Chapter Two

“Dad, are you in there?” Demi knocked on Jack’s door. “I wanted to ask…”

The door creaked open a crack; the latch hadn’t caught. Strange noises bled through the gap.

Shlick, shlick, shlick.

Cracking the door, she found the room unoccupied.

The master bedroom was the most well-appointed room in the house. A king-sized bed dominated the space, covered in a cloud-like comforter and neatly arranged pillows that carried the faint scent of cologne.

The nightstand was sparse, holding little more than a book, a phone charger, and a watch, as if its owner were ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

The adjoining ensuite was pure luxury: double sinks—though only one was ever used—a walk-in shower with a rainfall showerhead and stacks of soft towels. Everything about the space was designed for comfort and order, creating a retreat that felt intentional and quietly empty, except for the sound of running water and…

Shlick, shlick, shlick.

Tip-toeing into the bedroom, Demi was struck by a barrage of scents, dense and musky. Notes of pipe smoke and leather and something salty pervaded her olfactory carried on clouds of steam.

“Goddammit, why won’t you go away?”

For a heart-stopping second, Demi thought Jack had heard her. When he didn’t emerge from the bathroom, she crept forward again, sniffing the foggy air like a bloodhound. Peeking in, she had to stifle a gasp.

Her father had a hand planted on the shower wall, buck naked, shoulders bunched as he… he pleasured himself.

From her side-on view, Demi witnessed Jack’s fist clenched around his very stiff, very large member, pumping furiously. The nineteen-year-old coed was not intimately acquainted with the male anatomy. Home, family, and schooling took priority over dating boys.

She’d kissed one Tommy Drowly on prom night, but that felt like an obligation, part of the experience. There’d been no sparks or butterflies, and she’d summarily slapped the creep after he’d tried copping a feel.

Now she was watching a man–her father… masturbating as if he’d keel over dead if he didn’t… didn’t…

“Come on. Cum already.” Jack snarled, veins prominent on his arms and neck, lathered in soap. “This is fucking ridiculous. Just cum!”

Cum...

He needed to cum. Demi’s father–her dad needed to cum. His whole body bulged and flexed—every lean, sudsy muscle straining for release. Splotches of gooey white oozed down the shower wall in front of him—proof of several recent ejaculations washing down the drain.

Dad’s cum...

She couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. Like a deer stuck in the headlights, Demi stared as her father let out a guttural groan, then slumped as pearly jets of seed ejected from his… his dick.

Another wave of that captivating scent washed over her. Smoke, leather, soap, and… cum.

He continued to erupt for nearly a minute, heaving and gasping, basting the tiles. There was so much of it. Sex Ed class hadn’t prepared Demi for the unbelievable volume a boy–no, a man could produce.

A good and handsome man.

Her own father…

Her Daddy.

Suddenly, the ensuite felt even steamier. Her young, virgin body was on fire. She shouldn’t be here. Blood pooled between her trembling thighs.

“Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with me?” Jack muttered. Incredibly, he was still rock hard. Shampoo dripped from his nose. “Control yourself, man. The girls are relying on you.”

Then his fist began pumping again, and Demi silently fled the scene.

“C’mon boys, five more diamond tier donations, then maybe we’ll see what I can do with this–” Gracie giggled, toying with something when Demi burst into her bedroom. She yelped and spun in terror at the unexpected intrusion. “What the hell, sis? Ever heard of knocking? I’m kinda busy right now.”

Pastel pink hues dominate the space, bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights draped along the walls. Hints of vanilla wafted from a small candle flickering on the nightstand, casting tiny dancing shadows across a plush-covered bed littered with stuffed animals.

Gracie’s custom-built PC glowed with soft pink LED accents. A dual-monitor display showed her camgirl page and a live view of the back of her head. A custom mechanical keyboard with pastel keycaps sat neatly on a steel and glass desk lined with anime figurines.

Two photographer lights stood on tripods behind the camera, illuminating her outrageous attire and the rubbery purple object she was attempting to hide.

“The door wasn’t locked. Is–is that a dildo?” Demi stopped short, her skin burning and mind buzzing with thoughts of Daddy. “And what are you wearing?”

Gracie blushed like a sunrise, spinning in her gamer chair to kill the feed. Demi Jealously eyed her negligible white lace and mesh lingerie set. They looked light, breezy, far from the sweat-sodden rags baking her like a campfire potato.

She’d always envied her sister’s confidence, hadn’t she? The way Gracie could sashay through life in racy minidresses, teensy crop tops, frippy tennis skirts, and tight baby tees, utterly assured and armored in sex appeal.

They were the same size; perhaps she could borrow an outfit or two.

“That’s not the point! This is my room—my space. You can’t just barge in when I’m streaming!” Gracie was livid, yet shame also rouged her cheeks. “You’re messing with my shit.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s an emergency!” Demi blurted, dropping to her knees. “Daddy’s not well. I-I went to check on him, and… he needs our help.”

“Huh? You haven’t called Jack Daddy in years.” Gracie sounded dubious. “He can’t be that sick. We spoke less than an hour ago. He seemed fine.”

Daddy… oh, Daddy.

“He isn’t fine, and we’re all he has right now.” Demi shuffled forward to grasp her sister's hands. They were clammy, and perspiration glittered on her skin. She was so beautiful. “I’ve got a plan, but you need to trust me on this, okay?”

Gracie’s nostrils flared, her stick-on lashes fluttering as though she’d smelled a favorite meal. Demi knew that feeling. Daddy’s uber-manly scent clung to her like a blanket.

Like a warm, cozy snuggle-fuck blanket in winter.

“Alright, sis. What can I do?”

Demi hugged her, desperately thankful. Relishing the press of their firm, youthful bodies. Sweat mingled. Her gaze fell on the purple sex toy hurriedly tucked behind the keyboard; flames kindled down below.

“Oh, Gracie, thank you!” She wept, tightening their embrace–pulling Gracie even closer. Rubbing off on her. “I want you to teach me, dear sister.”

“This is essentially workout gear. Nothing too improper. It shows off our legs, accentuates our butts, and gives the simps a glimpse of our taut tummies. The basics.”

They were posing before Gracie’s wardrobe mirror. Demi was wrapped in ivory yoga pants plus a matching long-sleeved top that left a lot of midriff and cleavage on display. Her sister wore a similar outfit in black but with high-waisted briefs that sank into her ass crack and white stripes along the arms.

They looked sizzling hot—almost like twins.

The same shade of chestnut hair tumbled across their slender shoulders. Identically razor-sharp cheekbones were dusted with make-up. Golden hoop earrings similarly graced their lobes, and their breasts–dear god, their sumptuous breasts–appeared fuller than ever in the skin-tight ensembles.

Demi could have sworn they felt bigger and heavier. Her sports bra painfully pinched the swollen flesh. Gracie looked equally uncomfortable, constantly readjusting her sparse top.

Speaking of hot, both of them were running a temperature. Moisture dappled their exposed flesh, giving their dark hair a lustrous sheen and making the room feel humid and muggy. Mascara dribbled in charcoal rivulets from the corners of their eyes.

That was fine; it added a sultry element to their appearance.

Sultry for Daddy.

“What for Daddy?” Gracie asked. Demi hadn’t realized she whispered the thought aloud. “This is great, seeing you let loose, sis. But how does this help him get better?”

“It’s vitally important.” Demi insisted, retaking her sister’s hands. “He has to know we’re happy and healthy to recover. We need to show Daddy we’re here for him. That we love him.”

“Uh, okay…” Gracie’s pupils dilated as she dragged in his clingy masculine musk by the lungful. Her nipples were diamonds drilling through the stretchy sports top. “I-I guess… I love Daddy.”

“I do, too,” Demi agreed, kissing her cheek, leaving a smear of saliva and lipstick. “He’s the greatest, most supportive Daddy a girl could wish for. We need to be good girls for Daddy.”

Good girls for Daddy.

The words sounded so right, so irrefutably correct; they resonated through Demi in a pulse of panty-dampening pleasure.

“Good girls for Daddy.” Gracie repeated, then frowned. “Wait… wh-what do you mean? I’m a good girl, aren’t I?”

“Good girls don’t deceive their Daddy. They don’t hide slutty secrets from him.” Demi admonished, retrieving the purple dildo. “Good girls don’t flirt or expose themselves to strange men online. Good girls are Daddy’s girls.”

Daddy’s girls.

“I… um, I-I wasn’t actually going to use that.” Gracie babbled. The lie was evident in how she recoiled from the sex toy as though it would bite her. “I was only playing…”

Demi considered the dildo. It was small, made for teasing. No more than four inches of cylindrical rubber designed to stimulate a girl's clit and outer folds. Nothing compared to Daddy’s glorious dick.

Daddy’s glorious dick.

The heat and pressure in her center were growing unbearable. The memory of that meaty shaft spewing baby-making semen onto the tiles played on repeat. The loss of that miracle juice down the drain shamed Demi almost as much as it excited her.

“Daddy’s… what?” Gracie panted, her face a hair's breadth from Demi’s, their lips nearly brushing. “You haven’t… we can’t…”

“Hush, baby sister. I know what you need. What we have do to,” She murmured, lowering the pleasure-aid until it slid into Gracie’s dewy thigh gap. “For us be the good girls Daddy deserves.”

Good girls for Daddy.

Gracie jerked at the contact; the soaked outline of her lower lips parted around the toy, and then suddenly, they were kissing. Sweltering lips met, tongues shyly touched, before the dam broke in a crash of incestuous passion.

Fingers tangled in Demi’s chestnut tresses as her sister tried to vacuum the spit out of her mouth. She stroked the dildo along Gracie’s puffy mound, swirling the tip over her concealed clit, coaxing out muffled mewls.

Their sweaty, feverish bodies swayed. Humping and grinding in a taboo dance. They made out like horny teenagers. Heck, they were horny teenagers; barely-legal good, good girls blazing with the hormonal impulses of youth. Lusting for one another and…

Lusting for Daddy.

“Lusting for… oh, oh god!” Gracie’s slender thighs clamped vise-like around Demi’s hand. Head flung back, every brilliant muscle seized as she quaked through a monumental orgasm. “Oh, fuck… Ooooh, DAAAADDY!!”

Demi joined her howling sister in worshipful climax; they were basically twins, after all. Naturally, they’d cum together for Daddy. The rapturous release of their pent-up desire seared through them like lightning, delivering three hundred million volts of Daddy-focused bliss to every cell, nerve and neuron in their supple young bodies.

I hope everyone's enjoying the story so far. If you are, how 'bout buying me a coffee? Caffeine donors get early access to my latest smut weeks in advance, and I am grateful. Y'all are great!