Hope doesn't speak. She doesn't need to. She makes a beeline for Gina, drops to her knees between the twins' spread thighs, and smiles up at her — warm, conspiratorial, utterly at ease.
"Don't worry, sis," she says. "Just relax and enjoy."
And she dives into her muffin.
Gina's head tilts back with a strangled cry, her hips bucking as Hope's mouth finds her clit, tongue working in quick, sure strokes — a daughter who knows exactly how it is done, because my daughter has learned it from me, and has had plenty of practice with Hester and mommy.
I lower my head to Dana and do the same.
The shy twin gasps, shudders, her hands digging into my scalp, and I eat her out slow and deep, tongue parting her labia lips, circling her clit, while beside me Hope works her sister into a frenzy. The shrill screams of orgasming twins fill the room.
