John Gets with the Program

The girls plant matching kisses on his cheeks, and as they do he smack's the butt cheeks he's been caressing. It's stings and raises a whelp yelp from each but doesn't really hurt, and the involuntary jerk of each soft body inward to his torso is delightful—a fleeting press of acorn breasts, soft bellies and firm mounds against his sides. Thank you John, I salute you!

The girls head off, rubbing their asses and giggling, and John gets undressed into his dressing gown, brushes his teeth, and goes to pee.

***

"Girls, are you ready? Done your teeth? In bed?", John calls out. I feel the vibration of his deep voice transmitted through his body bulk.

"Yes daddy," from Jane.

"Yes daddy," from Carrie, followed by two giggles.

"Coming. Shall I bring you some water, Jane? You always get thirsty!"

"Yes please."

I go with John—turgid between his legs—as he fills a glass. He holds me firmly with his other hand and gives a squeeze and stroke. "Come on boy," he says, "up you come."

We enter the girls' bedroom. John puts the glass on Jane's bedside table next to the framed Daddy-Daughter portrait, taken late that memorable night. So many memories in that photo for the three of us—John, Jane and me—so many layers only we can see.

John sits beside Jane and comfortably adjusts his dressing gown. My head is sticking out and I see Jane watching me. John's left hand is on Jane's leg below the sheet ruffled around her waist, his right slow stroking me. He smiles at her, a paternal smile, a proud smile, she is such a good girl. Then he reaches across and does the same with Carrie, his left hand high on her leg below the sheet around her waist, his right slow stroking me, and smiles at her. A paternal smile. A proud smile. She will be such a good girl.

"Carrie," he says, "for tonight you will just watch and learn and lie here beside Jane as I give her my nightly gift. Soon I'll start giving you your own gift. Just be as patient as you can."

"Ready, daddy?" purrs Jane. Our nightly ritual begins.

Jane is stretched on the bed beside us, her toes en pointe towards the foot rail, her arms reaching up and back, fingertips to the head rail, slender silky body presented. She closes her eyes and lightly moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue, but not before I see her glance at me. She sighs. John gives me a last squeeze as I stare at Jane—her parted lips, her wispy armpit hair, her pert acorn breasts with two pretty nipples.

I am eager but John takes his time. He rises languidly and hangs his dressing gown on the hook behind the door, then turns to the bed. I am sticking straight out and upward at 45 degrees. Jane moans and Carrie gasps. John removes the sheet and sits beside Jane, his hand high between her thighs, fingering wet folds. He leans forward and draws an acorn breast with its pretty nipple into his mouth. She hisses and arches off the bed.

He moves to Jane's other acorn and suckles it, and as he does removes his hand from her cunt and reaches across to Carrie. He inserts his fingers deep between her lips to the back of her tongue. She instinctively suckles. "Good girl. You're a natural," John and I think as one. He drops his hand to Carrie's chest, onto the nearer acorn with its pretty nipple—just like Jane's—and explores it. She also hisses and arches. Then his hand moves down her silky belly to her mound, and his fingers wander through the downy wisps to her slick warm slot. Carrie moans and bucks as a finger curls down and under and in, to her tight little cunny, weeping and ready for him. He is putting her on notice.

John now turns his full attention back to Jane as Carrie rises on her side and elbow to observe. John slides up along Jane's slight torso, his bulk settling between her legs which splay and cradle him. Pressed into the mattress, her hands reach up behind his neck, her lips part as he inserts his tongue into her waiting mouth and I line up her breeding channel.

With one thrust from John, I am in, entered, shouldering my way up her tight cunny. God she's always tight, as tight as when we first broached her years ago. But not as tight as Carrie will be when we broach her.

John is particularly rough tonight—out of control in breeding frenzy yet taking his time. Buffeted below him, Jane knows something has shifted, and when she comes her sire does not clamp his hand across her mouth. Tonight her screams echo through the house.

During the final throws of John's mounting, Carrie lies alongside Jane and grasps her arm which clings to John—and thus she's buffeted by Jane's buffeting, mewls with her moaning, and shares her pleasure as if also being fucked. She comes with fingers in her cunt.

John at final claiming, as is his letch, grasps the narrow hips below him in two large hands to hold his mount steady as he stakes his claim. But this time one hip is Jane's, the other Carrie's.

As usual John keeps me inside Jane for a good fifteen minutes as I soften and bask in the fresh seed pool we have placed there. He no longer thinks he does this from exhaustion and affection. Now he knows he's keeping her plugged awhile to maximize the chance that she will "catch". The slow old cunt is learning.

When he finally rolls off and I pop out, he gives me a rest while he and Jane bring Carrie to her second orgasm. She's a screamer also, and John is going to have a logistical problem whenever the two girls come together—how will he clamp a firm hand over both their mouths while also supporting himself. Erin and Kevin will just have to get used to it.

John goes to the kitchen and get two big glasses of cold milk and place one on each bedside table. The girls drink thirstily.

He bends to kiss each on her parted lips, and check each pulpy cunny, between each pair of parted thighs obediently presented.

"Good night, my jewels," he says and stands. His dressing gown hangs forgotten on the hook behind the girls bedroom door as he goes to his king bed in the adjoining room.

"Leave the door open," says Jane.

"Of course my jewel."

"Thank you, daddy," says Carrie.