Chapter 4

Bob made his way to the stage wing after the first piece. By then he knew he wasn't in trouble any more. By then he knew they were horny. His chair was ready again, and he sat, eyes closed, submerged in the music for the rest of the concert. While the crowd roared and stamped their feet and clapped their hands raw, he stood as the girls ran toward him. Daffy almost knocked him over as she hugged him, reaching her lips up for a kiss.

This time he was ready for it ... excited himself ... and he kissed her back. She ground her body against his, rubbing him with her breasts, and sliding her hands over his shoulders. Quite suddenly she pushed him away, panting.

"We found your picture," she said. Then she kissed him again, only to be pushed aside by Gabriella, who kissed him just as intensely. He knew his stiff prick was pressing into her belly, but she either didn't notice, or didn't care.

He pushed them both away. "Your encore," he panted.

They ran back to the stage, curtsying, and sat. The stage hand brought the cello out, but Gabby held up one hand, and leaned toward her sister. They conferred, and Gabby stood up to speak into the stage hand's ear. He made a retreat, taking the cello with him, while Daffy pulled one of the microphones to her mouth.

Never, during the performance, had either girl spoken, and the crowd, which was still making noise, quieted instantly.

"Can you hear me?" came Daffy's timid voice, resounding through the hall. There was laughter.

"We're going to do something a little different. They have to get things ready, so while they're doing that, I want to say that we're going to have a special guest play with us. He's our uncle, and while our mother is recuperating in the hospital from an automobile accident, he's brought us on this tour."

Bob felt his heart seize, as three stage hands rolled a grand piano out on stage, and a fourth brought the bench. Another one brought Gabby her violin while Daffy went on.

"He didn't know we were going to do this, so he's probably really nervous. Be nice to him, please. He's never done this before, but he's not bad, and we love playing with him at home. We thought you might like a taste of pure American music. We hope you like it."

There was a buzz from the crowd as Daphne came to the wings and literally dragged Bob out on stage. In his tux, he looked like he was prepared for this, but he wasn't. The spotlight blinded him as polite applause swelled. The noise reminded him there were thousands of people sitting out there. Daphne took him to the piano and sat him down.

"You'll do fine," she whispered. "Just think about doing it at home."

Then she was gone, returning to stand beside her sister as the stage hands arranged microphones for standing performers. They moved two mikes for voice too. When everything was ready, the two girls retuned their violins. Bob heard the raspy sound associated with fiddle music and tensed. He knew lots of things by heart, but Daffy hadn't told him what they were going to play. Often, at home, he just jammed with them, and he could do that relatively well, just chording. He knew several pieces really well, or at least his fingers did. Still, he waited with dread in his heart.

Gabby leaned forward, and the crowd went silent instantly. Her sweet voice rang through the hall.

"This is called 'The Devil Went Down To Georgia'."

Bob's instincts kicked in. They had played this song many many times in the home studio, and his fingers went to their familiar position on the keys instantly. Part of his job, in this song, was to provide the base beat, replacing drums. His right hand would play counterpoint to the speaking parts, filling in the gaps while the girls talked.

Daffy looked over, stamped her foot in a four beat rhythm, and they were off.

For Bob, the only way he could keep control was to look at the keys and think about the music. The audience disappeared, and he concentrated on the sound of the girls' voices as they went through the story in the song. Gabby played the devil's part, dragging an awful howl from her instrument, while Bob pounded the base keys in accompaniment. Then Daffy played Fire on the Mountain and the girls sang the words in harmony. The harmony of their voices as they supported each other vocally was high and sweet, but with a rough edge that made them sound much older than they really were. At the end, both played Johnny's part together, a third apart. Daphne had set a fast pace to begin with, and it seemed, to Bob, like it was over in a very short time. All three of them were panting with the exertion of the piece though, and strands of gut were hanging from both girls bows because of the violence with which they had played. Bob played the last three pounding chords that finished the piece, and the memory of the chord vibrated in the air as the girls dropped their violins.

The crowd went ape shit. That's the only way to describe it. They howled and screamed and clapped. People surged forward, until security personnel had to push them back. Both girls were grinning like the Cheshire Cat as they turned to point to Bob, who levered himself to his shaky legs and smiled a tight smile, waving to the crowd he couldn't see. It had been rank insanity, but it had also been the kind of fun that leaves an indelible imprint on the soul.

Both girls came to collect him, each taking an arm, and made him bow with them as the thunderous applause went on and on. They had to drag him off stage too, because his legs weren't working well at all.

Once past the curtains, the girls broke into a run, pulling Bob to the dressing room and through the door. Both girls eyes were wild and hot. They carefully placed their violins in their cases, and whirled to stand, facing Bob.

"You can stay if you want," panted Daphne, turning her sister to unzip the back of her dress.

Bob was still in shock from having to perform with no notice, and with how well it had gone. No one had ever applauded for him before, and he realized how addictive that could become. Then he saw Gabby's pale shoulders appear, and saw her arm reach back to undo her bra, and he realized what they were about to do. The pain that lanced through his balls told him that, if he stayed, something terrible would happen.

"I can't," he blurted. "Lock the door!" he gasped, as he slid out of it.

He turned to find that the press was there, and they were as excited as the audience had been. He was peppered with questions. How long had he been playing? Had he known they would do this? Wasn't this the first time they had departed from the program? Wasn't this the first time they had ever sung during a performance? It was overwhelming in a way that actually calmed him. It took his mind off of what was going on behind the door he was leaning weakly against. He held up both hands.

"This is about them ... not me," he said, his voice not quite normal yet. "You can talk to them when they get changed."

They tried to argue with him. Some of them had not been there the night before, but, through the grapevine, had heard that there was a story to be had, concerning these two prodigies. That prediction had come in, in spades. Bob made the same rules as the night before. Each reporter, or team, would be given two minutes with the girls, to do an interview, or ask questions, but that was all. If that wasn't agreed to, there would be no interviews at all.

They tried to argue with him on that too, until security men appeared and offered to escort the press out of the building. Then they calmed down, and waited.

It was a short wait. The door opened, and the two girls came out. Bob realized they couldn't possibly have done what they usually did. All they'd had time to do was get dressed. They were still flushed, their eyes still filled with passion.

The girls gave the press extra time, altering Bob's rules with impunity, and having what amounted to a press conference. They had departed from the norm and they knew that would be of interest. They took questions that would have been asked ten or fifteen times, and answered them once, which allowed time for more questions. Thirty-five minutes later, they thanked the members of the media, grabbed Bob's arms, and hustled him to the limo.

Once inside the limo, the quiet was a balm. Both girls sat across from Bob, and fidgeted.

"I still can't believe you did that," Bob sighed.

"It was so much fun," squealed Gabby. "When Daffy said we should do that, it just felt right."

"I shouldn't have played with you," he said.

"They loved you," said Daphne. "We loved you too. It was fun!" She wiggled in the seat. "It made me even hornier than I was before."

"You didn't... ?" Bob couldn't say the words. "In your dressing room?"

"It was too noisy," said Daphne. "All those people were right outside the door."

"I'm sorry," said Bob. "They were all out there when I left, and I couldn't do anything about it."

Gabby picked up the phone and told the driver to take them back to the hotel.

"Don't you want to get something to eat?" asked Bob.

"Later," said Gabby. "We have something else to do first."

Bob should have seen the signs. Both girls were still pinker than normal and wiggled all over the seats, as if they had ants in their pants. They had invited him to stay ... to be in the room with them while they masturbated. He knew that was just youthful passion. But he also knew that he had only so much control, and that these girls were stretching it very thin. That's why he'd left. He thought that the press conference had caused their passion to ebb.

He was wrong.

When they got into the room, both girls started disrobing.

Bob turned to go to the bathroom.

"Uncle BOB!" came Daphne's firm voice.

He stopped.

"You put your picture in there," she said.

"I'm sorry," he said, facing the bathroom.

"We're not," she said stridently. "We want to see it ... for real."

"I can't do that," he moaned.

"We won't try to touch it," she pleaded. "Please ... we're so horny right now, we have to do this. All we want to do is see it."

"This is crazy," he said.

"No it's not. You know how this works for us ... please?"

"Deliah would kill me," he whined.

"Mom will never know," said Daphne. Her voice was rough. Bob knew she was already rubbing her pussy. He could hear it in her voice. "You don't have to get naked or anything ... just let us see it."

Bob entered the Twilight Zone, just then. He told himself that, if he did this thing, they would do what they had to do, and it would be over. Their curiosity would be assuaged. It would be enough and life could get back to normal. Had he been thinking a bit more clearly, he would have realized that's just not how things work in the world of passionate curiosity, on either their or his part. But, in the fog of the Twilight Zone, he convinced himself that this could be made workable. He turned, unzipping his pants.

"Yes!" came Gabby's husky voice.

"It's soft!" came Daphne's whine.

Bob looked down. He was in a daze. He remembered being hard, but that seemed like a long time ago, and a lot had happened since then. He focused on Daphne, and his eyes took in her naked form, sprawled in an easy chair. She had one finger pressed on her clit, and was rubbing it in circles. Her pussy was right below it. It was the first time he'd seen her pink lips, engorged now, and wet looking. He looked down again and saw his prick start rising. He turned his head toward the bed, where Gabby lay, flat on her back, her knees raised and spread. She had two fingers in her, and Bob could see her pussy lips too, paler than her sisters, but just as swollen. She was spreading them apart as she thrust her fingers between them. Her head was raised, and her eyes were wild.

"Yessss ... touch it," gasped Daphne.

He looked down again and saw his hand was wrapped around his cock, which had gotten stiffer. He had started jacking it without even thinking about it. He looked back at Daffy, who had added a finger and was rubbing faster. Her mouth was open, and her breasts jiggled, partly from what her hand was doing between her legs, and partly because she was panting.

"He's doing it with us," moaned Gabriella, her hand a blur now. "This is sooo coool."

Her neck muscles complained and she sat up convulsively, and scooted to the edge of the bed. Her legs splayed wide, her knees straight now. Bob stared at her perky nipples, and he felt his hand start moving faster. Some part of his mind recognized he wasn't supposed to be doing this, but he had to now. His balls felt like they had a quart of spunk in them. Rasping breath filled the room, as the girls rubbed harder and faster, along with Bob.