with her back to the camera, looking over her shoulder, and smiling. A lovely picture, but the written question piqued my curiosity more than the actual photograph.

It wasn't unusual for there to be non-sexual nudity in our family. We were comfortable with casual nudity at home, such as changing or going to and from the shower. Angeline and our two girls, Sophia and her older sister Marie, would often go topless or even nude at our private swimming pool, and I would sometimes do the same. However, as the girls got older, when we were all together, they tended to keep their bottoms on, and I generally wore swimsuits.

The kitchen nude photo was an innocent-looking shot, as if Sophia had popped in from outside at the pool to grab a drink or something. Knowing that my wife and daughters enjoyed the sun au naturale, being nude like that wasn't particularly noteworthy.

Although I told myself the nude of Sophia was nothing out of the ordinary, I couldn't help but notice that my daughter had an adorable, round, and well-toned butt. I chalked up that thought to my earlier newfound revelations about her adult womanly body. I tried to focus on my task at hand.

As I stood staring at the photo of my daughter's naked backside, curiosity caused me to wonder why grabbing something from the kitchen—even nude— would be memorable. What was Sophia asking Angeline to remember?

I scrolled back through my wife and daughter's text chain, going back almost six months, but saw nothing similar. However, my interest was kindled, so I tapped the photos tab on Angeline's phone and began randomly scrolling through many photos and videos.

Angeline had over three thousand pictures and nearly a thousand videos on her phone—some beautiful, some fun, and so many silly things. There were too many to effectively scan through, so I clicked on "Albums," hoping Angeline might have better organized her photos.

I found a variety of album collections, such as "Family," "European Trip," and "Recipes." And a cryptic album labeled "Misc Records." It was nondescript and ambiguous—the type of name one would pass over as uninteresting or unimportant.

So I clicked on it.

The album had dozens of cute photos of Sophia. In her bikini, jeans, shorts with a t-shirt, and wrapped up in a robe by the couch. Cuddling our cat, Mittens, Cooking by the stove, and laughing with girlfriends. I scrolled and saw a couple more slightly risqué shots like the one in the kitchen and several of her topless out by the pool. I no longer pretended I wasn't appreciating my daughter's sexy body.

The next swipe through the album caused my eyes to widen and hone in with interest—I was past getting shocked by photos by that point. The album contained many more explicit nudes. Revealing, sexy, and overtly sexual pics of Sophia. Like the one I'd received. Naked from the front, back, and side, standing, squatting, crawling. Always smiling happily—or more accurately, sensually.

My eyes drank in several dozen photos with multiple views of my daughter's ass, tits, legs, belly, and pussy. Standing full-frontal or sitting, squatting with her legs together and others with her legs spread and her pussy open and exposed. And wet. Pics of Sophia lying on her front, thrusting her ass up, and on her hands and knees from behind, pulling her bum cheek to the side, showing her pussy peeking between her legs. Covering her naked pussy demurely or sliding her fingers between her wet labia.

Photos were taken straight on, from above looking down, and from low down angling up. All in and around our house. Kitchen, living room, pool, and bathroom. All on my wife's phone. Sophia's mother's phone.

I squirmed as my dick hardened painfully in my tightened shorts. I was turned on by the sexy photos of my daughter and couldn't deny it. Sophia was gorgeous. Beautiful. Alluring. A hot, sexy, fuckable woman. Her smiling face and twinkling dark eyes seemed to focus right on me. Teasing, tempting. But she was my daughter. Shit, how can I be perving over my own daughter like this?

My struggle with incestuous guilt evaporated as it dawned on me that my wife probably took all those pictures. That seemed most likely since they were stored on her phone. I imagined the two of them—my wife and daughter—wandering from place to place, setting up explicit poses, and taking sexy photos. What have they been up to? Was Angeline naked as well when she took these pics? That would be hot as fuck.

I nodded to myself. My wife, Angeline—a beautiful, sexy, hot, alluring woman—most certainly had taken the amazing sexual photos of our adult teenage daughter. That thought caused my cock to throb and warmth to spread from my balls to my belly. I wondered how it happened, what led to such an endeavor—whether it was just fun picture time or if my wife and daughter were physically doing sexual things. Fucking hell, I'm so damn horny now. Angeline's going to get a wild surprise fuck soon.

I scooted back to the kitchen, where I had found Angeline's phone, and Airdropped all of the sexy photos of Sophia to myself. I sat and scrolled quickly through the other Albums on Angeline's phone but found no other sexy pics.

Then I wondered whether Sophia had also taken pics of her mother, Angeline. Whether the photo shoot was set up only as a photographer and subject or as a mutual effort trading off who posed. Oh, that would be so hot if they took naked sex pics of each other. I wonder where Angeline's pictures would be? Most likely on Sophia's phone, or maybe downloaded somewhere?

Unsure of what to do, I decided not to confront my wife or daughter right away. I needed time to process what I had found and to investigate further to learn more about the situation, including why my wife had secret explicit photos of our daughter in the first place. I also wanted to figure out if there were any sexy photos of Angeline somewhere. In the meantime, I would keep my discovery to myself, at least for the immediate future.

I put Angeline's phone back on the kitchen counter where I found it, feeling somehow naughty, aroused, and intrigued all at once. And by that point, I was decidedly horny. The combination of erotic photos, the circumstances of their discovery, and the knowledge that my hot wife was upstairs, probably naked or close to it, made my adrenaline spike and my cock surge with arousal.

I could worry about the nudes of our daughter later. Now, it was time to seek real-life sexual relief, which hopefully awaited me on the second floor.

I climbed the stairs and headed to our en suite bathroom, where the shower had stopped running a while ago. I always loved seeing Angeline naked in the shower—despite having been married for almost 25 years—and hoped to catch her in some semblance of undress. My hard-on returned to full mast on my way upstairs as I imagined and hoped to find my hot wife in her birthday suit. I was not disappointed.

Angeline was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, drying her hair. In movies, TV, and probably often in real life, women frequently wrap a towel around themselves above their breasts after a shower, usually with a matching turban towel on their wet hair. Not Angeline, fortunately for me. Instead, she stood nude, uncovered, exuding feminine beauty.

I stood in the bathroom doorway and watched Angeline's full, grapefruit-size breasts sway and wobble with the movement of her raised arms; her nipples were erect in the relatively cool air. The muscles in her toned ass rippled as she shifted her weight with her movement. My angle behind and to the side of her, plus the reflection in the mirror, gave me a perfect three-dimensional view of her in her naked glory. My cock pulsed with arousal as she reached, brushed, and dried her hair.

Angeline met my gaze in the mirror and smiled. "Looks like you're either a bit late or right on time."

"Meaning...?" I asked carefully, amused but a bit puzzled.

"Well, on the one hand, you missed your chance to join me or watch me in the shower, which I know you love. But on the other hand, I'm done cleaning up, I'm dry, and available now..." Angeline purposely dropped her eyes to the prominent bulge in my shorts. "In case you have ideas other than showering." She tipped her head coyly and ran the tip of her tongue along her upper lip, then waggled her round, firm bum at me.

I paused a moment as my mind superimposed the sexy images of our naked daughter on her mother, then took and exhaled a deep breath. Our daughter Sophia looked so much like a younger Angeline. Both were incredibly sexy—I was fortunate to have two such beautiful women in my life.

"That obvious, huh?" I said with a grin. "Believe it or not, this—" I gestured down to my crotch— "happened because I was picturing you naked while I walked up the stairs."

"Mmm. Well, glad I didn't disappoint. I was having some pretty naughty thoughts of my own in the shower and hoped you would try to catch me."

"Enjoyed the handheld shower, did you?" I smirked.

"A little—enough to be ready, willing, and able to ... mmm, you decide."

All thoughts of pictures of our daughter fled my mind, and I honed in on Angeline like an attacking shark. I wrapped my arms around her torso from behind and made a grrr-ing sound as I pretended to bite her neck, causing her to giggle. Then I slid one hand up onto one of her boobs and dropped the other to her hips by her pussy, and rocked her side to side with a twisting motion.

Angeline laughed and pivoted around to face me, her eyes flaring with desire. Her full tits brushed across my chest, then mashed against me as we mutually pulled together in a passionate kiss. I cupped her toned ass, my fingers playfully tickling the edge of her pussy from behind.

"Mmm," Angeline murmured. "I think you're overdressed here."

I pulled back slightly and drank in my wife's ravishing body as she breathed rapidly with arousal. Captivated by her full breasts rising with her heaving chest, I briefly compared them to our daughter's. Angeline's boobs were larger, and her nipples—brownish-tinged with pink—were slightly darker than Sophia's, which leaned darker pink. Both women's boobs were naturally firm with delightfully round nipples, perfect in my eyes.

Angeline's belly was toned with a hint of roundness, and her muscular legs led up and separated at her pussy. A narrow, roughly heart-shaped patch of closely trimmed dark pubic hair hovered over her bare labia, which glistened with moisture not caused by her shower.

My cock throbbed as I pulled off my shirt, shorts, and underwear, freeing my erection to bob in the open air. My dick twitched in response to Angeline's overt appreciation and sexual hunger.

I stepped forward, hoisted Angeline onto the bathroom counter, and pressed her legs open to the sides. I ran my hands along her inner thighs from her knees to her pussy, and tickled around her vulva. I gave an exaggerated leer. "Now, my dearie, time for a delightful taste treat."

Angeline leaned back on her arms and let her head loll back. Her alluring pussy pressed forward and opened invitingly. "Mmm, yes, please. Taste me... and touch me and fuck me... I'm wet and ready right now."

My fingers traced Angeline's puffy nether lips as I knelt down in front of her, my eyes glued to her open, exposed pussy. She was sopping wet—her cleft was slick with pussy juice. "My god, you're gorgeous," I mumbled as I circled her labia with my tongue, then slid it between her wavy inner lips, separating, tasting, and tickling the delicate folds.

Angeline's pussy tasted of delicious nectar—a sweet and slightly fragrant mix of fresh delight. I loved the way she smelled and tasted; each lick sent sexual pulses into my rock-hard dick. I brushed her vaginal opening and her perineum with my finger as I ran my tongue up between her lips and around the outside of her clit, which pressed out from under its hood as if eager to be sampled.

"Oh, yes, oh god." Angeline panted, her voice slightly echoing against the bathroom walls. She shuddered as my tongue made direct contact with her clit. I slowly circled the little nub, then flicked my tongue over and around it, causing her hips to writhe and her belly to undulate with pleasure.

Angeline's louder moans reverberated through the room. Encouraged me to make more aggressive contact. I alternated rapidly flicking my tongue across her clit and sucking it between my lips with tiny pulses. At the same time, I circled my fingertip around Angeline's vaginal opening, then pressed one, then two fingers just inside her and caressed her sensitive nerves there.

Angeline gasped loudly and pulled the back of my head in so my mouth mashed hard against her sodden pussy. "Oh, fuck yeah, like that... right there." She writhed her pelvis and moaned.

My intense stimulation of Angeline's clit and vagina after she'd already worked herself up in the shower caused her climax to surge and explode without warning. She squeezed her thighs against my head and moaned loudly as her whole body trembled. She arched her back and quivered a moment, holding her breath, then released forward with a huge gasp and groan, panting heavily. I continued lightly circling her clit, almost like an oral caress, as her climax waned.

"Wow, shit, that was—" Suddenly, Angeline's mouth formed an "O." She gasped and involuntarily took a deep, ragged, uneven breath as her body quaked and a second orgasm shuddered through her. She tensed tightly momentarily, then went limp like a puppet whose strings had been suddenly released.

Angeline collapsed forward into my arms. "Oh, god," she weakly panted. "Don't know if that was one extended or two in a row, but it was incredible."

I pulled Angeline's warm, soft body against me and wrapped my arms around her. I inhaled deeply with my cheek pressed into her hair, breathing in the fresh scent of her shampoo. My dick throbbed with excitement and yearning, her explosive climaxes fueling my already skyrocketing arousal.

"Let's get you off this hard counter," I said as I shifted my hands under Angeline's butt, lifted her, and pulled her against my body, face to face. She wrapped her legs around my waist and held her arms around my neck and shoulders as I carried her from the bathroom into our bedroom. The underside of my erect cock pressed and slid against her wet pussy as I walked.

I bent my knees and lowered the fiery ball of human sexual energy down and onto our bed. Angeline stretched and lay back, ran her hands through her hair while biting her bottom lip, and slowly spread her legs open. "Your turn."

My eyes flared at the sight of Angeline's naked body laid out before me like a sacrificial offering, glistening with a light sheen of perspiration. Her firm breasts drifted slightly to her sides, topped by erect nipples reaching up as if begging to be licked and sucked. Her pussy was dripping with wetness and swollen with arousal, her delicate inner labia peeled open in invitation.

Burning sexual desire radiated from deep in my belly, and my dick pulsed with anticipation. I was so worked up over so long that I felt like I could cum from a strong breeze.

"God, you're so beautiful," I murmured. I guided my turgid cock to Angeline's entrance and swirled it around and between her puffy lips to lubricate it with her copious juices. Then I pressed smoothly and fully into her welcoming tunnel until our pelvises kissed, and I moaned with pleasure. "Mmm, yeah, perfect fit,"

Angeline hummed in agreement. I slid in and out easily for a few strokes, then sped up. She had just cum, and I had been edging on and off for the past hour, so we were both ready to fuck rather than make love. Angeline bent her knees and opened her legs further to me, allowing me to penetrate deeper. I began thrusting with more force, and my dick felt the grip of her vaginal walls as I pumped deep with primal abandon.

With a moan of pleasure, Angeline grabbed her tits and mashed them upwards, then pulled and stretched her nipples; when she was highly aroused, she loved almost painful stimulation of her nipples. I hooked my arms behind her knees and pressed her legs up towards her shoulders, spreading her pussy wider. I slammed into her with smooth, powerful strokes, sometimes deep enough to lightly brush her cervix with my cock head.

"Oh, yeah," Angeline groaned, her words broken with her panting exertion. "Fill me, fuck me... mmm. So. Good. Love you... love your hard cock... in me." She pressed her pelvis forward to meet each of my thrusts, her powerful abs contracting and releasing.

My muscles flexed, my heart raced, and our breathing became more ragged and heavy. We were both soon coated with sweat and lost in an ecstatic field of lust.

Before long, I felt the warm, roiling sexual pressure deep in my belly and my balls. I leaned down and pressed my lips to Angeline's; we kissed firmly to maintain connection despite the rocking of our bodies. Our tongues entwined and swirled each other's. I knew I wouldn't last much longer, so I didn't try to hold out longer and allowed myself to be immersed in waves of euphoric pleasure with my beautiful wife.

Then, my body trembled, and I felt my balls contract. With an animalistic roar, I pressed my upper body up and thrust my pelvis hard against Angeline's. I felt semen race up my shaft and deep into Angeline's hot, wet vagina. The explosive release of my pent-up arousal blasted viscous liquid over and over deep into my wife like an out-of-control fire hose.

I collapsed onto Angeline, my dick still inside her warm, nurturing sheath. Her vagina undulated and coaxed the last bits of semen from my slowly softening rod. Our breathing adjusted, and we fell into a relaxed, matching rhythm as we held each other. Loved each other.

As if on cue, we simultaneously purred, "Mmmm, nice." I lifted my head and met her gaze, and we both chuckled. "Jinx," we again said in unison, then laughed. We shared a synchronization of thoughts and emotions that couples sometimes develop over years of intimacy.

I felt my dick slip out of Angeline, followed by a dollop of cum that trickled down across her ass and onto the bed. I stood, smiling at the radiant beauty lying before me. A mix of semen, pussy juice, and perspiration glistened on her labia and thighs. Her tidy patch of pubic hair was matted by our fluids and seemed to float like a crown above her bare pussy lips. I never tired of seeing her nude and marveled at how gorgeous my wife was.

Angeline sat up, met my gaze, and chuckled. "You look like a diner after a big meal trying to decide whether he's too full for some tempting dessert." Her eyes dropped to my crotch. "Hang on a sec. Speaking of dessert, gotta get this." She grabbed my penis and licked under and around the head, then slurped the tip partly into her mouth with rapid pulsing sucks. She sat back, smiling, and smacked her lips.

I raise my eyebrows at her questioningly.

"You were leaking, and a tiny drop of cum was about to fall off your cock and make a huge mess all over the place, so I had to catch and stop it."

I looked from Angeline to the bed—the crumpled bedding, displaced pillows, and sizable wet patch evidencing our recent tryst—then back at Angeline. We both laughed again.

"See what you mean; making a mess here would be a shame," I laughed. I leaned in and kissed Angeline's forehead. "I think a shower might be in order," I said. "I know you just had one, but care to join me for a reprise?"

"Sounds like a perfect idea; lead on."

Sophia was staying at a friend's that night, so Angeline and I had the rest of the evening to ourselves. We had a light dinner and then watched a movie on Netflix. Took turns giving each other massages, which led to gentle love-making in the living room.

I had mostly—but not completely—put aside the memories and thoughts of Sophia's photos as Angeline and I enjoyed our evening together. Our shared intimate connection took precedence and pressed other concerns or issues into the background. Out of sight, out of mind. For the time being, I didn't feel the need to probe into the matter, so I left it and focused on the moment. On my wonderful wife. At least for that evening.

******

Chapter 2:

Sounds of birds, a distant lawn mower, and smooth jazz permeated my sleep, encroaching and distracting. I struggled to focus and continue my dream as if I were finding a lost place in a book or rewinding and restarting a show.

Angeline stands nude by the pool, smiling. Posing. Sophia walks over and moves a lock of hair off Angeline's face. Brushes something off her nipple. Sophia is also nude. They are both beautiful. Angeline squats down, knees slightly apart, and blows a kiss... at a camera? Angeline suddenly is standing with a camera looking down at naked Sophia, who lies on the pool deck, her hand covering her pussy... or rubbing it?

The lawnmower engine roared louder, and light assailed my closed eyelids—a bright, unwelcome intrusion. I concentrated, trying to shut out the light and return to the events by the pool, desperate to continue the episode. I needed to understand the how and why. But I couldn't. The scene, the dream itself, slipped away from me as I helplessly reached out, aching to hold on. The visions dissipated like wisps of smoke in the wind, confusing and unsettling me.

I fought the glue holding my eyelids together and peeled open my eyes. I was not by the pool. I was in bed. The room was bright; the intrusive light was the sun streaming through a gap in the blinds. It was morning, and I'd been dreaming—just dreaming. I remembered dreaming something about Sophia and Angeline taking pictures, but even as I recalled that, the memory faded into obscurity.

Another dream—vivid yet ephemeral. I'd had several in the three weeks since I'd discovered the nudes of Sophia, and they seemed to be occurring more frequently. The unanswered questions were plaguing me, as were the photos and my reactions to them.

I'm not sure why I'd hesitated and didn't just ask about the photo—the simplest and most obvious solution. Perhaps some stubborn part of me wanted to hold out and see what my wife or daughter did. How long they would just ignore what I deemed a significant occurrence.

I sat up in bed, stretched, then shuffled back and leaned against my headboard. My mind was consumed with the need for clarity. I needed to think through my options and decide what to do and how to proceed.

Neither Angeline nor Sophia had done or said anything suggesting they were hiding something. They seemed as close and natural with each other as usual and acted no differently to me. This only added to my confusion, deepening the mystery of the photos and my recurring dreams.

Everyone had been acting as though the cache of sexy photos didn't exist, as if no one had sent Angeline and me an explicit picture of our daughter. That was the most puzzling. Regardless of who sent or took the image, Angeline should have been aware that I received it since it went to both of us. But she never mentioned it—maybe she was waiting for me to address it. Or, possibly, she hadn't noticed that I was on the chain receiving the picture. However, I was skeptical that neither my wife nor daughter knew about my getting the photo.

I felt that Angeline would have shown or talked with me about the photo if she hadn't known it existed before receiving it, out of surprise, concern, or interest. It was conceivable, but unlikely, that Angeline was going through the same mental process as I was, trying to suss out who sent it. The difference, of course—the wrinkle in that logic—was that she had dozens of other nude photos of Sophia on her phone, so her knowledge base was far different from mine.

I struggled to adjust to the photographs' existence and my visceral reaction to them. I was torn between reality and fantasy, natural reactions and societal taboos. I tried to downplay my sexual attraction and arousal because of the photos, rationalizing that I was objectively attracted to sexual pictures of a beautiful woman, not necessarily attracted to my daughter per se.

I could make that case with a straight face, but I knew deep down that wasn't entirely true. Part of me had to admit that some of my attraction was because the pics were of my daughter Sophia. If pressed, I couldn't say with any degree of certainty that the same pics of a different woman would have the same appeal and fascination for me. My struggle was that I felt wrong, guilty, and pervy every time I even partly acknowledged that appeal.

Societal taboos and norms forbade what I was feeling, but I still felt what I felt. Every now and then, I would look at some of the pics, occasionally at all of them. I would get aroused to some extent every time.

I occasionally jerked off or tracked Angeline down after looking through the photos—our sex life was notably more active after finding them. But I hadn't fantasized about actually being with Sophia sexually or masturbated while looking at her photos. Instead, inspired by the images, I mentally put myself in a situation where some woman—not Sophia—was posing in the pictures, and I connected with that fantasy ersatz woman. The closest fantasy I had that actually involved Sophia was one where I secretly spied on the nude photo sessions.

Further complicating my emotional struggles and intellectual curiosity was the fundamental fact that I was sure Sophia would be mortified to discover that I had copies of her pics and horrified to know that I was sexually aroused by them. So I continued playing ignorant and buried my head in the sand.

Sitting on my bed, I realized I couldn't resolve my quandaries by ignoring the issues or without getting more information. And it would only get more uncomfortable to do so the longer I waited. Thus, I decided that my original plan was the best choice: bite the bullet and talk with Angeline about it, get it out in the open, and work things out.

I got out of bed, feeling better, having determined my next step.

******

Chapter 3:

The decision to address the photo of our daughter with my wife was easier than the execution. I wasn't sure I could articulate exactly why I'd hesitated and didn't know why Angeline had. At least for me, it was growing increasingly awkward because neither of us had raised the issue for so long.

Further, the single photo sent to us wasn't my biggest problem; it was everything else. I'd also found Angeline's secret cache of nudes and felt confident she was probably the photographer, but she was unaware of my discovery. I was struggling with denial and personal, emotional, and sexual issues. I felt pressure to make sure I found the right time and place to finally broach the subject.

It was nearly a week after I decided to discuss the matter with Angeline before circumstances were conducive to talking to her about it. I had an out-of-office meeting canceled late enough to warrant going home early instead of returning to the office for a short time. Angeline was off work and home that day, and Sophia was out with friends. I resolved to address the matter head-on and get it over with, come what may.

I circled the house to enter from the back for no reason other than I hoped Angeline might be out by the pool. Probabilities suggested that if I caught her sunbathing or swimming, she would probably be topless or nude. Despite seeing her naked every day, I still loved seeing her like that—especially catching her unaware. I briefly wondered if that was strange or kinky or if most husbands still loved seeing their wives naked after 25 years.

It turned out that Angeline wasn't out back, anyway. I sighed with minor disappointment and entered the house through the lower-level poolside entrance. Music was playing upstairs somewhere, so I headed towards the source, assuming that's where I'd find Angeline.

Passing through the kitchen, I grabbed a beer—as they say, it was 5:00 somewhere—and wandered towards the living room and the sounds of mellow jazz. As I was about to enter the room, I heard voices and stopped dead in my tracks. I listened with bewilderment and intrigue.

"Mmm, your nipples are so hard, stroke them like that. Feels good for you?" It was Angeline's voice.

"So good," said who I was sure was Sophia. "Seeing your fingers stroking your wet pussy makes me so wet; look how wet I am."

"Damn, you are, I love it. Taste yourself from your finger," Angeline purred. "I'll bet you taste delicious."

I was frozen to the spot, out of sight. What the fuck is happening here? What are they doing? Are my wife and daughter having sex? Or... just talking about sex?

"Numm, I taste so good. Imagine how good my pussy tastes," said Sophia.

"I just felt a gush of wetness; my pussy is on fire," Angeline murmured. "Look at my fingers pressing inside me, filling me like a hard cock."

Sophia moaned. "Mmm, lucky cock that would be, like Dad's cock filling you. He must feel good in you. Rub your clit faster; I love how hard you please yourself."

"Mmmm, yes, your Dad fills me perfectly—a perfect fit. Oh, god, I'm so high; my nipples are hard as glass; I'll bet you can even see that from there. I love my nipple squeezed and pulled like this." Angeline's voice was thick with desire.

"That gets me off, too, when I'm really worked up. Watching you pull your nipples and then squeeze your tits is so hot," Sophia said. "Mine are smaller, but see how my nipples stretch and snap back."

I was confused and enthralled at the same time. It sounded like they were demonstrating things on themselves. Talking about what turned them on. I wanted to see what was happening and glanced around for some way to peek without being seen. No obvious option presented itself, so I stayed where I was and settled for just listening.

"Fuck, that's hot," Angeline said. "I'm getting close. Open your legs more. I want to see you spread your pussy lips while you rub your clit."

Like this? You like how my pussy is open and wet, and my clit is throbbing while I circle it like this. Between two fingers—your special 'Mom' technique." Sophia giggled.

"So hot—lucky fingers. I can imagine someone tasting your pussy, licking you," Angeline said in almost a whisper. "I'm jealous of any guy who gets to fuck you."

"Mmmm, that's sexy," Sophia moaned loudly. Mmm, Mom. I gonna cum... really soon... nearly there; I want to cum together," Sophia panted. "See you and cum with you. You close?"

"Fuck, mmm, yes. It's so hot seeing you like this. You have such a gorgeous, sexy body, all worked up. So beautiful—my beautiful baby girl. All grown up and mmm." Angeline was almost whispering.

"Hot and horny because you're so sexy and... fuck, Mom, I imagine naked bodies sliding against you, a hard cock pounding into you." Sophia was moaning loudly. "Stroking and caressing your naked body."

"Lips meeting yours, cock thrusting in your hot pussy," Angeline's volume rose.

I recognized my wife's sounds and words—Angeline was on the verge of cumming. My confusion was getting mixed up with arousal at hearing my wife and daughter getting off together, listening from my safe hiding place. I still had no idea what exactly they were doing, though. It sounded like internet or FaceTime sex but in person.

"Mmmm, oooh," Sophia cried with a trembling voice, followed by a loud, extended humming sound.

"Yes, damn, that's so hot," blurted Angeline. "Fuuuck, aahh." Her voice trembled.

I listened to my daughter and wife orgasm loudly together and couldn't hold back any longer—I had to see what they were doing. I leaned around the corner of the archway, then had to step into the living room far enough to see the two of them. The scene that greeted me has been forever singed into my mind. I stood, transfixed by the sight.

My wife, Angeline, and my daughter, Sophia, were sitting stark naked on the floor, facing each other with their legs spread to the sides, fully exposing their open pussies. Opening their pussies to each other.

Sophia leaned against an armchair and was slowly caressing her belly and breasts with one hand and gently tracing around her gaping vagina, labia, and inner thighs—her eyes were closed. Her expression was euphoric, as if receiving post-orgasmic, loving caresses of a lover.

Angeline sat against the sofa; she alternated watching our daughter while biting her lower lip and looking down at her own saturated pussy. She was gently pulling her nether lips open as if investigating the evidence of her own orgasm and rolling and squeezing her nipple with the other hand. Maybe wanting more.

I stood mesmerized, flabbergasted, and confused. I took in the scene, looking back and forth between Angeline and Sophia—my wife and my daughter. But contrary to expectations, despite the eroticism of the scene, my bewilderment caused the remnants of my previous arousal to dwindle rather than ignite.

I saw what was happening but could not process the unexpectedly bizarre situation. I shook my head and muttered—out loud, evidently, "What the fuck... is happening here?"

Angeline and Sophia's heads snapped toward me; their eyes widened, and their faces flushed with shock and surprise. The phrase "deer in the headlights" flashed through my mind.

"Fuck! DAD," shrieked Sophia. She clamped her legs together, her eyes darting from me to the room in panic.

"Oh, shit. Marcus, we can explain," Angeline said instinctively, holding up one hand as if warding me off and cupping her pussy with the other.

They both grabbed cover; Sophia pulled sofa pillows down and held them in front of her like a shield, and Angeline stood, picked up a shirt, and pulled in against her chest.

My mind was a jumble of confusion and disorientation in the emotionally charged room. I didn't feel remotely aroused at that moment. I was too overwhelmed by the situation. My brain struggled to make sense of what had happened.

I shook my head. "I... I need... I don't understand... what are...?" I pressed both palms out as if calming someone. "I... you know, we'll figure this out later."

I wheeled around and strode out of the room; I needed time to assimilate and process what I'd seen. I wandered into our backyard, disoriented, and flopped down on a lounge chair by our swimming pool. My mind raced. I was confused and tried to make sense of what I'd just seen and heard.

Turned out I didn't have to wait long. But the explanation Angeline would soon provide exceeded even my strangest fantasies.

*******

Chapter 4:

"Please, Marcus, let me explain," Angeline pleaded to me as she sat on a lawn chair next to me; she had slipped on a long shirt over her nude body and followed me outside. "We need to talk about this. I'm begging you—please don't shut down on me."

I was utterly at a loss as to what I should say or do or how I felt. If someone had told me even that morning that I would walk in on my naked wife and daughter masturbating together, I might have thought the idea would turn me on and that I'd find the situation hot and sexy.

Instead, I was bewildered and confused—at least at that moment. Even weeks of looking at explicit, sexy photos of my daughter hadn't prepared me for the reality of what I walked in on. Sexy "on paper," but overwhelming in person. However, after my initial shock, I did grow to appreciate the situation better.

"Are you angry?" Angeline asked. "It really isn't what you think, I'm sure. What are you feeling? Please say something."

I glanced at my gorgeous wife. Looked into her dark brown, pleading eyes. Shook my head. "I'm not mad. Confused, surprised, and not at all sure what I think or what I feel right now. I'm trying to process things." I quirked my head. "What... how was... what the hell, Angeline? I mean, what did I walk in on? Are you and Sophia having sex?"

Angeline looked slightly taken aback. "Good lord, no. No, Marcus, we're not. It's not like that; Sophia and I are not having sex. We've never touched each other sexually." She appeared lost in thought. Contemplative. "What we have, what you saw, is something different. It's a special connection Sophia and I have—something that's developed fairly recently."

"Not touched? How... so, what were you doing? Demonstrating? I don't get it."

"It's complicated. But Marcus, please know how much Sophia and I love you. We would never want to do anything to hurt you in any way. What we were doing, well, I'm not exactly sure how to describe it... it's not something we planned, heard about, or defined for ourselves. It just evolved, just happened." Angeline reached out and touched my arm. "Please, I love you so much; I want you to understand."

Our eyes met; I saw the intensity, the honesty reflected in Angeline's. She hadn't lied to me—she had just omitted a significant change in her relationship with our daughter.

I nodded, my mind swirling, and took a deep breath. "Okay, please, let's figure things out. Help me understand."

Angeline's expression softened, showing hope and relief. She sighed heavily. "Yes. As I said, it's complicated—hard to know where to start."

"Why don't you just start from the beginning?" I suggested. "You said this... thing with Sophia evolved, so it had to have begun at some point. Start there, then I'll certainly have questions."

Angeline nodded. "Okay, then. Yes, that makes sense, but I need to put a couple things in context and add some perspective." She paused as if collecting her thoughts, pursed her lips, then looked at me. "First, remember that Sophia and I have always been close, and she has always opened up to me freely about most of her life, including relationships and sex. And second, as you know, all of us have been comfortable and fairly uninhibited regarding nudity, at least around each other."

I chuckled softly. "Yes, you and Sophia are like peas in a pod. I'm not sure many daughters are quite so candid about their sex lives with their mothers as she is with you—from what you've told me. Not even her sister, right? Marie's not so open?"

"That's all true," Angeline said. "I have a vague, speculative idea of when Marie became sexually active—I think as a freshman in college—but we never discussed specifics the way I have with her younger sister. Sophia is the opposite and tells me pretty much everything. She told me before having sex that she was ready and even asked me for some advice. I think I know about every man—and woman—she has slept with and when."

"Woman?" I said with raised eyebrows.

"A couple of one-time dalliances; the first was the night after her eighteenth birthday party."

I considered that. "Huh. Learn something new every day." I took a deep breath and tried to calm my jumped-up nerves, still a bit shaken from walking in on my wife and daughter like that. "All right then, got the background context now. I'm all ears."

Angeline pulled her chair closer and leaned forward. "I'll focus on giving you the sequence of events. But realize that as things progressed, there were emotional and psychological elements that I'm probably glossing over." Angeline paused and waited for my nod of acknowledgment to continue. She took a deep breath. "Okay, well, here I go."

"It all started almost a year ago, last summer after Sophia finished high school. I thought I was alone at home and was doing a little 'self-pleasuring' after getting worked up in the shower. I was lying on our bed, naked, and was rubbing and fingering myself and getting close to cumming, when Sophia surprised me."

Angeline looked at me to check my reaction; I hung on every word, my eyes focused with interest. She then continued. "I heard a sharp 'Oh!' and I turned to see Sophia standing in the doorway, staring at me. I froze—literally stopped moving in mid-motion with one hand over my clit and the other with two fingers inside me.

"Sophia stood like a statue, just looking. We must've looked like a freeze-frame in a movie, where time stops. I didn't know what to do or say, and nothing was handy to cover myself with. So I waited, stock-still, for something to happen. For Sophia to react."

"Damn," I muttered. "How did she react?"

"She didn't do anything. Just stood there, our eyes locked. I watched her face and saw her light up with interest—or maybe excitement. I waited a little longer, and Sophia bit the corner of her lip, still rooted to the spot. I don't know why, but I slowly started moving my hand on my clit again; it was like I was in a dream."

I listened, enthralled, picturing the scenario as if watching a slow-motion film.

Angeline continued, "I watched Sophia carefully, gauging her reactions, and continued gently circling and rubbing myself. It was the strangest encounter; I'm not sure why I didn't just stop or say something, but somehow, in that moment, it seemed right."

"Sophia just stood there and watched?" I struggled to reconcile the oddity of the scenario with past expectations and experiences. I couldn't. "Didn't she say or do anything?"

Angeline shrugged and shook her head. "No—other than give me a tiny smile and bite the corner of her lip. I figured by that point, in for a penny and all, so I went back to full-on masturbating. I knew Sophia was watching, but eventually I ignored her and let myself go. I took care of myself the way I always did until I came. A pretty exuberant orgasm, as I recall. Sophia watched me until I finished, then turned and walked away. Never said a thing." Angeline looked at me expectantly.

"Wow," I muttered. "That's so wild, and... well, fuck, just... bizarre. Incredible." I quirked my head. "I can't imagine just continuing like that with her standing there. I mean, how did you feel? Weren't you embarrassed? Or... I don't mean to sound pervy... but... did you get turned on by her watching? Is that why you kept doing it?"

Angeline dropped her eyes and chewed her lip in thought. "Hmm. Good question. I think yes, probably, thinking about it in hindsight." She lifted her eyes up to the side. "I wasn't aroused at first; I was shocked and uncertain. And then, when I continued rubbing myself, I was really turned on but didn't think it was because our daughter was watching; I felt I was carrying on as usual. At least that's what I told myself."

She met my gaze. "But now, looking back, I can see that once I got back into it, some latent exhibitionist in me rose to the surface and that having an audience turned me on more. I'm sure I played it up: bigger movements, louder moaning, more revealing views for my personal voyeur."

I shook my head. "I can't believe Sophia didn't do or say anything. I'm sure I couldn't have controlled myself like that." I adjusted myself in my shorts. "I'm getting kind of stirred up now just talking about it and imagining you naked like that, touching yourself, getting off with someone watching." I gave Angeline an odd look. "Our daughter watching."

Angeline rolled her eyes. "Not surprised; I think you were born horny. And you seemed to have recovered pretty quickly from your shock at walking in on us."

"Not sure about that. I'm still shocked; perhaps a titch less upset, though." I pressed my lips together in thought. "Okay, so obviously more happened to go from there to here. What happened next?"

Angeline nodded. "Well, Sophia and I didn't talk about it right away. We both acted as if nothing happened for a few days. We both needed time to process and figure out what we felt about it, how to broach the subject, and what to say. Nearly a week went by, then I decided—as the "responsible" adult—to talk with Sophia directly."

Angeline's words triggered self-deprecation over my delay in bringing up the sexy photos. But I wanted to keep the conversation on-task, so I prompted, "This should be interesting." My pulse increased with anticipation.

"That's putting it mildly," said Angeline. She hesitated as if debating what to share. Took a breath and looked at me. "I'm not sure how much detail you want here; things got, um, unusual."

Her prevarication only succeeded in spurring my interest. I chuckled quietly. "This whole thing is unusual—to me, at least." I met Angeline's eyes. "Look, you want me to understand this situation, and to do that, I need to hear what happened. Some level of detail is probably necessary to get a complete picture. So, just tell it as it happened; describe things like you're telling a story."

Angeline gave a tiny nod, almost to herself, then sat up and spoke more confidently. "Okay then. I knocked on Sophia's bedroom door the following Saturday. I peeked in and asked her if we could talk. She was sitting up against the headboard on her bed, looking at her phone. She said, 'Sure, what's up?' as if we both didn't know. I said I wanted to talk about what happened and what she saw. Sophia just nodded, and I sat at the foot of her bed."

"She was probably nervous, I'd imagine," I said, trying to empathize with our daughter.

Angeline shrugged—which seemed an odd response to my comment—and then continued. "I told Sophia that I wanted her to know that I understood how strange or shocking—maybe uncomfortable or embarrassing—it must have been for her, walking in and seeing me like that, and apologized for my behavior."

Angeline paused and looked at me with an unreadable expression. "But it turned out that Sophia wasn't upset, shocked, or embarrassed. Instead, her first reaction was to placate me, saying things like 'you've always taught us not to be ashamed of our bodies,' and 'masturbation is perfectly normal and a healthy expression of sexuality'—as if I didn't know that—so I 'had nothing to be ashamed about or apologize for.' Her response threw me off a bit; I wasn't sure how to react."

I raised my eyebrows. "That definitely would've caught me by surprise." Then, I nodded sagely but couldn't completely hide the twinkle in my eyes. "Sounds like she took your body and sex-positive life lessons to heart and threw you quite a curve ball."

"Yep, she certainly did. But there was more." Angeline took a deep breath and let it out with puffed cheeks. "Sophia looked intently at me and told me that she was captivated by seeing me; she'd never seen anything so erotic, so sexy; that it was wonderful that I still got off at my age—grrr, the cheekiness—and that she thought I was beautiful, sexy, and attractive."

Angeline's face reddened as she related that last comment. "And Sophia told me that seeing me—watching me—really turned her on, made her 'super horny' and wet."

I paused and let that sink in. I was dazed hearing about our daughter's arousal and her blunt confession to her Mother about it.

I shook my head with incredulity. "Wow... the word 'candid' comes to mind." Then, with a wry smile, I added, "And I must say, I agree with everything she said about you being sexy and beautiful. Although to be honest, I think I'd be far more shocked by what you just told me if I hadn't just seen the two of you totally naked masturbating together."

Angeline gave me a reproachful look. "Want to hear this or not? I'm trying to explain how we ended up here like this."

"Okay, okay, sorry," I said, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth despite my professed contrition. "Please go on."

"I didn't know what to say to my daughter telling me that seeing me naked made her horny, so I just sat rather stupidly until Sophia filled the silence. She said, 'I've never seen anyone masturbate before, so at first I was intrigued and curious. Then, the more you touched yourself and the more I saw how hot you looked, naked, aroused, and sexy, the more I got wet and horny myself. I almost started touching myself, but I was so entranced watching you that I just stood and took it all in.' Sophia was breathing heavily when she said that—it was clear she was getting excited talking about it."

As I listened to Angeline's description of Sophia's reactions, images of the scene flooded my imagination, causing a warm churning in my loins. I muttered, "Jesus... wow." Angeline nodded affirmatively, Then I asked, "What then?"

"Then... well, then it got... um, unconventional. Probably bizarre, but definitely sexy." Angeline cricked her neck as if loosening up for some sporting match. "Sophia told me that she had memorized every part of me, what I did, how I pleasured myself, and how I reacted. She told me that she almost came on the spot without even touching herself.'"

"Damn," I couldn't help interjecting. "That's kinda hot. How did you react to that?"

"Settle down, I'm getting there," Angeline said. "I felt a bit embarrassed, very flattered, and kind of uncomfortable hearing that from my daughter." She looked up to the side, thinking about what to say. I waited for her to gather her thoughts.

Angeline continued. "Sophia told me that she left after I came because she was so horny she needed to get to her room and relieve herself—to cum. But as she told me that, she started absent-mindedly touching her chest over her t-shirt with her fingertips, then lightly across her boobs, tickling circles around her nipples. Sophia told me, 'I watched you and wondered how it felt when you touched yourself, squeezed and cupped your tits.' And as she said that, she started cupping her own boobs.

"Sophia said that when aroused, she loved squeezing her tits and playing with her nipples—while telling me that she openly stroked her boobs at the same time as if demonstrating her words. Her hand then drifted down over her belly and ran lightly around and back to her boobs; she sort of swayed her body as if responding to some private music.

watched my daughter touch herself as she described how aroused she'd been seeing me; I was spellbound and unsure what, if anything, I should say or do. I felt like a snake being charmed by the movement of the snake charmer. Then, I was shaken from my reverie when Sophia asked me if my tits were sensitive like hers and if I got aroused when they were played with—that it looked like I did when she watched me. I guess it was a rhetorical question because she didn't wait for my answer."

I exhaled with a reedy whistling sound. Otherwise, kept silent.

"Sophia seemed to be partly in her own world," Angeline said. "She told me that when she got to her room, she tore off all her clothes and began caressing herself, thinking about seeing me and imagining where I felt good, what made me feel good.

"Sophia said to me, 'I was so wet, so high, I rubbed my fingers around my pussy, slid them between my lips, and felt my slippery juices gushing onto my hand.' As she said this to me, she started actually running her fingers up and down her crotch outside her shorts—over her pussy. Right in front of me, just feet away."

Angeline looked at me and bit the corner of her lip. "I found myself sitting and staring at our daughter stroking and caressing her breasts with one hand and rubbing her pussy through her shorts with the other as she told me how hot she thought it was watching me masturbate naked."

"Damn, that's pretty hot... in a pervy taboo way," I said. My cock was fully erect. "What did you do while this was happening?"

"Just sat and watched her," Angeline said. "I was drawn into her words, her touching herself... I just watched."

"What then?"

Angeline ran her tongue over her lips and swallowed. "Sophia sometimes closed her eyes, but other times, she met mine. And she undulated her body as she continued rocking and swaying. She told me, 'Your naked body was so sexy; thinking about you afterward in my room as I rubbed my clit, I imagined how you must've felt.'

"I'm not sure when, but at some point, she'd fished her hand under her shorts to her pussy; I could see the circling motion of her fingers through the fabric. Sophia was rubbing her clit, maybe fingering herself, moaning and humming between her words."

My cock pulsed in my shorts; fantasy images of my naked wife and daughter writhing, moaning, and touching themselves swirled in my brain. "Go on," I whispered.

"Sophia was aroused and into her own zone of self-pleasure but continued talking to me at the same time. She told me that when she touched her pussy, she loved how wet it was and thought of someone licking it or fucking her. Asked if I imagined the same, what it was like for me to be filled with a hard cock, and how I touched my clit. She noticed that it looked like I used two fingers, and she asked how I liked that but didn't wait for an answer.

"Sophia's hips started gyrating as she sped up, rubbing herself under her shorts. She aggressively stroked and caressed on and over her boobs with her other hand, then slipped that hand under her t-shirt and continued mauling her bare tits. Looking at me, she said, 'I'm so high, I'm gonna cum soon... and my nipples are so sensitive. When I pinch them like this, I feel it down in my pussy.' I saw movement under her shirt on her boobs but couldn't tell exactly what she'd done. She lolled her head back, moaning, then rolled it side to side."

"Fuucck..." was all I could muster. I had to reposition my ramrod-hard cock as it throbbed in my shorts—I kept my hand pressed there as I listened. The image of my fully-dressed beautiful wife sitting on our daughter's bed, watching her masturbate, burned into my mind.

Angeline brushed her lustrous dark hair back from her face as she deeply inhaled, then blew out a long, slow breath. "Sophia spoke in fragments through her heaving, ragged breath. I felt my pussy twitch and saturate my panties as my body responded to Sophia's descriptions and actions." She looked at me. "But before you ask, no, I didn't touch myself."

I shrugged and shook my head with a 'Who me?' expression of innocence. I didn't want to interrupt the incredibly sexy narrative and imagery my wife was painting, so I didn't move my hand away; I kept pressing against myself through my shorts with the heel of my hand instead. It took all my willpower to resist pulling out my turgid cock and jerking off right then and there.

Angeline gave me a side-eye and continued. "Sophia was edging, and her words started to jumble and run together. She continued saying how hot I was, how horny she was, and how touching herself made her think of me doing the same. Finally, she moaned loudly, 'Oh, wow, Mom, I can imagine you feeling like this, ready to explode.'

"Then Sophia's body shuddered, her breath caught, and she contracted forward nearly in half. I could see her back tense and trembling, and then she flung herself back again, mouth open and panting. She closed her eyes with an adorable half-smile on her lips.

"Sophia dropped her hand from under her shirt onto the bed, leaving her other hand still under the waistband of her shorts, presumably on her pussy. She rested for a few moments against the headboard, breathing heavily. I could see a large patch of wetness in her crotch, which made my pussy tingle."

"Fucking hell, that is so hot," I murmured. "Kind of fucked up, but majorly hot."

"Thanks a lot," Angeline said with a droll smile.

"What did you do then? What happened next?"

Angeline shook her head as if remembering her perplexity. "After watching my daughter do all that, I understood why people use the term 'speechless.' I opened and closed my mouth as if trying to form words but ended up shutting it and waiting. Waited and watched. My heart was racing, and I breathed slowly to calm myself down.

"After a minute or so, Sophia opened her eyes. She looked at me, smiled, and said, 'That was nice,' then bit the corner of her lip."

I replayed the scene Angeline had just described in my mind. "I'm sort of speechless now myself," I said. "I can't imagine how I would react to seeing our daughter do something like that. So that's all Sophia said, just 'That was nice'?"

"Yes—calmly, as if what she'd just done was totally normal and unremarkable." Angeline pursed her lips, still reflecting the confusion she'd felt. "I pretty much agreed with the 'nice' part in a general, kinky way but was baffled by the whole interaction. I began to feel awkward sitting there, looking at my sexually satiated daughter. And whatever I'd planned on saying or resolving when I entered her room became mostly moot in light of what had just happened."

"Did you say anything or talk about things at all?" I asked.

Angeline chuckled. "In a way, yes. Sort of. I patted Sophia's leg and said something lame like, 'We good? Glad we could clear the air—and make sure you weren't upset or embarrassed by my, um, antics.' Sophia nodded to me and said, 'Thanks, Mom. Appreciate it—and appreciate you.' She told me she thought I was a great Mom and how lucky she felt being with me." Angeline took a deep breath and sighed.

"Okay. Well, it doesn't sound quite resolved to me," I said cautiously. "What about Sophia masturbating in front of you like that? That was wild. Didn't you talk about that?"

"Actually, no, we didn't," Angeline said. "We'd made some sort of non-verbal connection. We understood that something between us had happened or was happening. Something intangible that we couldn't label, identify, or articulate. Something special. We had a mutual understanding that we didn't need to define it but instead would let it be and see what the future would bring. I stood, kissed Sophia's forehead, told her I loved her, and left the room."

"Wow, incredible," I managed to say. I sat, quietly reflecting on the overload of information I'd just been fed.

Angeline silently waited for me to process the extraordinary chronicle she'd just conveyed.

I mentally replayed the various interactions I'd just learned about and incorporated my own experiences with finding the photographs and seeing my wife and daughter naked together. My two primary takeaways at that point were that things were beginning to make some sort of convoluted sense and that I was horny beyond measure—taboos and society be damned. After a few minutes of reflection, I was ready to hear more.

I leaned in towards Angeline, my curiosity and intrigue superseding any emotional or moral qualms. "Quite the beginning, I'd say. And obviously, things evolved after that to lead up to what I saw today. What happened next?"

"Yes, well," Angeline said. She took a deep breath. "There is definitely more to tell. But first, are you okay? I know all of this dumped on you at once is probably overwhelming, a lot to take in. How are you now?"

"Emotionally? Getting there. Intellectually? Pretty good, starting to process everything. Physically? Well... pretty damn horny, to be honest."

"You men are unbelievable," Angeline laughed. "Seriously? Horny? As opposed to, say, dumbfounded, amazed, intrigued, or confused?"

"Yes to all of that. But come on, you've just described, in some pretty sexy detail, some of the most erotic, arousing interactions I've ever heard. If this was a porno, I'd find the narrative a stretch. But also majorly hot." I took Angeline's hand and pulled her onto my lap.

"Well, they say truth is stranger than fiction," Angeline smirked. "And, I suppose I can relate to your getting aroused hearing about us since living it was fucking hot. So I forgive you for getting all hot and bothered by hearing about the genesis of your wife and daughter's mutual masturbation playtimes."

"I don't think I need forgiving," I laughed. "Maybe some giving... for... um, me." I shook my head at my failed attempt at a clever play on words. "Oh, never mind."

Angeline rolled her eyes. "You seem just fine to me now. At least for now." She glanced back at the house. "But, I am kind of worried about Sophia, though. You left in quite an agitated state, and she doesn't know what we've been doing out here. We should probably pause my sordid background story and get back to let her know we're okay." She looked at me earnestly. "We are okay, aren't we?"

I saw the raw concern in Angeline's eyes, so I pulled her into me, kissed, and held her. "Yes, we're okay. At least now I know at least how things began. And I absolutely need to hear how things evolved after that—sooner than later. But for now, know everything will be fine; we can figure things out as we go along."

"Thank you," Angeline said into my chest. "I needed to hear that. I know this is a lot." She snuggled into me, and we felt each other breathing for a moment, comfortable in our silence. Finally, Angeline sighed and looked around. "It is getting late, and we really need to connect with Sophia; she must be so worried. And, I think, after we assure her we're all right."

"Yes, I think you're right. Let's head in and check on our daughter."

Angeline put her hand on my shoulder to stop me from moving her off my lap and standing. She met my eyes with a serious expression. "And, um, well... may I ask you something first?"

"Of course, anything," I said, feeling slightly apprehensive.

"If it's not too much trouble... or awkward... um, under the circumstances." Angeline failed to keep a straight face and broke into a playful grin. "I very much need to make long and intense love with you. Soon. You're not the only one who's incredibly horny right now." She bit her lip playfully, feigning bashfulness. "Think we can work that into our schedule this evening? Please?"

I smiled. "Oh, I think we can find some time for that. I mean, since you've asked so nicely and all. How could I refuse?" I kissed my wife's forehead. "I've had so many mixed emotions over the past hour, but that one is steadfast and immutable." We stood, took hands, and headed to the house.

Our love-making plan was delayed because Sophia was waiting in the kitchen, eyes red. Angeline and I went to our daughter, and we all embraced. We pulled back, and Sophia flicked her eyes back and forth between Angeline and me, questioning.

Angeline spoke first. "It's okay, sweetie. We've talked, and Dad knows how this all began and some of what we've been doing, and it's okay."

"Really?" Said Sophia.

"Yes," I said. "Really. Mom told me about how you two started and how things began to evolve, and I saw where you are today. There's a lot to fill in—I definitely want more information—but know that I love you both, and whatever more I learn, know that I'm good. I'm going to understand and accept this rather unusual connection the two of you have."

"You don't think we're bad?" Sophia asked tentatively. "Doing something wrong?"

I gave a small smile. "Not bad, not wrong. Peculiar, maybe." Sophia's eyes widened with mild alarm. "Hey," I said quickly. "Just joking." Sophia looked uncertain, so I continued. "I love you, love your mom, and what you have together is part of who you both are, so I love that you have something wonderful. We all need to sort some things out and have questions, but we can do that later. For now, just know that I'm okay, that things will work out fine."

A tear traced down Sophia's cheek. "I love you, Dad. I can see why Mom always tells me how lucky she is. I feel the same."

Angeline stepped in and hugged Sophia, then looked at the kitchen and the wall clock. "It's just about dinner time. Soph, do you mind putting together something to eat for us? Dad and I need to take care of some things and get cleaned up now."

Sophia gave us a suspicious look, from me to Angeline. "Sure... dinner—while you two 'clean up' in the bedroom," she said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "You parents, always getting up to mischief. What am I gonna do with you?"

We all burst into laughter. I kissed the top of Sophia's head, took Angeline's hand, and led her to our bedroom. As we got naked and embraced, we heard loud music crank up from the kitchen—evidently, Sophia wasn't in the mood to listen to her parents fucking.My cock was ramrod hard—I didn't know why. I floated, warm and comfortable, relaxed and aroused at the same time. My mind drifted, and all I felt was a sense of euphoria.

Many nude women—young, fit, and curvy—stand in an open room with multiple showers. Lathering each other's naked, smooth, bare skin with soap. Laughing. Voices echo in the cavernous shower room. Spraying water playfully, nipples hard, tits impossibly firm. Like nubile cheerleaders in an old 1980s sexploitation movie. I am with them, now naked as well; I don't know how. I don't know who they are. The women tease me, lifting and offering bare nipples, bending over, and exposing their pussies from behind. Pulling on my hard cock.

Then, space distorts and shifts, and the women flatten and become two-dimensional. Become photographs. Very sexy photos. Explicitly posing... in pictures.

My erect dick lurched, cocooned in warm, wet tightness. No, not wet, just tightness—more like pressure. Pressing against something. Wanting to cum. My mind filled with images again. Surreal, flowing dream impressions.

I'm now in a movie theater—some film is playing, but I don't register what it is. A beautiful woman's lips envelop my dick with her talented mouth. A stranger's mouth. My wife Angeline's voice asks if I like that... like something, but I don't know what she means. I look and see my wife; she stands on a theater seat in front of me naked, watching me. The light of the movie screen flashes behind her, making her look like a silhouette with rays of light shining from her body. Then, our 19-year old daughter Sophia is standing on the seat next to her mother. Angeline is pressing her bare nipples against our daughter's equally bare nipples. Sophia looks at me, and I hear her, but her lips don't move—I'm hearing her in my mind. She asks if I like seeing her naked. If I like her pussy.

The world warps and Sophia is lying naked outdoors on a picnic table, spreading her legs. Showing her pussy to three or four men who stand watching her. The men clap as if she'd performed something. I wonder what my daughter did, who the men are, and why my daughter is showing her naked body to them. But—I see it isn't Sophia—or isn't anymore. She is now Angeline. And then no men are standing by her; only one person watches her wanton exhibitionism. A woman. Fully dressed. I don't know her. I hear the woman speak even though she does not move her lips—as Sophia had done. The woman tells me that bodies are natural and it is normal and healthy to masturbate. Good to be outdoors, in public, naked. Good to cum. Good to fuck. My cock is suddenly inside her; she feels so good. I'm feeling the churning in my balls of pending ejaculation. I want—no, need—to fill her. Feel the pressure.

I felt my balls contract and a rush of semen shot up and out of my shaft. My cock throbbed and spurted with intense spasms. But my dick wasn't in a warm, wet vagina or a succulent, talented mouth. It was mashed against something damp and soft, and I was confused. I swam up from the depths of my dreamy underworld towards the shimmering daylight of consciousness above me as if approaching a water's surface.

My senses engaged, and I woke up. Angeline was sleeping soundly with her back to me, curled up. We were spooning with my dick smashed firmly against her back just above her ass. A sticky, cold clamminess was smeared on her back and my cock and belly. I'd just cum between our naked bodies. Without any stimulation. While asleep. I shook my head as I realized what had happened. A wet dream. Seriously? I can't even remember the last time that happened—not since I was a teenager. A dream about... something I can't remember. But I'm sure Freud would have a field day based on what bits I still recall.

It seemed like early morning—getting lighter but not yet daylight. I'd cum, but surprisingly, I was still mostly erect. My residual arousal from learning about my wife and daughter's mutual masturbation sessions, morning wood, having to piss, or the fast-dissipating sexy dreams I awoke from got me hard, brought me to climax, and kept me hard. Not a typical state for me to be in.

I got up, stood and stretched, then went to take a leak. I reflected on the fantastic events I'd recently learned about and tried to will my tenacious hard-on back down. The latter was a challenge, mostly due to the former. But since I couldn't piss with an erection, my urgent need to empty my bladder won out, and I was able to soften enough to take care of business.

Angeline stirred when I crawled back into bed; I wiped her back with a warm, moist towel. "What time is it?" She asked sleepily, then rolled onto her back. She squirmed and made an odd face—she was likely confused by the wetness she'd just pressed into.

"Early. I didn't look." I smiled as I gazed at Angeline. She looked tousled and sleepy and adorable. Oh, and very sexy. I slid the sheet that she was snuggled into down to her waist. She was still naked. I kissed her. Then, I kissed each of her soft nipples, because I'm just that considerate. I ran my hands along her body, boobs, and through her hair. "I want to hear what happened next with you and Sophia. You won't believe all the sexy dreams I had last night."

"Oh, you're wrong there," Angeline smiled. "I'm sure you had a bunch of sexy dreams last night. Your hard dick was pressing against me most of the night." Her eyebrows furrowed. "And this morning." She narrowed her eyes and tipped her head quizzically as she slid her hand under her back. "Did you... did you cum on my back a little while ago, or was I dreaming?"

"Urm, well... yeah, I kind of did."

"Kind of?"

"Ok, yes, I did."

"Were you asleep?"

"Yep," I nodded with a smile.

Angeline laughed. "Well, that's a new experience for me. I thought only younger boys did that."

"You and me both." Then I held up an imaginary microphone and sang, "Everybody had a wet dream; everybody saw the sunshine." Angeline pursed her lips and shook her head. I don't think she fully appreciated how The Beatles somehow had song lyrics for almost every situation.

Angeline grinned. "What's surprising to me is that you were able to cum at all just hours after cumming twice with me. I believe that's considered an indication of remarkable stamina and impressive sexual prowess."

But before I could take pride in her compliment, Angeline added, "For a guy your age."

I searched my brain for a suitably sharp-witted retort. Came up empty. Angeline cut off further banter by flicking off the thin sheet covering the rest of her nude body and standing up. I sighed. Damn, I loved seeing that woman naked.

"Be right back—gotta pee first," Angeline said. "And wipe my back, which still has damp, cold, and clammy places, but I appreciate your effort to clean up after yourself." She chuckled. "Then, I'll regal you with unbelievable tales of your naughty wife and daughter's sexy fun."

My cock sprung to attention at Angeline's words. I felt like a horny teenager again, ready, willing, and able. I wasn't complaining. I was secretly pleased with my unexpectedly speedy recovery.

When Angeline returned from her morning "constitution," I held open the sheet, and she flopped down next to me on the bed. She leaned on one elbow, looked down at me, and smiled. I waited expectantly, a slight grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.

"Ok, so, where were we?" Angeline began.

"She watched, you watched, formed an unspoken, sexy connection, a bunch of things you haven't told me yet, then face-to-face naked sexy masturbating and dirty sex talk that was walked in on by your tolerant, accepting, horny husband and father of our equally horny sexy daughter." I bopped my finger playfully on her nose, then on her nipple for good measure.

Angeline swatted at my hand but missed. I gave her a smug look. "That about right?"

Angeline chuckled and smiled wryly. "I guess that about sums it up."

"Please continue then; I'm waiting with bated breath."

"Ok." Angeline took a breath and gathered her thoughts. "So, after that second time, when I watched Sophia masturbate while telling me how hot it was watchingme masturbate, nothing happened for a couple months. Sophia and I hadn't mentioned or discussed what happened or how we felt about it. I'd reached the mindset that our two masturbating incidents were random flukes instead of the start of something more."

I nodded with what I'd hoped was an understanding expression. "Assuming you thought about it, how did you feel about what had happened?"

Angeline's face reddened slightly. "Personally, er, well, when I thought about either time... I, um... usually got horny. I occasionally re-lived one time or the other, sometimes mixed them up or mentally embellished them as I masturbated. Now and then, pangs of guilt would temper my erotic feelings because Sophia was my daughter, and I'd been taught that it was wrong to feel that way."

"You'd been taught that, but is that how you really felt?"

"No, to be honest. Deep inside, I disagreed that anything we'd done was actually wrong. And as I said, I thought then that our two experiences were one-time events."

"What changed?" I asked.

"Sophia. We were lounging by the pool, getting some sun. Topless, of course. You were home but inside doing something. I'd put suntan lotion on Sophia's back, and she was doing mine when she tentatively asked me if she could ask me something."

"I've always found it amusing when people ask permission to ask a question; they've already done what they were asking permission to do," I said unnecessarily.

Angeline—bless her—didn't chide me for my irrelevant statement of the obvious. Instead, she paused, ignored my interruption, and continued her narrative.

"Ok..." Angeline said slowly. "Anyway, I told Sophia she could ask me whatever was on her mind. I figured, without any particular thought, she would ask about a boyfriend or my opinion about something. I was wrong. She asked for masturbatory guidance. Specifically, about my preferred clitoral stimulation technique when I used my fingers."

I barked a laugh, then clamped my mouth shut. "Sorry, just caught off guard. Go on."

"Sophia said that sometimes she didn't feel like she was getting the right pressure or angle on her clit when playing with herself, and when she watched me get off, it seemed like I must have done something amazing. She straight out asked how I rubbed myself."

"Good grief," I muttered quietly. "That girl. Is something."

Angeline smiled and nodded in agreement. "I foolishly asked Sophia what she meant."

"Why was that foolish?"

"Foolish because naturally, she wasn't satisfied with just a verbal description... though I tried."

I quirked an eyebrow at Angeline. "Tried, did you? How hard?"

"Ah, well, yeah. Ok, I did try, but not very hard. We moved pretty quickly to the 'just show me' stage."

"Fill me in here a bit," I said with crinkling eyes. "I'm curious about your relationship, but also about different female masturbation techniques."

"Of course you are," Angeline laughed. "Ok, so we talked about using one finger or two on the clit to circle and rub, next to or directly on it, adding thumbs, adding pinching, using circular or side flicks, fast or slow, tickling just inside the vaginal opening, playing with labia or butt—pretty much all the options. I told her about using two fingers straddling the clit so that you can pinch and slide while circling and rubbing. Sophia picked up on how I liked that best and asked me why specifically I did."

I just chuckled silently, shook my head, and rolled my eyes.

"I said yes, I liked two fingers to trap my clit when I rubbed because I had more control, and I could kind of stroke it like a tiny cock while circling it at the same time. Sophia looked perplexed, then came right out and asked me to show her what I meant because she needed to see to understand."

"Right out in the open by the pool?" I interjected. "Sophia wanted to watch you get off there in broad daylight? What if I'd come out?"

"Yes, by the pool, but I didn't masturbate completely out in the open or to orgasm. I still don't know why I did anything at all, why I never drew a line during our 'special times'; I guess it seemed natural after our previous far more sexual encounters. Anyway, I agreed to demonstrate my favorite digital technique to her."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Angeline held her finger up to stop me. Her eyes twinkled, and she quirked her head to the side. "And yes, to your unstated assumption, I think we both knew I didn't actually need to physically demonstrate—and Sophia didn't really need to see—to understand how I masturbated. We played along with the pretense and got turned on. Played a game governed by unwritten rules that hadn't been conceived of yet."

I nodded, storing that information in my brain for future contemplation. "So... what did you do?"

"After making sure the coast was clear, I pulled my bikini bottom to the side, giving free access to my pussy, so I could touch myself as I explained what I meant."

I whistled quietly as I vividly pictured Angeline topless by the pool, her thick dark hair shimmering in the sunlight, exposing her bare labia and trimmed patch of dark pubic hair to our daughter. "Fuck, Angeline; have I ever told you how damn hot and sexy you are?"

Angeline grinned. "Often. You're a horny devil, that's for sure."

I feigned surprise. "Moi? I think you need to check yourself out in a mirror sometime; you'll find a much hornier, kinkier devil than me."

Angeline gave me a mocking air kiss and grinned. Said nothing.

I smiled. "So, back to what you were saying. You didn't play until you had an orgasm—what did happen?"

"I showed her how I used my fingers when I masturbated, told her what felt good, where I liked to be touched, and what got me off the best. Sophia occasionally asked questions at the same time."

Angeline glanced sideways at me. "And, the answer to your not-yet-asked question is yes. Yes, I got majorly turned on, both from touching myself and because Sophia was a foot away, staring intently at my wet pussy as I played. My daughter watching me—and I showing myself to her—was hot as fuck."

I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Hot as fuck is putting it mildly."

My mind was filled with images sparked by Angeline's description. My toned, tanned wife rubbing her pussy for our gorgeous daughter—a younger, equally hot version of her mother—in the open in broad daylight. My balls contracted, and my swollen dick twitched.

"What did Sophia do when she watched? She must've been turned on seeing you like that... I am, just hearing about it. Did she touch herself along with you?"

"Not then," Angeline said. "We didn't get that far."

"I'm surprised you didn't, actually," I said. "It sounds like by that time, you were both comfortable touching yourselves in front of each other, so why not just let yourself go again?"

Angeline grinned. "You."

"What?"

"I stopped because we heard you slide the patio door on your way out to us." Angeline's eyes crinkled as she watched my expression. "You might have caught us months ago—that might've even prevented Sophia and my continued playtimes."

I sat looking at my hot wife, my mouth slightly gaping and myriad thoughts racing through my brain. "Huh," I managed to mutter.

"As you approached us, I calmly removed my fingers from my pussy and pulled my bottom back into place," Angeline said. "Sophia and I simply greeted you as if nothing unusual had happened. The three of us hung out for a while, and by the time we went back inside, my arousal had subsided. I will add, though, later that night, you and I had mind-blowing sex—twice."

I chuckled, "Lucky me. I must thank Sophia for getting you all ready for me."

Angeline bit her lip through her smile. "Maybe you should; it wasn't the only time my connection with her sparked fabulous sex with you."

"So, then... this was an ongoing thing after that? But you've never had sex or touched each other sexually this whole time?"

"Correct," Angeline said. "That experience set a precedent, I guess, so over time, openly talking about sex and masturbating around each other became accepted and no longer awkward or weird. We didn't explicitly decide that or make plans to do anything—things just evolved and happened naturally."

As I considered that, Angeline ran her hand along my arm and took my hand. "We also didn't plan on having some big, secret sex thing going on behind your back. I especially didn't like keeping something like that from you—that was the one thing that felt wrong to me, far more than the naked masturbating and sex talk with my daughter."

I nodded. "So, were you planning to tell me at some point? Before I accidentally caught you two, that is."

"Yes, absolutely. I didn't like keeping secrets for one thing, and the other thing was I wanted to share with you this strange, arousing, taboo, sexy part of my life. See what would happen going forward. At least bring you into the know, if not possibly more."

My mind swirled with thoughts and images as I processed what Angeline meant. The photo incident flashed through my mind, mixed up with Angeline's cryptic and off-hand "possibly more" reference. But before I could sort through and formulate a question or idea, Angeline refocused my attention by continuing her narrative.

Angeline explained that, over the next several months, her talks with Sophia grew more sexually explicit—how things felt, what they fantasized about as they touched themselves—and their actions became more sexually overt. Every few weeks or so, one or the other would end up touching themself or masturbating in front of the other—mostly taking turns, usually with some clothes on—sometimes having orgasms, other times stopping sooner.

The circumstances seemed fluid. A session might stem from a massage triggering a discussion about erogenous zones or discussing—and then trying—different toys such as vibrators and dildos.

Once, they experimented with food after a particularly quirky talk, which included inserting small cucumbers, carrots, and bananas. I asked Angeline how the fruit and vegetables felt inside her vagina. Without missing a beat, she simply said, "cold."

Eventually, they masturbated at the same time together, sitting next to or near each other. It became a comfortable, albeit arousing, activity—but commonplace enough to be almost unremarkable. They both got worked up, turned on, and usually climaxed, but typically, the liaisons had some element of exploration; they focused on shared experiences, emotions, and ideas.

I was wholly engrossed in learning all about my wife and daughter's extraordinary and incestuous relationship. During that early-morning chat, a description would occasionally stir erotic feelings, but mostly, I was just intrigued and fascinated.