In the story's suburb, the fathers have decided that now their daughters are 18 the only way to discipline them effectively is to spank each others girls 'because it's not possible to discipline your own daughter properly, and they don't get it at school these days', and have formed a club for that purpose.
When a new family moves in, the way their lecherous neighbor gets their daughter quickly recruited into the club is rather delicious for those of a cuckolding persuasion:
The house next to the Hollings had not been vacant for long; hardly surprising as this was an attractive leafy middle-class estate in a pleasant market town within easy commuting distance of London. The newcomers had moved in two days ago. They were called Lanford, Steve and Jane, and seemed about the same age as Carl and Frances Holling who were in their late thirties. Carl had noted with approval that Jane Lanford was a good-looking, shapely blonde. And also there was a teenage daughter, the same age as their own daughter Liz who was 18. That to Carl Holling was just as worthy of note as the attractiveness of her mother.
Carl saw Jane Lanford and her daughter come out to sit in the garden chairs on their terrace. No doubt they had had a busy morning getting things sorted inside. Now they were in brief summer dresses and sandals. It was a Tuesday and Steve Lanford would no doubt have been off on the early commuter train this morning. And Carl's own Frances and daughter Liz were also conveniently out of the way. They had gone out for the afternoon, shopping: the new school term started next week and Liz wanted some new clothes. Altogether it was an opportunity that had to be seized....
He went down and stuck his head over the fence. Carl could be very charming when it was needed. Within five minutes he had Jane and Debbie Lanford sitting on his own terrace. On the garden table under the sunshade was a bottle of chilled white wine.
'This is awfully nice of you,' Jane said.
Carl grinned. Jane's white cotton dress was tight-bodiced with a full short skirt which left a good deal of her shapely bare legs on view.
Carl smiled at mother and daughter. They really were both highly desirable. Debbie for The Club of course. And her mother... for the usual thing. A fuck. A nice afternoon fuck. He could feel his prick stiffening. Could he now, when he had scarcely met her? It might seem impossible – but somehow he had the feeling it was. His prick was telling him it was....
'Don't worry,' he told Debbie. 'I know they're all very keen to meet you. Look, why don't you come round again later when Liz is back...'
Yes. Later. Because for the moment the darling daughter's presence was a little superfluous. When what he wanted was intimate conversation with her mother. Intimate congress.
Jane couldn't believe it. Could it really have happened? She wanted to tell herself it hadn't, and it was certainly like a dream. But she knew it wasn't a dream, that was just the effect of the wine. No, it had happened. Also because of the wine of course. She had let Carl Holling fuck her. On that sofa in his lounge. In the middle of the afternoon.
Debbie had gone back into their house... Their host had said it was a good idea. In fact maybe he had actually suggested it? Yes, well it would be logical, wouldn't it. While he insisted that she stay. With that bottle of wine. Out on the terrace, and then inside. It would be cooler inside, he said. And then.... Just like a dream. On the sofa. His hand. Going up under her short skirt. 'I want to see if you're wearing knickers...' And then somehow... they were coming off... her... His hand was there. At her pussy. Her wet pussy.... and then... it was happening. He was doing it to her. Fucking her. On top of her between her spread legs. One of her feet on the floor and the other up... yes, she was being fucked.
And then afterwards of course, when she was contemplating this awful thing that she had somehow allowed.... afterwards.... he was telling her about the other thing. This club. The Club. The group of them with their daughters. On the estate. A secret club. A disciplinary club.
He wanted them to join. Debbie. And Steve. So she would have to talk to Steve. Tell him. And persuade him, if that was necessary.
No, he said. Of course he wouldn't let anyone know what had just happened on this Tuesday afternoon on his sofa. Not a soul. If she would see about Debbie. And The Club.
* * *
Jane and Steve were in bed. She hadn't been able to broach the subject before and it wasn't easy now. She was having to force herself. Her mind was still full of that awful business only hours earlier. On the Hollings' sofa. Carl Holling fucking her. And if she wanted it kept quiet – as she did! – then Steve had to join this club. With Debbie.
'What d'you mean, discipline?' Steve asked. His hand was sliding over her as they lay side by side on their backs under just a sheet. Sliding down to her pussy. She could guess he was going to want sex. A fuck. And after doing it with Carl next-door. Well it didn't seem she should, not right after. She slid her own hand down, to hold Steve's.
'Well, you know. Discipline. Ah..... spanking. And maybe also... I think.... strapping. If necessary.'
Steve said, 'You're joking.' His hand was sliding away from hers. Pushing in between her legs. To her pussy.
'No. Steve... I'm serious. And, well, I think maybe it's a good idea. If it's strictly private of course. Steve!'
He was getting on top of her. Pushing her thighs apart. Getting between them. She felt the head of his stiff cock.
As he entered her Steve said, somewhat breathlessly, 'You mean that Carl... and the others... get to deal with Debbie. And I do... one of their daughters....?'
Jane said yes. As Steve began to fuck her. As only hours earlier Carl next door had fucked her.
Kudos for Mr and Mrs Lanford having a good old fashioned awkward married romp. I always like to see a wife getting some 'home cooking' from her husband in the evening, with the poor sap unaware that the reason she's so turned on is that she's thinking about what she was up to while he was at work! Though at least Mr Lanford has plenty of pert teenage bottom spanking to look forward to!
And Carl isn't anywhere near finished with the mother or the daughter...
Downstairs Jane was doing the washing-up. While thinking of poor Debbie of course. She had asked Carl to please not strap her too hard.
This morning. He had come round and she had made him some coffee. And... she had let him fuck her again. Well, she had tried to refuse but he had just laughed. And said, 'I know you really want it.'