Published:
August 28, 2025
Submitted - Ashley’s Game
The idea for this book came to me one morning in the shower and lay dormant in my mind for a long time. It was only a rough idea involving an exotic teenager, which I had written down a few lines about. Only after almost half a year did a rough plot come to me. So I wrote down the first few lines and more or less fixed the storyline. Even at that point, I knew I would cross some boundaries again and considered it a good idea to release this work as my 30th book.
Ashley brings her entire family under her control and also the family of Deborah, the mother of her friend. The open-minded yet dominant teenager keeps pushing boundaries further and sets increasingly crazy tasks. During a shared vacation, she really gets going and pushes everyone to their last limits. Debbie is completely subjugated by Ashley and experiences ever wilder sex games that turn her upside down.
Chapter 1
This damned housework was getting on my nerves. I constantly had to clean up after my family and keep our apartment in order just so we could live decently. It all fell on me alone. Frank was at work, and our daughter Fiona was out in town. She had just turned a sweet 18 years old and was celebrating her birthday with her friend Ashley at our place. That day, I’ll never forget, because with Ashley’s arrival, a new breeze swept through our home.
Fiona celebrated her birthday at the start of summer. The two girls decided to keep it small and celebrate at our house. From the moment I met Ashley, she caught my eye. It wasn’t exactly surprising—she had an unusual skin tone for our area. She was cocoa-brown. I was immediately fascinated by her. She had a beautifully sculpted face and, as far as I could tell under her clothes, gorgeous feminine curves. Our daughter Fiona knew her from volleyball practice and school. Her mother was Brazilian, married to a German. She was in one of Fiona’s parallel classes and, like our daughter, was about to graduate high school.
The two girls had become friends, and I could tell that Ashley’s grace on one hand and her shy reserve on the other drew me in like a magnet. I wanted to figure out what kind of person this was, spending time with my daughter. And what I got to know was very pleasant. Her father, I learned, had been a diplomat in her mother’s homeland, and that’s how her parents met. A few days later, the girls made plans to hang out in our garden. It was a hot day, and they wanted to sunbathe on the terrace and relax.
The moment I saw her coming out of Fiona’s room, I was speechless. She was wearing a white bikini that could only be described as tiny. Her flawless, slender body with its even brown tone was perfectly contrasted by the garment. The bottoms, barely worth mentioning, covered her modesty only just, and it was clear to everyone that not a single hair disrupted the impression. Her breasts were small, barely filling an A-cup, but the prominent curve of her nipples held me captive.
I remembered that in my youth, my nipples had that same shape, but that faded as I got older and eventually became pregnant with Fiona. Now, at 42, I had well-filled B-cups, reserved only for my husband. Our wedding was 19 years ago. Back then, Frank and I were still at university, aiming to become mathematicians. We both finished our studies, but because of the pregnancy and Fiona’s birth, I never entered a proper career. Frank started working at an insurance company, and we managed well enough with the money.
It wasn’t much that Frank earned at first, but after some time, we could even afford a small house with a large garden. In the garden, we set up a little playground for our daughter. My husband wasn’t particularly handy, but he did his best for the playground, and as Fiona grew, we added more. He even built a small slide for his darling. Fiona loved that metal contraption and could never get enough of climbing on it. Now that she was an adult, the slide was still in our garden. Fiona no longer fit on it, and it would probably collapse if she tried, but we were never allowed to take it down.
It had been our daughter’s sacred relic since childhood, and as long as she lived with us, that little structure wasn’t going anywhere. She was serious about that. Sometimes I regretted that because of Fiona, I couldn’t have a normal career. Only when our daughter was old enough could I take a part-time job and earn a bit of money alongside my husband so we could afford a little more. But after nearly 20 years of marriage, Frank and I still loved each other like we did on the first day. Much of our life had become routine, and surprises were rare.
After so many years, you know your partner inside and out. Exploring each other was done after a few years of marriage, and you knew what strengths and flaws to expect. The flaws, in particular, were a daily reminder. That’s just how it was—you couldn’t pick and choose. After such a long time together, our sex life could be called a bit rusty. The routines were similar after all these years, and we didn’t make love as often as younger people. Frank is a very loving man and enjoys spoiling me with his tongue.
Sometimes he’d even use a finger or two. My oral skills brought him a lot of joy as well. I also particularly enjoyed pleasing him that way. Before Frank, I had only four lovers who got to sleep with me. But they were all too young and focused more on themselves than on me during our intimate moments. Frank wasn’t exactly known as a great stallion, but with his decent looks and very adequate “equipment,” he could score points with women my age. Back then, he was quite the sought-after lover and, by his account, had been with about thirty women.
That didn’t make me jealous, but it didn’t exactly fill me with pride either. I was drawn to his calm and reliable nature, and in bed, he showed me a lot of new things. He knew what he was doing, and back then, he proved it to me almost daily—sometimes multiple times. I was truly happy with him, and we started our marriage. Shortly after, the pregnancy with our sunshine Fiona came along. The wild life we led before turned into a more restrained relationship. Once Fiona was born, we couldn’t revive our wild sex life.
I never had same-sex adventures, nor was I interested in them. I saw my friends more as gossip buddies and happily joined in. But sexual interest never arose. Sabine and Frauke, friends from my youth, had shown curiosity about me. They often compared themselves to me when we changed at the pool or tried on clothes in front of mirrors in our rooms. I usually came up short. I tended to gain weight too easily and could only counter it with a strict exercise regimen.
That’s how I discovered my love for volleyball, which I passed on to our daughter. It also gave my breasts some firmness because the connective tissue was constantly challenged. It didn’t make much sense for the B-cups I carried, but it was an excellent way to control my weight. In recent years, though, I’d neglected it a bit. I hated those constricting bras and usually left them in the closet. I preferred to let them swing freely, which, in recent years, allowed gravity to take its toll a bit.
Frank said you couldn’t really tell and encouraged me. But I wasn’t sure if he was just saying that to make me feel better or if he was fibbing. My backside, though, was my pride and joy. Years of training had made it firm, which Frank always loved. As for him, his top layer of polish had worn off too. Like most men, he had a thicker belly, and the hair on his head was thinning. Men had their issues too, even if they often brushed them off as mere signs of aging.
But in that moment, as young Ashley stood before me and I stared at her budding breasts, I was overcome with a desire to touch that tender, youthful flesh. Only when I realized I was staring at this gorgeous young thing with cocoa skin did I quickly turn away, feeling the blush rise to my cheeks. Ashley must have noticed, though she acted like she hadn’t. She and Fiona strutted past me, and I couldn’t help but ogle the young girl’s backside. Her cheeks swayed slightly, almost waving at me.
Once the girls settled in the garden, I retreated to the basement to deal with the laundry. It was the only place I couldn’t see them, so I felt relatively safe. But as I unloaded the washing machine and plugged in the iron, the thought of touching Ashley’s dreamlike body overwhelmed me. Without thinking, my hand slipped under my loose summer dress and caressed my breasts. I thought of her hairless armpits and velvety mound.
My hands moved unconsciously over my stomach. One squeezed my breasts while the other slipped past the waistband of my panties, gently brushing my own hairless mound and finding my little love button. For the first time in my life, a young woman—or rather, a young girl—turned me on so much that I got wet and touched myself. I was shocked at myself and needed a brief pause. But just a few seconds of standing still in the laundry room were enough to throw all my reservations overboard.
I continued touching myself, and in the private porn movie playing in my head, Ashley came to life. In that film, she started kissing me deeply, and my hands became hers. She caressed me, kissed me, and moaned softly into my mouth. I explored her young, untouched, firm, wrinkle-free body. Her small buds perked up, and I suckled them like a newborn searching for fresh milk from her sweet little breasts. My hands roamed my own intimate area, sending my desire to new heights.
Just as I was inhaling the intoxicating scent of her young pussy in my mind and nearing a spectacular climax, I heard urgent calls from upstairs. Fiona was calling for me, as she had for years. She slammed on the brakes perfectly. I quickly fixed my clothes, nearly forgetting my wet fingers that had just been between my lips. I desperately hoped my soaked panties weren’t visible and ran upstairs. At the terrace door stood Fiona, dripping as if she’d just climbed out of a nonexistent pool, waiting for me.
Beaming, she said, “Can you grab us two towels? It was so hot, we sprayed each other with the garden hose.”
A bit disappointed, I turned around, ran upstairs to the bathroom, and grabbed two towels. At least Fiona had listened to my request not to track water through the house. I spent most of my time wiping and cleaning, and Fiona always ruined my work by dragging dirt back inside. When I got back to the terrace door and handed Fiona the first towel, I nearly had a heart attack. Behind her stood Ashley in her tiny white bikini, now almost transparent from the water.
The bit of fabric clung to her flawless figure like a second skin, and I caught myself staring at my daughter’s young friend. Her small nipples stood erect, poking dark brown through the snow-white bikini. Even worse was her tiny bottoms, which had molded to her body, outlining her delicate lips. The small slit was unmistakable. My gaze stuck to it like a magnet to a fridge, and I had to consciously force myself to look elsewhere.
With one last appreciative glance at the nearly naked teenager stirring my emotions, I handed Ashley a towel and asked them to dry off and quickly change out of their wet clothes. Both grinned at me, dried their feet, and stepped into the living room. I had assumed they’d change in Fiona’s room, but Ashley proved me wrong. Right in front of me in our living room, she stripped, and after a moment of confusion, Fiona followed her friend’s lead.
Fiona, with her baby fat around her hips and pale skin, stood in stark contrast to the deeply tanned, incredibly slim Ashley. As Ashley bent over to slip off her white bikini bottoms, she practically presented her backside to me. As she slowly peeled them off, I got a clear view of her dark pussy with slightly parted lips. I even spotted her protruding little clit, and I felt like this young friend of our daughter was deliberately trying to throw me off. She didn’t realize she’d already succeeded.
The wildest thoughts raced through my mind. I wondered intensely what she tasted like between her legs, what it would be like to bury my tongue in that pleasure cave, and whether she’d scream loudly or softly during an orgasm. At the same time, I scolded myself for these thoughts. What had gotten into me? What teenager, especially one like Ashley, would want anything to do with an old woman like me? I had to force myself to tear away from this delicious sight and distract myself with housework. Just as I was about to head back to the laundry room, Fiona handed me their wet clothes and asked me to hang them up to dry.
The two naked girls ran upstairs, and I was left in the living room with the wet clothes. On top of the pile was Ashley’s white bikini bottom, smirking at me slyly. I cautiously looked around the living room and saw I was completely alone. Following an inner compulsion, I picked up Ashley’s white bottoms, turned them in my hand, and couldn’t help but sniff them. I couldn’t smell much; they were just too wet. Only a faint, sweet scent reached my nose, reigniting my desire.
Chapter 2
With the girls’ wet clothes in hand, I retreated to the basement to deal with the laundry that our daughter had interrupted. But that little pair of panties in my hand ruined that plan. I couldn’t do anything but hold Ashley’s damp garment to my nose, inhale its scent, and start stroking my wet pussy. Like a complete maniac, I stood wide-legged in the laundry room, caressing my dripping slit and breathing in the faint scent of the schoolgirl. After a few seconds, I even began licking it, hoping to find an answer to my thoughts about how she might taste between her legs.
This time, I had enough time to bring myself to an incredible orgasm. Instead of screaming, I bit my lips and stayed silent. With Ashley’s panties in hand, I stood in the laundry room, grinning deeply. If my daughter’s young friend only knew what I had just experienced with her faint scent in my nose, she’d probably despise me. Luckily, she’d never find out, as I was alone the whole time. Afterward, I took care of the wet clothes and hung them up to dry. Then I tackled the ironing, lost in thoughts of that sweet sight.
Later in the afternoon, my husband came home from work. I hadn’t seen Ashley or Fiona since the incident in the living room. The two girls were in Fiona’s room, messing around with something. Frank, however, had decided at the office to grill in our garden that evening. That wasn’t a big issue for me. I had already prepared a potato salad for dinner and put it in the fridge. We were supposed to have chicken steaks from the pan, but I had grill meat and sausages in the freezer. All we needed was bread and some sangria, which Frank enjoyed at a barbecue.
I hopped in the car, drove to town, and picked up two baguettes, barbecue sauces, and a few bottles of sangria. With those in tow, I drove back home and was met with a surprise. Frank and the girls were sitting on the terrace in casual summer clothes. The table was set, and Frank had already fired up the grill. Fiona was probably playing the diligent one in front of Ashley and had deigned to set the table, something she otherwise avoided at all costs. Fi had always been a little princess, steering clear of work whenever she spotted it.
You wouldn’t have noticed that today. She likely just wanted to show off to her friend that she contributed to the household. The sangria bottles didn’t even make it to the table. Frank had already taken one and poured it into our glasses, and Fiona grabbed another to pour for herself and her friend. That wasn’t like her. She occasionally drank a glass of alcohol, which we allowed her to do a couple of years ago, but she usually held back—at least in front of us. Of course, she’d had her first experience with too much alcohol after a party, but she typically wasn’t so casual about it.
We sat together on the terrace, sipping sangria, and I kept glancing at Ashley. I decided that tonight, Frank had to fulfill his marital duties. The day had made me unbelievably horny, and I needed a big round of sex. To be honest, Ashley had made me horny, but my husband didn’t need to know that. Then I remembered what the girls had planned, so I asked the sweet Ashley, “Tell me, Ashley, when do you need to go home? Are you being picked up, or do we need to drive you?”
Fiona gave her friend a conspiratorial look and hesitated before letting the cat out of the bag, asking if Ashley could sleep over. It was Friday, after all, and they didn’t have to get up early on Saturday. The hopeful glint in their eyes was unmistakable, and I pretty much had to agree. But I pulled my ace card to ensure my evening with my husband wasn’t jeopardized. I asked the young beauty, “Ashley probably isn’t allowed. Have you already talked to her parents?”
The teenager who was driving me wild answered for both, “Please call me Ash. I can’t stand my long name, and everyone just calls me Ash. My parents aren’t strict about me sleeping over at a friend’s. But we can call them.”
I asked our daughter, “Fi, can you grab the phone?”
Our daughter grinned, pulled her cell phone from her pocket, and slid it across the table to me. “Only dinosaurs use museum pieces to make calls, Mom. Nowadays, we use modern technology for stuff like that. No need to move much or punch in numbers.”
Frank laughed throatily and said, “Watch it, Fiona. Don’t give either of these dinosaurs the idea to give you a smack for your cheek. You need to tone it down at home.”
Fiona looked embarrassed. Her teenage tone had gotten the better of her, and she thought we’d just let it slide. But my husband didn’t tolerate that from his daughter, whether she was of age or not. At our house, she had to behave properly and keep her street talk in check. Ashley, too, seemed a bit put off and gave our daughter a light tap on the neck, grumbling, “Fi, those are your parents. Show some respect. Without them, you wouldn’t even know how to hold a knife and fork, and your phone would still be in a shop window.”
The cocoa-brown beauty stood up, took Fiona’s phone, and dialed her parents’ number. I hadn’t expected such behavior from the pretty young lady. But it showed me that Ashley likely had a good influence on my daughter. When the call connected, Ash switched languages. Instead of German, she spoke Portuguese, asking her mom if she could spend the night at Fiona’s. Her expression told me everything I needed to know. Her mother clearly had no issue, and the beauty beamed from ear to ear.
Ash handed me the phone and said, “My mom would like to speak with you.”
From the device, I heard a female voice with a clear Portuguese accent asking if I minded her daughter staying over. I said no and was told they’d pick Ashley up the next day around eleven. I asked the girls loudly if that time worked for them, and they shouted, “Yeah, awesome!” in response. I confirmed the time and ended the call with Ashley’s mother. The girls were thrilled, and Fiona said it was fine if they drank a bit more alcohol.
But she hadn’t counted on her strict mother, who had just handed back her phone. I didn’t like it when Fiona drank senselessly. Even Ashley scolded her friend, saying alcohol wasn’t exactly healthy and she wouldn’t drink much. After two glasses, she’d switch to water. That won me over again. I hadn’t expected this cocoa-brown beauty to influence our daughter with such statements. Or was it just an act to make a good impression?
It wasn’t an act. Ashley kept taking our side, independently correcting our daughter. Fiona actually listened to her friend and behaved better. To Ashley, I said, “By the way, I’m Deborah. Call me Debbie.”
My husband chimed in, “And I’m Frank. But you can call me Frank.”
We all laughed and spent a cheerful early evening. However, I told the girls they had to prepare their own sleeping arrangements in Fiona’s room. That meant getting the mattress, making the bed, laying out towels, and handling anything else needed. Though neither Fiona nor Ashley had finished eating, they rushed upstairs to get everything ready. I seized the moment to get close to my husband. Half-lying on his chair, I stroked his pants, kissed him, and whispered in his ear, “Let’s do it tonight.”
I got encouraging looks from my husband, and we got a bit lost in each other. Under my hand, I could already feel the blood flow, and a noticeable bulge formed. Out of nowhere, Ash appeared beside us, complaining, “Fiona can’t find the bedding.”
Like I’d seen a ghost, I shot upright next to my husband, wondering how long she’d been watching us. Frank was still fully clothed, and my hand had quickly left his member, but we had to restrain ourselves in front of this teenager. Sure, we were married and loved each other, but even Fiona, our own daughter, had never seen what Frank and I did in our bedroom, despite being just a thin wall away.
I went upstairs with Ashley and led her to our bedroom. Her eyes immediately widened as she curiously looked around our sanctuary. That didn’t surprise me. Frank was an amateur photographer, taking both nature shots and pictures of me. Often enough, we skipped clothing, and Frank used our bedroom as his gallery. Above our bed hung his best photo of me, enlarged and framed.
It showed me completely naked in black-and-white, with Fiona’s big baby bump, against an orange wall. My large, milk-filled breasts and huge areolas were unmistakable. Behind me, in big letters, it read, “We’re eagerly waiting for Fiona!” Right in front of this picture stood Ashley, staring at my naked, pregnant self. I was pretty embarrassed to be seen like that and quickly grabbed the bedding from the closet to escape to Fiona’s room.
But Ashley stood rooted to the spot, gazing dreamily at my full breasts. Before I could leave, she said, “That’s a beautiful picture, Debbie. It’s so intimate and loving at the same time. There’s so much love and happiness in one shot.”
Was this young beauty also an art critic now? At that moment, I didn’t care. I just wanted out of our bedroom and away from that picture so Ashley wouldn’t see me so exposed. But she stayed put, studying the photo closely and saying cheerfully, “You don’t need to be embarrassed, Debbie. It’s a fantastic photo, and you look absolutely delicious. Plus, I’m used to seeing naked people.”
I was floored and gasped, “How?”
Ashley grinned at me. “Since I was a kid, my parents have taken me to nudist vacations, and at home, we basically only walk around naked.”
“You walk around naked at home?” I pressed.
“Yeah, almost always. Except when we’re expecting guests or have visitors who aren’t as open-minded as we are.”
When I still looked skeptical, she added, “You’re not used to that, are you? I noticed how you looked at me when I was in wet clothes on the terrace. Then I forgot for a moment that I wasn’t at home and stripped in the middle of the living room. I saw a wet spot on your dress.”
I wanted to sink into the floor. Ashley had noticed how turned on I was and probably knew what I was doing alone in the laundry room. I racked my brain for a harmless explanation when Fiona unexpectedly saved me. She burst into our bedroom, out of breath, and called, “Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere.”
Unlike me, Ashley wasn’t thrilled to be interrupted by my daughter at that moment. She could’ve asked so many more questions, and I wasn’t sure I could’ve survived such an interrogation unscathed. For now, though, I was spared from revealing more to the cocoa-brown beauty. Fiona had long known the picture of me above the bed and only briefly asked Ashley what she thought of it. Ashley’s response was much shorter, just the word “Mega.”
Relieved, the three of us left our bedroom and set up Ashley’s sleepover spot in Fiona’s room. The whole time, I watched Ashley and felt arousal rising again. Knowing she walked around nearly always naked at home didn’t make it easier. I kept thinking back to when she stripped right in front of me and noticed the wet spot on my dress. Now, here I was in my daughter’s room, hiding my feelings again. What was this teenager doing to me?
After finishing the sleepover preparations, we returned to the terrace with Frank and had a relatively fun evening. We polished off four bottles of mineral water and a whole pack of salty snacks. When the sun went down, the mosquitoes became a nuisance, and we fled to the living room before we were eaten alive. About half an hour before midnight, Fiona and Ashley went to the kids’ room to sleep. That was my chance, and I approached my husband. Now he had to satisfy my horniness.
I’d been aroused all day, and it was time I finally got relief. In the middle of the living room, I went for my husband and freed him from his pants. His little friend had retreated a bit, but that didn’t bother me much. I loved sucking his cock and didn’t necessarily need it inside me. Plus, Frank loved licking me, and we got into the famous 69 position. While he explored my hot pussy with his tongue, I worked on his love rod, sucking it hard.