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23 Temmuz 2022, 02:37
"Oh Mum, that's so old fashioned, no one does that anymore," said Jayney.
Our daughter's voice was clear around the partially opened door to our bedroom.
"Well, I like it like that. It makes me feel clean and sexy," said Margaret. "Your father likes it like that too."
"He would. It makes you look like a noughties' porn star. But trust me Mum, women today don't do Brazilians. They want to be natural, what their husbands or boyfriends think doesn't matter."
"What about shaving your armpits, or wearing deodorant?"
"Knock, knock." I slowly pushed open the bedroom door.
"Come in, Darling," said Margaret.
"But you're naked, Mum," said Jayney.
"He's seen me naked before," said Margaret. "Did you think the stork brought you?"
"But not while I'm in the room."
"You've seen me naked before too. So why does it matter if you both see me naked together."
With the door open, I could see that Jayney was wearing a bikini and Margaret was as naked as the day she was born, apart from her rings and earrings. She looked magnificent with her large firm breasts, rounded buttocks and toned thighs. As usual, her vulva was clean shaven revealing her pronounced, puffy outer labia between which her delicate inner lips protruded.
"Dad! You're ogling." Jayney sounded indignant.
"I don't think your mother minds," I said. "Anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure of two beautiful women in my bedroom."
"We were just getting changed to have a swim." Margaret reached into a drawer for her pale green bikini; the one with a brief, high cut bottom and a halter top with small cups that barely contained her breasts. "It's lovely out by the pool."
I glanced out of the window. A young man was already stretched out on a banana chair. "Andy got here okay then?"
Andy was my nephew, my sister and her husband's son. They lived in Melbourne. Andy was in his final year at university, studying for a degree in creative media and photography. He'd come to Sydney to take photos for an assignment during his semester break. My sister had asked us to put him up. With the house to themselves, she and my brother-in-law were probably looking forward to a week of uninhibited sex. We, on the other hand, had spent several days checking to make sure there was no evidence of our own sex life. We hid the canes in the garage, disguised among the garden implements, and piled all the cuffs, chains, floggers, bondage ropes and nipple clamps into boxes which I placed in the attic. Margaret's play wear was still in our dressing room, but most of it could as easily have passed for racy underwear.
"Yes," said Margaret. "He's grown up into quite a handsome young man. No sign of the acne that plagued him as a teenager. What do you think Jayney?"
"I'd say he was quite a dish, if I still didn't think of him as just my dorky cousin."
"Right, enjoy your swim," I said. "I've got some work to do in the study. Board papers."
I left them to it and went back downstairs.
An hour later, Margaret surprised me. She must have tip toed in as I hadn't heard her. She just appeared in front of my desk, still in her brief, green bikini, with a flushed look on her face. She held a finger to her lips while she closed the door.
"I'm not sure the study's soundproofed enough to hide the noise you make," I said.
"Neither is the bedroom. So, unless you're turning monk for the next two weeks, you'd better get used to the idea that Andy might just hear us. Although when you see what he's done that might not be a problem."
"Why, what has he done?"
"Open a new browsing page and type this in." She dictated a web address. I typed it in and hit 'enter'.
The page that opened appeared to be a soft porn site, with lots of pictures of scantily clad young woman.
"Just scroll down a little bit until you come to a menu," said Margaret.
I twirled the scroll button and the menu appeared. "Bikini, Shorts, Short Dresses," I read, "all looks harmless enough."
"Read on," said Margaret.
"Baby Doll, Lingerie. Oh I see. Upskirt."
"Exactly," said Margaret. It's not just glamour photography. Some of its almost hardcore. And the women don't know they're being photographed."
I clicked on Upskirt and links to pages of photos taken up the skirts of young and not so young women appeared. Most of the women were wearing underwear. Some were not. Many of the pictures were grainy and poorly focussed. Some were crystal-clear high definition.
"How do they take pictures like that," I said.
"I have no idea. But I do have a fair idea how the ones of Jayney and me were taken."
"There are photos of you and Jayney on this website!" I said, open mouthed.
"I've just said that. And I know who took them."
"Who?"
"Andy!"
"Andy?"
"Stop sounding like a parrot. Andy's taken photos of Jayney and me and posted them on that website."
I suppose I should have been shocked, or perhaps even outraged, that my nephew had taken candid photos of my wife and daughter and posted them online. Perhaps that was justifiable in Jayney's case, she was in grandbetting yeni giriş (http://serieztv.com/bahis/grandbetting/) her twenties with a budding career ahead of her. The possibility, however remote, of a boss or work colleagues seeing compromising photos of her was not something she would appreciate. It was different in Margaret's case, or at least so I thought. There was a growing circle of people who had seen her nude, which I had plans to expand. I had even suggested the possibility of posting our own nude pictures of her online, and she hadn't entirely shit-canned the idea. Was I surprised? Yes, that a guest would take such pictures and post them without permission. Was I outraged? No, after all how explicit could they be?
"You were neither of you nude were you?" I asked.
"Of course not," snapped Margaret. "Well ... Jayney was topless."
"I'm sure Andy's seen a pair of breasts before."
"That's not the point. Jayney taking her top off did not give him permission to take photos and post them on the internet."
"Okay, I get that. But how did you find out?" I asked.
"Well, when you came home we joined Andy by the pool. We all had a swim and then lay down in the sun to dry off. Jayney slipped her top off and not long after that Andy said he had to check his emails. He didn't return, so when I came inside to fetch some drinks, I thought I'd check to see if he wanted one. His door was ajar and I called out, but there was no answer so I pushed it open. I heard water running in the ensuite and guessed he was taking a shower. What did catch my eye was all the professional looking photo equipment lying about, and his laptop. The screen was part lowered but I could see a picture of a woman in a bikini."
"Don't tell me," I said. "Your curiosity got the better of you."
"I wondered if it was his girlfriend, so I raised the screen for a peek."
"I'm guessing it wasn't?"
"No, it was Jayney. I scrolled down and found pictures of me, too. He must have taken them through his bedroom window while we were sunbaking." She pointed at the on-screen menu. "Click on Bikini."
The most recent posting was entitled Mother and Daughter.
I clicked on the link and a photo of Margaret appeared, stretched out on a sun lounge next to our pool. She was on her back, her head supported by the backrest. Andy had caught her looking directly towards the camera. With her suntanned body beautifully highlighted by the green bikini, I thought she looked wonderful. Her skin seemed to glow in the softness of the late afternoon sunlight. Her back was slightly arched, accentuating the generous swell of her breasts and her long trim legs stretching invitingly towards the camera. With her raven hair tumbling from underneath her sun hat, and her lips parted in a seductive smile, as if someone had just told her an erotically charged joke, she could easily have passed for a mature super model such as Kelly Brook or a slenderer version of Ashley Graham. I would normally have compared her to my favourite fantasy woman, Nigella Lawson. But hours of frustrated internet searching had not shown up a single photo of Nigella in a swimsuit, apart from the obvious fakes and the ones of her wearing a Burkini on Bondi Beach.
"I think that's a lovely photo of you," I said. "You wouldn't be complaining if I'd taken it."
"Do what men always do and zoom in on the only bits that matter to you."
I zoomed in on her breasts. The high-resolution detail was truly amazing. I could clearly see Margaret's aureole and firm nipples outlined beneath the thin material of her bra. Little droplets of sweat glistened in her cleavage, and I was fascinated by the tiny, delicate hairs that sprouted all over her skin.
"Okay, so I can see the outline of your nipples. But so would anyone on the beach." I zoomed in for a even closer look. "I never realised you were quite so furry."
"My simian ancestry, but at least I don't have hairs on my back. Anyway, don't you think it's just a little invasive, seeing so much detail of a woman who has no idea she's going to be examined like that? By dirty old men and spotty faced youths."
"It's not exactly pornographic though."
"Go lower!"
I dropped my voice an octave. "It's not exactly pornographic though."
The deep throaty chuckle that I loved so much filled the study.
"God, I hate you," she said, grinning widely. "It's hard to maintain a sense of moral outrage when you're making me laugh."
I scrolled down and zoomed in on Margaret's crotch. The damp material was pulled tight across her shaven, puffy mons, leaving little to the imagination.
"Nice camel toe," I whistled.
"Check out the comments."
The mildest were those admiring the resemblance of her labia to the forefoot of an even-toed ungulate. At the other end of the scale were vulgarly expressed desires to perform all manner of sexual activities upon her.
"Some of the spelling's not very good, but I know for a fact you'd enjoy most of what's on offer," I said.
"From you, yes. But it's disgusting to read other men's revolting fantasies about me."
I smiled patiently grandbetting giriş (http://serieztv.com/bahis/grandbetting/) at her. "Are you sure you're not overreacting. Don't you feel just a weeny bit excited knowing that other people - I'll bet it's not just men - are enjoying seeing you in close up. Anyway, what about the comments you get on Literotica. You don't seem to mind those."
She rapped her fingers on the desk top. "Can't you see the difference? I never gave my consent to the photograph being taken. And I certainly never invited those ... men, to pass their filthy judgement on me."
"Don't know which I'd love to fuck first, the hot MILF or her equally hot daughter," I read. "Love to peel that bikini away from those lips and bury my tongue in that sweet pussy. Thanks for sharing her. Honestly Margaret, I couldn't put it better myself ... well, not the bit about Jayney. But you are a hot MILF. You wouldn't consider slipping that bikini bottom off?"
"Okay, I guess I'm not that worried about the photos of me." She dodged out of the way of the fingers reaching towards her bottom. "But what about Jayney?"
I scrolled down past more photos of Margaret until I found Jayney's. In the first one she was lying on her stomach, but had raised her head and was looking back over her shoulder. She was topless, so the swell of her side boob was visible, and her turquoise thong was framed between a pair of perfect buttocks above long slender legs. In turning to look over her shoulder, Jayney had parted her legs. Zooming in I saw that the camera had captured a glimpse of her outer labia, where the thin crotch of the thong had slipped to one side.
In the next photo she was lying on her back head towards the camera. She had evidently just climbed out of the pool as her hair was wet, and there were droplets of water sliding over her pert breasts and washboard stomach. Lower down the bikini stretched between her hip bones. I zoomed in to look at the gap. Once again, the detail was remarkable. In the shadow beneath the bikini, a shaven mound was clearly visible."
"They call that a bikini bridge," said Margaret. "She might as well be naked!"
"Bit hypocritical!"
"What?"
"Jayney! Bit hypocritical to tell you off for shaving your pubic hair, when she's done the same herself," I said.
"You shouldn't be looking."
"You told me to look. And if you must know, I think it's a great photo. She has a wonderful body. Just like her mother. I'll bet she keeps her boyfriend warm at night."
"Boyfriends!" said Margaret. "There's at least two that I know of." She sighed with exasperation. "But you're her father. You shouldn't be thinking of her in those terms. You know, I don't know why creation bothered to evolve women the way she did. All we are is a pair of mammary glands and a uterus, with a pretty face as a bonus from time to time. We might as well be like that painting by Magritte, the one where the woman is just a face made up of her breasts and vulva."
"That's called The Rape," I said. "And you know that's not how I think of you. Anyway, I prefer his Femme-Bouteille. The one with the woman's body in the shape of a wine bottle ... er, wait a moment, what did you mean about ... boyfriends?"
"Oh, so you're not bothered about her cousin posting near nude photos without her consent, but you are worried about how many men she's having sex with."
"I didn't say I wasn't bothered about the photos. I agree they're a bit revealing, I'd hate for someone to use them to embarrass her."
"So you have to tell him to take them down," said Margaret.
"Me! I'm not the one who went snooping about on his computer."
"Mmmm. There is that." She paused and stroked her chin. "I'll have to think about that." She flashed me a wry grin. "So ... you're not bothered about our daughter's reverse-harem?"
"Is that what I think it sounds like?"
"Yes, it's where a woman has several boyfriends, three or more technically, and they all accept the situation."
"We used to call that polyamory. Have you met any of them? Should I be worried?"
"One of them's a fitness instructor. She took me to his Zumba class. Too much for me."
"That explains how ripped she is," I examined Jayney's photo again. "She's almost got a six-pack." I fought to resist the grin, and failed. "She'll need to be fit if she's keeping up with three young men." I ducked the cuff aimed at my head.
"If you're so concerned, why don't you ask her to bring them all over for dinner? You can give them a stern fatherly lecture about not getting her pregnant, or making your little girl unhappy."
Jayney's a big girl, she can take care of herself." I checked my watch. "Anyway, there's still some sunlight left. Why don't you fetch those drinks like you intended and I'll join you both for a swim, and Andy if he's finished taking photos."
Despite her initial anger at Andy's intrusion, Margaret quickly recovered her poise and we enjoyed a pleasant evening. Jayney stayed for dinner. She and Margaret caught up on all their feminine gossip, but avoided any allusion to the reverse-harem. It was as if they both knew that grandbetting güvenilirmi (http://serieztv.com/bahis/grandbetting/) the other knew, but had a secret pact not to mention it in my presence. Andy mostly listened to the conversation until, loosened up after a glass of wine, he was persuaded to tell us about his aspirations to become a professional photographer.
After Jayney had left to drive home and Andy had said goodnight, Margaret caught my eye.
"Fancy a night cap ... in the study?"
I poured two brandies and carried them in. Margaret flopped onto the Chesterfield. As she raised her legs to tuck them beneath her, her skirt rode up treating me to an eyeful.
"Have you been panty less all evening?"
She laughed and her eyes sparkled with excitement. "I decided if Andy was going to try and upskirt me over dinner, he might as well hit the jackpot."
"I didn't see him with a camera?"
"Neither did I. But funnily enough, the thought of it was quite enough to get me going. Feels like there's a hot spring oozing between my legs." She took the offered drink and drained half of it. "Tell me, mister. What does a girl have to do to get laid around here?" It was a reasonably throaty impersonation of Lauren Bacall.
"Gimme time to make some calls, baby," I said, in my best Humphrey Bogart.
"Maybe after my husband's finished with me. Shut the door." She patted the seat beside her. "Now come and sit here and pin back your ears. I didn't tell you the full story about Jayney."
"Should you be telling me? It's her business after all."
"She didn't swear me to secrecy." She drained the rest of the brandy and placed the empty glass on my desk. "Jayney's three boyfriends. They're not always ... sequential."
It took me a moment to work it out. "You mean ...?"
"Yes, sometimes she has sex with one of them, sometimes two and sometimes all three together. What's more, two of the men are in a sexual relationship ... with each other."
"That sounds like the script for an entire porn movie." Images of my daughter making love to one man, while the other two made love to each other, before they all changed places, filled my overexcited imagination. I shouldn't have had the beginnings of an erection. It was wrong.
"Don't worry," said Margaret, her deep throaty chuckle teasing my ears. "That's what got me horny in the first place, thinking about it after she told me."
"When was that?"
"While you were getting changed to come the pool. I told her about Andy and the photos he'd posted. She just laughed, and said that was nothing to the photos her boyfriends had taken. There's probably even a sex tape out there somewhere." Her chuckle deepened into a full-bodied laugh. "Don't you see," she said in between gusts. "My parents are into hardcore swinging laced with sadomasochism, my perverted husband's trying to lead me down the same path, my daughter's a wanabee porn star fucking three men at a time, and my nephew enjoys taking photos up women's skirts. God only knows what my son is up to."
"I'm hardly leading you, Margaret. I seem to recall it was you initiated the little chat that got our sex life revved up. Anyway, last I heard, David is still at Uni."
"Yes, but he and his girlfriend are sharing a house with Jayney, and her ... ménage. The mind boggles!" There was another fit of giggles, before she composed herself. "Anyway, taking all that into consideration, I'll have a quiet word with Andy tomorrow and suggest he asks if he wants to photograph us in the future." She reached for the buttons of her blouse. "Now go and pour me a refill. I need something to fortify me for whatever perversions you intend to inflict upon me."
By the time I returned with two recharged glasses of brandy, Margaret was reclining nude on the Chesterfield, in the pose favoured by so many classical and modern artists. She raised a languid hand to take the glass, placed it to her lips and threw her head back.
"Shhheeeesh, it's burning all the way down. Oooohhhh, but it's warming now. The heat's spreading down into my pelvis and up into my nipples." She tossed the empty glass back to me. "I suggest you shed those clothes lover, while I come to the boil."
"I know which buttons to press to keep you there." I took a sip of my brandy. "I never tire of looking at you naked, Margaret. Would you like me to tell you how beautiful you are?"
She shielded her sex with one hand, and draped an arm across her breasts.
"Oh, sir. Please don't make me blush."
"Take your hands away, missy, and let me see all of you."
She hesitated, as if reluctant, and then let arms fall by her sides.
I placed the brandy glasses on the desk and knelt down beside her. Angling her head with my hands, I leaned forward to kiss her. Her mouth opened receptively and our tongues exchanged caresses.
"I love your raven hair," I said, breaking the kiss and running my fingers through her tresses. "The way it curls and tumbles onto your shoulders. The way it shimmers when you shake your head. The way it smells, like the countryside after fresh rain." I ran my fingers slowly down her face. "I love your deep brown eyes when they're filled with the fire of our lovemaking. I love your patrician nose and your high cheekbones that make you look like a goddess from ancient Greece. I love your full lips, ripe for kissing," I kissed her again, "and the way they curl bewitchingly when you laugh. I love ..."
Our daughter's voice was clear around the partially opened door to our bedroom.
"Well, I like it like that. It makes me feel clean and sexy," said Margaret. "Your father likes it like that too."
"He would. It makes you look like a noughties' porn star. But trust me Mum, women today don't do Brazilians. They want to be natural, what their husbands or boyfriends think doesn't matter."
"What about shaving your armpits, or wearing deodorant?"
"Knock, knock." I slowly pushed open the bedroom door.
"Come in, Darling," said Margaret.
"But you're naked, Mum," said Jayney.
"He's seen me naked before," said Margaret. "Did you think the stork brought you?"
"But not while I'm in the room."
"You've seen me naked before too. So why does it matter if you both see me naked together."
With the door open, I could see that Jayney was wearing a bikini and Margaret was as naked as the day she was born, apart from her rings and earrings. She looked magnificent with her large firm breasts, rounded buttocks and toned thighs. As usual, her vulva was clean shaven revealing her pronounced, puffy outer labia between which her delicate inner lips protruded.
"Dad! You're ogling." Jayney sounded indignant.
"I don't think your mother minds," I said. "Anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure of two beautiful women in my bedroom."
"We were just getting changed to have a swim." Margaret reached into a drawer for her pale green bikini; the one with a brief, high cut bottom and a halter top with small cups that barely contained her breasts. "It's lovely out by the pool."
I glanced out of the window. A young man was already stretched out on a banana chair. "Andy got here okay then?"
Andy was my nephew, my sister and her husband's son. They lived in Melbourne. Andy was in his final year at university, studying for a degree in creative media and photography. He'd come to Sydney to take photos for an assignment during his semester break. My sister had asked us to put him up. With the house to themselves, she and my brother-in-law were probably looking forward to a week of uninhibited sex. We, on the other hand, had spent several days checking to make sure there was no evidence of our own sex life. We hid the canes in the garage, disguised among the garden implements, and piled all the cuffs, chains, floggers, bondage ropes and nipple clamps into boxes which I placed in the attic. Margaret's play wear was still in our dressing room, but most of it could as easily have passed for racy underwear.
"Yes," said Margaret. "He's grown up into quite a handsome young man. No sign of the acne that plagued him as a teenager. What do you think Jayney?"
"I'd say he was quite a dish, if I still didn't think of him as just my dorky cousin."
"Right, enjoy your swim," I said. "I've got some work to do in the study. Board papers."
I left them to it and went back downstairs.
An hour later, Margaret surprised me. She must have tip toed in as I hadn't heard her. She just appeared in front of my desk, still in her brief, green bikini, with a flushed look on her face. She held a finger to her lips while she closed the door.
"I'm not sure the study's soundproofed enough to hide the noise you make," I said.
"Neither is the bedroom. So, unless you're turning monk for the next two weeks, you'd better get used to the idea that Andy might just hear us. Although when you see what he's done that might not be a problem."
"Why, what has he done?"
"Open a new browsing page and type this in." She dictated a web address. I typed it in and hit 'enter'.
The page that opened appeared to be a soft porn site, with lots of pictures of scantily clad young woman.
"Just scroll down a little bit until you come to a menu," said Margaret.
I twirled the scroll button and the menu appeared. "Bikini, Shorts, Short Dresses," I read, "all looks harmless enough."
"Read on," said Margaret.
"Baby Doll, Lingerie. Oh I see. Upskirt."
"Exactly," said Margaret. It's not just glamour photography. Some of its almost hardcore. And the women don't know they're being photographed."
I clicked on Upskirt and links to pages of photos taken up the skirts of young and not so young women appeared. Most of the women were wearing underwear. Some were not. Many of the pictures were grainy and poorly focussed. Some were crystal-clear high definition.
"How do they take pictures like that," I said.
"I have no idea. But I do have a fair idea how the ones of Jayney and me were taken."
"There are photos of you and Jayney on this website!" I said, open mouthed.
"I've just said that. And I know who took them."
"Who?"
"Andy!"
"Andy?"
"Stop sounding like a parrot. Andy's taken photos of Jayney and me and posted them on that website."
I suppose I should have been shocked, or perhaps even outraged, that my nephew had taken candid photos of my wife and daughter and posted them online. Perhaps that was justifiable in Jayney's case, she was in grandbetting yeni giriş (http://serieztv.com/bahis/grandbetting/) her twenties with a budding career ahead of her. The possibility, however remote, of a boss or work colleagues seeing compromising photos of her was not something she would appreciate. It was different in Margaret's case, or at least so I thought. There was a growing circle of people who had seen her nude, which I had plans to expand. I had even suggested the possibility of posting our own nude pictures of her online, and she hadn't entirely shit-canned the idea. Was I surprised? Yes, that a guest would take such pictures and post them without permission. Was I outraged? No, after all how explicit could they be?
"You were neither of you nude were you?" I asked.
"Of course not," snapped Margaret. "Well ... Jayney was topless."
"I'm sure Andy's seen a pair of breasts before."
"That's not the point. Jayney taking her top off did not give him permission to take photos and post them on the internet."
"Okay, I get that. But how did you find out?" I asked.
"Well, when you came home we joined Andy by the pool. We all had a swim and then lay down in the sun to dry off. Jayney slipped her top off and not long after that Andy said he had to check his emails. He didn't return, so when I came inside to fetch some drinks, I thought I'd check to see if he wanted one. His door was ajar and I called out, but there was no answer so I pushed it open. I heard water running in the ensuite and guessed he was taking a shower. What did catch my eye was all the professional looking photo equipment lying about, and his laptop. The screen was part lowered but I could see a picture of a woman in a bikini."
"Don't tell me," I said. "Your curiosity got the better of you."
"I wondered if it was his girlfriend, so I raised the screen for a peek."
"I'm guessing it wasn't?"
"No, it was Jayney. I scrolled down and found pictures of me, too. He must have taken them through his bedroom window while we were sunbaking." She pointed at the on-screen menu. "Click on Bikini."
The most recent posting was entitled Mother and Daughter.
I clicked on the link and a photo of Margaret appeared, stretched out on a sun lounge next to our pool. She was on her back, her head supported by the backrest. Andy had caught her looking directly towards the camera. With her suntanned body beautifully highlighted by the green bikini, I thought she looked wonderful. Her skin seemed to glow in the softness of the late afternoon sunlight. Her back was slightly arched, accentuating the generous swell of her breasts and her long trim legs stretching invitingly towards the camera. With her raven hair tumbling from underneath her sun hat, and her lips parted in a seductive smile, as if someone had just told her an erotically charged joke, she could easily have passed for a mature super model such as Kelly Brook or a slenderer version of Ashley Graham. I would normally have compared her to my favourite fantasy woman, Nigella Lawson. But hours of frustrated internet searching had not shown up a single photo of Nigella in a swimsuit, apart from the obvious fakes and the ones of her wearing a Burkini on Bondi Beach.
"I think that's a lovely photo of you," I said. "You wouldn't be complaining if I'd taken it."
"Do what men always do and zoom in on the only bits that matter to you."
I zoomed in on her breasts. The high-resolution detail was truly amazing. I could clearly see Margaret's aureole and firm nipples outlined beneath the thin material of her bra. Little droplets of sweat glistened in her cleavage, and I was fascinated by the tiny, delicate hairs that sprouted all over her skin.
"Okay, so I can see the outline of your nipples. But so would anyone on the beach." I zoomed in for a even closer look. "I never realised you were quite so furry."
"My simian ancestry, but at least I don't have hairs on my back. Anyway, don't you think it's just a little invasive, seeing so much detail of a woman who has no idea she's going to be examined like that? By dirty old men and spotty faced youths."
"It's not exactly pornographic though."
"Go lower!"
I dropped my voice an octave. "It's not exactly pornographic though."
The deep throaty chuckle that I loved so much filled the study.
"God, I hate you," she said, grinning widely. "It's hard to maintain a sense of moral outrage when you're making me laugh."
I scrolled down and zoomed in on Margaret's crotch. The damp material was pulled tight across her shaven, puffy mons, leaving little to the imagination.
"Nice camel toe," I whistled.
"Check out the comments."
The mildest were those admiring the resemblance of her labia to the forefoot of an even-toed ungulate. At the other end of the scale were vulgarly expressed desires to perform all manner of sexual activities upon her.
"Some of the spelling's not very good, but I know for a fact you'd enjoy most of what's on offer," I said.
"From you, yes. But it's disgusting to read other men's revolting fantasies about me."
I smiled patiently grandbetting giriş (http://serieztv.com/bahis/grandbetting/) at her. "Are you sure you're not overreacting. Don't you feel just a weeny bit excited knowing that other people - I'll bet it's not just men - are enjoying seeing you in close up. Anyway, what about the comments you get on Literotica. You don't seem to mind those."
She rapped her fingers on the desk top. "Can't you see the difference? I never gave my consent to the photograph being taken. And I certainly never invited those ... men, to pass their filthy judgement on me."
"Don't know which I'd love to fuck first, the hot MILF or her equally hot daughter," I read. "Love to peel that bikini away from those lips and bury my tongue in that sweet pussy. Thanks for sharing her. Honestly Margaret, I couldn't put it better myself ... well, not the bit about Jayney. But you are a hot MILF. You wouldn't consider slipping that bikini bottom off?"
"Okay, I guess I'm not that worried about the photos of me." She dodged out of the way of the fingers reaching towards her bottom. "But what about Jayney?"
I scrolled down past more photos of Margaret until I found Jayney's. In the first one she was lying on her stomach, but had raised her head and was looking back over her shoulder. She was topless, so the swell of her side boob was visible, and her turquoise thong was framed between a pair of perfect buttocks above long slender legs. In turning to look over her shoulder, Jayney had parted her legs. Zooming in I saw that the camera had captured a glimpse of her outer labia, where the thin crotch of the thong had slipped to one side.
In the next photo she was lying on her back head towards the camera. She had evidently just climbed out of the pool as her hair was wet, and there were droplets of water sliding over her pert breasts and washboard stomach. Lower down the bikini stretched between her hip bones. I zoomed in to look at the gap. Once again, the detail was remarkable. In the shadow beneath the bikini, a shaven mound was clearly visible."
"They call that a bikini bridge," said Margaret. "She might as well be naked!"
"Bit hypocritical!"
"What?"
"Jayney! Bit hypocritical to tell you off for shaving your pubic hair, when she's done the same herself," I said.
"You shouldn't be looking."
"You told me to look. And if you must know, I think it's a great photo. She has a wonderful body. Just like her mother. I'll bet she keeps her boyfriend warm at night."
"Boyfriends!" said Margaret. "There's at least two that I know of." She sighed with exasperation. "But you're her father. You shouldn't be thinking of her in those terms. You know, I don't know why creation bothered to evolve women the way she did. All we are is a pair of mammary glands and a uterus, with a pretty face as a bonus from time to time. We might as well be like that painting by Magritte, the one where the woman is just a face made up of her breasts and vulva."
"That's called The Rape," I said. "And you know that's not how I think of you. Anyway, I prefer his Femme-Bouteille. The one with the woman's body in the shape of a wine bottle ... er, wait a moment, what did you mean about ... boyfriends?"
"Oh, so you're not bothered about her cousin posting near nude photos without her consent, but you are worried about how many men she's having sex with."
"I didn't say I wasn't bothered about the photos. I agree they're a bit revealing, I'd hate for someone to use them to embarrass her."
"So you have to tell him to take them down," said Margaret.
"Me! I'm not the one who went snooping about on his computer."
"Mmmm. There is that." She paused and stroked her chin. "I'll have to think about that." She flashed me a wry grin. "So ... you're not bothered about our daughter's reverse-harem?"
"Is that what I think it sounds like?"
"Yes, it's where a woman has several boyfriends, three or more technically, and they all accept the situation."
"We used to call that polyamory. Have you met any of them? Should I be worried?"
"One of them's a fitness instructor. She took me to his Zumba class. Too much for me."
"That explains how ripped she is," I examined Jayney's photo again. "She's almost got a six-pack." I fought to resist the grin, and failed. "She'll need to be fit if she's keeping up with three young men." I ducked the cuff aimed at my head.
"If you're so concerned, why don't you ask her to bring them all over for dinner? You can give them a stern fatherly lecture about not getting her pregnant, or making your little girl unhappy."
Jayney's a big girl, she can take care of herself." I checked my watch. "Anyway, there's still some sunlight left. Why don't you fetch those drinks like you intended and I'll join you both for a swim, and Andy if he's finished taking photos."
Despite her initial anger at Andy's intrusion, Margaret quickly recovered her poise and we enjoyed a pleasant evening. Jayney stayed for dinner. She and Margaret caught up on all their feminine gossip, but avoided any allusion to the reverse-harem. It was as if they both knew that grandbetting güvenilirmi (http://serieztv.com/bahis/grandbetting/) the other knew, but had a secret pact not to mention it in my presence. Andy mostly listened to the conversation until, loosened up after a glass of wine, he was persuaded to tell us about his aspirations to become a professional photographer.
After Jayney had left to drive home and Andy had said goodnight, Margaret caught my eye.
"Fancy a night cap ... in the study?"
I poured two brandies and carried them in. Margaret flopped onto the Chesterfield. As she raised her legs to tuck them beneath her, her skirt rode up treating me to an eyeful.
"Have you been panty less all evening?"
She laughed and her eyes sparkled with excitement. "I decided if Andy was going to try and upskirt me over dinner, he might as well hit the jackpot."
"I didn't see him with a camera?"
"Neither did I. But funnily enough, the thought of it was quite enough to get me going. Feels like there's a hot spring oozing between my legs." She took the offered drink and drained half of it. "Tell me, mister. What does a girl have to do to get laid around here?" It was a reasonably throaty impersonation of Lauren Bacall.
"Gimme time to make some calls, baby," I said, in my best Humphrey Bogart.
"Maybe after my husband's finished with me. Shut the door." She patted the seat beside her. "Now come and sit here and pin back your ears. I didn't tell you the full story about Jayney."
"Should you be telling me? It's her business after all."
"She didn't swear me to secrecy." She drained the rest of the brandy and placed the empty glass on my desk. "Jayney's three boyfriends. They're not always ... sequential."
It took me a moment to work it out. "You mean ...?"
"Yes, sometimes she has sex with one of them, sometimes two and sometimes all three together. What's more, two of the men are in a sexual relationship ... with each other."
"That sounds like the script for an entire porn movie." Images of my daughter making love to one man, while the other two made love to each other, before they all changed places, filled my overexcited imagination. I shouldn't have had the beginnings of an erection. It was wrong.
"Don't worry," said Margaret, her deep throaty chuckle teasing my ears. "That's what got me horny in the first place, thinking about it after she told me."
"When was that?"
"While you were getting changed to come the pool. I told her about Andy and the photos he'd posted. She just laughed, and said that was nothing to the photos her boyfriends had taken. There's probably even a sex tape out there somewhere." Her chuckle deepened into a full-bodied laugh. "Don't you see," she said in between gusts. "My parents are into hardcore swinging laced with sadomasochism, my perverted husband's trying to lead me down the same path, my daughter's a wanabee porn star fucking three men at a time, and my nephew enjoys taking photos up women's skirts. God only knows what my son is up to."
"I'm hardly leading you, Margaret. I seem to recall it was you initiated the little chat that got our sex life revved up. Anyway, last I heard, David is still at Uni."
"Yes, but he and his girlfriend are sharing a house with Jayney, and her ... ménage. The mind boggles!" There was another fit of giggles, before she composed herself. "Anyway, taking all that into consideration, I'll have a quiet word with Andy tomorrow and suggest he asks if he wants to photograph us in the future." She reached for the buttons of her blouse. "Now go and pour me a refill. I need something to fortify me for whatever perversions you intend to inflict upon me."
By the time I returned with two recharged glasses of brandy, Margaret was reclining nude on the Chesterfield, in the pose favoured by so many classical and modern artists. She raised a languid hand to take the glass, placed it to her lips and threw her head back.
"Shhheeeesh, it's burning all the way down. Oooohhhh, but it's warming now. The heat's spreading down into my pelvis and up into my nipples." She tossed the empty glass back to me. "I suggest you shed those clothes lover, while I come to the boil."
"I know which buttons to press to keep you there." I took a sip of my brandy. "I never tire of looking at you naked, Margaret. Would you like me to tell you how beautiful you are?"
She shielded her sex with one hand, and draped an arm across her breasts.
"Oh, sir. Please don't make me blush."
"Take your hands away, missy, and let me see all of you."
She hesitated, as if reluctant, and then let arms fall by her sides.
I placed the brandy glasses on the desk and knelt down beside her. Angling her head with my hands, I leaned forward to kiss her. Her mouth opened receptively and our tongues exchanged caresses.
"I love your raven hair," I said, breaking the kiss and running my fingers through her tresses. "The way it curls and tumbles onto your shoulders. The way it shimmers when you shake your head. The way it smells, like the countryside after fresh rain." I ran my fingers slowly down her face. "I love your deep brown eyes when they're filled with the fire of our lovemaking. I love your patrician nose and your high cheekbones that make you look like a goddess from ancient Greece. I love your full lips, ripe for kissing," I kissed her again, "and the way they curl bewitchingly when you laugh. I love ..."