Chapter 3
She opened her eyes, some time later, and felt Dennis's cock still limply resting inside her.
It felt good. He felt good. The hairs of his chest scratching over her back felt good.
She felt the wet spot on the bed where her cunt had leaked all over the sheets, and even though she shifted her legs so that they wouldn't be resting right on it, even it felt good.
The day was a brilliant mixture of a cloudless sky, and bright yellow and green hues as the sunlight struck the pine trees, all of it made all the more brilliant by the backdrop of clean snow.
She looked up at the sky and saw the arthritic bones of leafless oaks, maples and birches, and not even they had the usual pallor of death about them that she often felt.
Damn, she thought, fucking really was therapeutic.
She turned around to look at Dennis, and saw the he was asleep.
She brushed the tip of his nose with her fingers, and although his face scrunched up, and he looked like he might even sneeze, his eyes remained closed. She smiled and lay back down. It was a good morning.
From downstairs, she heard the front door open and close, and heard footsteps on the stairs. It would either be Chet or Jack ... Jack most probably, from the heavy sound of his footsteps. He ran the last several steps, bounding what sounded like three at a time, leaped onto the second floor landing with a hard thud, and let out an exuberant yelp. "YEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWW!!!"
"YEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWW!! ! " he screamed.
Dennis was out of the bed almost before
Jack had started his scream, having reacted to the noise of his footsteps on the stairs.
It all happened so fast that Rixie wasn't sure exactly of the sequence of events.
She felt his cock rip out of her cunt, and felt the bed give a mighty heave as Dennis shot out of it.
By the time she'd rolled over (no more than a second later), he'd already made it across the room and had his hand inside his back pack, eyes wide with shock and fright.
"Dennis!" she called, "what's the matter?"
He seemed dazed, and then, slowly, seemed to wake up, although his eyes had already been opened. He looked around.
"I'm ... I'm sorry ... " he said, giving his head a shake. "What the fuck was that?"
"That was just Jack. He makes a lot of noise sometimes."
She felt a little apprehensive. Not so much that he'd been shocked ... anyone would find it shocking to be shaken from a sleep by that animal-like scream. But what she found unsettling was the lightning rapidity of his response, his reflexes ... his almost killer-like instincts. She looked at his hand still inside the back pack.
"What were you reaching for?" she asked. "Oh ... urn ... nothing," he said. "Look, Rixie, I didn't mean to react so bad. It's...."
He looked suddenly embarrassed. Unable to continue.
"Dennis ... " she coaxed, "tell me. Please. What's the problem?"
"Well," he said as he stood up, "you may think it's a little strange ... then again you may ... oh hell, I don't know what you'll think."
He frowned, and there was a genuine look of pain on his face. "You see, I was in Nam."
"Really? During the heavy fighting?"
"Heavy enough. I lost seven very close buddies there. It's ... something I don't talk much to people about ... but seeing as how you just made the most exquisite love to me that anyone's ever made, I feel I should explain ... a little at least."
She waited for him to continue. "People don't like Viet Nam veterans. They think we're all crazy. In a way, I guess we are. You saw what that noise did to me. It was like being woken up out in a fire base, hearing the first wave of a VC attack rushing over the perimeter. I ... can't always control it, though I'm a lot luckier than some guys I know."
She looked at him, and felt sorry for him.
"I wish I could help."
"Don't. There really isn't much you can do. Not that I can't do a lot better on my own. I'm working on it. But, moments like this can be embarrassing."
"What were you reaching for in your pack?" she asked again.
"Urn ... would you believe ... " he said as he pulled out a pair of socks. "Hey, what can I tell you, you gotta be prepared to defend yourself, you know what I mean?"
She started to laugh, and was glad the moment had passed.
He came back to the bed, and put his arms around her, drawing her body close to his, and once more, she felt good, warm, and strangely secure. But as they lay there in silence, savoring the contact of their bodies, that look in his eyes returned to haunt her. That had not been the look of a man possessed by demons beyond his control. That had been a fierce look, a look that spoke of control, the look of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, and why. For just a brief second, it had been the most cold-blooded look she'd ever seen in her life.
The sun moved to the top of the sky, and then began its steady descent towards the western horizon. Days were shorter now. Much shorter. The true time of light, brilliant though it could sometimes be, was nonetheless a short one.
Therefore, people tended to get as much done as possible, because when nighttime fell, it did so with a frigid vengeance. When night fell, it made sense to do nothing else except find a nice fireplace and preferably a nice friendly body to share it with, and curl up before it.
Even though the shadows had not lengthened much yet, the man found it easy to conceal himself. Blending, after all, was his stock in trade. He knew what people looked for, he knew what would trigger recognition. He made certain that nothing about his appearance triggered any of those responses.
He knew, for example, that the human brain simply cannot retain the myriad of impulses that reach it, particularly when the majority are repetitive; crowds, automobiles, windows of buildings, streets and houses. After a while, the similarity makes them all invisible, unless something causes one to jump out and make itself noticed. A man walking with a limp, a woman with a peculiar accent, a car with a large scrape on one side ... these are the items that the brain retains, and he knew that there was nothing peculiar about him. Nothing that the brain might focus on, remember, nothing to stand out.
He felt like laughing. He wanted to scream aloud. They were such fools! They had no idea how he worked, or why he'd been so successful all his life. But wasn't this the key?
Didn't this explain why? He could become invisible. He would be the one figure that no one would recall, save for a vague shape over there, somewhere in the corners of the vision, a shadowy shape receding back to nothingness, like a voice remembered from a murky dream....
The girl was most likely stunning. Her coat was the stylish, expensive kind that one did not bother spending the money on if their figure was hopeless to begin with. She would be careless. She would not suspect anything on such a crystal clear day. She would be thinking perhaps of a date that evening, or maybe a paper due the following day....
It would never occur to her to wonder who it was who was trailing, behind her, arms heavy with books. It would not occur to her to turn around to see who was coming closer and closer. It would never occur to her to consider this side entrance to the Diffenbaugh Building dangerous, even though it was between classes and there was a long hallway before the stairway to the upstairs physics lab descended.
It would never occur to her to suspect that even now ... a gloved hand was reaching out, coming down ... NOW!! ! . . .around her mouth, clamping it shut, pulling on that frail fragile neck, pulling, pulling, pulling ... pulling....
Trixie came into the house and listened for the usual chatter, the usual noise of college students letting off a little steam in the afternoon before homework and studying began in earnest.
But the place was silent.
Strange. She walked into the kitchen and saw the washed dishes from the breakfast that Rixie had prepared still stacked in the dish rack.
She cocked her head and turned her ear upstairs. Usually there was a stereo blasting from Jack or Chet's room. But there was nothing.
Oh well, she thought. Everyone must have had other things to do, although on a day as cold as this, you would expect to find people indoors unless they absolutely had to be outside.
She walked upstairs, saw the door to Rixie's room ajar just a little, and in spite of herself, peeked in.
She turned away after a few long seconds, frowned, and wondered whether she was happy or sad at the sight she'd just witnessed.
One thing she had to admit, however, was that Rixie's taste in men, from a purely physic?. ! standpoint, was flawless. So was Dennis's body, or at least that portion of it that she'd been able to see.
His ass had seemed like two well shaped bricks placed side by side as it rose and fell against her sister's body. His back had literally been an explosions of muscles, all rippling merrily up and down his back.
His arms had seemed to have been chiseled from granite.
His cock ... well, she had a feeling that if she herself had been lying beneath her sister, she'd have felt the head slamming into her clit every time it reached the bottom of Rixie's cunt.
She was staggered by the dimensions of it. She wondered, in fact, if Rixie had even had enough experience with boys to know what she had on her hands there. Or in her cunt, as the case may be.
She walked back to her bedroom, took off her jacket, and wondered if they'd been fucking all day long. Hell! She'd left them at ten thirty this morning, and here it was three in the afternoon, and they were still fucking! Amazing!
She slipped into her shorts and a sweatshirt and walked down the stairs to the living room.
There she met Jack, one of their male roommates.
"Hey, Jack baby, what's going on?"
He glanced upstairs. "You mean with Goody-Goody Two-shoes?"
"Now Jack, she's my sister after all."
"Hey, I love her as much as anyone, you know that, but it's a little strange to walk past her room and hear those noises coming out."
"So ... have they been fucking all day?"
"No ... I met him earlier when they were coming back in. But they went right upstairs and started going to it again. And I mean, it's been about an hour since they got back."
Trixie shook her head. "I don't know what to say. It's so unlike my sister ... but you know, I think it's good for her."
"Hey, fucking's always good for you. Always."
He was staring at her shorts, particularly the way they rode up into the crack of her snatch. "Say, which reminds me, I've got some heavy Columbian. You want to uh, you know ... smoke a little, and uh ... whatever ... ? "
She smiled at him. Both she and Marjorie, the other female roommate, had gone to bed with Jack and Chet, but never as a steady habit. They were good friends, and all four had long ago agreed that sex would never interfere with that friendship.
By mutual, unspoken consent, they'd all more or less fallen into a pattern of just not bringing it up, and when it happened, well, it happened.
Trixie considered letting it happen this afternoon, and was almost tempted, but she had been feeling a little strange all day long, and felt that she needed most of all to just be alone.
"You're a dear, Jack, and if you ask me tonight, I might not only take you up on it, I might rape you. But not now. I have a few things to think about, and when I've got a cock in me, I don't do my best thinking."
"Wow, such talk. You're really a filthy woman, you know that?"
"Oh, silly me. I'm sorry Jack. I forgot. You don't have a cock. How cruel of me to make such a careless crack."
She had to duck to avoid the sofa cushion that Jack nearly beaned her with as she bolted from the room.
Upstairs, she fell onto the bed, and through the walls, she could hear the muffled moans of her sister, apparently getting a fucking like any lady would give a year of her life to get.
She saw that big cock of his, slurping in and out, with its thick blue veins clinging to the sides like heavy vines....
She wondered how it would be if she suggested a threesome to Rixie. She doubted it. It had been years since they'd been involved in threesomes, and back then, they hadn't been given a choice of any sort. They'd been told to merely cooperate ... or else....
"Mommy," cute, precocious, twelve year-old Rixie Morgan said, interrupting her mother as she prepared dinner for the family, "I don't want you to go away this weekend."
"Well, dear," said Mrs. Morgan. There really isn't anything I can do about it. What's the problem?"
Her mother looked Rixie square in the eyes, but if she saw any indication of her daughter's distress, she didn't act like it.
"Now, you and Trixie and daddy will be fine here by yourselves, and I'll be back on Monday, and everything will be fine. But I really have to make this trip, Rixie, so you'll be doing Mother a big favor if you don't make trouble for me. I really can't deal with it right now."
At that moment, Trixie came into the kitchen.
"Hey everybody, what's going on."
"Oh," said Mrs. Morgan, "Rixie's just acting-"
"I am not!" said the girl, emphatically. Her mother gave her a long glance. "Rixie...."
"There's nothing wrong!" she said, sounding a little hysterical now.
"Gee, what's got into you?" asked Trixie, raiding the ice box for whatever was there to be consumed instantly. Once that had been taken care of, she'd go on to whatever could be prepared in under five minutes. Then, her mother intervened.
"Nothing to eat, Trixie! It's too close to dinner."
"Aw Mom ... " Trixie began, and during the discussion, Rixie managed to slip out, unnoticed. It wasn't hard. She had the feeling more and more that she was unnoticed. Except by her father. She didn't have the faintest idea what she'd do about that.
"Remember," he'd told her the last time. 'You say one word of this to your mother, and I promise you, you'll be sorry. Do you both understand that?"
Rixie had nodded her head, out of fear, but Trixie, effusive affirmation was actually quite cooperative.
"Daddy," she had said, "we wouldn't do anything like that. Honest. We love you, don't we Rixie?"
Rixie, confused, and uncertain about what was right and what was wrong, knew only that she was frightened, but she didn't know how she could get around it.
She really did love her Daddy, and some of the things that he did to her really did feel good. And Trixie seemed to love them, and accept them without question.
But then, last week, he'd brought out the whip, and she wasn't sure at all what she thought about that. But she knew that if their mother left them alone with their father for three days, he'd sure take advantage of the situation.
Daddy was a strange one.
"Does your father ever work," Mandy Principal had asked her one day as they were walking home from school. It was a good question. One that she didn't know how to answer. Her father was home for long periods of time, and then he would be called away on unknown business for longer periods of time. Once, something had happened, and they'd had to visit him in the hospital. Another time, they'd gone to live in another country when Rixie and Trixie were too young to really know what was going on and something else had happened and they'd had to leave again, really fast.
She didn't know what her father's job was. She didn't know even if her father had a job. She did know that her father had money. He seemed to have lots of it. They were old enough by now to know the difference between those that were well off and those that weren't, and furthermore, to know where they fell on the spectrum.
They were well off.
They owned the entire set of Barbie dolls, along with all their friends and the paraphernalia at age seven.
They'd each owned Italian racer bikes at age nine.
They'd received the best in musical lessons from their earliest years.
They'd always worn the best of clothes.
But they did not live in a mansion.
They had a nice house, one that was quite adequate for a family of four, but it was not lavish.
They'd more or less learned through example that their money was not something that was flaunted or spoken about.
They'd also learned that their father had a special feeling towards the two of them.
Rixie had learned it first.
When she was ten, she climbed up on her father's lap while he was watching TV, and sat right down, on top of the paper he'd been reading.
He managed to pull the paper out from under him, but he'd left his hand there. Under her.
Her legs spread over his fingers. His crawling fingers. His gently probing fingers. His curious fingers.
Rixie had giggled. "That feels funny, Daddy."
Daddy had smiled, but said nothing. He looked kind of funny. He looked a little bit the way he did some nights when he'd come home late and seem to be under lots of pressure. He looked a little like he had a headache.
"Do you have a headache?" Rixie had asked, squirming a little bit, not sure if she really liked Daddy doing that to her.
Daddy didn't answer.
Daddy was touching the wet spot on Rixie's underwear, between Rixie's legs.
That wet spot was something that Rixie had been growing more and more embarrassed about, and when she'd mentioned it to her mother, her mother had gotten all embarrassed about it and didn't seem to know how to answer her.
So she had kept quiet about it.
But now here was her daddy touching her right on her wet spot. It was terrible!
She felt like crying.
"Honest daddy," she finally said, afraid that he'd discipline her, "I didn't wet my pants. Honest I didn't. I don't mean to. I try not to make my pants wet, but they keep getting wet anyway."
Daddy smiled. It was a nice friendly smile. "Rixie darling, you don't have to worry about that. It's all right. There's nothing wrong with getting your panties a little wet. It's the most natural thing in the world. All young girls do it. It shows that you're growing up."
Rixie was very relieved by that comment. But she was starting to get a little uncomfortable with her daddy's fingers pushing further and further up between her legs.
She didn't think that it was the kind of thing that her daddy ought to be doing.
"Now Rixie," her daddy told her, as if he could read her mind, "this is something that you can't do with everyone. I'm your father, and it's all right to do it with me, but you can't do it with everyone, you hear. It'll "be our little secret. Does that sound all right?"
"Yes Daddy."
"And don't talk to your Mommy any more about the way you make your panties wet, because she doesn't understand that kind of stuff. You just talk to me."
Rixie felt a little uncomfortable even after this, but her daddy had managed to make her feel awfully good between her legs, and so she'd right away run to Trixie to tell her about it.
Trixie's reaction, of course, was, "Daddy did something with you that he didn't do with me? That rat!"
"Well, I don't know, Trixie," said Rixie, "I don't know if he should have been doing it."
"What was it? "Well, he was ... touching me."
"What do you mean."
"Well ... down there." Trixie's eyes widened. "Really?" She looked between her legs. "You aren't serious."
"Oh yes, he did it."
"What did it feel like." Rixie paused for a long time. Then she said, "It was neat."
"Yeah...."
"Yeah. It felt really good."
"Wow. Where'd he touch you?"
Rixie sat on the bed. "Right here."
She pulled her dress up and, even though she felt a little funny, she started to touch her young little cunt on the outside of her panties.
Trixie's eyes widened appreciably. "You mean it?"
"Yeah ... it felt ... well, like I said, it felt pretty good."
"I know."
"How do you know."
"Because I know, that's how I know."
"I'll bet you touch yourself there too, and that's how you know."
"Well, what if I do? Don't you."
"Yeah. But Daddy did it better."
"How?"
"Come here, and I'll show you."
"No! That's dirty."
"Are you saying that Daddy was dirty?"
Trixie mulled this over in her mind a while and then she hopped up onto the bed with her sister.
"Show me," she said, defiantly.
"Well ... " said Rixie, contemplating the thin strip of material that stretched between her sister's thighs.
"What's wrong, are you afraid to?"
"Afraid to what?"
"Afraid to touch me."
"NO!"
"Well, go on. Do it. Show me."
"Here," said Rixie, and reached out and touched her sister, not directly between her legs, but more to the front, though still in the center.
Trixie watched Rixie's fingers moving towards her crotch, and she said nothing as her fingers made contact, but then she looked up.
"Ooooooo ... that's strange. I was always...."
She stopped, embarrassed now, herself.
"I'll bet you were touching yourself right where you always get wet, weren't you."
"Mmmmm hmmm," she nodded.
"And sticking your fingers up your hole."
Trixie's eyes widened. "Oh GROSS!! You don't have to talk like that."
"Well, that's what it is, isn't it? And that's where you put it, isn't it."
"Well ... yes."
Rixie thought about it a second and then she pulled her panties down.
"I want to see what's inside there," she said.
"Oh GROSS, are you going to look at it."
"Well, it's not dirty. That's what Daddy said."
"Oh, yeah."
She spread her legs.
"Come on, you do the same."
Trixie thought about it for a second and then she decided that her sister was right and that this was a situation that needed investigating.
She pulled her underwear off too, and the two young twins sat there on the bet, each with their dresses pulled up to their waists, and they began a close examination of each other's young little twats.
Rixie pulled her lips apart.
"Gee, no wonder there's always a wet spot," said Trixie, "it's always wet."
"Yeah ... I wonder if you can ever dry it off."
"I don't know."
"Daddy said that's what made us women."
"You mean the wet spot?"
"Well ... the fact that it's always wet."
"I wonder how he knows so much."
"I don't know, but he said we shouldn't ever ask Mom anything."
T believe that," Trixie laughed.
"Look," said Rixie as she pulled her cunt even further apart, "you can see right there ... it's like everything comes to a point underneath the lips."
"Lips!! " Trixie hooted in a mocking tone.
"Well, that's what they're called because I saw it in a book that Mary June Balosky had."
"Lips., .lips, lips, lips," Trixie said, still making fun of her sister.
"Well, you just look at them and tell me what you think they should be called," Rixie challenged, whereupon Trixie relented.
"Yeah, I guess they do look a little bit like lips, don't they."
"Urn hmmm ... " said Rixie, already examining herself further. "Let me see if you have one."
"One what?"
"One of these," said Rixie, a little impatiently, pointing to the peak of flesh buried beneath her lips. "That seems to be where it really feels good."
Trixie seemed a little uncomfortable and so Rixie said, "All right, I'll look for you if you're such a chicken."
"I am not."
At which point, Trixie placed her fingers on either side of her naked pussy and pulled the lips apart like they were petals on an unopened blossom.
Her young flesh was pink and shining beneath her outer lips, and as Rixie drew near to examine her, she could see the same figure of the soft ridges of flesh coming to a point.
"See," she said, bringing the tip of her finger right down on top of the point. "It feels really good."
"Oh!" said Trixie, surprised, "it really does, doesn't it?"
"Yeah...."
Rixie kept pressing on Trixie's clit, although neither girl knew to call it that yet. Then, she took Trixie's hand and placed it on her own clit.
"Press like that ... kind of light ... yeah," she said.
She could feel the small hard nub of flesh beneath her sister's loose pink membranes rolling around under her touch, and as she continued to manipulate it, she felt it grow steadily harder and harder.
"Mmmmmmmm," Trixie said, after a while, and Rixie could feel her own pussy getting wetter and wetter as Trixie's finger played with her clit.
They worked on each other for a while, each of them getting more and more aroused, and then, suddenly, Rixie got a frightened look on her face, and cried out, "What's that?"
"What's what?" asked Trixie, continuing her manipulations.
"It ... it ... oh ... oh stop stop!! ! "
Trixie pulled her hand back and looked at her sister with a quizzical look on her face.
"What's wrong, Rixie?"
"I don't know. It felt ... gosh ... I don't know."
"Well, tell me!"
"I don't know how it felt! But all of a sudden I couldn't think right, and I kind of felt like ... I don't know. But it scared me."
"Did it come just from me touching you there?"
Rixie nodded her head.
"Well come on, it's my turn."
"What do you mean."
"Come on, you have to do me now. It's my turn."
"No. I don't want to do any more. This scares me."
"Oh come on, I want to see what it feels like. Come on. I want to feel it."
"So touch yourself."
"That's not the same thing. Come on, you felt what happened, you can do it to me."
So Rixie, reluctantly, reached out to her sister's cunt and began to manipulate her clitoris once more.
She felt the flesh all around her opened slit growing wetter and wetter as she continued to play with the hard little nub, and then she noticed that it actually seemed to be getting bigger.
"I think something's happening to it," she said at one point.
"You'd better believe something's happening to it. Keep it up. Don't stop."
"But it's getting ... it's getting bigger."
"Good. That must be why it keeps feeling better."
"Really. You think it feels good?"
"Mmmmmmm, I sure do. And so do you. You're crazy if you don't."
Rixie kept moving her finger faster and faster, and finally, seeing the look of total rapture that was on her sister's face, finally said, "Do me again, would you please."
"Oh, so now you want me to do you again."
"Oh come on, you don't have to make a big production out of it."
And so, the two young twins began their explorations that soon would include their father as an active participant.
He discovered them one day, together, in their bedroom. By this time, they had progressed to somewhat more sophisticated forms of mutual gratification. When he walked into the room, Both girls were naked, and Rixie was kneeling over Trixie's face, with the latter girl's tongue snaking wildly in and out of Rixie's gash.
Neither girl realized that their father was watching them.
Suddenly he said, "I have a few things you might find interesting."
They both screamed, and as Rixie turned and saw him standing there, she was at first seized by an urge to wrap something around her budding breast. As it was, she threw her hand down between her legs to cover her pussy.
She stared at her father with open fear and distrust.
"Rixie, darling," said her father, "what's the matter. Don't you want your daddy to show you how you can have even more fun? Things you'd never dream possible?"
She stared at him, saying nothing. It was Trixie who broke the silence.
"Like what, Daddy?"
She sounded almost excited by his presence. Rixie noted that her sister had done nothing to cover her naked body, and if anything, she was holding herself in such a way that she was exposing more of herself than she even needed to.
"Well ... you seem to be developing a healthy attitude towards letting your bodies do what they were meant to do. But I'm wondering, do you know everything about what they're meant to do. For example, do you know anything about men's bodies?"
Rixie felt a slight tremor ripple through her. She had a feeling that she wasn't going to want to hear this. But on the other hand, there was that tremor, that twinge of excitement shivering through her.
"Sure," said Daddy, giving both his girls long, loving looks. "My gosh," he said, almost to himself, "you two have sure grown up to be beautiful young ladies. Yes, indeed."
Trixie seemed to shine in her father's comment, but Rixie wasn't sure if she liked him saying that or not. Still, she felt her pussy oozing more juice onto her fingers, and she and Trixie had already learned what that meant.
Her father was watching her now, staring at her breasts. "You have a very pretty body, Rixie," he said.
"Thank you, Daddy," she answered, and in spite of her feelings of doubt, she had to admit that it made her feel good to hear her father compliment her like that. She'd kept thinking about that day when she'd climbed up onto his lap ... something about that day had never left her thoughts. Now, she found that she was remembering all of that experience, her fear, and also the strange tingle of pleasure, the thrill of doing something that she suspected was kind of naughty, but was also kind of fun.
Was it fun because it was naughty, or naughty because it was fun?
She and Trixie had debated that question once and had decided that it was probably naughty just because it was fun.
"That's the way grown-ups are," was Trixie's interpretation of the situation.
So, here was a grown-up who wanted to be naughty, and wanted to have fun. She was drawn to him finally, because of that.
"Daddy, why don't you show us what you were talking about," suggested Trixie.
He looked over at Rixie. "What do you say, Rixie, are you in this too?"
She nodded her head. "Good," said her father, "Let's just let this be our little secret, all right?"
"You don't want mommy to find out, do you daddy?" asked Trixie.
"No honey, I don't think your mommy would understand."
With that, he'd unzipped his zipper.
Both girls had gasped when he produced his cock.
Rixie never forgot her first impression of that tool, the thick shaft with its blue veins crisscrossing all up and down the sides of the thing, the purple colored mushroom-shaped head, and then, as he'd removed his pants, that enormous sack at the bottom, and all of it covered with hair.
"Why does it have so much hair, Daddy?" asked Rixie.
"Someday you'll have hair between your legs too, honey. It just means that you're growing up. Look, you're even starting to grow hair now."
He placed his fingers between her legs, and even though she felt strange having him touch her on her naked cunt, it still sent a twinge of pleasant sensations through her virginal body.
"What does it do, Daddy?" asked Trixie.
"Well honey, that's why you have this opening here between your legs ... " and with that, he reached out and placed his fingertips at the lips of her pussy.
"See how your body seems to split right in two? Well, that's because you have an opening here that was meant to spread wide enough to take this in it."
"Really?" Trixie's eyes widened. "Will you do it to me? Are you going to stick that up me, Daddy?"
"Well," said her father, after thinking it over for a few seconds, "I think I will. Yes, I think I will."
He turned to Rixie. "What do you think about that, Rixie? Do you want to see what your daddy's cock feels like?"
Rixie felt frightened, but heard herself saying "Yes," in response to his question.
"Okay, girls, lay down on the bed. It's going to take a little while, because we don't want to hurt you."
He wasn't kissing either.
He first knelt between them both, inserting one finger up each one of their narrow cunt holes.
He felt their maidenheads easily, and although it took him nearly a half an hour to do it, managed to tear away most of them with his fingers. "Damn good thing they used tampons," he muttered to himself, although Rixie heard it.
"Daddy, it hurts," she said.
"I know it does, honey, but just think, it never will again."
He then went on, "And as soon as I'm finished with you, you'll never have to worry about being little girls again either. You'll be grown women. There's no doubt about it. You'll be grown women."
He spend a long time that day, slipping two fingers up inside each girl, then trying for three, spreading them apart once they were inside.
"You two are a lot tighter than I thought you'd be. I think we'll have to do this in stages," he said.
The next day, he started off right where he'd left them, sliding three fingers up into their young pussies, past their torn maidenheads pressing further and further into untouched cunt membranes, spreading apart walls that had never before been touched, let alone violated in the manner that he was contemplating.
That day, he allowed them to feel the head of his cock against their pussies.
"Trixie, you first," he said to his daughter. "Spread your legs, wide as you can, and then place your fingers right on each one of your lips."
The girl did so, and as he watched her flaming pink flesh come to life for him, he felt his balls start to boil inside his scrotal sack.
Her hole was small, and it was dark, but he had already determined that it was more than deep enough. It would be a tight squeeze, and he doubted that she'd be able to take him in all the way that afternoon, but he'd show her. And Rixie too.
And that's not all he'd show them.
He brought the head of his cock up to her pink meat, and as she held her breath in anticipation, he pressed it against her tiny clitoris.
He could feel that the small bud of nerves was already hard and erect, and it made his cock quiver even more, as he started to scrape the glans back and forth over her clit.
"Oh Daddy," she moaned, "that's wonderful. Please, harder, faster. Don't stop."
Rixie, finally overcome by jealousy, said, "Daddy, would you please play with me too. I want to feel good too."
He gave her a triumphant grin.
"Certainly, Angel," he said, bringing his finger once more up to her young cunt.
He began to press the head of his swollen cock against Trixie's pussy now, letting it slide past the head, letting it push against her narrow channel, letting it spread her like she'd never been spread before.
"Oh, Daddy, you're so big, so big, so big, it hurts, it hurts it hurts," the little girl moaned, and yet, she did not push him away. Every time it got to the point where his cock would go no further, he pulled it out and resumed massaging her clit. As he stroked the clit of one of his daughters, he brought his cock over to the other one.
In the way, as the afternoon progressed, he managed to press almost three-fourths, of the way into each one of their pussies.
But he didn't want to go to far. Just enough for them to realize that the pain was worth it, for the pleasure that would come after.
Deeper and deeper and deeper into those virgin twats....
"Oh you're so big, so big, so big ... so fucking big....