A few minutes later, the twins emerge from the bathroom — cleaned up, hair smoothed, faces fresh. Still in just their bras and skirts, no panties, their school shoes and socks still on. Dana's in navy, Gina in charcoal. They don't reach for their discarded shirts. They stand there, waiting, looking at me with open, trusting faces.
I smile. "Good girls. Let's get some lunch."
I lead them to the kitchen. Katie's at the stove, stirring something that smells like garlic and butter. Hope and Hester are already at the table, sitting across from each other. They look up as we walk in.
"Girls," I say, "this is Dana and Gina. As you already know, they'll be joining us for tutoring on Saturdays."
"A plate for everyone," Katie calls over her shoulder. "Sit, sit."
They sit. Dana and Gina on one side of the table, Hope and Hester on the other. I take the head, where I can watch. Katie moves between stove and counter, her rhythm easy.
Hope's eyes sweep over the twins — their bra-clad torsos, their relaxed postures — and a slow smile spreads across her face. "Hey. Nice to meet you."
Gina smiles back. "Hey." Dana ducks her head, a faint blush rising on her cheeks, and murmurs a hello into her shoulder.
Under the table, Dana's hand finds Gina's.
The girls fall into chatter — school, teachers, which subjects suck. The twins relax by the minute. Gina mentions their uniform skirts are itchy, and Dana nods in agreement.
Then Hope stretches, slow and deliberate, her arms rising above her head, her grey tee lifting to show a sliver of her midriff. She catches my eye, then the twins'.
"Man, it's warm in here," she says, her voice casual. "You guys feel it?"
Without waiting for a reply, Hope hooks her fingers into the hem of her tee and pulls it up, slow — teasingly slow — first baring her stomach, then her ribs, then the pale pink lace of her bralette. She lets the fabric hang for a second, watching the twins, before pulling it over her head and tossing it onto the empty chair beside her.
The twins watch, but their expressions don't shift. No disfort, no confusion. To them, a girl in her bra at the lunch table is simply normal... well, the new normal, courtesy of my suggestions — and it applies only to this house and these people.
Hope's smile widens. She turns to Hester. "Are you hot too, Hes?"
Hester doesn't hesitate. She grips the hem of her navy sweatshirt and pulls it off in one smooth motion, revealing the sage green bra underneath. She folds the sweatshirt and sets it on the chair beside her.
Hope grins at her, then turns to the twins. "Ben's a great tutor, isn't he?"
Gina flushes. Dana's cheeks go pink, but they both nod.
"The best," Gina says softly.
"Told you." Hope leans back, stretching again. "He tutored Hester and me too." She shoots me a quick look, and I keep my face smooth. A white lie — but Paul told Mary I tutor Hester, and Mary passed that to the twins, so the story holds. Suck it up, Ben. "Best decision we ever made."
All four girls exchange a look — a shared grin that says more than words. A silent understanding passes between them like a current. My little sluts are finding each other.
I let my mind drift, imagining the four of them tumbling together on my bed. Hope pinning Dana's wrists, Hester's mouth on Gina's neck, a tangle of limbs and bras and flushed skin. Katie joining in. The sounds they'd make.
The thought hardens me, but I keep my face neutral.
Katie sets the last dish on the table and steps back. She pulls her shirt over her head — a loose linen button-down — and drops it onto the counter. She's wearing a simple nude bra underneath, her curves soft and full. She catches my look and winks.
"Family lunch," she says, and sits.
We eat. Garlic butter chicken, roasted potatoes, green beans. The girls chatter about school, teachers, a movie Hope wants to see. The twins open up — they talk about swimming at the old mill, about how their mom is strict but fair, about how they were nervous about tutoring but now they're not.
Every time they talk about tutoring, their cheeks flush. Every time, Hope catches my eye and smirks. "Maybe someday you can tutor us all together, Ben."
I grin back. "Sorry, I only have two hands."
The twins flush. All four girls laugh.
Lunch winds down. Katie clears the plates. The girls help, moving around each other in the small kitchen, bras and bare torsos catching the afternoon light.
I check the time. "One hour before your mom picks you up. Let's get back to work."
The twins nod. I look at them. "Dress up. You'll want to be presentable."
They slip out and return a few minutes later, blouses buttoned, sweaters back on. Dana's blue, Gina's pink, their cheeks still carrying a leftover flush. They look like nothing happened. Like they spent a normal Saturday studying math.
We settle into the study corner. I give them three more exercises — harder ones, pound word problems with fractions and percentages.
They solve them in ten minutes. Every answer correct.
I hide my grin. Orgasms do wonders for concentration.
We still have time before Mary arrives, so I keep my voice light, steering the chat to nothing in particular — how their week was, what they'll do for the rest of the weekend. As we talk, I grab the paper towels and wipe down the desk chairs, still damp with their juice from earlier. Dana notices and turns crimson. Gina hides a grin behind her hand.
I let them bask in it. Then I lean forward, my voice dropping just enough.
"Girls. What we did today — that stays here. It's not something you do on your own. Things like that need my supervision."
Gina's brow furrows. Dana's smile fades.
"No touching," I say, meeting their eyes. "Not yourselves, not each other — not those places. Not when you're at home. If your mom finds out, she might not let you e back. And we wouldn't want that, would we?"
Their faces shift. The pout es first — Dana's lip juts out, Gina's jaw tightens. Then the words sink in. Losing this. Losing the tutoring. Their eyes go wide, and they start nodding, fast, like little birds pecking seeds.
Well, big-titied little birds. But still.
"Good girls." I open my arms. "e here."
They step into a three-way hug, pressing against me, their faces buried in my chest. I hold them tight, kiss the tops of their heads one at a time. "I'm proud of you. You did great today. Next Saturday, we'll pick up where we left off."
...And maybe next time I'll have you naked, and I'll get to eat you out.
The doorbell rings.
I release them. They step back, blouses still buttoned, sweaters still on — two perfect schoolgirls who spent the afternoon studying math.
"Go on," I say. "Your mom's here."
They exchange that twin glance — the one that says we have a secret now — and head for the door.
Mary's arrived. Tutoring-disguised-sex-ed is over for today.
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