The last two weeks have been ... confusing. I had unknowingly paid my 18-year-old daughter, Grace, to suck and then fuck me in one of the glory hole booths at a nearby sex shop. It wasn’t my first visit, but Grace, or Marie as she was calling herself, was an unexpected discovery. The glory hole visits have become a regular thing since my wife’s sex drive has dropped to nearly non-existent after the birth of our second daughter 8 years ago.

It had started like any other visit, but there was a new girl who had chosen to give herself the same name as my wife. Marie. The allure of a new girl with the same name as my once incredibly sexual wife was too much to resist. After an incredible blowjob, some unexpectedly sexy daddy/daughter roleplay, and finally breaking the rules by fucking the mystery fellatrix, I was sure I had found my new favourite girl.

Returning home satisfied and happy, my heart dropped when I realised Grace had the same pink nail polish, each finger with a little pixelated heart. I had tried to reassure myself that girls would often all get matching sets. That thought was banished when she kissed me goodnight and thanked me for the £60 tip I had given her.

Apart from that hallway revelation, she hadn’t shown any hint or acknowledgement that anything had happened. She acted the same as she had always been, and life carried on with nothing untoward happening. Nothing until yesterday.

“Daddy, I have my ‘book club’ tomorrow after school, do you think you could pick me up?”

Normally it would have been an innocent thing to ask. It was the sort of thing any father was used to, acting as a taxi for his child. This, however, wasn’t just asking for a ride ... well, there might be some riding but of a different sort. Grace’s “book club” was the excuse she used when she worked at the glory hole booth. In asking me to pick her up, I felt like I was being invited to a repeat performance.

“Please Daddy, Mom took the other car as I really don’t want to get the bus or pay for an Uber,” the way she said Daddy made my cock throb in equal parts arousal and guilt.

Marie had left yesterday with our youngest daughter, Lilly, to visit her mother for a few days, using the car she shared with Grace. Most of the time, Grace had free use of the car, my wife only needing to use it sparingly. This was one of the few exceptions.

Her comment about paying for an Uber did make me think. Grace was getting paid for her “book club” services. Everyone paid £50 for the use of the booths, part of it going to Harry for supplying the booths, and part going to the girl, and all customers were encouraged to tip. I had tipped her £60 before I knew that the “Marie” who had sucked my cock so fantastically, was my own daughter. How much had Grace made?

She didn’t need the extra money. She had free use of the car, didn’t pay rent, she did a few chores around the house and I was more generous with her allowance than many parents. She has minimal outgoings, and I haven’t seen her with any recent big expenditures. Did she do it because she liked it, or was it just for money?

Come to think of it, how did she even find out about the backroom booths and end up with a job? On my side, to become a customer you had to know someone who already was. In my case, a former co-worker. I would assume it was similar for the girls who worked in the booths. I doubt there was an ad in the local paper:

WANTED - Girls with blowjob proficiency. Must have a willingness to work and excellent communication skills. 18 and older only.

I could only assume Grace heard about it from a friend. Now, that sent me down a whole new thought spiral. Which friend? If one of her friends told her, they must have been working there too, right? In all likelihood, one of my daughter’s friends had been sucking my cock without either of us realising we knew each other.

All of her friends I had met flicked through my mind. Could it be Ava, the sporty redhead, or maybe Milly, the short but stacked blonde she has known since she started primary school? Hell, it could even be Karly, the willowy brunette from next door.

“Daddy?” Grace said again, pulling from my musings.

“Um, sure. I can pick you up.”

“Thank you, Daddy! I should be done around 6pm, you remember where right, Daddy?” She said, stepping so close that her breasts brushed against my chest.

“Ye ... yeah. I remember.”

“Great. Make sure you arrive early, Daddy,” Grace finished popping up onto her tiptoes and giving me a perfectly acceptable peck on the lips.

That was yesterday, now I was sitting outside in the car park, half an hour before Grace asked me to pick her up. I was trying to tell myself that I should stay here. I could forgive myself for the last time, I had no way of knowing. Another part of me, however, was telling me that I should go inside.

After all, we had already done it once, and that bridge had already been crossed. Grace seemed to enjoy it and had all but handed me a written invitation for another round, and I definitely enjoyed it. We’re both consenting adults, so where’s the harm?

My body made the choice for me, and I found myself walking across the car park and through the sex shop’s door before I even really caught up with what I was doing.

“Back again so soon, I guess Marie made quite the impression. You want her room again?” Harry asked from behind the till.

While initially weekly, my visits have slowed to usually monthly, so to be back after just 2 weeks was a deviation from the norm. I found once a month enough to tide me over until my next visit, and was infrequent enough to avoid arising any suspicion with my wife. I didn’t really see it as cheating per se, it was just a business transaction and it benefited everyone.

“Yeah, if she’s free.”

“She should be finishing up pretty soon. Why not take a look around, and I’ll let you know when you can head back.”

“Uhm, sure.”

It was a strange experience to know my daughter likely had her lips wrapped around a stranger’s cock, while I was waiting for my own opportunity to do the same. I wondered how many other men today had also experienced my daughter’s admittedly masterful oral skills.

I shook my head to try and clear that thought, and decided to take Harry’s advice and have a look around. Oddly enough, I had never really paid much attention to the sort of things that filled the shelves. I usually head straight for the back rooms.

“They’re a popular item,” Harry said to me about ten minutes later.

After browsing all the normal sort of items you would expect to find in a sex shop, I came across something. A “make your own” dildo set. Clone-a-cock it was called.

“It used a seaweed-based material to make a mould of your cock, and then air-dry silicone to make a copy of your own cock. Just, make sure you shave first if you don’t want it to yank out all your pubes,” he said with a laugh.

“Maybe next time,” I replied, putting the box down.