Chapter Five

   There was more touring and sightseeing in the morning.  Attention by
young college men was lavished upon the cute girls, which did nothing to
lessen the excitement in their nubile, hormone-drenched bodies.  Bob had
tried to divert his attention from his nieces by lusting after all the
female Krakow University music majors who were in the entourage that day.
Of course that did nothing to lessen his own level of excitement either. 
The fact that several of those young women looked at him through lowered
lashes, and somehow seemed to bump into him with their breasts repeatedly,
only made things worse.  Had he been alone in Krakow he would have gladly
spurted them full of American semen.  But he resisted that impulse.  His
fantasies had morphed a little too.  Now, the only pussies he wanted to
spurt in, were those of his nieces.

   The practice session that afternoon was limited to the music that would
be performed.  The girls played with much more passion than they usually
did in a practice session.  Dinner that night was in a restaurant, on the
way from the hairdresser's to the concert hall.  By the time the girls
arrived, in their dressing room they were almost already "prepped".

   While they got their gowns and instruments ready, the girls talked. 
Their uncle was being ...  too decent ...  by their estimation.  They had
heard what he said the night before, and they understood his frustration
because they were a little frustrated too.  His frustration was because he
wanted to do things, but stopped himself.  Their frustration was the same
...  that they wanted him to do some things ...  but he stopped himself. 
Like many young women, they were exploring an ice shelf that they assumed
was quite thick and safe.  They had no idea it might break away and drop
them into a situation beyond their control.  They thought Bob's reluctance
to explore and play was just him being a typical adult, trying to keep them
from having fun.  They heard his warning on the same level a boy does, when
his mother denies him a B-B gun, saying "You'll put an eye out!" Yes ... 
it's theoretically possible ...  but he's quite sure it wouldn't happen to
him.

   And now they believed that their Uncle, though he found them sexy and
attractive, would never really think about pushing his long, thick penis up
into their warm virgin pussies and spurt them both full of dangerous sperm.
Sure, it was theoretically possible ...  but it would never happen to them.
Like many youths, they made the mistake of not taking Bob's warning at face
value.

   Which is why, when Gabby stuck her head out of the door and saw her
uncle sitting in a chair, leafing through a magazine, she called him,
saying they needed "his help" with something.

   To give Bob his due, he looked at his watch.  It was thirty-five minutes
before the concert was due to start ...  five minutes outside their ... 
private time window.  That's why he got up, and went into the dressing
room.

   Both girls were still clothed.  He looked around, as if he might be able
to see what it was they needed his help with.

   "Uncle Bob," Daphne started in, looking serious.  "We're about ready to
start ...  getting ready to play."

   "Okay," said Bob, his eyes sliding to the cello case where the pictures
were stashed.  "Tell me what you need and I'll get it done and get out of
here."

   "We don't want to look at the pictures tonight," said Daphne.  "There's
something better, and we want to look at that, instead."

   Bob wasn't stupid.  On the other hand, he WAS horny, which sometimes
equates to the same thing.

   "We shouldn't really do that," he said.

   "We're not going to rape you," said Daphne, eager to get on with things.
Getting ready to perform was almost as much fun as the performance itself.
"We just want you to help us get ...  ready."

   Bob thought about it.  They only had thirty minutes.  Less, really,
because they had to get dressed.  What could happen in only twenty minutes?
He was thinking with his little head.  He knew that, but then the little
head screams when it wants attention, and the big head often just retreats
from the noise.

   He unzipped his pants.

   The girls began tossing their clothing wherever it happened to land,
until they stood in front of him, stark naked.  They sat on the two chairs
in the room, and spread their thighs apart.  Neither of them touched
themselves yet.

   "We want you to be naked too, like the men in the pictures," said Gabby.

   Bob moved as far away from them as he could, which was, in the tiny
dressing room, only about five feet.  He wanted to argue, but he knew that
would waste time.  It would already be pushing things for him to get out of
his tux, and then back into it before the concert started, so he just
stripped.  He knew he'd feel stupid wearing socks, so he took them off too.
He was already hard.  It felt like he'd been hard all day long.

   "Oh, I like this," came Daphne's sultry voice, as her hand toyed with
her dark pubes, teasing herself.  Gabby's hands came up to squeeze and pull
at her nipples, but she didn't say anything.

   "Touch it," commanded Daphne, as one finger dipped down to touch her
clit and then retreat.

   Bob stroked himself slowly.  He split his attention between the girls,
seeing that their eyes were glued to his cock.  He knew he was covering and
then uncovering the knob slowly.  He felt a drip of precum ooze through his
prick, and looked down to see it seep out of the slit, to collect into a
milky drop.

   "You've really put that in a woman?" asked Gabby, beginning to pant. 
One of her hands left a nipple, and slid down her belly to her fluff of
blond hair.  Leaving her hand flat, she slid it onto her pussy lips, and
rubbed them in a circle.  Bob could actually see them loosen and begin to
move under her fingers.

   "Yes," said Bob, staring at her pussy lips as she mashed them back and
forth.

   "And she liked it?"

   "Yes," groaned Bob.

   "And you liked it too?" panted Daphne.

   "Yesss," hissed Bob.

   "Don't make it squirt yet," cautioned Daphne.  "Not yet, please."

   "I shouldn't make it squirt at all, in front of you," he moaned.

   "You're helping us," said Gabby softly.  "Don't stop."

   Almost like they had planned it, both girls slid a single finger into
their pussies, splitting engorged lips and arching their backs a little. 
Daphne closed her eyes, but then opened them again, to stare at Bob's
penis.

   "This is good," she panted.  "Much better than pictures."

   "If he put it in us, it would make us pregnant," panted Gabby.  "Just
like in the pictures."

   "Don't say that," groaned Bob.

   "Wouldn't you like to put it in us?" whined Daphne, her fantasies
overriding her common sense.

   "Of course," Bob grunted, his own common sense under extreme assault. 
"But that's impossible."

   "I feel so sexy," moaned Gabby, adding a finger, and then another, as
she got going.

   "Don't cum," gasped Daffy, to the room in general.  Both girls wanted
to, but they knew to wait.  "We have to get dressed." She withdrew the
finger in her pussy, rubbed her clitty a couple of times, and then stood
up. Gabby kept digging in her pussy.

   "Gabby!" warned Daphne.

   "I know, I know," moaned Gabriella.  "It just looks so good."

   "He'll show it to us again later," panted Daphne.  "Get dressed." Her
head turned toward Bob.  "Not you, though.  Not yet."

   Bob stood there.  Now he quit stroking, because he was close.  Instead
he gripped his prick and squeezed hard.  The precum in his urethra was
squeezed out and formed a hanging drip.

   Both girls kept looking at him while they helped each other dress.  When
they were fully dressed they picked up their violins.

   The knock at the door made Bob jump.

   "Five minutes!" came the call through the door.

   "Now, can you make it squirt?" sighed Daphne, to her uncle.

   "I don't know," he moaned, nervously.

   "If it was in one of us ...  it would squirt ...  wouldn't it?" she
asked, not knowing she was acting ten years older than her biological age.

   That image brought him to climax almost instantly.  He jacked his cock
twice, and ropes of thick semen shot out.  Gabby had to side-step hastily
to keep if from getting on the skirt of her formal gown, and both girls
made sounds in their throat.

   Bob leaned back against the door, weak, while his penis continued to
dribble.

   Daphne stepped forward, bending at the waist, and reaching to pull her
uncle's face to hers.  She kissed his lips lightly, aware that her lipstick
would smudge.

   "That was perfect," she whispered.  "Thank you." She stepped back.  "We
have to leave.  You can get dressed now."

   Gabby stole a quick kiss too, on the way out, and Bob was left, naked,
in a tiny dressing room, with lines of his semen on the wooden floor.  He
wanted to crawl in a hole and hide.

   Instead, though, he cleaned up the mess with tissues he found on the
vanity, and repaired his dress.  When he looked in the mirror, he saw only
a man, in formal dress, with a strong jaw and a slightly wild look in his
eye.  He couldn't see the man who had just done what he'd done.  He took
one more look around.

   When he went out to the wings, they were already playing.

   ====================================

   That their performance was inspired, made him feel a little better, as
time went by.  They were single-minded about the music whenever they were
on stage, with a professionalism that went far beyond their tender years.
In that situation the music reigned supreme, and any emotion in them was
channeled into that music.  Again, he thought about how the girls knew what
they wanted, and entered into things on a completely voluntary basis.  He
still felt guilty but he also realized that, however bizarre the situation
was, it was being used in a way that helped them create magic.

   As the concert went on, members of the entourage began to gather with
him.  They had already heard this music that afternoon, in the practice
session, but stood enraptured, swaying, sometimes jerking, as if they were
playing it themselves in their minds.

   When the last crashing chords of the last piece were dampened by fingers
on the strings, and the spot light snapped off, the applause was intense.
The girls ran toward the group of people around Bob.  They didn't crash
into him, or kiss him, this time.  Even as excited as they were, they knew
that doing that in front of so many strangers wasn't a good idea.

   The banjo that Daphne had played, earlier in the day, was thrust
forward.

   "Please?" came several voices.  The guitar was also produced.

   Both girls looked at Bob.  Their last foray into the odd and unexpected
had gone well, but they weren't inspired tonight, like they had been in
London.  Not in the same way, anyway.

   "Dueling Banjos," said Bob.  "You two have that down pat."

   Both girls grinned, and they reached for the instruments.

   The spotlight picked them up as they walked back on stage, holding
instruments the public had never seen them play before.  The response from
the crowd, which had heard about London, was wild.

   Again, it was Daphne who took the microphone.

   "We seem to have started a new kind of tradition," she said, her voice
soft, but easily heard.  "We didn't intend to do that when we came on this
tour.  This afternoon, though, we had such a good time with some of the
students here at this wonderful university, and they asked us to play
something, so here we are."

   The audience ate it up.

   "Thank you," said Daphne into the mike.  "This song has been around for
a long time, but we didn't have time to prepare for anything.  We play this
at home a lot, just to keep in practice.  If we make some mistakes, we hope
you'll be gentle with us." Her smile was brilliant in the spotlight,
engaging in a way that almost guaranteed no one would even THINK about
mentioning a mis-struck note.

   The girls sat, while stage hands appeared to adjust the microphones. 
One of them started to put a mike in front of Gabby's mouth, but she shook
her head, and it was taken away.

   Those first nine notes are instantly recognizable almost anywhere in the
world.  They had been played literally millions of times.  As soon as they
were played on the guitar, the crowd erupted.  Daphne grinned, and waited
until it was quite again.  Then she repeated them on the banjo, turning
slightly toward Gabby.  When Gabby came back on the guitar, she turned
slightly towards her sister.

   As it went on, it was as if they HAD practiced this piece for
professional exposure.  When one was playing alone, the other rolled her
eyes at the crowd, or shook her head, and then answered.  When they played
together they just looked at the crowd and grinned.  It looked like they
really WERE competing, but it was obvious that they were in this thing
together too.  The speed they played with was electric, and it left no
doubt in anyone's mind that these unfamiliar instruments were very much at
home in these girls' hands.  It wasn't the mystical, spiritual event that
they could create with bow-played instruments.  Instead, it was just
rollicking fun that was beautiful to watch, and which drew people in,
making them want to dance as they stood, eyes glued to the two performers.

   Bob looked into the orchestra pit and saw the tape recorder still
spinning.  He didn't know if the London encore had been recorded or not,
but obviously this one was being saved.  The technician was dancing around
in front of his machine, with a silly grin on his face.

   Bob suddenly wondered if his sister was going to scream at him for
letting her little girls go off on a tangent like this, possibly ruining
their reputation as serious musicians.  He watched, at the ending, as the
tech let the tape run, while the crowd went insane, shouting and clapping.
If Deliah yelled at him, he'd play that reaction for her.

   ====================================

   The press joined the entourage, and the wings were crowded as the girls
left the stage, handing the instruments to eager hands.

   "Would you sign it for me?" asked the young man who accepted the banjo.

   The girls giggled, but, when permanent markers were produced, showing
that the owners of the guitar and banjo had thought long and hard about
this, each girl signed her name in flowing script on the back of the sound
box.

   They took Bob's arms and pulled him toward the dressing room.  Daffy
reached up to talk into his ear.  "We'll wind down later," she said. 
"There are too many people here right now.  Just give us time to change,
and we'll talk to the reporters."

   Bob had just finished spelling out the rules of engagement when the
girls came out of the dressing room, their faces radiant.  Again, they were
dressed like the average American teenager, in faded jeans, tennis shoes,
and T shirts.  Bob was glad to see that Gabby had put on a bra, to hide her
ever-erect nipples.  He was glad on several fronts.

   When the girls were done with the press, which was much more polite in
Poland than the English reporters had been, the entourage wanted to party.
Since they wouldn't fly until late the next day, and since they had two
days before they'd appear in Paris, Bob relaxed, and went with the flow. 
He figured that maybe the girls would be too tired to engage in dangerous
play later, if they got it out of their systems being excited and in a
party atmosphere.

   The group stayed together, forming a convoy to the old town district,
where they drifted from one nightclub to another, dancing a few dances in
each one.  Bob put his foot down when someone tried to serve the girls
alcohol, but no one seemed to mind.  The girls had no lack of partners to
dance with, including college girls, who seemed to see no difference in
dancing with a boy, or dancing with a girl.  It was two in the morning when
Bob finally called a halt to the proceedings, and had them taken back to
the hotel.

   ====================================

   The girls were still giddy with excitement as they trouped into the
room. Their hair had come loose during the evening, and was lying
carelessly on their shoulders.  They went into the bathroom to take their
makeup off, and Bob lay down on his bed, fully clothed.  He closed his
eyes. He decided he was getting too old to do the early morning partying
thing.  He could hear the low, musical voices of the girls through the open
door as they talked in the bathroom.  He heard the stool flush, and heard
water running.

   He was almost asleep when his body bounced, as both girls launched
themselves onto the bed, Daphne on his right, and Gabriella on his left. 
He felt hands on his chest, pushing him down as wet lips kissed him on both
cheeks.  The back of his hands, lying at his sides, felt naked flesh
pressing against them and he groaned.

   "You're naked, aren't you?" he said, keeping his eyes closed.

   "We don't need jammies any more," breathed Daphne into his ear.  "Not
with you, anyway."

   "You can't sleep in my bed," he moaned.

   "We're not.  We're just horny, and when we get that taken care of, we'll
go to sleep in our bed."

   Both girls continued to kiss his cheeks.  They rolled toward him, to
sandwich him in warm flesh.

   "We're ready to see it again," whispered Gabby in his ear.  He
shuddered.

   "That's a very bad idea," he moaned.

   "Oh pooh!" said Daffy.  He felt them move, and felt their fingers start
stripping him.

   "Hey!" he said, lifting his hands.

   "Lie still!" barked Daphne.

   He opened his eyes to see Gabby undoing his shirt, taking the studs out
and laying them on the nightstand.  She pushed his shirt aside and smoothed
her hands over his chest.  Daffy was working on his belt and the other
fastenings of his pants.

   "When did we decide all this touching was okay?" he asked.  He knew he
was hard as a rock already.

   "Lift your butt," ordered Daphne.

   "No," he said.

   He felt a hand grab his stiff prick, through his pants, and yelped,
sitting halfway up in shock and surprise.  Gabby started tickling him, and
he yelped again, rolling.  That let Daffy get his pants off of one hip. 
His hands went to push at hers, as he tried to pull them back up.  He
missed, and saw her hands pulling his pants down to his calves.

   "Help!" he yipped, feeling foolish immediately.

   "I'm trying," panted Daphne, pushing him in the opposite direction.  He
found himself facing Gabby, who leaned in to kiss him, pushing her lips
hard against his.

   He didn't mean to French kiss her.  They hadn't done that before, but
the surprise of the situation let him do something instinctive.  She froze,
for just a second, as his tongue pushed between her lips to slide along her
slightly open teeth, and then her tongue slithered against his in return.
She was a quick learner and soon her mouth was open and sliding all over
his lips, as she explored this new thing that felt so fabulous.  Her own
instincts came into play, and she pressed one spare breast, with its stiff
nipple, against his chest, where she had pushed his shirt back.  He felt
his pants being pulled, and heard Daphne's grunt of success as he felt cool
air on his prick and thighs.

   When Daphne reached out and grasped his prick, the shock of it
penetrated Bob's mind.  He pushed Gabby away from him, ignoring her moan of
discontent, and sat up.

   "Stop that!" he grunted to Daffy, who had her face about three inches
from his penis, and was in the act of sliding the foreskin off the glans.

   She looked up at his eyes, seeing his frown, and blinked.  THEN she let
go of his prick.

   "I'm sorry," she whined.  "I'm just so horny."

   "No touching," said Bob, entering negotiations without knowing it.

   "Just a little?" came her complaining whine.

   "No touching," said Bob, firmly.

   He sensed Gabby's body, next to him, and turned to find her standing on
her knees.  Her breasts were right in his face, one strawberry nipple right
where he could lick it.  The temptation was so strong that he turned to
grab her by the waist and push her down on the bed beside him.  She
squeaked in surprise, and then again as he rolled over her, his prick
sliding against her shins, as he got off the bed and stood beside it.

   "Okay, okay!" said Daphne, holding out her hand to him.  "No touching.
We'll just do what we usually do, okay?"

   She had backed off, which made Bob feel better.  It didn't occur to him
that now, standing naked beside the bed, while his two nieces were naked ON
the bed, nudity together had somehow become the status quo.

   "You stand there," said Daphne, lying down beside her sister.  "And
we'll lie here." Her hand went between her legs and she began rubbing
furiously, as if to announce that events had formally started, and it was
too late to alter the plan.  Gabby copied her, pulling her heels up to let
her knees fall apart.  Her right knee flopped onto Daphne's thigh, but
neither of them seemed to care.  Gabby slid a finger into herself right
away, hooking it and pulling so the base of her finger rubbed her clitty.

   Bob's overstressed mind told him this was better.  This was safer.  His
hand went to his cock, and he started masturbating.

   They had done this only once before, really, but the feel of it seemed
natural now.  The girls were used to cumming more or less together.  They
hadn't ever decided to do that.  They were just in such close sync with
each other that it usually happened that way.  Bob, knowing that they would
have an orgasm, simply wanted to wait until they did, at which point he'd
join them.

   It was a simple plan and Bob thought it should work, especially since
there was a box of tissues on the night stand beside him.  He grabbed one,
intending not to make a mess that would have to be cleaned up, for once. 
But he hadn't paid close attention to the layout of the room.  The Polish
hotel had a sitting area, composed of two overstuffed chairs, set at an
angle and facing a love seat, with a coffee table between them.  Behind
that were the beds.  That meant there was an overstuffed arm chair behind
Bob.  The problem was he had forgotten about the placement of that chair.
As the girls writhed into their orgasms, Bob took an instinctive step back
as he felt his balls about to give up their nectar.  He ran into the chair,
which startled him, and the tissue in his hand missed the tip of his prick.
Both girls were staring at that tip, as a long lance of white leapt out,
arced through the air, and laid a line of white across each masturbating
girl's belly.

   There were twin squeals as the girls felt the warm liquid land on them,
and two hands, which had been diddling their clits, automatically came up
to feel the stuff.  Bob, horrified that he had gotten it on them, bent
forward, and crammed the tissue onto the tip of his prick, which spat three
more times, overflowing and dripping onto the carpet anyway.

   The girls had seen semen, mostly in pictures of course, and only two
times in reality.  Even that had been seen from several feet away.  The
shock of feeling it actually ON their bodies, and knowing what that was,
inflamed them again as they ran their fingers through it.  It was only
natural to slide their spermy fingers back to their pussies, and begin
rubbing again.  Bob saw what was happening, and opened his mouth to tell
them to stop, but it was too late.  He watched, his mind awhirl, as his
semen was rubbed into puffy, elastic pussy lips, and used to lubricate
tingling clitties.  The part of his brain that coordinated speech seized up
as the words "Don't touch yourselves!" had to be changed into "Don't stick
your fingers inside!  But it was too late for that too, at least as far as
Gabby was concerned.  After swirling the dangerous stuff around her clit a
few times, three spermy-slick fingers slid into her pussy as his mind was
trying to make his vocal chords say the new words.  The conflict between
what he had been ABOUT to say, and what his mind now WANTED him to say,
caused a breakdown.  The result was spectacular, at least in the current
scheme of things.

   "FUCK!" he blurted, as his overwhelmed mind sought to say something ...
anything at all.

   Daphne, in her ecstasy, and thoroughly bruised innocence, heard his
epithet, but misinterpreted it.

   "We shouldn't do that," she gasped, sliding one of her own dangerous
fingers into her pussy and pulling hard.  "Oooooooo" she moaned, as another
orgasm swept over her.  "I want to, but we really ...  shouldn't ...  do
... thaaaaaat." All the while, she was imagining that her finger was her
uncle's spurting prick.

   ====================================

   Again the girls, in their relative innocence, thought that nothing
really serious had taken place.  Both had loved the feel of his spunk on
their bodies.  It was something they had dreamed of feeling for a long
time, though their dreams about that had been misty and incomplete.  Now,
though, they had experience to fill in the blanks in their fantasies and,
again, it had been even better than they thought it would be.

   They also felt the normal female urge to cuddle with the man who had so
sexually satisfied them ...  relatively speaking.

   As Bob tried to apologize, they scrambled off the bed and wanted to hug
him.  They wanted kisses.  Had it been only one, he could have resisted
with some success.  But four hands, reaching around him, and two bodies
pressing up against him required more brain power than he presently had. 
Their fevered "Thank you!", in tandem, disarmed him to some degree, and the
fact that they were pressing their pussies into his thighs, instead of
against his dripping prick, helped buffer that disarmament.  It's hard to
feel guilty, when you have two armfuls of happy women.

   "That was awesome," sighed Daffy, kissing Bob's chest, where his arm
joined it.

   "It was dangerous," sighed Bob.  "You shouldn't have rubbed it inside
you." He hugged them closer as they squirmed against him.  "When were your
last periods?"

   Both of them looked up at him in shock.  Even as intimate as the
situation was that they were in, having a man ask them a question like that
was jolting.

   "I finished the day before we came on tour," said Daphne.

   "I finished two days before that," said her sister.

   Bob relaxed.  They should both be pretty safe.

   "You do understand that sperm makes babies," he sighed.

   "Of course we do," said Daphne, kissing his chest again.  "But we didn't
get very much in us."

   "It only takes one," said Bob, squeezing both girls.  "You mustn't do
that again."

   "It felt soooo good," moaned Gabby, rubbing her pussy up and down his
now slick thigh.  "It was so warm, and slippery, and yummy feeling.  I've
never felt like this before."

   "That's what I'm trying to tell you," sighed Bob.  "This is very adult
stuff we've been doing.  And it is instinctive to keep going, further and
further each time."

   "You're right about that," said Daphne softly.  "Each time we do
something new, it's better and better.  I love it," she said, missing the
point entirely.  "I think we played better tonight than we've ever played
before."

   "Don't try that on me," said Bob, thinking he was being set up.  "You
always play beautifully.  You don't need me for that."

   "It felt better to me," said Daphne, not backing down.  "I was horny,
but it was a different KIND of horny.  Seeing you, for real, just made me
feel different than looking at pictures."

   "Well, you have a picture of me now.  And if we keep on like this," he
hugged them both, "you'll get to have pictures of swollen bellies that are
yours, instead of some other woman's."

   He only realized that he had said the wrong thing when both girls spread
their legs and rubbed wet pussies against him, humping him like a horny
male dog humps a leg.

   "I think I can get there just doing this," gasped Daffy.

   "Me either," panted Gabby.  "Kiss me again, Uncle Bob, like you did on
the bed."

   She reached her lips up to his, and as soon as he kissed her he felt her
tongue dart into his mouth.  Her moan signaled that she was having another
orgasm, just by rubbing her pussy on his hard thigh.  Daffy, unable to kiss
him, slid her hand down to grasp his messy, limp, prick, whereupon she
tripped into her own cum, squeezing him as she ground her pussy against
him.

   For the first time since all this had started, Bob had the horrified
feeling that he couldn't stop them ...  couldn't buffer or resist the slide
they were making toward becoming fully sexual women.

   Had there only been a few days left on the tour, he would have felt like
he could stem the tide.  But they had more than two weeks left, with eight
more cities to visit ...  eight more hotel rooms, where he couldn't get
away from them at bedtime ...  eight more dressing rooms, that he somehow
knew he'd stand in, naked, beating his meat, while the girls got "ready" to
perform.

   He had more than fourteen nights to spend in the company of two horny
and eager virgins.

   And, if they kept going like they had so far, he had no idea how long
they'd remain virgins.
