Chapter 163: Where Oh Where Have the Little Twins Gone

Where are the twins and their big sister? Why aren’t they here?

Spooned up behind the oldest of the four kids the cum sluts had brought into the hotel room, I couldn’t figure out why the twins and their big sister weren’t here. Everything they had told me made it clear that they didn’t have anywhere else to go unless the government picked them up and put them into foster care. I know for sure that the only clothes they had went into the dumpster as soon as Molly found the three of them in our room. The last time I was awake I felt them out shopping with Molly to get plenty of new clothes. It bothered me that I couldn’t feel them anywhere in the area.

Soon I was pulling in a lot of energy to spread out my “radar” trying to find them. It worried me that I couldn’t sense them anywhere in North America. That felt like the maximum range I was able to scan. I knew I could go into South America, but only if I did it through power lines. That was a lot harder and would take days to weeks. Even though I couldn’t find them, I knew they were somewhere safe.

I tried to think of other ways to use the place in my head to track them when I remembered how I couldn’t locate Paula back when we did the mission to bust the child sex slave traders. Somehow, I knew they were ok and someplace safe, otherwise Molly would have gotten in touch with me. She would never had allowed them to go anywhere without knowing someone was taking good care of them.

Molly may not be able to show emotions, but she has enough maternal instinct to want to keep them safe.

When I was searching for them I had been hyper-focused didn’t realize I had been fucking the girl that was spooning with me. We had been going for so long that I subconsciously gave her every form of energy she needed to keep getting off, hard, so she had no interest in having me stop. When my dick started feeling her little pre-orgasmic muscles twitches in her vagina I sped so I could bury as much of my seven inches inside her as we came together. With us linked together I triggered a long, shared orgasm. She would have screamed out her pleasure, if she hadn’t already become hoarse sometime during a previous orgasm.

“Wow that was amazing,” I told her. “That has to be one of the best screwing I have ever had. I know it was the longest.”

Since she couldn’t talk, one of the cum sluts said, “My turn! I’ve waited for days to take a ride on that monster dick. I don’t even care if you knock me up. Never have I seen two people fuck for over two hours without the guy getting off or the girl’s drying out. I stopped counting at twenty-seven orgasms. I couldn’t hold back my need to get off again. Shit, I would be happy to have had you last over five minutes.”

“Can I take a piss first,” I asked the cum slut.

I was already on the way to the bathroom so she guided me the rest of the way into the bathroom. She sucked me hard before guiding me to where she bent over the counter with me between her legs.

No vision required to take care of her needs.

As I pounded her with all seven inches of my dick I started to feel Molly again. She was somewhere around two hours away. The twins, their big sister, and a lot of other people where in a single place together. I couldn’t tap into their twin link from here, but I could sense their general feelings. What I got loud and clear was that most of the people in the room with them were a bit scared of Molly. My guess was she was doing something on the same level as she did with the people trying at fixing Trudy’s house after the tornado.

I snapped out of it because the girl I was pounding had her fingernails digging into my ass. The place in my head let me feel that pain even if it didn’t leave any marks.

After she had me pull out of her she said, “Holy Hell! I went limp the second time I came hard. If I let you keep going to give me my fifth orgasm you would completely ruin sex for me with any guy except for you. Help me over to the tub so I can sit down before I fall collapse.”

I got the girl on the toilet to pee and then helped her back into the bedroom.

The sounds of a girl having her pussy eaten, and her hoarse moans, told me that the other cum slut was muff diving for the treasure I had hiding inside the girl she was eating. Some gently feeing around on the bed got me where I was behind the girl having a snack at the Y. She only stopped licking the girl to moan out when I buried my dick in her cock dock. The girl she had been eating had long since slid out from under us by the time I put a big load inside her bearded clam.

“For the first time that I can remember, I’m not going to mind having to fish your cream out of my well fucked pussy. I’m glad you were back in action before it was time for you to leave,” she told me as she fell forward to have my dick pull out of her. “I’ve never been all that fond to have to wait to get some dick when I really needed a good fuck, but you were worth the wait. I know I’m done with short little skinny dicks on guys without the staying power to get me across the finish line first. I don’t care how much those creepy old men and the rich twits two at me to get their dicks in my pussy. The only dicks getting to slide inside me are the ones I know have what it takes to make me cum a lot of times before they are finished for the night.”

When the girl I had slept with found my dick was still rock hard she moved me onto my back to ride me until she came. No matter what the two cum sluts said earlier, they took their turns using my dick to get them off once before sliding off my dick to let the next girl have another ride. I was close to getting off when the girl, who I had fucked from behind in the bathroom after taking a piss, came. I held her hips to keep her from sliding off so she went back to riding me until I pulled her down so my dick buried inside her when I filled her pussy with sperm-less semen. All three helped lick my dick clean before heading to shower together.

Looking around the room, with the place in my head assisting, I found my goggles. It felt a lot better to trade what Molly had put on my eyes for the cool rubbery feeling the light blocking seal of the googles.

I felt a lot better since I could see again.

It was nice to be able to see again, with my real eyes, too.

Beside the bed I found my phone and it had a message from Molly that came in sometime around when the three girls were doing their David dick roulette. One of the girls must have messaged her at some point.

“David. Since you are reading this message, whatever was going on inside your brain has resolved itself. After your only response was strong ejaculations I contacted Paula. She dispatched a physician who, upon the completion of their examination, determined that you were experiencing a much higher than the average amount of brain activity, but you were in perfect health otherwise. They instructed me to have sports-drinks, water, and food available for the times where you became conscious long enough to consume them. I was to allow you to go back into unconsciousness the rest of the time. They also brought the two girls here to care for your needs in exchange for food, shelter, clothing, and a frequently available source of semen to provide for their semen cravings,” Molly’s note explained. “Presently I am in family court with the twins and their older sister. The three children had entered the foster care system after the court declared their parents were unfit to care for them. It seems their parents failed to appear in court for any of the four scheduled hearings after a call to police noted the abandonment of the children by their parents. Nothing is a coincidence David. A search of one of Ariel’s previous employer’s facilities found the children’s parents locked inside one of the secured dormitories. Records indicate that the parents kidnapping and report of the children’s abandonment arranged their collection of the children without anyone questioning the matter. They only needed to report the children had run away from their foster home and the police were unable to locate them. Statistics show that many runaways from foster care end up in child prostitution, child sex slavery, or end up deceased from any number of causes. A transfer of all funds found in another of the organization’s offshore accounts, routed through various methods to remove the ability to track the funds, ended in an account for the family. It is a form of restitution for the actions of the now defunct organization. The hearing is merely a formality. A federal agency possessing details around the parent’s abduction is the only proof needed to explain their absence at the missed hearings. Make sure you slowly consume the food provided and drink a larger than average amount of fluids. The three females in the hotel room each have a strong desire for coitus with you until such a time that their vaginas are unable to have further intercourse.”

I had just locked my phone when a drop-dead gorgeous girl waked naked from the bathroom. Based on the amount of pubic hair and size of her breasts, I knew she was one of the two cum sluts. When she noticed me wearing my goggles, she struck various erotic poses before dragging me over to sit with her on the couch. Automatically I found my hand between her legs with my fingers rubbing the juices, from her reheated bearded clam, around on her clit.

The other cum slut came out of the bathroom a few minutes later. She too was unbelievably gorgeous as well.

These girls don’t need to be giving head and letting creepy old men poke them to earn money. They make the women in the annual swimsuit issue look like skanked out women in their forties. These girls don’t even need a bit of airbrushing.

As soon as she sat on the other side of me my fingers were paddling her pink canoe too. Each enjoyed my slow rubbing of their clits as they relaxed with me on the couch. They were in no hurry to cum.

The oldest of the four kids that arrived with the twins came out rubbing her strawberry-blonde hair with a towel. To me she was the hottest of the three. Her small, firm tits had perfectly sized perky pink nipples. The sun had bleached the curtains, but the darker carpet matched nicely. Ever proportion of her body was as perfect as a girl can get without surgery. Other than a few small zits, she had a flawless body.

“I’m confused,” I told them. “All three of you are a modelling agency’s wet dream. Even with their cut of your earnings you each will make them millionaires before you are twenty-one. How is it that you are here, of all places, giving head to survive?”

The hot strawberry blonde girl said, “The broken foster care system is what happened. My parents died in a car crash. There was nothing suspicious about it, just a wrong place, wrong time. I was only in a foster home to foster home, the system never allowing me to become part of any of the families. Each of my first ten foster families fell in love with me as soon as I came into their home and I soon loved them too. Each time one of the families started the adoption paperwork the system pulled me from their home and moved to another part of the state. My eleventh foster family was taking me to a mall, for some basic clothing needs, when we walked past one of those fly-by-night places that tell you bullshit about how you will be the next superstar model. Well you will be if you paid them some obscene fee to take pictures of you that they post online to see if someone has any interest. They had noticed me when I passed by their window on the way into the department store. When we came back out they were watching for me and offered my foster family a stack of cash while they begged my foster parents to let the modeling agency represent me. The first ten of my foster parents had plenty of money to allow them to try to be a bright spot in their foster child’s life while the kid lived with them. Then there are the ones like the family getting cold, hard, untaxed cash to let the modelling agency take pictures of me. Within weeks I was modelling the latest in tween fashions. Within a week I landed another modelling gig to model swimsuits and underwear. My foster mother was genuinely concerned about the underwear shots, but the money paid for one photo shoot was three times what the foster care system paid them each month. That was at the start too, when they were taking pictures to show ad agencies what I could do if modelling for them. A week after that I was doing shoots for seven different advertisers. My foster parents weren’t supposed to let me do two different shoots in one day, but I was doing it anyway since I wasn’t getting too tired. Then I moved up to modelling in fashion shows. They had very strict rules about what, where, when and for how long I could work each day, but they paid a lot more money. I never saw a dime of the money, but life at that foster home had improved a lot with the extra money coming in. Around a year after I started modelling things at that foster home started going downhill. They never had money for food or anything else. Even the money from the state was gone as soon as it came in. It didn’t take long for the places having me model bathing suits and underwear to notice my thread-bare clothes. Many times, I didn’t even have any underwear because it had worn out. They pretended not to notice, but I knew they what was going on, even if they paid my foster parents a lot for each shoot.”

She took a break to have me hug her until she calmed down.

“Before long the people at the shoots made sure I had good clothes and underwear wear home each day. Some made sure I ate anytime I was between shoots. My foster mom was supposed to be with me the whole time, but she bailed as soon as she dropped me off. Maybe two to three months after they started taking care of me my foster home had days without power, water, or gas because they didn’t pay the bills on time. I was doing more shoots and runway work than ever and yet it felt like we had not eaten for days to be able to drive me to a shoot,” she explained. “Then puberty hit me hard. One Thursday I went home a little girl. On the next Monday I had puffed up buds the size of quarters. A week later I had bud pyramids as big around as half-dollars. The ad companies did their best to try to hide them, but my breasts were soon almost to the size I have now. My work soon changed to having me wearing outfits that showed off my budding breasts, without a bra. Soon I started modeling in dresses so tight that I had to come to the shoot wearing only a robe because clothing lines on my body would show. The more I developed the less the outfits covered. I didn’t even mind that I was naked underneath. I still have no idea why my foster mom raised hell about me taking shots only wearing bikini bottoms. That morning I had been wearing dresses that were so sheer they didn’t hide anything and then thin shorts that were so tight in the crotch that they rubbed my clit when I moved. The pictures were showing the hard, pink bud clearly through the translucent, tightly-stretched shorts. Everything was soon good again at my foster home because they were getting three times the money I got when I started modelling as a little girl.”

From a bag on the floor she pulled out amazing photos of her in very expensive, elaborate, fancy dresses. When I looked closely I was able make out her buds pushing the front of the form-fitting dress as it molded tightly around her small breasts. On another it was clear why they had her pubic hair waxed before each shoot. The after picture didn’t have what looked like a triangle shaped wad of steel wool. When I finished looking at those photos she handed me a brown envelope that contained other pictures.

At first, they were more casual clothes, but like the other pictures she had shown me. The pictures changed to being her in plain, boring, white, wear to church, little girl underwear and bathing suits which were just as modest. At least at the regular places the person getting the leftover wax off or rubbing in the lotion would get her off, so she really didn’t mind.

Yeah. I’m sure they were doing it out of the kindness of their hearts. I wonder how many cameras were recording that from every possible angle.

She then showed me the other pictures her two newest modeling jobs were taking of her.

“When I started being taken to the two new places I started to getting a weird feeling. I didn’t know why at the time. I still did my regular photo shoots and fashion shows at the other places, but I was growing out of the budding tween look they needed in their ads. I began spending more time at the two new places. They waxed me every time I was there for a photo shoot too, but the people doing it were creepy and I didn’t like them touching me at all. I told my foster parents about. They told me I had to deal with it if I wanted to pay my share of the expenses by modelling. If I quit modelling I would have to find some way to earn the money that my modelling brought it. My fashion shows taper off dramatically about two months later. If they didn’t pay me twice the rate everyone else made, then they couldn’t have me do their show. Only a few did when they needed my specific look and body. Most didn’t. I found it weird that after months and months of working mostly at the two newest places, I had never seen a single photo from the photo shoots. My foster parents weren’t smart enough to hide away some of the pictures the places had taken of me. I found them when I was dusting one day. They weren’t as bad as the ones I found later, but each one showed high-quality shots of my bare tits and bald pussy. Whoever took them worked very hard to make them appear like they were ‘oops’ pictures that happened when I moved the wrong way while they were taking a lot of pictures in a row to find the one that had the best look. After finding those pictures I started paying more attention. They were having me move in ways to cause more oops shots than normal pictures of me in the selected outfit. Since the people were paying a lot more than the other modelling agencies my foster parents said I had to deal with it. Then I started hearing the people at the two places talking about me when they didn’t think I was listening. The more my little girl body matured toward that of a woman, the nastier their comments about me got. Once I hear them tell my foster parents that I was getting to the point where I was getting too mature, as I had at the other advertising agencies, for their clients target audience. They weren’t all that interested in paying for a waxed woman’s pussy. If I didn’t have flawless skin and tight tits, they would have dumped me a year ago. They could get dozens of juniors that could give their clients the pictures they wanted and a lot cheaper too. They told them that unless I was willing to show them I had something else to offer, other than just the modelling I had been doing, then that was it for me.”

I can see where this is going a mile away.

She took a few minutes to come up with what she wanted to say before telling me, “I didn’t mind it when they told me that I had to do some very provocative poses in the nude. A week of that and I had to be naked and jack off boys while they took pictures and recorded video. Since by body was still developing they had a lot of creepy old men and sleaze bags jacking off in the dark behind the lights. Now if I happened to jack one of the men off, on camera, then I would get a big bonus. After the first two times I told them I didn’t like doing that with the men, but the boys were ok. That didn’t go over well. My foster dad used something to beat the living shit out of me, which didn’t leave any marks or bruises, to make me do anything the people told me to do. The first time he did it I couldn’t move for three days and hurt everywhere for over a week. Soon the hand jobs became blowjobs, along with a bigger bonus that I never saw a dime of. In addition to the sleazy men I started having to blow the boy models too. One boy model had been touching me gently all day long as I blew him and jacked him off until they said to take a break. I was dripping juices on the floor by then. I let him take my cherry. I found out too late that there were videotaping and photographing the whole thing as he leaned back to let them get the good shots as he took my virginity. Fucker poked me three times and creamed by cunt. When we left that night, my foster parents got an envelope of hundreds that was so fat they couldn’t get the flap to stay closed. I had permission to fuck anyone I wanted, as much as I wanted, if it was on the set at the modelling place. I was good with that because the boy apologized to me the next day as he screwed me until I came three times before he creamed me. That was the only time I ever came the entire time I worked there. My fourteenth birthday present was having my cunt creamed by this smelly fat man with a huge wart on his dick. As an encore he fucked my ass and then my mouth before complaining about my worn-out cunt. Even after I was fucked by two dozen boys and another foul-smelling man, my foster parents didn’t get a dime that day. They took turns beating the shit out of me day and night, with whatever it was that hurt like hell without ever leaving marks. For the next two weeks I hurt so badly that I couldn’t move. It was the only time in my life that I wished they would just drug me up like they did the other girls. I gritted my teeth and clenched the sheets in my hands to keep from screaming out in pain as even a tiny dick inside me was making some part of my body hurt. I was always hurting so much I couldn’t even get wet anymore. I was just a dead fuck filled with lube,” she told me as she came to sit in my lap to lean back against my chest and pulled my arms around her body to hold her caringly. “With no signs it was coming I got my first period unexpectedly. I now had bad cramps to go with the beatings. The kiddie porn people didn’t give a shit, except that everyone had to use rubbers so they paid less than normal. Birth control did something that made me useless to them, somehow, so I was rolling the dice each time someone creamed my pie. My foster father was beyond angry. He would beat me for hours, only taking breaks to rape me. They had taken in other faster kids over the years and those kids knew the score. All of them were as sweet as could be too. Whenever he finished with me they would help me to the bathroom, bathe me and be sure I got something good to eat. If that wasn’t bad enough, I missed my period. Go figure, right?”

She pulled my arms tightly around her to have a long cry and then she explained that he was he king of morons married to the queen of imbeciles. He wanted a bigger payday so he videotaped him raping and beating her or when he was raping any of the other girls that came there to stay for short periods over the years. The girl took a video of herself holding that day’s paper, with the local news going on the TV beside her, as she said that she was scared for her life now that the pee test confirmed she was pregnant.