CHAPTER SIX

   The conscious mind works in mysterious ways.  When faced with a problem,
there are always various options to approach solving that problem with. 
But most people don't think of ALL the options.  Instead, they think of the
first one or two that come to mind, and the brain concentrates on those,
instead of finding other potential solutions.

   In Bob's case, he missed the most obvious solution, that of calling
ahead to arrange separate rooms.  Instead, his brain concentrated on all
the ways that the girls' lusts could be sated ...  WITHOUT a penis being
inserted in them.  So far, they had only touched themselves.

   Masturbation is usually quite straight-forward.  You know what you like,
and you do that until you get to where you want to be.  But masturbation
can be done by others too, and if done properly, the added dimension of an
extra, loving body being involved in the practice, can enhance the
experience, to astonishing heights.

   And so it was that, while he was falling asleep, after making the girls
take showers, and making them get in THEIR bed, Bob thought of things he
could do TO the girls that might satisfy their urge to explore, and keep
their precious virginities intact.  Technically, at any rate.

   He knew, based on experience, that he was a very good oral lover.  Women
had made that perfectly clear.  And he knew that he could leave both these
girls too limp to want anything else, if he loved them in that way.  His
fingers could probably do the same thing.  And their fascination with his
stiff prick could be controlled by simply making sure that it didn't stay
stiff.  All he had to do was cum, like he just had, and then it wouldn't
matter if Daphne wanted to touch him.  Not for a while anyway, and if he
hadn't worn them out before then then it could be made limp again before it
could do any damage.

   He fell asleep feeling much better, which is odd, when you figure that
he had just decided to escalate things quite a lot.  But, as mentioned
before, the brain often doesn't recognize ALL available options, unless it
actually seeks to.  He hadn't thought about separation.  He hadn't thought
about cloaking his prick, whenever it was naked, in a rubber.  He hadn't
thought about getting the girls vibrators.  He hadn't thought about
anything, except satisfying them in some way that would leave them
uninterested in getting his stiff prick in their pussies.

   Such is the way a man's mind can work, when it is assailed with lust,
both from without and within.  The Fight or Flight Syndrome had kicked in
and, for Bob at least, that didn't include "negotiation." He couldn't flee,
so in his stupid, male way, he thought he was going to fight.

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

   Bob woke, and saw light coming in through the blinds.  He rolled his
head to look at the clock, and saw it was ten.  His body clock was still
off, apparently.  Both girls were still sleeping.  He remembered that,
after their shower to get his sperm off of them, they had crawled into bed
naked.

   Now he thought of separation as an option, though only one layer deep.
He got up, emptied his bladder, and got dressed quickly, before they could
get up and parade in front of him naked again.  He was thinking about
leaving them a note when Gabby woke up.

   "I'm going to go get some coffee," he said softly.  "Whenever you two
get up, come on down and we'll have breakfast." She nodded, sleepily, and
he left.

   He was on his second cup when they straggled into the dining room. 
Hotels in Poland served breakfast in the true continental way, with nothing
hot, unless you ordered it that way.  There was fruit, both fresh and
dried, and ten different kinds of cereal.  Pastries, various offerings of
juice, milk, and hard boiled eggs were available too.  There were bowls of
nuts, olives and other things that Bob didn't recognize.  The coffee was
black as coal, and bitter.  There wasn't an ice cube in sight.  Everything
was self serve, though there were employees drifting around to see to any
needs not already met.  The serving girl who approached Bob was wearing a
peasant blouse that showed off a great deal of her majestic cleavage.

   "I went to the concert last night," she said softly.  "It was fabulous."

   Bob smiled at her.  "They are good, aren't they?"

   "I particularly liked the encore," said the girl.  "I've heard that
music before, but never seen it played.  It was amazing.  I'm afraid I
practically ravished my boyfriend when we got home."

   "Thank you," said Bob, startled at her familiarity, and willingness to
speak of things so intimate.  "I don't think I'll pass all of that on to
the girls, though." He grinned, and got a sweet smile in return.  She
turned to leave, saw Gabby and Daffy coming in, and went to escort them to
the spread.  They chatted as the girls loaded plates with food.  Bob
wondered if she was telling them the same thing she had told him.

   The girls came and sat down.  They ate quietly.  Two more people came up
to the table and expressed their appreciation for the concert.  When Bob
asked them if that was normal, they both shook their heads.

   "Nobody ever seemed to care before," said Daphne.  "It's kind of neat to
be recognized."

   "You're playing very well," said Bob.

   "That is partly because of you," said Gabby.  She looked directly at her
uncle.  "We had a very good time last night."

   "If you run too fast, you might trip," said Bob.

   "You'll be there to catch us," said Gabby.

   "I might trip and fall right on top of you," said Bob.

   "That might be interesting," said Daphne, her eyes sparkling.

   "Only on performance nights," said Bob.  He didn't have to explain what
he was talking about.  "Other nights, we do nothing.  Is that clear?"

   "Perfectly," said Daphne.  She went back to eating, seemingly
unconcerned.

   Again, Bob was unaware that a new contract had been forged, through
negotiations he wasn't even aware were being conducted.  Bob, a master of
negotiation when it came to real estate, failed rather miserably when the
negotiations involved women.  At least in so far as his nieces were
concerned.

   This contract gave them rights to him on performance nights ... 
something he had given them in exchange for nothing, really.

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

   Paris was beautiful, of course.  Pictures don't really do Paris any
justice at all.  As difficult and prickly as the French are perceived to
be, when true artists arrive in their midst their typical arrogance is put
aside.  When they recognize excellence, the French are delightful hosts.

   The concert hall they were playing at in Paris was La Philharmonie de
Paris, which is a relatively newly built venue with an astonishingly modern
design.  It is all sweeping lines, curves and odd shapes, scientifically
designed to move sound where it is intended to end up.  It looks odd, in
the way Salvador Dali's painting "The Persistence of Memory" looks, with
it's melting clocks, but the acoustics allow a whisper to be heard by any
audience member, anywhere in the hall, and, for the girls, microphones were
not needed.

   Their French hosts were gracious, but somewhat formal and stuffy.  The
girls were subdued by the formality, which tended to dampen their emotional
state.  There was a lot of sightseeing to do, and the pace of that kept
them busy too.  The girls honored Bob's demand that things sexual be
pursued only on performance days, and Bob got a little break.

   The girls' passions were subdued during practice too, because one of the
pieces they were going to play was giving them a little trouble, in terms
of timing.  They worked on it over and over, until they were satisfied that
the cello was supporting the violin just the way it was meant to be.

   Even supper seemed very formal, and the girls were quiet and reserved.

   "You two okay?" asked Bob, beginning to fear that they might be coming
down with something.

   "Everybody seems so different," commented Daphne.  "Kind of formal,
maybe."

   "They are," said Bob, "but they love good music, so don't hold back
tonight."

   Gabby looked shocked.  "We never hold back," she said, a frown furrowing
her blond brow.  "It doesn't matter who we're playing for."

   "Okay," said Bob.  "You just seem quiet, and uninspired." He didn't know
what else to say.

   Daphne's eyes met his, and they were suddenly hot.  "We'll get inspired
...  later," she said.  Just the tone of her voice caused blood to divert
from wherever it had been headed, and into his prick instead.

   Their attitude changed dramatically when, the night of the performance,
the door of the dressing room closed behind them.  Daphne turned to Bob and
said "I want you to kiss me the way you kissed Gabby, in bed."

   They had obviously been talking, and Gabby had obviously told her sister
about his tongue.

   Bob didn't hold back, and their kiss was long and hot.  She was panting
when she finally pulled away, and stepped back to let Gabriella come in for
some of her own.

   "I don't think I need to do a single thing other than some more of
that," panted Daffy.  "I'm ready right now!"

   "This will mess up our makeup," said Gabby, pulling back.  "We can't do
that with him when we're dressed."

   "Okay," said Daphne easily.  "But it won't matter once we get back to
the hotel again, after the show."

   "You are so right," said Gabby, pulling her T shirt over her head
carefully, to avoid disturbing her hairdo, and reaching to unclasp her bra.
When she bared her breasts, she stood, looking at her uncle.  She loved
watching his eyes drink in her naked chest.  She felt dampness seeping into
her pussy.  "Uncle Bob, you just have no idea how much better this is with
you here."

   "You two are crazy," sighed Bob, licking his lips.

   "Show it to us while we get ready," panted Daphne.

   "I have something else in mind, tonight," he said.

   Both girls stopped what they were doing, which was getting naked, and
stared at him.

   "Don't worry," he said.  "I think it will do the job."

   When they were in their chairs, ready to masturbate, Bob knelt in front
of Gabby, between her legs.

   "Touch yourself," he said softly, "but be careful.  This is going to be
something new."

   He leaned forward to capture one of her stiff nipples between his lips.
He'd wanted to do this ever since he'd seen them, and he sucked gently, and
lovingly.

   "Ohhhhhhh," she groaned.  Bob could feel her hand moving frantically
between her legs.

   He pulled off.  "Don't cum," he said.

   "That feels tooo good," she moaned, her hand coming to draw him back to
her.

   "You just think about that," he said, pulling away.  He moved over to a
wide-eyed Daphne, who was already breathing as if she'd been running.

   He felt her puffy nipple harden in his mouth, and take on shape, the
nipple popping out as he sucked and she moaned.  He moved to the other one,
and got the nipple popped out on that one too, before going back to give
Gabby another dose.  Her nipples were so sensitive that he had to be
careful.  She was being careful too.

   "STOP!" she panted, pushing at his head.  "I can't take any more of
that."

   He pulled back.  Both girls were breathing hard now.

   "Get dressed," he said.

   The scrambled into their gowns, excited now, their passions enflamed.

   Then he held the door open for them.  No one had come to warn them of
their imminent need.  On the way past him Daphne stopped.

   "There will be more of that tonight," she said, taking a deep breath.

   "Yes Ma'am," said Bob, grinning.

   The French were reserved, until the girls played.  Apparently, they felt
like they could let it all hang out then, because their applause was just
as appreciative as any other that the young performers had gotten.  The
girls did their usual sad, mournful encore, telling the audience with music
that all this must, at last, come to an end.  They got a standing ovation
then.

   Back stage there were only four reporters, three of whom were polite,
and almost reserved.  The fourth was an American, who pushed his way to the
front, assuming that, since the girls were American, he should get first
place.  Word had gotten back to the States about how well this tour was
going, and about the odd encores the girls had played on two occasions. 
The first question the reporter for the New York Times asked was why they
hadn't played hillbilly music for an encore.

   "Hillbilly music?" asked Daphne.  "It's bluegrass."

   "Whatever," said the reporter.

   "I don't want to talk to you," said Daphne, her voice polite.  She
turned to one of the French reporters.

   "Hey!" said the American.  "I'm not done yet."

   "Yes, you are," said Bob, taking the man's elbow and walking him away
from the small group.

   "You can't do this!" yelled the reporter.

   "Yes, I can," said Bob, squeezing the man's elbow tightly.

   "Ow!" complained the man.

   A member of La Philharmonie de Paris security staff was there, almost as
if by magic.

   "Is zer a problame heer?" he asked.

   "This man is rude," said Bob.  "He's bothering the girls."

   "I'm a reporter for the New York TIMES!" shouted the man.

   "Isn't zat nice for you," said the security man, dragging him to the
stage door.

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

   The girls weren't hungry ...  not for food, anyway.  They wanted to go
straight back to the hotel.  When they entered the room, they started
taking their clothes off immediately.

   "Let's just leave my clothes on for a little while," said Bob.

   The girls didn't mind, since that meant he'd lie down with them.  They
writhed on top of him, wanting more kisses, as he slid his hands all over
their backs.  He squeezed naked buttocks, and got more kisses for that. 
Then they wanted their nipples sucked some more.  Daphne crawled on top of
him, pressing her pussy against the lump in his pants, and mashed her
breasts to his face.  He sucked, hoping she could cum just from this, like
he was sure Gabby would.

   "Owww," she moaned, at one point, crawling off.  "Your zipper poked me!"
She reached for his belt, her intent obvious.

   "Daphne..." he warned.

   Gabby shut him up by putting one of her nipples in his mouth.  This time
he bit and tongued and pulled at it with strong sucks.  She went off like a
firecracker, just as he suspected she might.  It was the first orgasm she'd
ever had on her hands and knees, and it felt both strange and wonderful to
her at the same time.  Being able to get this feeling without even touching
herself opened her eyes to the idea that there might be lots of other
things she didn't know about, and which could result in the same sweet
ecstasy that was flowing through her young body now.

   About then, Daphne got his prick out, and started jacking it.

   "I want to make it spurt," she said, when his hand waved at hers, trying
to get her to release him.

   "Wait," he commanded, spitting out Gabby's nipple, and then taking it
back in while she finished her orgasm.

   She stopped stroking him, but kept her hand around him.  Gabby finally
sighed and pulled her nipple out of his mouth.  She flopped down beside
him.

   "That was the best," she panted.

   "What about me?" whined Daphne.

   "I'll take care of you now," said Bob.

   He pulled her up beside him, and attacked her breasts with is mouth. 
She purred and moaned about how wonderful that felt, but didn't respond in
the electric way her sister did.  He put his left hand flat on her belly
and shoved it downward, over her black pubes.

   "Ohhh, Uncle Bob," moaned the girl, tossing her head.

   He wanted her to cum hard, and cum fast, so he didn't warn her. 
Instead, he slicked a finger between her already wet pussy lips, and hooked
it into her pussy.  He felt her jerk, and felt her knee impact his penis as
she pulled her legs up and spread them, to give him room.  He started
rubbing her clitty sideways, his finger still in her.

   For Daphne, all this strange stimulation was devastating.  His finger
was thicker and rougher than her own, with the possible exception of her
left hand fingertips, which had thick, rough calluses on them.  His single
finger felt like two of her own, and all she had to do was lie there to
feel amazing things.  She was used to feeling her orgasm approach,
anticipating it, welcoming it.  But this one hit her like a bucket of ice
water, and she was completely unprepared for it.  She jerked and flopped as
it slammed into her, and she felt electric shocks running continuously from
her pussy to the nipple he was sucking on .  Just when she thought she
couldn't stand it another second, he stopped rubbing her, and pulled his
mouth off her nipple.  She relaxed, loving the feel of his thick finger
still inside her, but not moving.

   She moaned in disappointment when he pulled it out of her, but it felt
so good to lie there, that she didn't move.

   He did the same thing to Gabby, rolling to use his right hand between
her legs, while his mouth made her writhe and buck under him.  She was
ultra sensitive, and he went on too long, making her gasp: "Okay ... 
enough!"

   Then he went back to Daphne and rocked her world a second time.  He
crawled off the foot of the bed and stood, seeing two happy, exhausted and
satisfied naked girls splayed out before him.  Everything had worked
perfectly.  Now it was time for him.  He stayed dressed, but pulled his
balls out of his pants, so he could access the full length of his prick
while he stroked it.

   The girls watched him with half lidded eyes.

   "Can you squirt it on us again?" asked Daphne, breathing deeply.  "We
really liked that."

   "You promise not to rub any of it between your legs?" he panted.

   "We promise," said Daphne, scooting next to her sister.

   Bob walked to the side of the bed, while the two girls lazily stroked
satisfied clitties with gentle, languid movements.  He warned them, before
he came, and tried to aim at Daphne's belly button, since she was the
farthest away from him.  His full load, therefore, went on their bellies.
He had to lean forward at the end, to make sure his last feeble surge went
on Gabby's stomach, instead of the bed.  Both girls brought their hands up
to rub through his spend, spreading it on their bellies and breasts.  They
honored his demand to keep their hands away from between their legs.

   "Fantastic," sighed Gabby, trying to pinch a slick nipple, and unable to
do it.  "Each time it's better and better."

   "You two get in the shower and get cleaned up," sighed Bob.  "We need to
start getting more sleep."

   The girls demanded to be pulled up, and Bob's hands got spermy in the
process.  He didn't care, though.  He was just glad to see them disappear
into the bathroom.  This time, they closed the door.

   He wouldn't have been nearly so happy had they left the door open.  He'd
have seen both girls rub their hands across their bodies, moving his spunk,
to get it on two fingers, which they promptly slid in their pussies.

   "This is the part I love the most," gasped Daphne, thinking of her
uncles sperm being pushed into her pussy.  Like Uncle Bob had said, it was
pretty safe at this time in her cycle, so doing this wasn't REALLY
dangerous.

   "Me toooo," moaned Gabby, massaging the sperm on her fingers into her
pussy walls.

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

   That ritual, where Bob serviced the girls with his mouth on their
breasts, and his fingers in their pussies, lasted through Spain, Greece and
Holland.  He got used to the girls touching his penis, but still didn't
allow them to bring him to orgasm.  Each night, after a performance, he'd
give each of them two or three orgasms, and they'd end with him spurting
his spunk on their bellies, or breasts.  He had no way of knowing that,
each time they went into the bathroom, to clean up, they massaged his sperm
into their wet pussies.

   It was in Austria, with only that one, and the concert in Nurnberg,
Germany remaining, that things escalated even more.  It may have had
something to do with the fact that both girls had begun ovulating in
Holland.  Their sexual energy was at its sexual peak, and their playing was
even more masterful, if that was possible.

   The Vienna State Opera House had been freed up for one night, for this
duet, and everybody who was anybody in Austria was there.  In Austria, the
audience was admitted for up to an hour before the performance was
scheduled to begin, partly because it was so huge, with multiple balconies
and hundreds of private boxes, in which patrons would be served wine and
fine chocolates before the performance.  On the main floor, the entire
orchestra was crammed into the pit, where they would be allowed to view the
concert for free.

   It was therefore a noisy and busy place when the girls arrived.  They
went to the wings, where they could see the immense structure, something
that rarely happened when they were on stage, because of the lighting.

   "Wow," whispered Daphne.  "This is incredible."

   Gabby just stood and stared.

   "This is the biggest crowd we've ever played for," Daffy went on.  She
turned to her Uncle.  "You have to get us very excited tonight," she said,
worry in her eyes.

   "I think I can handle that," said Bob.

   He licked his lips.

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

   In the dressing room the girls were splayed in their chairs, legs wide
for their uncle to wade between, so he could access their lips and breasts.
They had decided to put on lipstick just before they went out, so they
could kiss him more.

   "Ohhhh yes," moaned Daphne as he suckled her nips gently.

   "You ain't seen nothin' yet," whispered Bob.

   He kissed his way to her belly as she sucked in her stomach.  Her
unbelieving eyes watched as his lips kissed her raven pubes and she saw his
tongue come out to lick between her pussy lips.

   "Oh shit!" she squealed, her hands going to her uncle's head.

   Within a minute her fingers were gripping his hair and he had her so
wound up that she pushed him away.  Gabby grabbed for his head, after
watching how her sister reacted, and pulled him roughly between her own
thighs.  He mashed his face into her pussy and she squealed just like
Daphne had.  When she pushed him away, Daphne was already dressed, and
presented her back to Bob, to zip her up.

   "There's going to be more of that too," she sighed, kissing him one last
time before turning to apply her lipstick.

   Bob tended to Gabby's gown, zipping her into it and then getting a long,
tongue-swapping kiss from her too.  While she put on her lipstick, Daphne
sat down and motioned Bob over.  She started to unzip his pants.

   "Not now," he said softly.

   "I'm not going to make it spurt," she said.  "I just want to see it
before we go out there."

   "Okay," he said, doubtfully.

   She had to stick her hand inside and wrestle it out, because he was
hard. Once it was out, she held it, lovingly.

   "I'll see you later," she said, as if she was talking to a baby.  "You
be a good boy." She leaned forward and left a bright red imprint of her
lips on the tip.  Bob tensed, but that's all she did.

   "Oooo me too," sighed Gabriella.  "I've been wanting to do that for
days, but I was too chicken."

   She not only kissed it, but flicked her tongue out against the tip too.
Bob stepped back, and she looked up.

   "There's going to be some more of that tonight as well."

   "I don't know," said Bob, trying to think of a way to stop that.

   "I do," she said.  She looked at his penis.  "You just be ready, big
boy," copying Daphne's earlier baby talk.

   Then they were out, instruments in hand, to stand in the wings until the
lighting was where it was supposed to be and they could go out on stage to
sit down.

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

   It was magical.  That was the only way to describe it.  Their level of
passion was high, and they poured that passion into the music, while the
audience sat stunned.  The Austrians, though not intentionally, are a
fairly close-minded people when it comes to music.  They were used to grand
orchestras, playing music that had been written by men who came from
Austria, or parts nearby.  The General Manager of the hall had taken a lot
of grief about suspending the opera schedule for one night and allowing two
young girls to play.  But he had heard them play before and he knew that,
once they started, they would hold thousands of people in thrall.

   They did.

   Enthralled the most, were the professional musicians in the pit ... 
world class musicians, who recognized instantly that these girls had some
special gift, the kind that comes along once in several million musicians.
They played music that this very orchestra had played before, and the
simple combination of violin and cello left many of them in tears.

   As for the rest of the audience, they were used to world class music,
but they were unprepared for seeing two mere girls, sitting on a huge
stage, alone, except for two instruments.  They were also unprepared for
the way those two girls stole their hearts, and made them want to laugh,
weep and dance, all at the same time.

   The audience restocked the passion in the girls with applause that went
on for twenty minutes.  When the girls came back out to do an encore, the
clapping didn't stop.  The concert master for the orchestra came on stage,
and picked up a microphone.  He welcomed the girls, and said he'd never
heard anything like what they'd done.

   "If you're effer in need of employment," he said, "you just giff me a
call." He grinned widely as the crowd clapped again.

   "Is it possible that we may beg you to play one of your American
Bluegrass tunes for us?" he asked.  He, too, was more aware of what these
girls could do than the audience.  The crowd murmured, wondering what this
request was all about.

   Daphne leaned into the microphone.  "We really didn't practice
anything," she said.

   "After vat ve chust heard," said the concertmaster, "I doubt zat
any-ting you half effer played vould sound any-ting less zan vunderbar." He
was getting so emotional that his native language was creeping in to his
English.

   So, they retuned their violins, and played "Rocky Mountain Breakdown".
They didn't sing the words, and to be honest, they did quite a bit of
improvisation.  As one would play a riff, and the other would respond,
going down, where the other had gone up.  It turned out a little like
Dueling Banjos, except it was only violins involved and, of course, it was
a different melody.

   Austrians are fond of another kind of music - polka.  Oddly, the love of
that form allowed them to adopt bluegrass as a cousin of their casual
music. At one point, the whole audience was clapping in time with the
music, and, as crowds do, the clapping increased in speed.  The girls kept
up, until the audience couldn't clap any faster and finally gave up, to
stand, awed by what they were seeing and hearing.

   When it was over, the concert master came out on stage again, with two
armfuls of roses that had appeared, courtesy of his assistant, who when she
heard the first selection by this pair of young girls, had stepped out only
long enough to make a call, knowing they'd be needed.  The Maestro handed
the flowers to the girls, who blushed and curtsied, and then he bowed to
them, took each of their hands, and kissed the back of each one.  He took
the mike again.

   "Zis is how zey play ven zey haff not prrrepared," he said, rolling the
"r".  "Shall ve haff zem back again?"

   The audience went crazy, and it felt like the whole building was shaking
with the foot stomping and applause.

   So, the girls put their head together, and Daphne leaned into the
microphone again.

   "Under the circumstances, and because you have been so sweet ...  one
more."

   Gabby walked off stage and got her cello.  They sat, quiet for a moment,
until the crowd settled and the house lights went back down.

   They played Edelweiss, the piece they had originally planned for an
encore.  They had arranged it themselves, in a sort of jam session.  They
swayed, swapping off the melody, with the other instrument supplying
harmony.  It was lonely, and sweet sounding, and they owned the auditorium
when, as the entire congregation began to sing the words, they played on,
to accompany them to a drawn out vibrato as the audience ended the song on
a long note.

   The girls were drained after this performance.  They changed clothes,
and, with feet dragging, faced the press, which was polite.  Most of them
had already written their pieces, singing the praises of these two American
virtuosos, and just wanted to be closer to them, to see what they looked
like up close.
