Daddy's Twin Miracles

Chapter 7

They did. He only cared about giving her so well deserved orgasm, but then they both came, not quite simultaneously. When their gasps and moans died down, Shyla called from the bathroom:

"Now we're even, Lyla."

"Um-hmm, very!"

He rubbed her ass, and she kissed him, repeating:

"Very!"

"Um-hmm, very! Hm-hmm! If you can say that, I'm all f****d out."

Lyla snickered with a nod. From the bathroom, they hear:

"You'd better not be!"

They all snickered, Lyla nodding with a grin, and the two of them got up and crowded in the bathroom; Shyla still in the shower, Lyla on the toilet, he peeing in the small washbasin. The girls chuckled and agreed together:

"Haven't seen that before."

"Hmm? Surprising, having an inkling of what else you have done."

"Just not that," Lyla replied, reaching out and rubbing his ass.

"Want us to tell you?" Shyla asked in a facetious tone.

"Hmm? I don't know. Lyla surprised me."

"Me too," Shyla replied, grinning at her sister.

"Martin," Lyla replied with a grin.

"Martin?" he asked.

"Marie's older brother."

"You slept with him?" Shyla asked.

"Didn't sleep, of course."

"I guess not!"

He kept out of the conversation, recalling that Marie had been a grade school girl in their class. Shyla pursues the subject:

"And did it like that with him, like you were doing with Pops?"

He moved back in the doorway to leave more space for the two girls, now only slightly surprised at their referring to him with their expression for their father. Lyla nodded grinning, also at him, and said:

"You saw us? Finish your shower and I'll tell you."

"You did with Marie' brother?" Shyla asks, still in disbelief, getting her towel and stepping out of the shower. Lyla squeezes passed her, nodding again with a grin. He enjoys watching the one dry herself and the other one wash, listening.

"Funny," Lyla starts: "he thought I was you. We both sort of had a crush on him, when we were fourteen, the nearest boy around that looked like a man."

"Um-hmm, we did."

"What did you do to let him think that I was you?"

"Hm-hmm! We kissed once, better than with the boys our age, once, a year later."

"Never told me."

"Even twins have some secrets. And ...?"

"My good luck! So a couple of months ago, end of Christmas vacation, I went over to see Marie. She wasn't home, shopping with her mother, but he was, home from college, I didn't correct him when he called me Shyla, and, well, he assumed that you would want to kiss him again. I had no problem with that. We did, real good, and ..., well, you can imagine the rest. When I let him hold my boob -- I wanted him to -- and, well, he wasn't so sure how far we would go, but when I murmured that I was on the pill, ... like that, his suggestion. Oooh! It was good, like with you, Pops."

She smiled at him, and he smiled back with a nod. Shyla muttered:

"You could have told, wouldn't have to have told me with whom."

"Now Pops knows; you can with him."

He nodded, before Shyla looked to see his agreement. She grinned, and he did, nodding again. Lyla snickered, grinning at Shyla, and added:

"And if Martin is around over Easter, you know what he'll be wanting to. Hm-hmm! He thought you did it real good."

They all chuckled, the girls grinning, he with a wry expression, then remarking:

"Now that that is settled, finish washing; I have to too, and shave. And wear bras, even though I know they don't make much difference."

The girls nodded, grinning, both jiggling their breasts with their hands.

They weren't the first ones to breakfast with the rest of choir, sitting separately. He answered a remark about his not coming early by explaining that he had made the mistake of waiting for the girls to finish their showers first. When he realized that his remark about showers could suggest more intimacy, he was relieved when another man nodded and said something about women taking so long in the bathroom.

The morning's rehearsal didn't keep him from wondering what the three of them would do after lunch. At lunch, the girls chose to sit with him. Everyone knew that he and their mother were divorced, so that was all right, their taking the opportunity be together. If they only knew how, he thought. They managed to talk about the requiem they were rehearsing and other harmless subjects. It got a little sticky, when they talked about school and classmates, but they survived that without expressions that could suggest anything to others at the table, but they understood them.

They separated after returning their plates to the kitchen, but not without veiled smirks. As the girls went away, not directly to their room, he suddenly calculated: about eleven in the evening with them both; three o'clock with Shyla; seven, with Lyla. Four hours, and now it was a little past one o'clock, six hours since he had. He didn't want to use an expression for what "he had" in the company of other choir members, but then remembered that "he had" twice with Lyla - in Lyla! He turned away from the others to avoid anyone's seeing his cheeks flush.

When his blush faded, and he was outside in the fresh air, he snorted to himself, risking a smirk, as he thought - a little proudly - it shouldn't be a problem to come a couple of more times before the next rehearsal. Anything the girls wanted, what would they want, anything he couldn't imagine? He returned to their room by another outside door.

"Oh, there you are, finally," one of the twins remarked.

Before the previous night, he would have assumed that she was Lyla, who usually spoke first, but now he wasn't sure; Shyla had been equally direct after they had gotten their clothes off. The girls still had theirs on, but with grins they immediately plucked at a blouse button. He nodded with a slight smirk, and they all started to unbutton. One of the girls didn't have to brush a hand over her erect n****e to call his attention to it; he had already noticed - the other three too - and also felt his c**k's anticipation.

What did they want to do? Had the two of them already decided, agreed? Probably something they both could do with him. They were all getting undressed. As he took off his pants, a little pleased that they could see that his c**k was pressing against his shorts, he remembered the talk about the guys' confusing them and asked:

"If Roger and Martin can't tell you apart, is there any way one can?"

"You can't?"

"When you use each other's name."

The girls chuckled, glancing at each other with smirks. One asked:

"Does it matter?"

"Hmm? Not really, not here."

They are all down to just their underwear, the girls about to unhook their bras. They glance at each other again, shaking their heads slightly, and then both smirk at him. One replied:

"One of us has a little mole."

"Where you can't see it any more."

"Could have, when we were little."

They both smirked again, their bras sliding down their arms. He nodded, appreciating again the sight of their bare breasts. Their n*****s had already popped out, but when they saw him look at them, they blushed slightly. He smiled, liking that they had blushed, and replied:

"Yeah, now I remember, but have forgotten which one."

"Only one way to find out," one of them said, grinning at her sister.

They stripped their panties down, and he, his shorts. The girls hummed with smiles. The other sister remarked:

"Like our nipples."

"Um-hmm," he agreed, pleased that his c**k was standing out from his balls, but recognizing that he would have to use the toilet.

"Which one?" he asked.

"Me, but if you can't remember ..." one replied with a grin, her finger apparently finding it in her light brown pubic hair.

"Doesn't matter," he replied, nodding with a grin, adding:

"I have to go, first."

"We have," the other twin replied, as he went to the bathroom.

He could still aim down at the toilet, not worrying about their his stream splash in the water in the toilet bowl, rather liking that they could, then wondering if they had washed their p*****s. If they hadn't, he thought, that wasn't going to bother him. Not with his ex-wife but with Louise, he had often licked her p***y, despite her warning that she hadn't washed. He washed his c**k.

"We did too," a voice from the room remarked.

Then he heard them chuckling, again wondering what they wanted to do. Had they washed, because they wanted him to lick their p*****s? Which one's? Shyla's this time? But they could fool him, like they had Roger. Didn't matter; their choice. And Lyla had wanted to suck his c**k; they should be agreed. But if Shyla insisted on wanting to - yeah, say it - f**k him like Lyla had? But then she wouldn't want to have to help herself again. Their choice.

His c**k was less aroused, when he returned to the room. The girls grinned, and one said:

"Oh, that's nice. I like it when it's like that - at first."

Lyla? But her twin nodded with a grin, then said:

"And I want you to find my little mole! Hm-hmm! Not just it!"

He snorted with wry grin, nodding:

"Never thought it would be so pleasant to make both my daughters happy."

He and the girls all caught their breath for an instant at his remark. Then they snorted slightly, nodding, and one of his daughters replied softly:

"And we think it is nice that our Pops does."

Her twin nodded with a mild smile and gestured for him to lie down. He did, following them with his eyes as they joined him on the bed, only sure that the one who was beginning to straddle his face was the one with little mole. She must be Shyla; it seemed too unlikely that they would both want to do what they had the night before.

She wanted to let him find the little mole, not lowering her p***y on his mouth, holding it up closer over his eyes with a chuckle. Her sister was also chuckling, fondling his balls. She must be Lyla; Shyla hadn't done that. He remembered where her finger had been and saw the little brown spot through her hair, and grasped her hips and moved them, trying to find it his tongue. She snickered with a nod, and then moved her p***y over his mouth.

But he wanted to see it first, pushing her hips up. Her sister was watching, chuckling, and murmured:

"Looks just like mine."

"Mmmm! Lovely!" he murmured: "Both of them!"

"Like your cock."

He felt her tongue lick up it, moaning when it tickled behind its knob. When it twitched, she chuckled knowingly. Her sister pressed her hips down on his mouth. It felt for his tongue as good as it look. Better; it didn't just feel good, also tasted so good, already moist; and his c**k was in a warm, moist mouth!

When Shyla - Shyla? - began to moan, he forced her twitching hips up and murmured:

"Not so loud."

"Try not to," she muttered, rocking her hips.