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Kitten's Father's Story Ch. 01

By: leBonhomme



There is no underage sex in this story, and an underage girl is not naked or described, nor any speculations about her figure or sexual thoughts about her - until she is eighteen. 

She is nineteen at the actual time of the story. 

This chapter is all hindsight and anticipation: a lot of thoughts that a father shouldn't have, but ones he has to have after what he and Kitten had done in Florence, told in the chapters of "Kitten & Father in Florence;" anticipation of what they are looking forward to doing in Venice. 

* * *

"Why did I have to wait for my Kitten to grow up to know how good it could be?" 

I had begun to ask myself that during the days and nights we had been together in Florence. After a week, I finally said it, after a wonderful, long spooning fuck one morning, just the way she had said she wanted us to, as we were going to bed the night before. Yes, we used that word, maybe not the first couple of days. I am sure I had never used it with my wife, but we never talked about what we were doing. We should have; it was so delightful with Kitten. We could joke and talk about what we were doing or wanted to do. After she once asked: "What do we want to do now?" but then smirked, that became a byline. 

I felt twenty years younger with her. Oh, we also talked about the father-daughter relationship, but it never really gave us a problem. What we were doing was just too good and fun. Feeling twenty years younger? I was a little proud of myself, that I could do as much as she wanted. She assumed that I could have two orgasms in succession, in her mouth and then in her pussy - and I could! Once I had two in her pussy without stopping. It took a while, but she didn't want me to stop. I had never done that before, certainly not with her mother. 

Oh, her pussy: we used that word too, but that's how it all started. Maybe, most probably, it all wouldn't have happened, if we hadn't named her Catherine, and I hadn't immediately called her Kitten as a baby. Her mother called her Cathy, but didn't mind my nickname for her - until she was eleven or twelve. One day, she told me that she didn't think Kitten was an appropriate nickname for a young girl. Of course, I wondered why she suddenly didn't like it. Until then, I had never made the connection kitten-pussy, maybe because I so seldom had the opportunity to think about pussies, and certainly, definitely not about Kitten's. 

I did then, however, not about Kitten's, just recognizing that my wife must have made the connection, but never said the word, but why did she only complained after a dozen years? Had she told Kitten about what girls that age were going to have to know about themselves? Had Kitten asked her something along that line? I only found out one day in Florence. Kitten had asked her. So I tried to avoid calling her Kitten when her mother was around, but when I called her Cathy, she made a face like she did, when her mother called her Catherine, usually to admonish her about something. We both liked Kitten better. 

I watched her grow up. When my wife and I separated and then divorced, not for anything that had to do with Kitten, we sent her to a girls' prep school, and she would visit me for a couple of days during Christmas and Easter vacations and at the beginning and end of the summer. That was nice. 

When she was sixteen and visited me at the beginning of the summer, she complained that her mother wouldn't let her buy a bikini. Indulgent father, I did. I heard about that from my ex-wife. Kitten came back from shopping with pleased smile and asked if I wanted to see it. I shrugged, expecting her to pull it out of the bag, but she went to her room and returned wearing it. It was a fairly modest bikini, but she looked slightly embarrassed when she glanced up at me, then looking down at herself. I told her it looked very nice. She blushed with an abashed smile and thanked me for letting her have it. 

When she turned to return to her room, it occurred to me why her mother hadn't wanted her to have a bikini yet. Kitten did sometimes seem a little younger than she looked in her new bikini. 

Too late, she had it. The next day her mother called and gave me a good piece of her mind. She spoke of Catherine - not Cathy - and I imagined that she had heard a lecture with several uses of her full name. When she returned at the end of the summer, however, she grinned and pulled up her polo shirt to show me her tanned midriff and thanked me again for the bikini. Then she was back in school, her next to last year there. 

* * *

Fall of her senior year in school, her mother said that she thought Cathy shouldn't go to college immediately and suggested that she spend a year in Europe to improve her French. For whatever reason my ex-wife thought Kitten wasn't ready for college yet, a year in Europe sounded pretty liberal - Kitten doing what! Then she asked if I would pay for a year in Swiss finishing school, just girls, chaperoned. That sounded all right. Money wasn't a problem, I even offered to let her take Kitten to Europe before the school started. She liked that, of course, and told me that I could tell Cathy, when she visited me before Christmas. 

That was a fine idea; I could make it a present for her eighteenth birthday in November and for Christmas. Her mother could plan the trip. She had already found the school. I looked forward to telling Kitten, wondering the best way to surprise her, not the moment I picked her up at the train station, nor the first evening. I decided to get up early the first morning and make a better breakfast. It was to be her birthday present, a festive breakfast table, like when she had been a kid. Was I just going to tell her? Not festive enough; I wrote in my best handwriting and large enough so that she immediately read it, and put the page in an envelope addressed: "Kitten for her Eighteenth Birthday and Christmas." The day before she arrived, I even bought a half bottle of champagne. Of course, she wasn't supposed to drink yet, but if she was going to Europe, she would be able to, so better start at home. I had wine in my place. In case we wanted to have some in the evenings; she could "train" a little more. 

Pleased with my preparations, I picked her up and took her to dinner, as always. Maybe she expected a birthday present immediately, but she didn't say anything, and I didn't congratulate her. When we said good night, I did say that I had a surprise for her. She grinned with a nod; I hadn't forgotten her birthday. 

Early the next morning, I got up. When I was about to use the bathroom, I remembered not to wake her and peed in the kitchen sink. I always wore pajamas when she was there and didn't change. She had seen me like that, and I, her, also in pajamas. I silently set the table and placed the envelope at her place, remembering glasses for the champagne. I closed the kitchen door and made coffee and poached eggs: her favorite, poached eggs on toast. I had gone to the farmers' market to be sure they were very fresh, so that the whites didn't spread too much. The coffee was on the table, also the champagne. Pleased with the way the eggs had turned out, I put them on the buttered toast and called: "Happy Birthday! Hurry, or your poached eggs will be cold." 

As I put the plates on the table, I added: "Don't bother to get dressed; I haven't either." 

A few moments later, her door opened, and she smiled at me, then glanced at the table with hum and saw my envelope. She gave me another smile and asked: Can I already?" 

I nodded, returning her smile. She picked it up and read my note. It took a moment for her to digest what I had written. Then she looked at me with wide eyes and asked: Really?!" 

I nodded again, and suddenly she had her arms around my neck, embracing me. She had never embraced me like that, her whole body in contact with mine, her firm breasts pressed to my chest! 

"Oh Daddy!" she said, looking up at me as though she wanted to kiss me. My arms went around her. If she wanted to embrace me like that, it would have been rude not to return her embrace. That rationale only occurred to me after my arms already were, and it felt like she was pressing her hips even a little more firmly against me. Of course, we didn't kiss, but she wanted us to stay like that for a second or two longer than I expected. Then her arms relaxed, and she said: 

"Oh Daddy! Thank you! Oooh, I've got to go." 

I released her, and she hurried to the bathroom, almost slamming the door shut. I recovered from the so unexpected pleasure of feeling a young woman's body on mine, just two layers of soft cloth between them. And her firm breasts! Stop thinking about them, they're your daughter's, I admonished myself, then wondering if she had embraced a boy that way - and kissed him? She returned with an apologetic smile, and said: 

"Thank you again. Your egg will still be good. That was just too exciting." 

"I wanted it to be, well, maybe not like that," I replied, and we sat down. 

She nodded with a smile and attacked her poached egg, letting the yolk run - just like I had hoped it would. We both had a couple of bites, exchanging smiles, then she noticed the champagne bottle and looked at me questioningly. 

"If you're going to Europe. It's your birthday - was - and over there you can drink; so better to have some experience before you go. Besides, I want to celebrate with you." 

She smiled, my Kitten, and I opened the bottle, pleased that the cork didn't fly out of my hand. She chuckled as I poured, watching the bubbles fill the glasses before they were half full. I poured again and then raised my glass, toasting her, wishing her all the best as a eighteen year-old and more for her year in Switzerland. That was the first time I saw her nipples. It looked like they were both pointing at me - through her pajama top. She wrinkled her nose and wipe her other forearm over them, as we drank. I thought about telling her that men wouldn't mind seeing that happen, but, of course, I didn't. I tried not to look to see if they did again, while we ate our breakfast and shared the last of the champagne. 

I almost always took her to lunch or dinner for the warm meal of the day. The next day, it was for lunch, with just a light supper of canned soup and sandwiches. When I suggested we have wine with it, she hummed with a nod. I asked if my Kitten was purring. She grinned with another nod and purred. We only sipped during our meal and then took our glasses and the bottle to the coffee table and watched TV, sitting on the sofa. 

No, I didn't put my arm around her, but I wanted to. But when she had to go to the bathroom and returned - we had almost emptied the bottle - before she sat down, she snorted softly and said: 

"I almost wanted to sit on your lap, like when I was small." 

I smiled and patted the sofa, replying: 

"Better you don't, but maybe that's why you should experiment with wine, if that's what it makes you want to do." 

She nodded with wry smile and plumped down next to me, a little closer than before. I asked: 

"Ever sit on anyone's?" 

"Hmmm, just yours, not yet." 

"He won't suggest that you don't." 

"Mom said something like that." 

"Listen to her," I replied, being the proper father, not that I thought my ex-wife's advice would all be good. 

"Guess I'll have to in Europe." 

"Sit on someone's lap?"

"Oh, Daddy! Have to drink."

"But don't let her tell you you can't drink. I don't want you to get drunk the first time with someone you don't know, or at a party."

"How girls get in trouble, Mom said," she replied with an understanding nod. 

"Very, especially one who has less experience than the others." 

She nodded again, then smirked and said: 

"So better to try with you?" 

I wasn't sure about that, but she was right. 

"Right now?" I asked, adding: "You could have a hangover."

"Maybe another reason to find out." 

We finished the little in our glasses and I got up and found another bottle of wine, the one with the least alcohol. When I had opened it and returned, she smiled, then said: 

"And if it makes me want to sit on your lap?" 

"It had better not. But if it does, I won't let you." 

She scowled, but smiled and watched me pour. I let her drink as much as she wanted, just sipping, a little afraid that if she really wanted to sit on my lap, I might let her. She didn't, and in the morning, she just had a headache. I told her how a real hangover could be. 

That evening, her last one, we went to a better restaurant. When the waiter offered me the wine list, I ordered a bottle and he served us both. It was a very pleasant meal, would have been with her, without the wine. That night in bed, I thought about her and our days together, not forgetting her embracing me and the glimpse of her nipples. 

The next morning, I took her to station, wishing her Merry Christmas with greetings to her mother. There on the platform, she embraced me again like she had before, just with more clothes and our coats between us, but they didn't keep me from feeling that she was pressing her hips against mine. 

With her gone, I'm afraid I let my fantasies run away with me. Of course, she was my daughter, but she was old enough to do anything she wanted - except drink alcohol - and I wasn't going to do anything with her. I really hadn't thought about kitten-pussy for years, but now I did, had to, recalling how she had pressed her hips to mine, and then suddenly had to go to the bathroom. A girl shouldn't do that with her father, especially when they both only had pajamas on. 

Yes, I fantasized about her, any, every way a man could. Since I knew that I never would with her, I could just dream about, couldn't I? I envisioned her naked, firm breasts, different ideas about how her nipples could be, and then down below. They worked, my fantasies, but I had to figure out how it could happen, the start of each fantasy. 

The easiest solution was that she just asked me to, maybe sitting on my lap, but that was too simple; entirely unrealistic. But maybe she would ask me for help, admitting that she had a boyfriend and wanted to with him. I didn't like the part about her having a boyfriend, but if she was so open as to ask for my advice, maybe she would let me show her. That was better, it always worked, but still too far fetched. Could I venture to ask her something, broach the subject, when she visited after Easter? I played through various alternatives of that. Of course, they all worked in my fantasies, but I knew that it wasn't going to happen; I would never find a way to ask her anything about sex.

When she then visited me after Easter, luckily, even when we had shared a bottle of wine, that didn't happen, especially the evening when we each drank three bottles of beer, then chuckling and smirking about having to hurry to use the toilet. But I did envision her sitting there and doing what her pussy had to. How much hair did she have there, a big patch, a thick or thin one? 

When I did see it in Florence, it was just like I wanted it to be. I probably would have liked it any way it was. 

Her mother and I both went to her prep school graduation and were on quite good terms, since I had offered her the trip to Europe with Kitten. At the graduation, I did get a couple of scowling glances, when I used my nickname, since I had been calling her Kitten for years with her mother never around. With her there, Kitten and I didn't hug the way we had before Christmas. Then she was gone, to her mother's place and then to Europe. 

I was surprised that I got a few long letters from her during their travel. I couldn't write back until she was in the school, and we developed a delightful correspondence. I heard about Marlie, Marie-Louise, and her Christmas in Paris, but nothing about how it really was, as I later discovered. 

I had sort of forgotten about pussy-kitten, even though I had been thinking about Kitten's pussy, and still did, but not when I was writing to her, which really surprises me now. And I didn't think about it, when we were making plans to spend Easter Week in Florence. I even believe that I didn't think about it, when she suggested we share the room in the hotel. I couldn't know that Marlie had told her the French word for pussy, "chatte," that has both the meanings pussy has, that Kitten had then told Marlie about my pet name for her, and that they decided to call their pussy and chatte "kittens" in their intimate relationship, which I certainly could never have anticipated. 

Did she think about all that, when she writing letters to me? Obviously, she was avoiding telling me a major part of her life in the school and her experiences in Paris. Did she think about her "kitten" when she was signing her letters to me? She certainly was that day in Florence, when she asked me if I had thought about the connection kitten-pussy. And her letters after that have been much more interesting, since I now know all about Marlie and her brother. 

Oh, and the little cucumbers! She mentioned them in her first letter after Florence. Marlie was delighted. I imagined that they wore them out. After a few days, little cucumbers get soft and floppy, like a cock after an orgasm. Of course, the cucumbers - poor things - wouldn't have had one, but after they had been in a girl's tight pussy, that did have one, they wouldn't need to recover. How many times could they have used them? Lots, since the girls could also use them alone in their rooms. Did they get any more? She didn't go into detail about what they did with them, but I had my ideas.

So, blame me for having found that nickname for my daughter, or blame Marlie for helping her link the three words together. Or maybe I should thank Marlie. So there we were, Kitten and I sharing a hotel room. Was it the second or third night we ended up in bed together. Yes, I should thank Marlie. As I told Kitten that morning a few days later: 

"Why did I have to wait for my Kitten to grow up to know how good it could be?" 

And all my thoughts about having wanted it to be good for her, fantasizing that I could help her? 

It had been the other way, and better than any of my fantasies.

And where am I now? On another plane to Geneva to pick up Kitten after her year in the school, and we're going to spend another week together the same way, this time in Venice. Not just "the same way," Marlie is coming with us! Yeah, I hear the pun, she really is, that way too. Kitten had told her everything about our week in Florence.

After Kitten suggested that it would be nice for us to return Marlie's parents' hospitality, we agreed that I should write her parents, inviting her, also in the name of my ex-wife. Neither of the girls was sure if her parents knew we were divorced, but even then, a couple could get together for one week to do something nice for their daughter and her best girlfriend. Her parents agreed, replying that it was very nice of us to include Marlie. Of course, Kitten's mother is not joining us. 

Why Venice? Well, because it's Venice, and the girls haven't been there, but also because we were their on our honeymoon, staying in a nice old hotel on the Lido, not the grand hotel by the beach. The girls aren't going to hear about how I know the hotel, but I know that adjacent rooms have doors between them, a door on each side with only a handle on the side of the door to each room. Both parties have to open the door on their side to allow access between the rooms. I have reserved two adjacent rooms, one with double bed for me - and wife, who had to miss the trip - the other room with twin beds for the girls. I've only written Kitten that we will have two adjacent rooms. The hotel might not be as nice as it was twenty years ago, but another week with Kitten - without Marlie - will be better than our honeymoon. But Marlie is coming with us! 


Kitten's Father's Story Ch. 01



How do I know that it will be that way too? When Kitten wrote the last time, Marlie added after Kitten's signature: "Thank you so much for having me too. I am looking so much forward to coming with you both. M-L" 

Kitten had then squeezed in below it: "! Don't know if it's her weak English or if she really means it that way, but she does! Me too!" 

In that letter, which Marlie could read, she hadn't included some of the not so subtle implications her letters usually had, including some about Marlie's having told her how lucky she was to have such a nice father, that she liked older men, and a couple of other things I have forgotten, but implying - or letting me infer - that she understood that it would be for her like it was in Paris for Kitten. 

Oh, after Kitten suggested our inviting Marlie, I recalled what she had told me about her in Florence, describing her smaller breasts but more prominent nipples, that they were darker than her own, and that she liked Marlie's "kitten." I had replied that it sounded like she wanted me to like it. In my letters then, I replied to Kitten's innuendos about how nice it would be with Marlie in Venice in the same vein: writing that it would be "very nice," the quotation marks referring to our talk about statues and her own breasts; that I was looking forward to "really getting to know Marlie;" that I hoped "we would see a lot of each other" - not all in one letter. 

Kitten had replied that she had shared the letters with Marlie - telling what else they had done before or afterwards - and that she had made sure Marlie understood the innuendos. Regardless of how well Marlie understood what she had written, she understood that her week with us in Venice would indeed be something like Kitten's visit in Paris. 

It is going to be very funny meeting Marlie, for her too. I'm taking them to dinner and staying in a hotel, and then we're going to be on the train together for hours. It is going to be very funny, definitely not the right word. We've hardly met, but have both agreed that we understand what's going to happen, that were going to sleep with each other! And then with two young girls? I was pleased, a little proud that I could do everything Kitten had wanted, but with two girls like that? Maybe they can enjoy each other like they do and give me a rest. That would be nice to see, "very nice!" 

Oh, the seat belt sign is on, we're about to land. 

And something else, when I was back home after Easter, I went to the art museum bookstore and looked for French paintings of nudes. "Very nice!" Courbet, Ingres, and others. I remembered having seen some of the paints, of course. Kitten had been right: in the 19th century they liked models with more up front. I really like Courbet's "Woman in the Waves." Kitten's breasts aren't quite as large, but they look perfect on a younger woman and are about the same shape when she raises her arms, like the girl in the painting is. Of course, I can't be objective. I'd probably like Marlie's breasts just as much - if I were her father. 

* * *

"Funny" wasn't the word for it! Kitten greeted me first at the school, of course, with the embrace I was expecting, but just kissing cheeks, left and then right. She really kissed mine. Marlie was a step or two behind her, watching us. I saw her nod slightly, but when she saw me looking at her, she blushed, and then I did, hopefully not as deeply as she was. We separated, and Kitten stepped back and said to me: 

"You remember Marie-Louise, Marlie." 

When I held out my hand, she took it, looking a little more relaxed. Had she been worried that I would immediately embrace her? We rubbed cheeks. When our hands dropped, she said softly: 

"Thank you so much for letting me come with you and Cathy." 

Since she didn't blush or smirk, I assumed that she didn't recognize the double entendre. Kitten would have, of course, and I didn't want to see her expression, replying: 

"I'm so glad your parents agreed that you could join us, after Ki-Cathy had such a nice time in Paris." 

I really had only meant the obvious, that I was pleased to repay their hospitality, but it seemed that neither of us could say something that wasn't an innuendo. 

"I did," Kitten added. When I looked at her, she was just smiling at Marlie, who nodded and agreed without blushing: "We did." 

Nice, I thought, that she could admit that in front of me. Maybe she wasn't thinking about how it had been "nice" in Paris. But she was, then blushing again and looking at me with an abashed expression. I hoped my mild smile looked understanding. She shrugged slightly, then murmured: 

"You know about us; she said she told you."

"And about your brother," Kitten added softly. 

Marlie blushed again, nodding with another shrug. Kitten glanced at me and added: 

"And about us," and stepped closer to me. 

Marlie nodded again, looking at us. I nodded, glancing at Kitten. Then Marlie smiled slightly and murmured: 

"I liked that." 

"We do too," I agreed, giving them both a smile. 

Marlie smiled better, nodding again, then grinned at Kitten and said something French. Kitten chuckled with a vigorous nod and replied in French. Marlie chuckled and nodded, giving me a big smile. 

"What was that about?" I asked, smiling back at her. 

"Tell you on the way to dinner," Kitten replied. 

We set off into the town. My hotel was in Geneva. The girls were going to take a taxi to meet me at the train station in the morning. As we walked, I glanced right and left at the girls, with a quizzical expression at Kitten. She chuckled and explained. 

"Of course, we wondered how that was going to be. Marlie was very apprehensive." 

"I was too," I agreed, giving Marlie a smile, who smiled back, repeating 'very!' 

"She said something about not having expected that we were immediately going mention all that, but that it was good, that it somehow had happened." 

"It was!" Marlie confirmed, giving me another smile. 

"It sure was!" I agreed. 

We all hummed, exchanging smiles, the girls leaning forward to smile at each past me. Then I was surprised to feel Marlie take my arm. I offered my other one to Kitten, and we all hummed again. I stood a little straighter, pleased to have two young women holding my arms. No one else knew that one was my daughter; I could be a favorite, lucky uncle of them both. 

During our dinner, there were no more references to our earlier conversation or anything related to it, unless the girls' telling how much they were looking forward to seeing Venice suggested that, but we all were just talking about what we knew about the famous city in the lagoon. I needed a taxi to get back to Geneva, and we all took one back to the school. The driver was probably surprised to see how Kitten embraced me, and this time Marlie and I didn't shake hands when we rubbed cheeks. She even nodded, when I put my hands on her shoulders, like I had seen other men do. 

Back in my hotel, in bed, I hummed; it had all gone so well, more from what the girls had said, and then Marlie's taking my arm. Just right! A young woman could take any man's arm without it meaning anything, but after our conversation and what she had told Kitten in French, and all the innuendos in our letters, it did mean something. Maybe the long train ride together wouldn't be as difficult as I had been anticipating. But then? Hopefully the hotel was the way I wanted it to be. 

We met at the station and found three seats by the window in a compartment for six, two together, the other one opposite them, by the window. I suggested the girls sit together and sat facing them. We all smiled. When the train started, I got out my new guide book about Venice, and then the girls both found theirs, two different ones. Once, when I glanced up, I saw that Marlie was looking at me. She smiled slightly, and we both looked down at our books again, but I was just turning the page, wondering what she could be thinking, and then wondering that I hadn't looked at her breasts. 

She must have been wearing a bra the previous evening. If she hadn't been, her nice nipples would surely have popped out when she was blushing, and I wouldn't have overseen them. Oh, was she wondering about my cock? Kitten must have said it was different than her brother's. Both of us wondering how the other looked without anything on? I glanced up again, but she was looking at her book. Just as well. I turned the page back and continued reading. 

I noticed them comparing books, both in French, "Venise" on the front and binding. They exchanged them, thumbing to read what the other book said about something. A few minutes later, Marlie said something in French. Kitten nodded, and they put their books aside. Kitten shrugged and said: 

"Got to go." 

"How often have I heard that," I replied spontaneously, suddenly wondering if the two other persons in the compartment understood. Kitten gave me a smirking smile. Marlie looked surprised, but then raised her eyebrows and smiled. Kitten slid the door open, and they disappeared. I was appreciating Marlie's nice eyebrows, when the man by the window chuckled and said: 

"Must be your daughter, if you said that." 

He spoke good English with a slight French accent. I could have expected that: Geneva, UN, etc. I nodded and replied: 

"Then you must have one too." 

"Not that old, and doesn't say that in English. You're Americans?" 

"Yes. Her girlfriend is from Paris."

"I thought so, from her accent." 

"It's all just French for me. Let's them chat without my understanding. 

"They must be good friends; your daughter's French hardly has an accent." 

"Yes, they are. She says that she likes that her friend helped her without being critical, like she had heard that some French are about foreigners' trying to speak French." 

"Some are, true. I see that you're going all the way to Venice." 

"Yes, and you?" I replied, hoping that he wasn't. 

"Have to change trains to go to Livorno, Leghorn in English."

"Always thought Leghorn was Lugano." 

"Yes, strange, the English name does sound more like that."

I glanced at my book, and he picked up his newspaper. I raised my book, remembering that after my comment to Kitten I had been wanting to wonder about the girls' "kittens." The other, older man in the compartment was swarthy and hadn't paid any attention to our conversation, only glancing up when he heard Livorno. I assumed that he was an Italian laborer who didn't understand English. What was there to wonder about the girls' "kittens"? I knew Kitten's and had her suggestions of how Marlie's looked. But if she had been wondering about my cock, I could wonder about her "kitten". What did Italians call them? 

The girls had returned, chatting in the corridor. Were they also wondering what was going to happen when we got off the train and took the vaporetto to the Lido and got to our hotel? It had gone so well the previous evening; were they maybe discussing what could happen, planning something? What did I want to happen? Too obvious! How? Just have to wait and see. 

When they continued to talk, I stood up and joined them. They had heard the door slid open and turned to me, Kitten smirking and asking: 

"Got to go, too?" 

"Not yet, but the gentleman in the compartment immediately suggested that you must be my daughter, if I had said that." 

"He did?" 

"Told him that he must also have one. Younger, doesn't say that in English. Oh, he said that you hardly have an accent, that he had thought that you, Marlie, are from Paris. Told him that you have helped Ki-Cathy with her French." 

She smiled with a nod and said: 

"You can call her Kitten; I know you do." 

"But not why you might think." 

She just smiled, wrinkling her nose, and replied: 

"But now you do, know that we do."

Kitten also looked a little surprised at what Marlie had said. 

I shrugged, nodding. If she could say that? I replied: 

"Both of them." 

I was looking to see if her nipples popped out. Damned bra, but I saw her thighs twitch, even better. She was blushing slightly, but nodded slightly and murmured: 

"Three kittens."

"Mmmm! 'Three little kittens' Tell Marlie the rhyme; I do have to go." 

I left them, delighted by Marlie's remarks and wondering if my saying that I had to go let her think about my cock. She had almost directly suggested that I think about their two kittens, pussies. 

When I returned to the compartment, Kitten was sitting where I had. I sat down next to Marlie, wondering what the man could think about our exchanging seats, obviously the girls' decision. Yes, maybe a good idea, Marlie and I not having to look at each other. We returned to reading. When Marlie's elbow touched mine on the armrest between us, I left a little space for hers, but her elbow just rubbed on mine, as I heard a soft hum. 

This worse than just trying not to glance at her! Better, of course, too much better! I felt my cock move. Stop thinking about it, try to forget all those innuendos in the letters, that had made it so clear that we both knew what was eventually going to happen. The man was hidden behind his newspaper. I shook my head slightly with a very soft "hm-umm" and let her elbow have the whole armrest. But her elbow still wanted to rub my arm. 

Was Kitten watching this? I glanced up. She was, and smirking slightly! Had they been planning this in the corridor? Wicked girls! But didn't I want them to be? Not yet, but if they wanted to assure me that it was going to be like we had been anticipating, that was very good. Which one of them had suggested doing it this way, if that was what they had been discussing? Or was it all Marlie's idea, and Kitten was just passively observing? Not passively, when I glanced up at her again, she smirked and squeezed her thighs together and then crossed them and drew in her calf, suggesting that she was squeezing again. 

I looked back in my book, looking in the index to see if our hotel was listed. It was, and I found it on the map, just to distract myself from thoughts about the girls. But wondering about the rooms ruined that, as I envisioned my double bed with the three of us on it. Now there seemed no question that we would be. If it was like that, how would we make the girls' twin beds look as though they had been slept in? We had to get out of the compartment; Marlie's elbow had rubbed again. 

"Let's go have something to eat," I suggested. 

The girls quickly agreed, and we set off through the cars to find the restaurant car. On the way, it occurred to me that I was thinking less about Kitten's being my daughter, more seeing her as the intimate girlfriend of Marlie. Was that good or bad? For the next few days it was convenient. Then I remembered that she was wearing the chain without the broach. Maybe she also didn't want us to remember too much how we had spent Easter Week. Maybe a good idea. 

We found a table and sat down. This time, I was again facing both of them. We ordered, including a bottle of wine that wasn't going to be as good as its price in the train. While we waited to be served, I glanced at their breasts. Kitten just smiled. Marlie instinctively rubbed her forearm over hers, but then smirked slightly. Her nipples had wanted to pop out. Even if she initially reacted like that at feeling them, she had smirked, admitting that I understood and that she didn't mind. She didn't have to murmur: "I know: Ca-Kitten told you about them." 

I could only smile apologetically with a nod. And Marlie wanted to use my name for Kitten, that also referred to their pussies! This was not how I had anticipated our train trip would be, worrying that Marlie and I would be sitting there, both embarrassedly wondering how we were going to get from just shaking hands to doing what all the correspondence more than just implied that we both expected we would do. 

Kitten was smiling at me, and then I felt her foot touch mine. Don't do that, I wished; this is already getting too suggestive. Now we all know what we're going to do and that we want to. But her foot slid up over my loafer, and then her toes were moving on the top of my foot. Shit, she had slipped out of her sandal or whatever. Was this part of their planning in the corridor? Was Marlie also going to play footsie with me, or was Kitten suggesting that I do with her? 

The waiter came with the bottle of wine and opened it at the table. This wasn't Amtrak. He poured a little in my glass, waiting for me to taste it. When I had and nodded, he half-filled the girls' glasses and then mine. Kitten's toes were moving, closer to my ankle. 

The previous evening, I hadn't dared offer a toast to our coming week together - not just to avoid the word "coming." Now I did, smiling at them in turn: 

"Kitten, Marie-Louise, I hope the coming week will be as delightful as we all want it to be." 

"I do too," Marlie replied. 

"I'm sure it will be," Kitten added, her toes wiggling again. 

We drank, and smiled at each other, just polite smiles at first, but then all nodding with better ones. Oh yes, we all knew what my "all we want it to be" implied - without Marlie's then rubbing her arm over her breasts again. What were other guests thinking about us? If Marlie could - or had to - do that twice, I really should respond. I slid the front of my foot to one side, only a fraction of an inch and touched her foot. She smiled just very slightly, and then her other foot touched the other side of mine. She had been waiting for me to and making sure that my foot found one of hers in either direction. They pressed mine between them. At least, she still had her shoes on, and I had done the right thing, but this couldn't continue, not if they didn't want me to do more than spread my napkin on my lap. I raised my glass again and said: 

"I'm sure it will be, too, ... when we get to Venice." 

The girls drank with me, and Kitten caught the meaning of the pause, nodding and scraping her toes down and removing her foot from mine. Marlie's feet pressed mine again as she smiled with almost pursed lips. Either she hadn't understood the subtle suggestion in English that we wait till Venice, or she didn't want to. Either way, from her expression and my foot, she had understood that we all had the same idea of how it would be in Venice. 

When her foot nearer Kitten moved away, I wondered if Kitten had helped it with hers. She had, she winked at me with her other eye, reminding me that as a kid she had wanted to learn to wink with each eye, like I could, practicing until she could. But Marlie was smiling at me, her other foot still against mine, pressing hard enough to move it. 

With hindsight, I now have to wonder that I couldn't have imagined that the girls would somehow find a way to indicate to me their agreement on how our week in Venice would be, even if Marlie had been surprised about what was said, when we first met. The girls must have talked about it all. They had; Kitten had said that Marlie had been apprehensive about how it would be to meet me; they just hadn't had a solution for that. Back to the present. 

The waiter brought us our meal and refilled our glasses. We ate, talking about what we had read in our guide books, exchanging suggestions of what to see after we had seen all the must-see places. When we had our last sips of wine, their feet both touched mine again. I pressed mine against theirs, and we all smiled, almost as though it were just about having taken our last sips. 

I paid, and we returned to our compartment, discovering that at the station stop during our meal, the other men had gotten off and that an Italian couple and small child were in the other seats, the parents busying themselves with the child. I again sat facing the girls, now very comfortable the situation. Instead of reading, I slid my hips forward on the seat and leaned back, extending my legs, so that my feet were nearly between their seats. If they wanted to keep in contact with me, they could. I closed my eyes and waited. 




Kitten's Father's Story Ch. 01



I was almost dozing, when Kitten's leg brushed mine and she asked: "May I, Papa?" 

May she what? And why "papa" with the European pronunciation? I nodded, opening my eyes, recognizing that she wanted to put her feet up on my leg, and when she did, that she had taken off her shoes. That was more than I expected. I glanced over at the Italian family and then understood that she had said "papa" so that they could understand and not be surprised by what she was doing. Maybe I shouldn't have fondled her foot for a second when I closed my eyes again, long enough to feel her curl her toes. 

Had it been a good idea to stretch my legs out like that? At least, she had confirmed my expectation that one of them would want to touch them, just not that directly, her crossed ankles on my thigh. Of course, it would have been Kitten; she had started the playing footsie, then maybe suggesting with her other foot that Marlie do the same. Quite a team, the two of them, and with their experience together with Pierre in Paris. What did that promise for me in Venice? Better not think about that. 

"Mine too?" I heard Marlie ask. Yeah, a team - don't think about that. I just nodded without opening my eyes and moved my other leg. What were the Italians thinking, I wondered, as I felt Marlie's foot slide up on my thigh and then felt the weight of her other leg on it. I was tempted to also fondle her foot, but didn't. I couldn't touch her bare foot like I could my daughter's, even if the Italians assumed we were also related, Marlie a close niece perhaps. We hadn't spoken since we returned to the compartment; they couldn't recognize that she wasn't also American. When I felt her rock her foot, I still didn't fondle it, but she had suggested that she wanted me to. 

Don't think about that, I admonished myself again, worried that I might have to put my hands on my lap, if I contemplated anything about Venice. Luckily, maybe considerately, they didn't move their feet again, and I thought about world events, recalling the headlines on the newspapers I had read on the plane. That worked; I almost dozed off again from the lulling the sound of train, forgetting that the weight on my thighs was their feet. 

I remembered then, however, when something moved on one thigh and then on the other, then heard Kitten say: 

"We've got to go again." 

When their feet slid off my thighs, I opened my eyes and nodded. They both smiled, putting on their shoes or sandals. I was surprised, when Marlie spoke: "Thank you. That was nice." 

She just smiled sweetly, but Kitten smirked slightly as she nodded. The Italian couple let them pass and open the door. The child was curled up, sleeping. They slid the door closed and disappeared, leaving me with my thoughts. Did they really have to go, or just wanted to talk? If they really had to go, had the first movement on my thigh been because hers had twitched together? Which one? I didn't remember which girl's feet had moved first. Or had they been whispering with their heads together and just wanted the excuse to be able to talk more? It didn't matter; they could talk about anything they wanted - as long as it didn't lead to their making me think about Venice. 

Before they returned, I also got up and went out in the corridor, going in the other direction. If I didn't have to go now, I would before we were in Venice, but they wouldn't have to go again. I found the toilet in the next car. When I returned, they were waiting in the corridor, not in front of our compartment. There was no one else in the corridor. They both almost grinned at me. They had been talking. I grinned with a shrug and asked: 

"You two! Whose idea was that, your feet, all your feet, also before?" 

They chuckled, glancing at each other. Marlie nodded for Kitten to reply. She smirked slightly and said: 

"Oh, it just happened - 'all our feet'. We didn't plan anything, really, but, of course, we wondered how it would be from school to Venice."

"Like I did, better than I thought." 

Marlie nodded with that smile from before, with almost pursed lips. She understood everything, just was a little shy about speaking English, or shy about talking to me, like I was with her, our both knowing too well what I had meant when toasting them: "as delightful as we all want it to be."

"She likes you," Kitten murmured. Marlie blushed deeply, giving her an angry look and saying something in French. Kitten smiled a little apologetically, but replied in English: 

"You told me you did." 

Marlie was still blushing, but nodded slightly with a very wry expression, wrinkling her nose. It wasn't the right time to look to see if her nipples had popped out, and I knew couldn't see them, if they had. I really managed not to look, but she still rubbed her forearm over them, then smiling like that again. I smiled back, trying to smile the same way, and said to Kitten - still looking at Marlie: 

"You can tell her that I like her too, ... with the same French words." 

She didn't have to, of course, and didn't, just nodding, giving Marlie big smile, who was blushing again, but also nodded, looking at Kitten with wide eyes, then giving me an abashed smile. I just had to hug her and did with one arm around her shoulders. She was surprised, but didn't pull away. She didn't look up at me; she was looking at Kitten with her wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Whatever she had told Kitten, I hadn't been there and heard it and wouldn't have understood, but Marlie's reactions seemed to suggest that whatever she had said had been more than just that she liked me, and that my spontaneously hugging her suggested that I meant the same. 

Kitten smiled with a nod, as though she was confirming my thought. Whatever Marlie had said, it couldn't have been more than what we both - all three of us - were anticipating. When my hand held her shoulder, she did look up at me with a wry version of her pursed-lip smile, leaning against me. I hugged her again, and then she began to giggle, almost hilariously, turning out from under my arm and looking at me, grinning, then glancing at Kitten, who also started to giggle. I had to chuckle heartily. Whatever was so humorous, it was good. I wondered if one of them would ever tell me in English what Marlie had said about liking me. Apparently my response had not just been witty but had also agreed with whatever she had said. 

Still chuckling, we returned to our seats, waiting to arrive in Venice. We still had an hour to go, just smiling and smirking at each other. 

At the station in Venice, we let the Italian family go ahead and then left the train. As we walked through the station with various shops for travelers, I dropped their heavy suitcases and told them to wait. In a shop selling beverages, I found the most expensive bottle of spumante in the refrigerator and bought it, returning with it in a bag that didn't conceal that it was bottle. The girls grinned, and we left the station and went down to the dock for the vaporetto to the Lido and I bought tickets, having time to buy seven-day tickets for us, pleased that I recognized the possibility. 

Venice, across from the station, isn't so characteristic, but when the boat moved through the Canal Grande, we were all delighted, recognizing palazzi we had seen in our guide books, the Ponte Rialto, of course, then more palazzi, and finally the Doges palace and San Marco. Then we were out of the Grand Canal, passing the arsenal, and in the lagoon with the Lido ahead of us. I remembered from my finding our hotel in my guide book that we should take a taxi with our luggage, although it was an easy walk without. 

The girls were both thrilled, as was I. Venice was being everything we had expected from reading our guide books. They always make a place sound interesting, but sometimes one doesn't think it is. Of course, they must have also been a little excited about our hotel and what would happen, and knowing that there must be a bottle of wine in the bag I was holding. 

When the vaporetto docked, Kitten offered to take it from me, but I didn't let, lugging their bags from the dock to the street. A taxi driver immediately recognized us as tourists and pulled up. He sprang out and grabbed our bags, while I opened the backseat door for the girls. When I got in and told him the name of our hotel, he seemed a little disappointed that it wasn't one of the hotels up the broad street and along the shore line. Ours was on the broad street, the Gran Viale Santa Maria Elisabetta. I had been studying the map. When I gave the driver a good tip, however, he helped carry our bags into the hotel. 

When I went to the desk, the girls hung back. The person found my reservation, my wife and I for the double bed. He looked up questioningly, and I explained that in the last minute her father was sick and that she couldn't come, then asking it was possible to have the room as a single occupant. The person smiled apologetically and replied that if we wanted the adjacent rooms, that wasn't possible. I shrugged and agreed to pay for double occupancy. Then the person looked at the reservation and glance at the girls and said that the twin beds were next to each other: 

"You know, like double beds in many hotels, but with single bed covers. Will that be all right?" 

"I'd better ask them," I replied, and went to them. 

I was sure that they would be delighted, but didn't want the person to see their expressions. 

"Don't grin," I said: "the twin beds - don't grin - are next to other. Will that be all right?" 

Good girls, they just glanced at each other with a shrugs and nodded. When I turned back to the desk, nodding, I had to suppress my own grin; two double beds, not the problem of making three beds looked like they had been slept in. 

We got our room keys, and the page carried our bags and opened the doors, then with the usual demonstration of the facilities, until I tipped him. To my relief and delight, I had seen that the rooms were connected the way I had remembered. The page left. We were in the girls' room, their looking at their big bed, now grinning. Kitten didn't have to say: "Space for three," but Marlie just nodded with a grin, and I did. Whatever she had said about liking me, it was obvious that it included the three of us in one bed. 

When I opened the connecting door, letting see the one I could open from my room, they chuckled, warmly, nodding. I was still carrying the bag with the bottle. Kitten looked at it and asked: 

"What's in it?" 

"Spumante?" 

"What's that?" 

Marlie grinned with a superior expression and replied: 

"Italian champagne."

"Oooh!" Kitten responded with a grin. 

"When I've been in my room," I replied and hurried back to it, tossing their key on their bed and closing the door. 

I took my key from my door and closed, seeing that my double bed was smaller than their two adjacent single beds, but space for three - as Kitten had said. I rushed to find a glass and let the bag drop from the bottle and opened my connecting door. Wicked! The girls were already standing there with their glasses, grinning at me. 

Kitten - was she really my daughter? - reached out to take my glass. She was, maybe remembering how I had opened the half bottle of champagne to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. They were holding out the three glasses, waiting for me to screw - why that word? - the cork out of the bottle. 

"Pop!" and it was out, and I was pouring in the nearest glass. Bubbles, the next glass, and the next one, and then filling the first one again and the other two, all water glasses from the bathrooms, larger than champagne glasses. I took mine with the hand still holding the cork. Their glasses were already near their smiling mouths, not the moment for another toast. I raised my glass, and we all drank - not like one should take a first sip of champagne or spumante, especially when it has just been poured. The little bubbles were still rising in our glasses and then on the way to our stomachs. We all burped. The girls giggled, and I chuckled, and we drank again, less deeply. The girls had already been in my room, but Kitten stepped past me and murmured: 

"Another nice bed," then asked: "Is your bathroom like ours?" Marlie and I followed her there.

"Oooh, yes, same big shower," she remarked, giving me a smirk.

It was the same as I remembered, an old-fashioned shower, maybe four by four feet, one side just a big slab of marble. She turned and looked at us with a grin and remarked, raising her glass, as though it were a toast: "Big beds, big showers." 

We all drank again, and I emptied the bottle in our glasses. When I poured in Marlie's, she nodded with a little smile, looking in my eyes, reminding me to wonder how she had said in French that she liked me. We all had just a sip. Then Kitten asked if I wanted to see their bathroom. That seemed unnecessary, I thought, but as we went in their room and looked at it, it occurred to me that she had consciously or unconsciously wanted to invite me to their room through the connecting door. I hadn't said anything since I had left their room. If Kitten could say it, I could. 

"Big showers, big beds," I said raising my glass, more looking at Marlie than at Kitten. She blushed as she raised her glass, but look at with a little smile, rubbing her arm over her breasts, as we all drank. Kitten shook her nearly empty glass, and we all emptied ours. Then she smiled and said: "We need them, showers I mean." 

I didn't want to look to see Marlies's reaction and replied: "Good idea." 

As I turned to go back to my room, Marlie finally spoke: 

"Thank you for the spumante. That was nice, a good idea." 

I just nodded and went back to my room, think that it had been a very good idea. I heard them open their suitcases and opened mine, hanging up a few things and taking my toilet kit to the bathroom. When I saw the big shower again, I wondered if Kitten was thinking that she and Marlie would take one together, trying to recall if she had said they had in Paris. Our showers were definitely large enough for two people to shower easily together, better than the one in Florence that Kitten and I had shared so often. I heard them talking in French, Marlie saying something in a surprised tone. 

I wasn't looking at the connecting doorway, but then saw them flit by it, flashes of naked skin. The bathrooms were both next to the wall between our rooms. I chuckled and got undressed. Whatever happened, was going to happen, I needed a shower too. I heard the water in their shower and their giggling and talking. They hadn't closed the bathroom door. I was already in my bathroom, about the step in shower, then chuckled and thought, now or never. Well, not never, eventually for sure, but better now. I used the toilet and flushed, and grabbed a towel.



Kitten's Father's Story Ch. 02



I wasn't looking at the connecting doorway, but then saw them flit by it, flashes of naked skin. The bathrooms were both next to the wall between our rooms. I chuckled and got undressed. Whatever happened, was going to happen, I needed a shower too. I heard the water in their shower and their giggling and talking. They hadn't closed the bathroom door. I was already in my bathroom, about the step in shower, then chuckled and thought, now or never. Well, not never, eventually for sure, but better now. I used the toilet and flushed, and grabbed a towel.

They couldn't see me from the shower when I entered their room, nor when I was in the bathroom door, hearing cheerful little chuckles. I hesitated. Did I want to completely surprise them, just appear; or warn them slightly by saying something first? Better not completely surprise them, I decided, to avoid seeing how they were washing each other. When I heard a soft moan, that was definitely the better idea. I stepped back and said loud enough to be distinctly heard: 

"I need one too, a shower." 

"Oh!" "Oh!" 

I heard their startled responses, and entered the bathroom, thinking I then heard Kitten's soft chuckle. I dropped my towel on the toilet and saw them standing under the downpour from the old, large, overhead shower head. Marlie immediately held her hands in front of her, a spontaneous assumption of the pose of the Medici Venus, blushing as she said: "Oh Monsieur!" 

Like the statue, however, her hands didn't really conceal anything. Finally, I saw her beige nipples, just as Kitten had described them very aroused, and her "kitten." But she didn't have any hair! Made her look even more like the statue. And Kitten didn't either, I saw, when I tore my eyes away from Marlie, only then looking up at Kitten's face, grinning face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marlie's hand drop, as she repeated: 

"Oh Monsieur!" adding: "You surprised us." 

I looked at her, she was still blushing with erect nipples, but she was looking at my cock. Of course, I thought, aware that it now wasn't like it had been, when I used the toilet. She just stood there, letting me look at her. She glanced up at my face, and our eyes met for a moment, both of us smiling slightly. Was she then looking at my cock again, as I took in her figure? 

Hadn't Kitten said that her breasts were like those of Botticelli's favorite model: round hemispheres, just that her nipples were more prominent and not pink? I thought so - lovely! And her hairless pussy was so like the ones on all the statues - like Kitten's was. 

"Stop staring. You want to take a shower ... with us," Kitten murmured. 

Marlie shrugged with a slight nod, and I joined them. Kitten chuckled and suggested: 

"We pretty much have already, so we can wash you. Marlie can wash you." 

"Moi?!" she replied in surprise. 

"Why not? I know what it's like. You were curious," Kitten said 

"Cathy!" 

In her shocked surprise, Marlie had reverted to her more accustomed name for Kitten, and her response made it too clear that she understood that Kitten was suggesting she wash my cock and that she had told Kitten that she was curious about it, my circumcised cock. Marlie looked at me with wide eyes - brown eyes - that glanced down. I murmured: 

"You don't have to start there. We could both start at the top, even if you two have already."

"Good idea," Kitten remarked, adding: "and then you can wash our legs. You interrupted us before we could do them." 

She handed me the soap, suggesting that I start. Marlie giggled with a grin and shrug, looking up at me, waiting. I started on her shoulders, but my soapy hands were soon sliding over her breasts, very firm breasts,to have the round form they did. Not just my Kitten could purr, Marlie did, when my fingers did more than wash her stiff nipples. Kitten was fondling my ass. When my hands moved lower, Marlie caught her breath but let them. I just enjoyed rubbing my fingers over her firm pussy lips, and she purred again. When the fingers of my other hand slipped between the cheeks of her ass, she frowned with a surprised "uhn." 

Kitten did the same with her fingers, murmuring: 

"We didn't get that far, either, but we do." 

I slid my hands up, and Marlie nodded, holding out her hand for the sliver of hotel soap and murmuring: "Now you." 

She washed me more thoroughly. Kitten stepped out and got another little bar of soap, and Marlie continued to wash my arms and back. I hummed, encouraging her, and she seemed to be enjoying herself, smiling at me. Then she snorted softly and re-soaped her hands, and they ventured down. She didn't look down, her eyes half-closed, as her fingers slid down passed my cock and balls, then fondling my balls. She hummed and said something in French. Kitten chuckled and translated: 

"Just like his."

"Just like his," Marlie repeated with a chuckle, apparently recognizing that she had spoken French. 

Yes, I thought, she and her brother took showers together, when they could. Then her fingers were less tentative, finding my cock and washing it with evident experience, experience with an uncircumcised cock, I understood, when her fingers wanted to rub skin up and down. 

Kitten's unsoaped fingers were back in my crevice. I relaxed my ass muscles, understanding that she wanted wash where she didn't expect Marlie would want to. But she wanted me to. With her mouth near my ear, she whispered: "With our legs." 

What was Marlie going to think of that? But if Kitten suggested it, she knew her better than I did. I didn't know her at all, really, this girl who was fondling my cock, enjoying the way it was responding, chuckling at her success. But she didn't know me, either, and was doing that. Time to wash their legs. Besides, I wanted to see their hairless pussies. Couldn't be "kittens;" they were all nice and soft furry. How had Marlie's hair had been? One woman's had been stiffer, but so was the hair on her head. Marlie's wasn't, but before she wanted my cock to twitch ... 

Enough, legs now," I said and began to kneel down. 

She gave a short, disappointed sounding "uhn," as my cock slipped from her fingers. My hips dropped down on my feet, and I looked at their pussies, right in front of my face. Of course, they must shave them now, but since when, and where did they get the idea? But they were so lovely, just like the statues', but flesh-colored - real pussies looking just like that! But they weren't quite identical. Kitten's slit was just line. I liked that, liked that it looked so innocent, like a baby's little slit. At the front of Marlie's ... Oh, the start of hers was closer down under the curve of her pubic mound than Kitten's was, but there was a little swelling fold at the top of it, the start of the hood over her clitoris. Kitten's was hidden, when she wasn't aroused. I liked Marlie's too, that I was immediately reminded of what was hidden between her firm pussy lips. I heard Kitten chuckle and she said: 

"Stop staring again. Wash!" 

Her hand reached down and handed me to soap, as I heard Marlie also chuckle. I nodded, also chuckling, and got me feet out from under me and sat on the floor, spreading my legs around their ankles. Which leg first, Marlie's nearest one; I could get back to washing her asshole after she had noticed that I washed Kitten's. 

I had never thought it would be so much fun washing legs. Nice strong young thighs, firm calves, and ticklish feet. Once, I glanced up and saw that they had an arm around each other. When I then washed Kitten's leg and then her asshole, she hummed, maybe to let Marlie know what I was doing. When I began to wash her other leg, she turned in front of Kitten to help. When my soapy hand slid up between her thighs, the shortest way to her asshole, she chuckled and spread her thighs, and then moaned, when my fingers found it. Then Kitten's other leg, the girls shifting to let her turn her hips and leg closer. I didn't have to wash her asshole again, but wanted to slide my hand up between her thighs, like I had with Marlie. They both chuckled, but then I was surprised to feel Marlie shift her weight, and then her toes were up between my thighs, jostling my balls. Served me right, I thought, for my staring or having tickled her feet. 

I stood up. One of them turned off the water, and we all smirked at each other. When I reached out my arms, they both slid an arm around me and came in a three-way embrace, two different, but lovely breasts pressed against my chest. Marlie was smiling at me that way again, with almost pursed lips. If it hadn't look like she wanted a kiss before, it did now. I was about to, but then remembered her saying "monsieur" when I surprised them. I just returned her smile and then said: 

"I think you should call me Richard, that's my name," and looked at Kitten and added: 

"You too, if you want, but I've gotten accustomed to hearing 'Daddy'." 

"Richard," Marlie said with the French pronunciation and rubbed my back. 

Kitten suddenly chuckled, almost laughing, and said: 

"Why didn't I think of that?! Why didn't it occur to me? Richard, my 'little Richard', like my 'petit Pierre', a peter." 

Her other hand had reached down and found my cock, as she giggled, fondling it, and adding: 

"My little Richard, my Dick." 

Marlie obviously didn't understand, giving us both a quizzical look. Kitten grinned and explained: 

"Dick is a nickname for Richard, but it another slang word, like peter." 

Marlie then chuckled, and I did, smiling at her, and remarked: 

"It's my dick, but it can be yours too." 

"Of course," Kitten agreed and let go of my cock, now "dick." 

Marlie smiled at me like that again, and this time I did kiss her. Is it called French kissing because that's the only way French girls kiss? It didn't last long enough to arouse my dick, but long enough for Kitten to slip from under my arm and let the two of us embrace, both her firm breasts and their stiff nipples touching me. Did we stop when Kitten said that they had to dry their hair, or did she say that after we stopped? 

We did, and all began to dry ourselves. Marlie giving me another smile; Kitten too, but slightly a smirk, nodding. When I dried my balls, my dick flopping, she nodded again with a smile to Marlie and murmured: 

"Our dick." 

"And my kittens," I replied, watching them both drying them. 

When they started to dry their hair, I said that I had better shave, since they did. As I was leaving their bathroom, I called back: "You have to tell me how that started. I love them." 

I didn't wait for a reply and returned to my bathroom, rubbing my five o'clock shadow. I didn't want to scratch their smooth pussies, and I couldn't just wait with them - wait for one of us to say: Let's get our dick and kittens together? 

I began to shave, supposing that they were talking. Whenever they had been alone to talk in the train, it had delightfully interesting afterwards. And now in the shower, everything had been more than delightful, couldn't have been better, plus Kitten's discovery that my cock was her, their dick. That had never occurred to me, too accustomed to hearing my nickname and not thinking of it with that slang word. But maybe my ex-wife had, why she always used my full name, like she didn't like me calling our daughter Kitten. 

What was going to happen now? Where were the girls? I was drying my face. 

They were lying in my bed! The covers had been flung back, and they were lying together, their thighs overlapping, but then Kitten looked up at me, and urged Marlie to roll back, and she then did, with a surprised expression. I immediately remembered another painting by Courbet, "The sleepers," two women lying together in a similar position, but they were sleeping, not smiling, grinning, smirking at me. I wasn't sure which word described Kitten's and Marlie's expressions. It looked like they hadn't finished drying their hair. Kitten chuckled and said: 

"We couldn't wait, well, we wanted to surprise you this time."

"You have, very nicely." 

Marlie was smiling/grinning/smirking as much as Kitten was, and her nipples were erect again. Had I seen them when they weren't? Kitten's weren't, but we had seen each other naked so often that that didn't surprise. But she then did: 

"Marlie wants to see her dick, her American dick, close up."

"Kitten! I did not say that!" 

"You want me to tell him what you really said - on the train?"

Marlie said something in French, one word starting with M that sounded like a swear word. She was blushing again. Kitten relented, saying: 

"I won't, but you want to," and looked up at me with smirk, adding: 

"Not just look." 

"Mmmm! That would be nice, ... if you want to," I replied, smiling at Marlie, adding: "That's what Kitten likes to do." 

"I do," Kitten agreed and fondled one of Marlie's firm, round breasts, which were almost the same shape when she was lying down. 

Marlie looked over at her, then back at me, at my face and then down at my - her - American dick. Her mouth opened slightly, and I saw the tip of her tongue slide between her lips. Kitten said something in French and rubbed a finger over Marlie's nipple a couple of times. It sprang up again each time. 

I glanced down at my dick and said: 

"It wants you to." 

Kitten nodded and murmured: "What I just told her." 

Suddenly Marlie began to giggle, so much that I wondered if Kitten was tickling her, but she seemed as surprised as I was. Marlie grasped the hand on her breast and turned back to Kitten and said something in French. They both chuckled, Kitten grinning at me. Then she translated: 

"She says it looks like it always wants to." 

Marlie nodded with a smirk, looking at my circumcised dick again. Then I understood: from her experience, my unaroused dick still reminded her of an aroused one with its foreskin slipped back. I grinned at her, nodding, and replied: 

"Maybe not always, but it does now," and reached down and held it up, pleased to feel that it was engorged enough to point at her. 

"Hm-hm-hmmmm!" she chuckled, letting it become a hum. Kitten also hummed and urged Marlie to roll over towards me, taking her thigh from between Marlie's. 

"If it does?" she murmured, and rolled away from Kitten. I thought she would wait for me to come to the bed, but she drew her thighs up, her knees past the edge of the mattress, and sat up. Her calves dropped down. The old bed was too high for her feet to touch the floor. 

The view of her suddenly reminded me of another painting, just remembering that a nude girl was sitting like she was on a bed. Renoir, Degas, Munch? I realized that I was still holding my dick. I was getting accustomed the new expression. Could that have been what the girl in the painting was looking at? Marlie was again. Not the girl in Munch's painting; she was too young and had looked a little uncomfortable. Marlie didn't. I let go of my cock. It didn't drop down on my balls, where I had found it with my hand. She smiled slightly and took a deep breath and sighed with an almost inaudible hum. 

She pushed herself off the bed and dropped down on her knees. Was she going to do it with me standing up? Her wide eyes hadn't left my dick. I felt it twitch. She chuckled softly and looked up at me with smirk and said: "Now it looks like it really wants to." 

I just nodded, returning her smirk, still wondering how she wanted to do it. She looked back down at my now more erect dick and reached back and patted the edge of the bed. Like that then. As I moved to sit down, she turned on her knees. Had she thought that it was going to be just the right height this way? As I sat down on the edge of the bed, my dick bobbed. Her eyes hardly left it, as she moved between my thighs. It was going to be just the right height. She was sliding her hands up my thighs, both of us watching my pulse making my dick move slightly. She moaned softly, nodding and licking her lips. 

Suddenly I had the abstruse thought that maybe only girls who liked to lick pussies liked to suck cocks the way Kitten and Marlie did, wanting to give satisfaction that way and enjoying it so much that they could wait for their own orgasms. 

One of her hands slid off my thigh and under my loose sack. She moaned again with a nod, as she fondled them. My dick was as aroused as it could be. I was staring down at it, waiting to see how she would start, then seeing her tongue moving on her lower lip. Then it extended, still moving, as though it was seeking something to lick. It found it, the back of the head of my dick. 

"Uhnn!" I moaned, seeing my dick twitch away, but her tongue found it again and then didn't let it escape, pursuing it and licking where it was most sensitive. I moaned again, wanting to press her head forward and make her take it in her mouth. She did. It was almost a relief, that she finally had, but only while she was sucking it deeper in her warm, wet mouth. Then her tongue was back rubbing the little ridge of skin there. I had to moan again. 

I had entirely forgotten that Kitten was somewhere on the bed behind me, until I felt her hands on my shoulders, drawing them back, as I heard her murmur in an insistent tone: 

"Lie back. You don't have to watch. You can too, for me." 

I guess I could have anticipated that this would be how it would be with two girls. Of course, I wanted to lick her pussy, but what Marlie was doing was just so good, the first time another girl was wanting me to come in her mouth. I dropped back on the bed, consoling myself that it would be the same as when Kitten and I had done it to each other. 

She was just waiting to straddle my head, immediately crawling up over it, her pretty pink pussy over my face. I only had the briefest view of it, before it settled on my mouth. But then, that silky smooth skin and that again so familiar and delightful taste - she was already aroused - and finding where it came from with my tongue and finding where my tongue could make her moan! Oh! My cock was being sucked and licked so good! But a man had to do what a man had to do, nothing more pleasurable than licking the young pussy of a girl who could tell him that he could, that she wanted him to. 

Pleasurable as it was being, what my twitching dick was enjoying becoming too distracting, making me moan. I wasn't going to be able to finish what I was supposed to do with the pussy rocking on my mouth. I tried, but then had to groan, my hips rocking up. The fingers under my balls were just clutched up around them, one finger scratching behind them. I gave up; the pussy would still be there, my Kitten's, who had wanted Marlie to suck my dick. Kitten couldn't know how good she did, but not better than she herself did. It couldn't be more arousing for my dick than it was in either of their mouths. 

My hips rocked faster, and I groaned, now aware of Marlie's moans. She wanted it; was doing everything she could to get it! With an uncontrollable thrust of my cock in her mouth, I grunted and and felt it shoot in her mouth. Her jaw clamped up on my cock, but not so that my cock couldn't thrust again, as I grunted again, and then she was sucking and moaning, as my cock spurted three or four more times. I moaned with a long sigh. Relief, satisfaction! But then I had to moan again; her tongue was licking where I was most sensitive, overly sensitive after my orgasm. 

I then recognized that Kitten had moaned with us and held her hips still. Now they rocked again. Her pussy was at least as wet as before. Had it been arousing to just watch Marlie, knowing how it was feeling and tasting in her mouth and knowing I had had such a good orgasm? I licked, wondering if I would see the girls together and find that arousing. Then Marlie sucked and let my dick pop out of her mouth. A moment later, Kitten said: 




Kitten's Father's Story Ch. 02



"Sit on it," then something in French, probably about the same. Marlie replied in French. 

"Non, toi," Kitten insisted. That much French I could understand. I had stopped licking, and her hips were still again. 

Then I felt Marlie's arms slid over my thighs and her body rise between them. She leaned forward over me. A moment later, Kitten's hips moved, not her rocking them, and Marlie said: 

"Non, pour te." 

"Okay," Kitten murmured. As she moved off my face, I saw that Marlie's hands were behind her hips, drawing her down over me. She got her feet off the bed and rose up. Which one's hand guided my cock to the mouth of her pussy? As she lowered her hips, I didn't have to moan, just pleased that my dick was still stiff enough to push into her tight, wet hole. She moaned, however, looking down at Marlie and nodding. Her pussy squeezed my dick, just what it needed to forget that it had already come. I rocked my hips the little I could to help it, and she moaned with another nod, and it began to appreciate better where it was. Then Kitten chuckled with another nod and lay back on me. 

I suddenly remembered that she had told me how Pierre had fucked her like this, while Marlie had licked her pussy. I held her breasts and raised my head, seeing Marlie lower hers between Kitten's thighs. 

"Oooh! Mmmmm!" Kitten responded, her pussy squeezing again. Could Marlie love to lick her pussy as much as I did? Yes, the girl-girl thing, as Kitten described it, knowing exactly how it felt for each other. I fondled her breasts and aroused her stiff nipples, which didn't stick out as much as Marlie's did, but I was going to get to enjoy them too, and not just with my fingers; I could really nibble on them. Now, however, my dick was enjoying what happened in her pussy when her clitoris was being licked. What was Marlie's like? I was going to enjoy licking and sucking it even more than I would her nipples. 

God, it felt good, her pussy clutching my cock, feeling like it was trying to draw it deeper. Oooh! Marlie's fingers were playing with my balls again, jostling them in my still slack sack. Had she hummed because she had thought to do that too? Mmmm, and her tongue had licked down, lapping on the base of my cock, now making more moist sounds. Kitten was going all wet, and it felt like her pussy was begging me to move my dick in it, fuck her, in the true meaning of the expression. 

I did, and she moaned with a nod, try to rock her hips. I reached down and pulled the cheeks of her ass apart, hoping that would let her rock them a little further. I'm not sure it really did, but she nodded and tried to rock them down to meet the thrusts of my dick in her pussy. We both moaned, and Marlie squeezed my now tight sack and moaned with us. I was clutching Kitten's breasts again, expecting to clasp her hands over mine. I managed to raise my head for a moment and saw that they were clasped around Marlie's head. My head dropped back, and I tried to fuck harder and faster, hardly aware of the pulsating clutches of her pussy, but hearing her pulsing moans: "Uhm-uhm-uhmm! ... " 

Then she gasped, and her moans shifted to the whimpers I knew from our orgasms together in Florence. I was groaning, not just from the exertion of fucking her under the weight of her rocking hips, but also from that. Make us come, I willed Marlie. Kitten and I were both gasping, whimpering and groaning. Make her come! I was going to! 

I did with a grunt, and another one, as I felt my dick ejaculating. Then Kitten gasped and her shoulders jerked up - and again! "Oh fuck!" she blurted, and her body spasmed again. I felt her warm pussy juice flowing down on my sack, now looser in Marlie's hand. She moaned and raised my balls. Then it felt like she was trying to catch it in her hand. Her tongue was lapping up from the palm of her hand, onto my sack and then at the base of my dick. She like that as much as I did, but Kitten had already told me in Florence that they both loved the taste of each other's pussy. 

I squeezed Kitten's breasts, hugging her to me. She sighed with a long moan. My dick was still in her pussy, still too engorged to slip out, but then I was surprised. Marlie drew it out, and it almost flopped over into her open mouth. God, Kitten had the right girlfriend for this trip! She licked, bathing it with her tongue. Kitten had nodded when my dick left her pussy. Then it sudden slipped out of Marlie's mouth. A moment later, Kitten gave a surprised moan. I raised my head and saw that Marlie's face was back between Kitten's thighs. She wanted that too, like I had the time I had had licked Kitten's pussy after we had fucked. Kitten chuckled and said: 

"God, that was good! Taste good, both of us at once?" 

Marlie replied in French something that sounded like a question, but then said: 

"I am not accustomed to English - doing this. Yes, it does, that is, I like it."

"I did once, too," I replied, adding: "and it was very good, both times, thank you. But it was very unfair, your insisting on doing it for both of us." 

"I wanted to, as your guest, and - mmmm! - I like it." 

"Like I do," Kitten agreed. 

"And I do, just as much, but it's still unfair," I enjoined. 

Kitten snickered and said: 

"You know what you can do about it, ... before I do." 

She drew one thigh up past Marlie's head and rolled off me, lying on her side, smirking at me and then glancing down at Marlie. I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked down at her. She was smiling, again with pursed lips, raising her eyebrows. I smiled back, licking my lips, and said: 

"We both owe you something, but I can try to pay it back better than Kitten. And besides, she already knows how your kitten tastes." 

I hoped I wasn't promising too much, implying that I also wanted to fuck her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kitten nod vigorously, and that she then reached down and patted the bed between us. Marlie smirked with a nod and rose up on her knees, letting me see her lovely round breasts and the nipples that I wanted to nibble, and when she stood up, letting me see her classical mons veneris, but I could see more of the swelling between the start of her pussy lips than I had before, but only for a moment. She purred and immediately turned to sit on the bed. I hurried to drop off the bed and scramble around between her already spread thighs. I was so eager to see her pussy - not just see it, of course - but first to see it. 

Somewhere I had heard or read about preparing food: one eats with one eyes - first. Kitten had been right, her pussy lips were slightly darker than the rest of her skin, but that complemented the teint of her nipples, and with her thighs spread, there was already a glimpse of pink on the inner edges of her pussy lips, and that enticing swelling at the top of them. I sighed with a soft moan; her pussy was so attractive, like an unknown, exotic flower, waiting to be discovered. I sighed again, liking my simile. 

It wanted to be discovered. Her thighs drew up and flopped apart, the petals of her flower opening. I moaned again: such a lovely rose color, darker than that of the other pussy I loved, but perfect with the slightly darker tinge of the outer sides of its petals. And that enticing swelling, now completely revealed, hiding something, protecting it. I moaned again. 

It didn't want me to just feast my eyes, the thighs drew further back, rolling it up and opening it more. It had a musky scent, like an exotic flower should have, and was all moist - a tropical, rainforest flower. It wasn't going to taste like a honeysuckle, but it wanted to be tasted and sucked. 

I did, moaning as I discovered that it tasted as good as I had anticipated. And not just I was moaning, as my tongue explored and discovered the additional secrets the outer petals of the flower had concealed. Was it one of those flowers that devoured insects? When my tongue found and probed in a deeper place, I felt it contract, as though it wanted to capture it. It wasn't going to be able to, but it was fun to tease it and delight at how good it tasted. Could a flower moan? This one could, and it wanted my tongue to explore further down. Strange flower, that could rock up and down, now further up. 

I stopped playing with my simile and glanced up. Kitten was kneeling close behind Marlie, whose head was resting against her stomach. It was her hands that had rocked Marlie's hips up. They were grasping the insides of her thighs at her knees. She saw my raised eyes and grinned and pulled on Marlie's thighs again. If she wanted me to lick Marlie's asshole, she must known that Marlie liked that. Now Marlie was also looking at me, hardly smiling. When Kitten drew her thighs even further back, she moaned with just the slightest nod. 

She did want me to, and I wanted to. I had to; I had said something about being able to do more than Kitten could, so I had to do everything she could, before I fucked Marlie - what Kitten couldn't do. I was less worried now about not being able to do that, but first find her asshole. 

It was also slightly darker, but that only made it seem more attractive, I thought, remembering my simile. And it moved and also could moan, a short "uhm," that sounded like it meant "please." It moved again, and Marlie's hips rocked. What a team the two of them were?! 

The next moans sounded like they meant: "I liked that; that feels good; is arousing." It was for me too, all three ways, my tongue making it contract and relax and contract again several times. But it didn't taste at all. After a more aroused sounding moan, a drop of moisture rolled down on my tongue, reminding it where it could find more of that nice tasting moisture. It did and elicited an even more aroused sounding moan. But then I heard what sounded like a frustrated moan. 

My tongue slid up and discovered a small pearl under the hood of her clitoris. Marlie gasped and gave a pained sounding moan. Kitten's clitoris was smaller and better protected by its hood, but I had learned that it was too sensitive to want to be licked directly, but it want to be licked, caressed, aroused by having my tongue rub over its hood, making it move from side to side. That was going to be easier with the larger swelling of Marlie's hood. 

She agreed with pulsing moan, when my tongue did. I moaned with her; it was so good to know that I was arousing her to such better moans, and I loved doing it! My simile returned for a moment: such an attractive - deliciously attractive - exotic flower! It wasn't a honeysuckle, but it had to be sucked. My open mouth clamped down on her pussy and sucked. For an instant, I missed the feel of hairs on my upper lip, but her gasps and moans made me forget that. Was her orgasm going to be as wet as Kitten's? If she had been so wet, when I was just licking her asshole? 

Her thighs were quivering, apparently still being held by Kitten's hands, as she began to gasp and exhale with short, growling moans, gasping again, her pelvis twitching against my mouth. Then she gasped harder, making a noise in her throat as she inhaled. Wet?! It felt like a shot from a large water pistol on my chin! Kitten was wet, but her pussy didn't do that! Her pussy juice was almost streaming off my chin - and dripping on my cock! Oh yes, I was going to be able to fuck her! She'd better want me to. 

Fuck! I just realized that her hands had been helping me keep my mouth on her pussy, like Kitten's had been holding her head, when she helped us both have our orgasms. We both sighed with long moans. After a couple, her hands slid down closer to my neck and urged me to rise up. I did, her hands still holding me . She looked at me with wide eyes, dilated pupils, and moaned and drew my head closer over her, urging me to rise up off my knees. Kitten was still kneeling behind her and holding her legs. Maybe we were also a team, popped through my head, as I stood up, leaning over her. Marlie glanced down at my erect dick and moaned again, and drew my head closer to her face. 

Her expression was so aroused, her mouth half-open, her tongue moving on her lips. 

She murmured something in French and then murmured: "Do it." 

Right, she couldn't immediately think in English when she was aroused, but there was no question what she meant. Was one of us going to have to help my cock find her pussy! Her hands were drawing my head the last couple of inches down on her face. When we kissed, her arms went around my neck. Fucking tongues, and my dick twitching between her thighs. I didn't noticed that Kitten somehow had slipped away, but she must have; Marlie's legs were free and clasped around my waist, her heels on my ass, then just one. Were they hooked together? The one press down, her hips rocked up, rubbing the head of my dick. 

My hips rocked. Could dick and pussy find each other? They could, they did! She almost bit my tongue, when my dick plunged in her, and we both moaned, then again when we felt my dick surge and her pussy clutch. 

We fucked. Kitten and I had fucked like that, and it had been just as good, but it was especially arousing that now - the first time with Marlie! - she was so eager to do it this way, her hips as active as mine. Eager? Desperate! Our hips were slapping together. How could we both want to fuck like that: a young girl who had just met me that morning, a man who could be her father?! 

We fucked! She soon came again, but wanted more, and when I came, she did, her third orgasm. I collapsed on her firm round breasts. My third orgasm too, I recalled, as I lay on her. Her arms around my neck had slid down, her hands on my ass. They fondled, rousing me. Then she took a deep breath under my stomach and chuckled. I nodded, not knowing why. She took another deep breath and chuckled again, then said: 

"Now I can think English. You are heavy." 

I rolled off her and left my hand on her breast - nice round handful - and asked: 

"And what do you think in English, now that you can?"

She turned her head and smiled, then chuckled with a smirk, and replied: 

"What I told Kitten in the train." 

"Hmm! You didn't like that she said you liked me." 

"That wasn't what I said, but I do."

"And I like you too, better than I thought I would." 

"Um-hmm, something like that."

"And what did you tell her?" 

Marlie smirked again and took a deep breath, then replied: 

"That I hoped it would be as good with me as it was in Florence." 

"It is already," I agreed with smile, fondling her breast. 

"It sure looked like it," Kitten remarked with a chuckle. 

When she had disappeared, apparently she had rolled back to the other side of my bed, now smiling at me, nodding - and reminding me of some painting of a nice nude girl lying like she was. I fondled Marlie's breast, and we both nodded, smiling. Then Kitten asked: 

"Doesn't anyone else have to go?" 

I nodded with with a grin, remembering how often we'd had to in Florence. Marlie didn't seem to understand. Kitten said a word in French that sound like piss. Marlie chuckled, nodding vigorously, and we all trooped in my bathroom. Kitten straddle the bidet, and I turned to the washbasin. Marlie snickered at our leaving the toilet for her. 

When I washed my dick and balls, the girls snorted with nods, watching me then wash my face. I flipped the washcloth to Kitten, but she was already washing her pussy on the bidet and passed the washcloth on to Marlie, reminding me that she didn't have to wash her face. Marlie then used the washcloth to wash her face and pussy - my exotic, tropical flower. 

I suddenly remember paints of girls bathing - not like Marlie was. Degas, Renoir, that Swedish painter? What was his name? He loved well-shaped models. Were all Swedish girls like that? Anders Zorn, I found his name, liking that Kitten's figure was similar, but I liked Marlie's just as much, just different, more like the Norwegian Munch's slender nudes. Nice, I thought, that my study of art books let me compare their figures favorably with those artists liked. 

When Marlie turned, looking for a towel, I handed her mine. When she took, I saw her smooth pussy and remembered my question of when and how they decided to shave them. I asked. The girls looked at each, smirking a little. Marlie nodded for Kitten to reply. Since neither had blushed, I assumed that she just thought it was easier for Kitten to tell me in English. Kitten nodded, but then did look a little abashed. 

She shrugged, glancing a Marlie again, and began to explain, occasionally glancing at Marlie to see if she agreed. 

"When we returned to the school after Easter, there was a new girl, just there for a couple of months, Liliane. She came from a Christian family in Syria, already spoke very fluent French. Well, we saw her in the showers and were surprised that she didn't have any hair. I guess all the girls that saw her were." Marlie nodded. 

"We don't know if other girls asked, but then Marlie did. I guess, because of what we do, you were less reticent, more curious." Marlie nodded again with smile.

"And said that I was too. I was, of course, wondering if girls in that part of world just did have any hair. So, she asked if we wanted her to tell us, not in the shower, of course. She came to one of our rooms the next day and explained that most women in the Middle East shave, also the Christian ones. Did one of us say we wanted to, or did she first ask us, suggest it? Marlie shrugged. 

In the meantime, we had returned to my room. I had grabbed my clothes and nodded that we go in the the girls' room to dress. We had begun dressing, as Kitten continued: 

"Doesn't matter. After all our talking about statues and paintings in Florence, maybe I was the one to suggest we try it." Marlie nodded again with chuckle. 

"Liliane smiled and offer to help us, telling us that we needed to trim our hair as short as possible, and then she would join us again and show how she did it. We have washbasins in our rooms. Then Marlie said that we could do that, help each other do that. Liliane looked a little surprised, but shrugged and said that was probably a good idea." Marlie nodded again. 

"So we did, ticklish, but fun. The next day, Liliane was with us again, all with our razors. Did we have to take off all our clothes?" Marlie shook her head with a grin.

"But we did. You'd like her too. So, she showed us how she shaved herself, and then offered to help Marlie, I guess, because she's asked. Hm-hmm! Well, you can imagined that that was a little more ticklish than share trimming our hair." Marlie nodded with another grin. 

By now, we were dressed, except for my socks and shoes. We went back to my room, and Kitten continued: 

"So she helped me too. She seemed to enjoy doing it. We did, and asked her girls in Syria learned to do it. She shrugged and said that her older sister had shown her, that probably mothers or aunts did, then chuckled and said that sometimes girlfriends shaved together. We were. Did you really ask her if that's all they did?" 

Marlie looked a little embarrassed and shrugged, then replied: 

"Didn't you want to know?"

"But I didn't ask."

Marlie grinned at me and said: 

"They do, not just shave; like we do."

I tried not to snicker, replying: 

"If it feels 'ticklish', 'a little more ticklish'?" 

Both girls nodded with grins. I chuckled, nodding, and said: 

"I only wanted to ask about how it started, but with her, too?"

They nodded again, glancing at each other with smiles. Kitten chuckled - it sounded closer to a giggle - and replied: 

"All three of us. Had to put a blanket on the floor, but three girls together in a room was less suspicious than just two." 

I snickered, now with my shoes on, and stood up, and asked: 

"Oh, that could be suspicious?" 

"Well, we thought so, knowing what could be happening," Kitten replied with a grin. Marlie nodded, also grinning. 




Kitten's Father's Story Ch. 02



As we turned to go for dinner, I thought so too, then envisioning the three girls on the floor. We could do that too, and had two large beds! As we were about to leave my room, I sent them back to theirs, telling them to close the door between our rooms. They did, and I closed my door. When we met in the corridor, they both nodded. I didn't have to tell them it looked less suspicious, if the three of us didn't come out of one room, and that the hotel staff didn't have to know that that we opened the doors between the room, whatever they might assume. 

In the taxi, I had already seen that the restaurant on the other side of the street with its many tables outside was still there. I suggested we go there for dinner, and the girls took my arms again. I remembered that they both had put on their bras again and liked that they had. It was all right flirting with just my daughter, like we had the last evening in Florence, but with two girls' nipples popping out - especially Marlie's - would be ... well, suspicious, even if some man could think that I was lucky. I was. Did I hold my shoulders back and draw in my stomach? Probably. I know that I did later, when I was escorting the girls in Venice and saw men looking at them. 

The restaurant had menus with an English translation of the items, but no tourist special like the ones in Florence. That was what was nice about the Lido, that it wasn't so touristy, that there were mostly Italians in the restaurant and on the street, obviously local residents, meeting on the street for a drink at places that served outside. 

We shared a plate of antipasta and had different meat courses with vegetable side dishes, and, of course, a flagon of house wine, and another one. When Kitten said in English that she had "to go," Marlie immediately understood this time. I did too. While we had been eating, people at the next tables had been interested that the girls occasionally spoke French, or maybe they had only taken that as an excuse to glance at them. I hadn't needed any excuse to look at them, and when a suggestive remark fell - a few did - Marlie just smiled at me with her pursed lips. Her nipples had popped out, and she wanted me to know. 

I paid, and we agreed to walk down to the pier, talking about the shops we passed. On the pier, we looked at the silhouette of the Venice against the night sky. When Kitten took my hand, I took Marlie's. We exchanged fond hums, clasping hands. The vaporetto came, blocking our view, and we returned to our hotel on the other side of the street, dropping hands as we approached it. 

In our rooms, the connecting doors were immediately opened. The girls were smiling sweetly. Then Marlie said: 

"Oh, I forget to thank you for dinner." Had she? Hadn't she? 

Before I could think further, she had her arms around my neck and her mouth on mine, her body against mine down to our knees. I suddenly recalled how Kitten had embraced me, when she had read my present about her going to the school, but she hadn't kissed me. Had she already known how to kiss like Marlie was? My arms went around her lithe body. A kiss in thanks was something else! 

I heard Kitten's "harumpf," and then she said: 

"I didn't thank you either." 

Marlie took the hint, caressing my tongue a last time, and then loosing her hold around my neck. I let her slip out of my arms. A moment later Kitten was in them, chuckling, as her arms went around my neck. Had we ever kissed like that standing up with all our clothes on? Lots of times when we were naked in bed together. She retrieved her tongue and chuckled, murmuring: 

"Should have kissed you like that, when you gave me my birthday, Christmas present."

She had remembered that too! I asked: 

"You knew how, 'like that'?"

"Mmmm! Hadn't, but I would have." 

She was showing me again how she would have, when Marlie hummed and said something in French. Kitten understood and nodded, loosing her hold around my neck and pulling out of my embrace. She turned to Marlie and said: 

"And I should thank you, and Pierre too." 

Then they were embracing and kissing as intensely as they both had me. It was surprising to see two girls kiss that way for the first time, but also delightful, knowing all I knew about them, and I wasn't going to interrupt them, like they had each other had with me. 

God, they were enjoying it! Had they forgotten where they were, that I was there watching? They were going at it as though they hadn't seen each other in a long time. Was a "long time" for them just the couple of days since they hadn't been able to do what they did with each other - forgetting what the three of us had done before dinner? 

They weren't just embracing, their hands were holding each other's ass. I could seem them rocking up together, and that they were shifting them from side to side. They liked that? It seemed like they were trying to rub a cock between them. I could understand their wanting to do that, but there wasn't one. Girls liked to feel that their pussies were just so close? 

They were really forgetting that I was there, forgetting where they were; their hands were back at their waists, pulling up their shirttails, wanting to feel bare skin, and finding it. God, it was arousing to watch two girls turning each other on! Even though it suggested that they didn't need a man, my cock was beginning to feel like it needed a pussy. 

I stepped back in my room, glad that I hadn't turned on the light in my hurry to open the door, now liking that I hadn't cast a shadow whose movement might have caught their attention. It didn't look like anything would. But one of them had flipped on the light in their room, thank goodness, letting me watch them. It sure didn't look like this was the first time they started like this. They were kissing with encouraging little moans, as I saw their hands shoving the other's blouse up and caressing, and then reaching up, their fingers out of sight under them, but obvious about to unhook her bra. Better, encouraging moans let me know that they both had. 

Whether they need me or not, I stepped back further in my dark room and silently started to undress, my eyes not leaving them. They tried to continue to kiss, as they separated a little to let their hands open the other's blouse. They really didn't need me, but when I slowly, silently unzipped my pants, my cock wanted to spring out of the fly of my boxer shorts. I stuffed it back, so that I could slide them down without unsnapping, not want to make the slightest noise. I had already shuffled out of my loafers and lowered my pants and shorts together. 

I watched them open their blouses and let them slid down their arms, and then they were embracing and kissing again, but only to have their hands back to unhook and unzip each other's skirt. Their hips separated, and their hands shoved them down. Had they really forgotten where they were, or were they intentionally letting me watch them? 

I rather liked the first idea, that they could be so aroused, like many times before, that they had forgotten me. I almost chuckled; that made my being a voyeur somehow more genuine, delightful and arousing, not that my cock - oh, right, now their "dick" - could be much more aroused. Panties or bras next, I wondered. They had stepped out of their skirts, and were embracing again, and now I could really see how their hips rocked up together. It didn't look like they need any encouragement from the hands clasping them. 

Oh, I had missed something, when I had glanced down to step out of my pants and shorts. Now their bras were shoved up above their breasts. Mmmm! Courbet and Botticelli breasts pressing together. I was unbuttoning my shirt, pleased that I wasn't wearing an undershirt, not wanting to make the greater movement to strip it off and maybe catch their attention. As I let my shirt slide down my arms, I hummed silently with a smile and nod. Their hands were now pushing their panties down over each other's nice round ass, firm asses I remembered. Marlie's dropped, when her thighs moved a little, but she had to lean down - breaking their kiss - to push Kitten's further down her thighs. When hers then did drop, Kitten didn't let Marlie stand up, urging her to suck her nipple. 

Lucky girl, Marlie! I knew what she was enjoying, licking my lips, almost feeling Kitten's nipple between them. When was I going to get to lick and suck Marlie's nipples? Was this the way they always started? Weren't they wanting to get in bed, or would Marlie drop down and want to lick Kitten's pussy? She was moaning softly, her eyes closed. Oh! I was fondling my balls. They wanted to again. Marlie was sucking Kitten's other breast now. 

Kitten's eyes suddenly open, and she had a surprised expression, looking around, really as though she had forgotten where they were. She urged Marlie to stand up and said: "Daddy?" 

I couldn't tell if she was just remembering that I was there somewhere, or whether she was calling me. When Marlie then said: "Richard?" with her French pronunciation, I also couldn't tell if she was correcting Kitten for calling me "Daddy", or if she was also calling to me. Whatever, then Kitten did call me: 

"Richard, where are you? We need you."

I stepped out of the shadow, back into the light from their room, and replied: 

"I need you too, either of you." 

They both turned and looked at me and smiled. When I looked pointedly down at my aroused dick, they nodded with smirks. 

"You do," Kitten remarked with a chuckle. Marlie nodded with an "um-hmmm!" 

"Maybe more than you two do ... from the look of it," I remarked, entering their room, recognizing that I still had my socks on.

"But not without you, Richard," Marlie replied with smile, reaching out her arm for me to join their loose embrace. Kitten's arm also included me in it, and my arms went around their waists. We all chuckled warmly, and I ventured to remark: 

"It looked like you had forgotten me ... and where you were."

"Maybe, a little," Kitten agreed with a smirk. Marlie nodded, but added: 

"Not now," and hugged my waist. 

"Anything you want to do, now that I know you haven't forgotten me." 

Kitten purred and murmured: 

"What I didn't get to do before."

"Anything you want," Marlie agreed generously. 

I moaned with grin and said: "We better open up your big twin beds then; no need for a blanket on the floor." 

The girls nodded with grins, and a few moments later the covers were flung back. Chuckling, we lay down in a triangle, Kitten's head on my thigh and mine on Marlie's, hers, of course, on Kitten's. 

Then my cock was in Kitten's mouth with no preliminary licking; it had been there so many times before. As I drew Marlie's hips closer, I hummed, in anticipation of licking her pussy again, of course, but also that their telling me about their experience with Liliane had let me half way subtly suggest what we do - not that the girls wouldn't have thought of it. 

Anticipation of licking Marlie's pussy? Very! If I could make her come that good again, turned this way, she would squirt right in my mouth! What a delightful challenge! I began, also reaching back and finding and fondling Kitten's breast to confirm my appreciation for what she was doing, then finding one of Marlie's to underline how much I was enjoying what I was doing. 

When Kitten's hand slid around my hip, her fingers creeping in my crevice, I moaned with nod, then wondering if Marlie's hand was already around Kitten's hip. It must be, or would be; Kitten had told me what they did. She also had wanted me to lick Marlie's asshole, rocking her hips up so that I could. Marlie wanted that too, again. I squeezed her breast and slid my hand over her side and down to her ass. When my fingers rubbed over her asshole, and it contracted, she responded with emphatic "uhn-hnn!" 

Kitten had already shoved her finger in her mouth next to my dick, it now probing. I had to wait for a moment for it probe deeper when my asshole relaxed. When it did/could, I moaned with a nod, and my finger then quickly found its way in Marlie's wet pussy, returning to do what Kitten's had. 

Marlie moaned again in her throat. Yes, she wanted that! 

Did we all then moan for the same reason? We moaned many more times. I was more interested in experiencing Marlie's orgasm than caring about my own. I knew what it would be like, but I wanted hers to be like I hoped I could make it and feel her squirt in my mouth. If I could, if I could catch in in my mouth, it would be full of her sweet pussy juice! 

I could, both ways! My mouth was! So good! Of course, I also came - before or after Marlie did? It really didn't matter; she had, the way I had wanted her to. But Kitten sounded like she was still waiting for her orgasm. Had I distracted Marlie from what she was doing? If so, I liked the additional confirmation that I made it so good for her. Oh, Kitten had rocked her head back, letting my dick spring out of her mouth, and was whimpering the way I knew she did before her orgasms. Their girl-girl thing, Marlie knew exactly how it was feeling for her, knew what she wanted, needed. 

Kitten's body convulsed, not just once. Marlie really knew what she wanted and how much she wanted! I had been surprised that Kitten had wanted me to continue, but I never had the way Marlie was! Kitten sounded like she as suffering, but apparently Marlie knew that she still wanted more, could stand more. 

When Kitten finally rolled back with a final gasp and long moan, it occurred to me that girls shouldn't do that, know how much more they wanted than I had ever imagined. What did they need men for, if they could satisfy each other that good? I had also made Marlie come as good as I had hoped, and she had then returned to arousing Kitten. But should I have continued? Would she have wanted me to make her come again like that, filling my mouth with her pussy juice again? 

I rolled back, and Marlie did, and we all took deep breaths, moaning softly with long sighs. After my last thoughts, I was feeling a little inadequate: two girls, and me, as old as their combined ages.

I fondled their breasts again - soft nipples now, even though Marlie's were always more prominent than Kitten's. Then Marlie rolled back towards us again, and her hand reached out and found my soft dick. Maybe I wasn't inadequate, superfluous, if she wanted to do that. She started to say something in French, then said: 

"We have to do that again."

"Not tonight," I murmured. 

"No, but the other way," she replied, holding my dick. 

"Anything you want," Kitten enjoined, repeating Marlie's last words before we lay down together. 

"Um-hmm," I agreed. 

If they could agree so compatibly on sharing me, I thought, we all were going to have a very nice week together. Oh, it was going to be, if we had gone from zero to one hundred percent just the first day! 

Who was going to suggest that we had to go? I did and said said so with a snicker. Kitten replied that she hadn't wanted to say it, and Marlie agreed. I turned on the light in their bathroom, and Marlie passed me, choosing to use the bidet. Kitten sat on the toilet and glanced at the shower, then at Marlie and looked me with a slight smirk, nodding at the shower, and murmured: 

"We did once after Easter, only once, afraid we might be caught." 

Marlie, facing the wall on bidet, hadn't seen her glances and apparently not completely understood Kitten's remark, looked around and asked: 

"Did what?"

"That time in the shower, after I told you. You wanted to."

"Hmm! Oh, that! Yes, you told me, but it was you who suggested we do it."

"But you did too, ... and didn't mind."

"If you two had, and you liked it? ... Oh? You want to do it again?"

"Just thought of it, seeing the shower," Kitten replied. 

I didn't say anything and used the washbasin, again having to wash my dick and face. I didn't really have to wash my dick; Kitten had pretty well licked it clean. When I flipped the washcloth this time to Marlie, she washed her face with the water from the bidet, then handed it to Kitten. I stepped aside for her to wash at the basin. 

We returned to the bedroom. It was late enough to go to bed and and just sleep. We had done everything we could with each other, except that Kitten hadn't come when she was sitting on my face. In the old hotel, there wasn't a switch by the bed. I turned off the light and joined the girls in bed, not surprised that they expected me to lying between them. I clambered over one, not sure which one in the dark, and lay on my back. Before I could wonder which way I should turn, they were both rolling towards me, drawing a thigh up over mine and resting an arm on my chest. When their hands touched, they clasped. Marlie purred and murmured: 

"I told you what I told Kitten on the train. Seems like we have already, thank you."

"It sure does, much to my surprised and delight. Thank you! And you, Kitten." 

"And you, for being the very nicest a father a girl could want to share."

"Um-hmm!" Marlie agreed. Then she almost giggled and said: 

"Oh, before you arrived, a couple of days ago, she told me that what I had written on her letter could be understood differently." 

Kitten nodded with a chuckle, and I said: 

"That you were looking forward to coming with us? You sure have, and we have too, with you." 

Marlie nodded and murmured: 

"And like I never imagined we would, especially today, this evening already."

"With Kitten's help, ... for us both." 

"Thank you, Kitten," Marlie murmured, and I felt her squeeze Kitten's hand.

"My pleasure, with both your help too, thank you," Kitten replied. 

This was being just too nice, all our agreement, but which way was I going to turn? Kitten settled that: 

"Marlie wants to wake up like I did the first morning." 

"I do to, then, but no promises." 

Marlie purred again and rolled away from me. When I rolled towards her on my side, however, I felt the edges of the adjacent mattresses, one sinking deeper with my weight. I suggested we move to lie across the beds and did, bringing the pillows with us. As we were settling down again, I reminded myself that we couldn't leave the pillows there when we left the room in the morning, like we had to remember to close the connecting doors. 

I curled up behind Marlie, she immediately clasping my hand on her breast, and Kitten curled up behind me, sliding her arm down between Marlie and me. Marlie said good night in French, and Kitten did, and I tried to repeat their words. 

I began to review the whole day, beginning with the episodes in the train, but fell asleep before I had finished them. When I rolled over in the night, I hardly woke up. I guess I had felt the vacuum behind me, when Kitten had. It must have just felt so familiar again to curl up behind her and have my arm around her. 

I woke up that way, now with my stiff dick between Marlie's thighs, also very familiar and nice. She wasn't going to mind in the least if I woke her up by moving it. She didn't mind, moaning softly, but then she was more awake. Instead of feeling her help my dick find her pussy, I heard a disappointed or disapproving "uhnn," and she murmured: 

"She wanted to wake up like this."