Perverted Daddy System

Chapter 147 - The two tongues problem

I settle onto my knees on the floor in front of the couch, between them, and rest my palms on the soft inner sides of their spread thighs, holding them open.

"There are things I've wanted to tell you both," I say, softly, soaking in their nervousness. "I hope you believe them. You're good girls — brave, pretty, sweet. And the truth is, I've come to love having you here. Laughing with my girls. Trusting me. Sitting for me."

My palms slide inward, up their inner thighs, brushing smooth bare skin until my fingertips rest against their wet cunts. A tiny gasp from each. But I don't move yet.

"I would love nothing more," I say, "than for the two of you to be my daughters. Proper daughters."

Their breathing goes ragged. My fingertips trace small, slow circles, barely grazing, and their hips buck against my hands, helpless, following me.

It is Gina who breaks first — the steadier twin. She bites her lip, a small noise escaping her, and blurts: "Could you... become our daddy?"

A delighted laugh escapes me. Perfect.

"Possibly," I say, and work my middle finger into a slow, shallow stroke around her wet cunt while the other hand keeps teasing Dana. "First, let me tell you what that would mean. Then you decide."

Both of them stare at me, breathless, their wet cunts leaking onto the couch.

"A daughter is completely her father's," I say. "Not for a while — forever. She's always at his side, close to him, and she gives him everything: her trust, her respect, and her body too, because that's what love is at its truest. If I became your daddy, I would be the only lover you'd ever know. Only me. Every way, mind and body both." I look from one to the other. "Is that what you want?"

The room is quiet except for their ragged breathing.

They don't answer. Doubt. Anxiety. What I'm asking of them is a lot, and I can feel their hesitation.

I smile, softly. "It's all right, girls. Take a minute to think about it. I will help you concentrate."

I bend between Gina's thighs, lower my head, and set my mouth to her slick cunt.

A yelp of astonishment. A long, low moan. My tongue presses flat against her clit and circles, slow and wet, up and down, no hurry, parting her labia lips, licking deep. Her hands fly down to my hair, clutching, hips rolling, words falling apart into a flood of crazed moans, her body trembling uncontrollably from the new, extreme sensation.

And my free hand slides along Dana's inner thigh, fingers finding her wet cunt and stroking slow and shallow around the outer lips, never entering. They are virgins, both of them, and I have no intention of wasting that gift between my fingers. That is the main course. This is just a wet reminder, a taste of what is coming.

Dana melts into the leather and spreads her knees a little wider.

After a long, good while, I pull my mouth from Gina and drop my head between Dana's legs. My tongue finds her, and my fingers, slick with her sister's wetness, slide and stroke between Gina's labia lips. I alternate — licking one while the other's clit pulses under my fingers — until both of them lie back against the couch, eyes glazed, thighs shaking, about to cum together.

They are just a few licks away from coming explosively, I can tell.

So I stop.

I draw back and kneel, palms flat over both their twitching cunts at once, holding them still. A small, wordless noise of pain and need from Dana.

A full minute crawls by. They sigh, staring at the ceiling, slowly coming down from their arousal-induced high.

"Girls," I say, gently, "have you reached a decision?"

It takes a moment — they are still dazed, slowly coming down. Then understanding settles over their faces.

And it is Dana — the shy one, the nervous one — who reacts first. Her lips move, and a quiet, broken, perfect little word falls out in a whisper.

"Daddy. Please don't stop."

The word hits me, and I feel the heat of it roll through me. My eyes find Gina.

Her face is completely flushed. She drops her gaze to her own open thighs, my hand on her cunt, then raises it to look at me, and whispers, "I want you to be my daddy too."

[Dana — Trust: 75 → 90]

[Dana — Affection: 30 → 55]

[Dana — Love: 24 → 52]

[Dana — Loyalty: 65]

[Gina — Trust: 72 → 88]

[Gina — Affection: 26 → 50]

[Gina — Love: 17 → 48]

[Gina — Loyalty: 65]

There it is. Both of them, offered up, trembling and bare and mine if I want.

And suddenly I have a conundrum on my hands, and it is a doozy.

Two daughters, two dripping cunts, one tongue. I could take them one at a time — slow, thorough, watching each shatter in turn, savoring every gasp. Or I could use my fingers, both at once, dragging them over the edge together, their orgasms cresting in perfect twin harmony.

One at a time. Both at once. Fingers.

I ponder it for exactly one second, looking from Dana's pleading eyes to Gina's flushed face, and then I smile. Bold, then. Family-style. We are going to make this a group effort.

"In this family," I say, quiet and warm, "we have no secrets. And we help each other."

I raise my voice. "Hope! Come in here."

A pause. A fumble behind the living-room door — the sound of someone scrambling, caught with her hand somewhere it shouldn't be. The door swings open and Hope steps in, flustered, cheeks hot, eyes wide, one hand still fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. She is breathing hard, and I know exactly why she was out there. My little voyeur, listening at the crack, working her own cunt to the sound of her sisters' moans.

The twins see her and panic. Dana squeaks, her hands flying down to cover her pussy; Gina clamps her thighs shut, twin blushes flaring into full alarm. "It's okay, it's okay," I say, calm, giving their twats a gentle squeeze. "She is now your sister too. She has faced the very same dilemma before — and daddy helped her through it. She is here to help you now, just like daddy helped her."

The panic drains out of them, replaced by uncertainty, then slow, blooming trust.

I turn to Hope. "It's not fair for you to be dressed, is it, princess?"

Hope doesn't need a second invitation. Her shorts come off in one tug, her shirt over her head, and she stands naked before them — proud, unashamed, a daughter who knows exactly what she is and delights in it. The twins stare, drinking her in, this new sister of theirs who has walked the road they are about to walk.

"Now," I say to her, soft, "I want both of them to enjoy this as much as possible. But daddy's only got one tongue. So I'm going to need your help."