I settle onto my knees on the floor in front of the couch, between them, and rest my palms on the soft inner sides of their spread thighs, holding them open.
"There are things I've wanted to tell you both," I say, softly, soaking in their nervousness. "I hope you believe them. You're good girls — brave, pretty, sweet. And the truth is, I've come to love having you here. Laughing with my girls. Trusting me. Sitting for me."
My palms slide inward, up their inner thighs, brushing smooth bare skin until my fingertips rest against their wet cunts. A tiny gasp from each. But I don't move yet.
"I would love nothing more," I say, "than for the two of you to be my daughters. Proper daughters."
Their breathing goes ragged. My fingertips trace small, slow circles, barely grazing, and their hips buck against my hands, helpless, following me.
It is Gina who breaks first — the steadier twin. She bites her lip, a small noise escaping her, and blurts: "Could you... become our daddy?"
