He would sometimes simply watch her asking her finally to remove perhaps her shirt, her pants, sit in front of him dressed perhaps only in her panties…

Lucus made certain that his daughters had the proper apparel when he so desired it.

His favorites were the flimsy crotchless panties that split right over those juicy pink slits, so hot, so heavy with musk, so inviting…

He could never control himself when he stood in front of his daughters. Either of them could reduce him to jelly.

He stood now, transfixed and Sherry slowly unraveled herself from the dress she wore. It was a wrap-around style (he made certain they had access to moderately current fashions), a loose fitting piece of cloth that gently molded itself to the delicious curves of her young body, not glued itself to her, but simply suggesting the shape of that pliant flesh beneath.

She was his release. The safety valve that kept him sane, sane to continue his work, sane to keep them protected… and yes, sane enough to stay his hand in those awful early morning hours, when the urge would creep onto his soul like a black fog. When the pressure in his temples would flare, press outward against the inside of his skull, when he could think only of one thing, the small tender bodies, their warmth, their innocence, their need. OH GOD their fierce overwhelming need!!

And he would wake from a soiled sleep.

He would call for his Sherry and she would be there, and as he would gently stroke her smooth young skin, running his fingers over her face, her slender throat, her soft breasts, down into the wet folds of her youthful pussy, he would forget, he would block the past from his mind, he would return to the present, to his new life… to his new destiny…