Evening. The rental goes back tomorrow, but that's a problem for tomorrow. Right now I'm on the couch, one arm draped along the back, the TV murmuring in the corner, and Hester's on her knees between my legs with my cock in her mouth. Easy rhythm. No rush.
I rest a hand on the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair while she works. She glances up at me — that worshipful look she gets, patient as a clock — and keeps going, tongue curling along the underside, cheeks hollowing. Casual. Domestic. Same as brushing her teeth.
My eyes stay on the ceiling, but my mind isn't here.
*Alright. The list. Let's run the list.*
*The cars.* I can't keep renting every time I need to move. I need my own wheels, and Katie needs hers. With the school, there'll be a lot of back and forth — contractors, inspectors, staff interviews. Two cars, bought proper. A practical errand, nothing more.
Hester hums around me, a soft, contented sound, and I feel the vibration travel up my spine. My hand tightens in her hair, a gentle cue. She takes the hint, bobbing a little deeper.
*Teachers.* Delaney. Young, sharp, lonely in that way that makes a woman easy to reach — English Lit, poetry, those tired eyes that light up when she talks about Keats. Paul's making calls, building the list, the core curriculum — six to eight at minimum before the state even looks at the permit. Delaney's the keystone. Get her, and the rest start to fall.
*Mary.* The Pin of Trust's still working, ticking her up by the hour. Trust seventy-three, loyalty thirty-five — not where I want her, not yet, but the foundation's laid. A midweek scene, something quiet, something that feels like friendship. Then she's another follower, another thread pulled tight.
Hester's pace slows, dragging, teasing. I look down at her, and she's watching me — eyes dark, a question in them. Am I in the way? Is she losing me?
I smile and tug her hair gently. "Keep going, pet. I'm right here."
The tension in her shoulders eases. She redoubles her effort, and I let my head fall back again.
*The twins.* Saturday. The tutoring's ing along — both of them primed, nine aerosol suggestions already planted in their heads, the panty rule in place. They're close, those two. Trust creeping up, that first-orgasm milestone behind them, and every time they're in the room together they get that synchronized flush.
Hester's tongue does something clever, and I grunt, my hips twitching. She smirks around me, proud of herself. Good girl.
*The priest.* Paul's still scouting. A depraved one, preferably — someone already broken, someone I can buy outright rather than corrupt. The chapel needs a man the town trusts, and a man the town trusts who already whispers the right prayers to the right people is worth his weight in gold. Paul's got feelers out. Nothing yet.
*And the school itself.* Here's the thing nobody's said out loud yet, the thing I keep turning over while Hester works and the TV murmurs: between the renovations, the staffing, the permits — the paperwork alone would choke a horse — there is no way the doors open by the start of the next school year. Not a chance. Spring's already bleeding into early summer, and a building that needs rewiring and a floorplan that needs knocking through doesn't happen in a season.
*But that's fine. That's more than fine. It gives me time — time to wire the place properly, time to seed the staff, time to make sure every stone in that convent answers to me before a single girl walks in. Rushing a thing like this is how you get caught. Building it slow is how you own it forever.*
Hester speeds up, taking me deeper, her mouth hot and tight, and the list fizzles out at the edges — the last item smudging like it always does when she works me like this. She knows my body better than I do. She knows when I'm done thinking.
I let my hand slide to the back of her neck, and I let go.
[Pervy act detected: blowjob: 400 PDP]
She swallows it all, looking up at me with that shine in her eyes, and I pull her up by the shoulders and pat her head — a couple of firm, warm pats, the way you'd praise a good dog, because that's what she is, and she preens under it.
"Good girl." My voice es out rough. "Thank you. Now scoot — go do your homework. I'll be along in a bit."
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning, and bounces off the couch and out of the room without another word. The door clicks shut behind her.
I take a breath, button up, and stand.
The girls' room is two doors down. The door's half-open, and I can see Hope at her desk, math book open, pencil in hand, a page of equations half-solved. Hester's at her own desk beside it — the one we added when she moved in — her history textbook propped open on the surface. Hope hears me ing and looks up — and there's that knowing look, that little smirk that says she's been waiting, that she knows exactly what "help with my equations" means in this house.
"Daddy," she says, all innocent, "I'm stuck on number four."
I move behind her chair and lean over her shoulder, my hands landing on her shoulders. "Let me see."
She tips the book up toward me, and I scan the problem — a quadratic, the kind that folds cleanly if you know the trick. "Alright," I murmur. "Let's work through it."
She gets up to let me settle into the chair, and she doesn't need to be told twice. She straddles me, hiking her skirt up, and sinks down onto my cock with a soft, satisfied sound — no underwear, of course. There's no point in them, not anymore.
"There," she breathes, wiggling into place. "Now I can think."
She picks up the pencil, studies the page, and starts to work. And she works the way she always does — bouncing, a slow, steady rhythm that has her writing in little bursts, solving each line between rises. The pencil scratches. Her hips roll. Her concentration is remarkable, actually — the answer taking shape in her neat handwriting while she rides me, my hands finding their way under her shirt, palms sliding up her belly to her tits.
*A pity, really. One cock. Just the one. Can't help both of them with their math at the same time.*
I knead them through the cotton, rolling her nipples between my fingers, and her pencil stutters.
"Number four's a tricky one," I murmur into her ear. "Try factoring."
She bites her lip, bounces twice, and writes the next line. Correct.
Across the room, Hester's slid low in her chair at her own desk, her pants and panties lowered to mid-thigh, legs spread wide with her feet up on her desk. Her hand works herself in quick, frantic circles, her gaze kept to the side — checking the action, watching her sister bounce on my cock. She doesn't even try to pretend she's studying.
I squeeze harder, grinding my hips up into her, and she gasps — the pencil skips a character. She frowns at the page, erases, tries again. Wrong line. I feel her flush.
"Careful, babygirl. Focus."
She finds her rhythm again, bouncing faster, the equation ing together, and every time she gets a line right I reward her — a roll of my hips, a squeeze of her tits, a low word of praise in her ear. And every time I push deeper, her concentration breaks, a wrong number slipping onto the page before she catches herself.
"Four. x equals four."
"Good girl." I thrust up into her, hard, and her pencil scratches a jagged line across the margin. "Two more."
Her answers e quicker now, breathless, riding a crest that has nothing to do with algebra. I feel her start to tighten around me, that flutter that means she's close, and I cup her tits in both hands, thumbs working her nipples, and take over the pace — snapping my hips up to meet her, driving her faster and faster.
"Daddy — "
"Solve the last one, babygirl, and you can e."
She sobs out the answer — "x equals minus two" — and I bury myself to the hilt and let her fall apart, her cunt clenching around me in waves while she cries out against my shoulder. I follow her over, my release pumping into her in thick pulses, marking her, and I hold her there until we're both shaking and still.
Out of the corner of my eye, Hester's whole body shudders in the chair, a choked sound escaping her as she finishes on her own hand, watching us. Her history textbook lies face-down on the floor, pushed off her desk in her frenzy.
[Pervy act detected: vaginal sex: 600 PDP]
[Pervy act detected: cumshot in cunt: 600 PDP]
[Hope orgasm: 500 PDP]
[Total earned: 2,100 PDP]
[New balance: 58,375 PDP]
She slumps against me, pencil still clutched in her hand, breath hot against my neck. I smooth her hair back and look at the page over her shoulder — number four, solved. Number five, half-solved. Number six, blank.
*If your daughter can solve equations while hopping up and down on your cock,* I think, watching her work the pencil one last time, *she's got a bright future ahead of her.*
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