Friends who know of my little secret often ask me how I managed to get my wife to go along with the plan, perhaps to use it themselves, and when I tell them it had been HER idea all along, for some strange reason, they find it hard to believe. I know I can't exactly blame them, for which mother would ask that her husband fuck their daughter so that she can be straight? Mine did, and I am sure she is probably the only woman in the world who would.

Not that I am complaining, of course, but even I have to admit there's a screw loose in her head somewhere... still, that's getting ahead of the story.

It all began over four years ago...

It was a warm night, and the missus and I had just finished watching the last good show for the day on TV. I sighed as I turned off the box - back to sleep. The thing is, there was nothing to look forward to for me as far as the bedroom was concerned; after our sixth kid had been born, my wife Bertha had cut me down to once a month. Now I am by no means young, but all the work on farm does keep me fit and trim. I need my share of outlets, and I had to turn to wanking off myself for any sort of release.

My wife, a staunch orthodox Roman Catholic, really disapproved of the habit. On the other hand, she did nothing about it. That was one thing about her that really pissed me off. That, and the fact that she wanted to raise the kids her way. The rest did grow up her way, but our eldest, Rachel, was more of a free spirit. She was the only one in the house who seemed to have any idea of her sexuality, and it only served to highlight what I was missing out.

On this particular night, as we walked up the stairs, Bertha paused in front of Rachel's room. The other kids had gone to bed an hour early, but we had given up on Rachel - she was adamant as to her hours of sleeping. She's a good kid, though, and helps me out everyday in milking the cows, but never did anything else around the house other than her own stuff, mostly.

"Can you hear something?" my wife whispered, motioning me towards the door.

I strained my ears, and I realized what she meant. Moans came from the room, feminine moans. For a second, I thought that Rachel was masturbating, but then, ever so faintly, I heard another voice say, "Oooh, Rachel, baby, that feels so good!"

With a start, both of us realized that it was a girl. As far as we knew, Rachel hadn't brought anyone over for the night, and it certainly wasn't studies she was discussing during the summer holidays.

Before you get your hackles up, let me tell you that I've always believed in giving your kids privacy. Especially once they cross fourteen... but a parent's got to do what a parent's got to do, and somehow, I didn't particularly fancy the idea of my baby girl - yeah, right, "I am eighteen now, Daddy!" - having sex - and it definitely sounded like it - with another girl.

... Okay, so I've peeked into her room on a couple of occasions, without success, but this was different.

Bertha, on the other hand, seemed to have no such thoughts on the need for privacy. Without even giving a perfunctory knock on the door, she just turned the knob and barged in, me dumbly behind her.

Then she stopped short, as a shriek of "Mom!" and "Mrs. Jackson!" went into the air. When I saw what had stopped her, I guess my jaw dropped to the floor. I couldn't help it; I had never seen something like this before.

There, on the bed, lay my daughter Rachel and her best friend, Stella, and my daughter was finger-fucking her friend as the latter ate her out. Neither had a single stitch of clothing on - whatever they had been wearing was now an unruly pile near the window. Right now, they were frozen motionless, a mixture of fear and lust in their eyes, and even as I watched, whatever fear remained in my daughter's eyes turned into one of cockiness.

I couldn't take my eyes off her body, though. It had been years since I had seen her naked, and what a difference now from what it had been then! She had boobs that can only be described as perfect, topped with little cherries of red, and her blonde hair had fallen all over her, giving her a very sultry look. Her friend Stella was a pale comparison, a bit lighter in every aspect, and did not seem to radiate that air of sensuality that my daughter so evidently possessed.

Absently, I adjusted my hard-on.

"Don't you believe in knocking?" Rachel broke the ice herself. The two female lovers had parted, but neither made any move to cover themselves. Brazenly, Rachel fixed her mother with a level stare. Oh, boy was she just asking for trouble!

Beside me, my wife tensed. I cast a vary glance at her, sure that things were going to blow up sky-high tonight. And the fact that Rachel hadn't bothered to cover herself didn't help at all. Nor was it helping me maintain a fatherly composure... Bertha had her hands on her hips, a sign that she was all set for a confrontation.

"Stella, get your clothes and get out of here," my wife said curtly, pointedly ignoring Rachel.

Rachel wasn't about to have any of that. "Waitaminit! Stella, you are not going anywhere! Mom, how dare you..."

"All I have to do, Stella, is call your parents. It's your choice." Even I shuddered at her tone. Man, was she pissed off!

The poor girl had no other way out. Hurriedly, she gathered her dress and started to pull it up. She cast an apologetic glance at Rachel, and then rushed out of the room. My wife had scared the shit out of her so much that she hadn't even bothered with her bra and had just thrown on her top. She was out of the room before she had even covered her tits properly.

For the next few seconds, mother and daughter stared at each other. I braced myself to step in if a catfight broke out, as it most likely might. Abruptly, Rachel stood up.

"Where are you going, young lady?" my wife asked sharply.

"I need to get dressed, don't I?" she retorted, taking a step towards her clothes.

For a woman her size, Bertha crossed the room extremely fast and caught Rachel by her elbow. "You going anywhere?"

Rachel winced from the grip and shook her arm free. "Only if you let me go to Stella's."

"Good, then you are not going anywhere." With that, my wife caught our daughter's hand again and this time, flung her towards the bed. Rachel fell across the bed as my wife turned to me and said, "Close the door, Peter, I don't want the rest of the kids to see her like this."

"Let's have no violence here, Berth -" I began, but she cut me off with a curt, "I know."

Then she turned to her daughter. "You can get dressed after you explain all this, and I am hoping that you can explain all this."

"Explain what?" Rachel was now in profile to me, facing her mother, and I silently marveled at how her breasts were able to defy gravity and stay firm on her chest. Her body's only flaw was the tan lines from sunbathing, and the paleness of the skin was in sharp contrast to the dark shade that her nipple was colored. Rachel was resting on her arms now, one leg slung over the other, and I found myself trying to remember if she had it shaved or not.

"Your taste," my wife continued. "Why, with all the men in the world, you would rather have a woman to have sex with? Explain why you are a," she spat out the last word, "lesbian."

Rachel snickered. "Why, Mom, why is it so wrong to you? Because your Church told you it is bad? Face the reality Mom, being gay is no more different than being straight. Besides, what's it to you if I want a woman for my needs? It's not like I seduced Dad or anything..."

"At least then, you would be straight," my wife shot back. "It's sick, you know, when a woman has sex with another woman!"

"You are sick, Mom, and your views are so old-fashioned you could take them to the museum of antiques. Look, Mom, I don't know whose genes I have - it's definitely not yours when it comes to sex - but I get horny very easily and very often. And with your stuck-up rules and shit, I just can't even dream of having a regular boyfriend... cause I know you will never let me live in peace then.

"So I figured, what the hell, at least you won't suspect a girl. All I had to be was careful and stay out of your Oh-God-told-me-so way and you wouldn't even know your little girl was fucking another little girl."

I would like to add that at a couple of points, I tried to impose some decorum on the language used, but neither mother nor daughter seemed to hear, so I slid into the background again.

"Oh, so that's it? You are horny, so you just grab the first person who comes your way and have sex with her?"

"You could put it that way, I suppose."

"So if you had someone to fuck all the time, someone male, you wouldn't look for a female anymore?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. Not that I find it ever likely that you'll set me up with a guy I can fuck anytime and you won't get on my case again..." Rachel's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Bertha was quiet for a second, whether in thought or for effect I don't know, and then, in a calmer voice that was more fitting the mother, "What if I said yes, there is such a guy?"

I looked at my wife. My still-naked daughter looked at my wife. And my wife looked at us, one by one, with a strange smugness on her face, as if she had just checkmated her daughter. I started to have a strange feeling this was leading back to my own grave, but I couldn't exactly put my finger on what it was.

"Okay, I'll buy that. Who have you got in mind?"

"Do you agree to my terms yet?"

"Who is the guy? I have to like him too."

"Oh, you will. In fact, you love him already."

"I do?" my daughter was puzzled, "Who is it? Ricky Martin?"

My wife grunted. "Let me give you a clue," she said, now moving to the door behind me and opening it. "He's in your room right now."

I looked around, as did Rachel, and as far as we could see, I was the only one of masculine persuasion in the room. Rachel, however, was the first one to put two and two together.

"Daddy? Are you out of your mind?" Her incredulity matched mine.

"Oh, no, dear, just doing a mother's job," Bertha replied calmly. "And baby, he's probably the only guy you can have sex with and I won't complain about. Until you get married, of course, and I would rather have you wait until then, but if you are so horny that you can't tell between man and woman, I might have to enforce a few changes around here."

"Excuse me," I cut in, for the first time making my presence felt in the room, "But am I still in existence, or is this some kind of a sick nightmare?" I admit that last bit was a bit exaggerated, but I figured it was the only way to get my indignation across.

Bertha laughed in my face. "Oh, cut that out, Peter. You've always been the one complaining I don't put out often enough. Go get her. I figure either she is satisfied or she will be too afraid to have another silly lesbian over again. And besides, this should take care of that nasty tendency of yours to masturbate every day."

"But -" I started to protest.

"No buts, not unless both of you want to get kicked out of this house. I can see she is still not sure she wants this, so why don't you be a man and make up her mind for her, Peter. Show her why girls shouldn't go down on girls... And don't even think about coming to bed until you have convinced her."

And just like that, before I could even make a move, she locked the door behind her as she went out. I pounded the door a couple of times, but I knew immediately that it was a futile exercise. Bertha had made up her mind, and there was no way in hell she was changing it.

"Well," Rachel said, her voice once again a mixture of amusement and sarcasm, "You heard what the lady said."

I turned around to find my daughter lying on the bed, her legs spread a little so that I was looking straight at her pussy. That she was still wet was obvious from the way her cunt glistened in the light, and as I managed to draw my eyes up her body, I got to see just how her breasts rose proudly from her body. Rachel had raised her head, though, and caught me staring at her naked body. When I did finally see her face, she gave me a half-smile.

"So, Daddy," she teased once again, "why don't you come over here and 'make up my mind for me?' Jesus, Daddy, quit staring at me like that!"

"Sorry," I said, my throat suddenly dry, "But it isn't every day that I get to see a woman as sexy as you naked."

"Oh," she replied, still not closing her legs or making any effort to cover herself. "So I am sexy now... not just beautiful or pretty, but sexy. I like that."

"Maybe we should talk this over, you know," I said, trying to think of a way out. I'll admit that I would have gladly fucked my daughter right then, but being practical, I knew I shouldn't. It wasn't just morality or anything; if things came out badly, I could go to jail. The town, I knew, wouldn't make a big fuss, but my wife or daughter could. At the very least, I wanted to make it appear that anything that happened would be the result of mature decision-making.

"Okay," Rachel said brightly, "Talk."

"Um, but why not throw something on?"

"Why?"

I decided to be open about this. "Because I am having a very hard time choosing between looking at you and talking to you, and quite frankly, as a man, I would rather do the first."

"Don't worry; I am sure we've got plenty of time for everything. I really doubt if Mom is going to let you out tonight, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Remind me to have her head examined tomorrow."

"Actually, Daddy, what she said did make some sense."

"Okay, I'll have to take you along too." I smiled.

She giggled. "No, I am serious. I have to admit she did bring the truth out of me - too horny to ignore it, that part."

"I was your age once, kiddo, I understand it. But sometimes I think your mother just jumped from twelve to twenty, know what I mean? I know she acts like she has no idea what you are going through."

"Are you defending me, Dad, 'cause if you are, you're gonna waste all those arguments. Why not save it for Mom?"

"Another day, right?"

"Another day. If you've got enough guts."

I laughed with her. "She's a good mother, you know." It wasn't just an obligation that made me say it, and Rachel knew it.

"Yeah, that's true. Still, coming back to what she said, it did make some sense. At least from my point of view."

"What's your point of view?"

"Like I said, all I need is someone I like having sex with. Anytime, anywhere, and I don't have to worry about getting caught. It just so happened that the only person Mom wouldn't suspect was a girl, so..."

"Damn, girl, so you were telling the truth... I thought you gave up that habit back in fourth grade."

"Haha! Very funny!"

"I thought so too!"

Suddenly, she clutched her thigh. "Owww! I think I just pulled my hamstring... give me a hand up, Dad."

Trying to ignore the fact that she was naked to the skin, I walked over and held out my hand. I had no idea what it was that she wanted to do with a pulled muscle, but I had enough faith in her that she knew what she was doing.

Rachel made as if to get up into a sitting position, then suddenly pulled me down! I fell over her, crushing her body underneath mine, and she had her arms around my neck in a flash. Her bare leg was warm and flushed against mine, and she wrapped it around so that I was locked in her hold.

Her eyes suddenly afire, she smirked. "This should take that smile off your lips, Daddy!"

And with that, she kissed me, right on the lips, supporting my entire weight on her body, and started to rub her legs against mine while plunging her fingers into the back of my head.

My resistance lasted perhaps for a fraction of a second, not more. I kissed her back as passionately as I could, darting my tongue into her mouth even before she had even parted her teeth completely. A muffled sound escaped from one of us - I am not sure who - and that was it; I felt like a teenager again, and I kissed like a teenager. We slobbered all over, our lips pressed together so hard I could feel the roots of her teeth against my gums, and as her hands started to ruffle my hair, I ran mine along the sides of her body, feeling her curves and swells.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" my daughter exclaimed when we finally parted kissing. "Now THAT is a kiss."

"Don't use that kind of a language around your mother," I warned, "She might have a heart-attack."

"Okay, I won't. But -"

At that moment, we heard the lock open, and my wife came in. "Oh," she said when she saw us, "You've already started..."

"Thanks for the interruption, Mom," Rachel greeted her dryly. "That's the second time today."

My wife shrugged. Then she turned to me. "Should I wait up for you?"

I opened my mouth to answer but Rachel immediately kissed me again. Then she answered for me. "Don't bother, Mom, Daddy will be spending the night in here, with me. Anything else?"

"This is just a single bed," my wife continued. She hated it if she did not have the last word.

"Oh," Rachel replied, smiling patronizingly at her, "We'll manage."

My wife just stood there, most likely looking for something else to say, but it was clear our daughter had bested her. Underneath me, Rachel shifted, then slid out. Then she walked over to her mother, caught her by her elbow and firmly guided her to the door before Bertha could say anything. She was hardly out the door when Rachel slammed it shut behind her.

"Thanks for Daddy," Rachel shouted. Then she turned towards me and gave a little curtsy. "Now how did I handle that?"

"Bravo," I said, truly impressed. That was the first time since our wedding night that I had been able to see my wife herded like that. And to think that it was our own daughter... she was definitely a chip off the old block.

Beaming, Rachel rushed into my arms, throwing herself on me literally. Then, just as hungrily as before, she kissed me on my lips, full, hard and wet, and stuck her tongue into my mouth. I kissed her back - what else would I want to do?

This time, we ended up with her on top of me, but we were no longer on top of her bed - we were on the floor, and as we caught our breath, Rachel started to pull my t-shirt over my head. Her fingertips squeezed my nipples, something Bertha had never ever done before - hell, it had always been missionary position with her, what else? - and then my daughter was kissing her way down my stomach.

Just as she started to unzip my jeans, I had a sudden urge to taste her. She shrieked, then giggled as I grabbed her waist and pivoted so that she was right underneath me, hands pinned to her sides, and her long neck was so enticing that I started eating her right below her jaw.

I nibbled on her skin all the way down to her breasts, with her laughing all the time, but those peals of laughter quickly turned into small moans of pleasure as I paid proper respect to her tits, one by one, taking the nipple between my teeth and tugging at it until she begged me to let go.

I didn't give her any time to recover from this treatment - as soon as I felt I had teased her buds enough, I moved straight down to her pussy. Some of her cum had already leaked out and dripped onto the carpet, but there was plenty more where that came from - Rachel gasped as I placed my mouth over her cunt and licked with as much gusto as I could muster.

In a way, I'm glad I had been denied for so long - it made me an animal, and that, it seemed, turned her on. I placed my hands under her ass and raised her buttocks until it was a good distance of the ground, threw her legs over my shoulder and proceeded to suck her silly.

By the time I had finished, my face was drenched in her cum. And I was loving every moment of it.

I stood up and had my jeans off in no time. Rachel, being the impatient minx that she was, grinned at the sight of my hard-on and started to play with my balls using her toes. God, it was an incredible sensation. It was an unbelievable turn-on to see drops of pre-cum falling on her toe from where she picked it up with a finger and tasted it. Then she puckered her lips at me and said, "So are you just going to stand there all day?"

I grinned back at her. Poor Bertha - she had no idea what kind of a monster she had unleashed.

"I want you on top," I told Rachel.