Author's Note: While this story deals with the life of a single father, all sexual encounters are between characters 18 years old and older.
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Life is often not what you plan it to be. Take me for instance. If you would have told me when I got married that in only a few short years I'd be raising twin girls as a single parent, I probably wouldn't have gotten married. Even the thought of it would have terrified me beyond words. But I did get married, and we did have two wonderful twin girls, Diane and Tabitha, and only a short ten years later that most terrifying situation became reality. I would be raising my girls alone. Life isn't always what you plan it to be, but the old saying is that when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. So I did my best to squeeze the lemons and give my best to my daughters.
Today I wouldn't trade my life for anyone's. Oh, don't get me wrong. I'd dearly love to still have the love of my life with me. But that isn't what I got. Instead I have two of the most precious things on earth to care for and help grow. It hasn't always been easy, and at times it's been quite uncomfortable for me. Things that you would always expect the mother to take care of fell on mister mom because there wasn't anyone else. Having to have talks about puberty and their periods and having to teach them about feminine hygiene products. These were less than comfortable topics for me, but they had to be talked about.
Authors note to readers: After multiple attempts to get even the most mundane non-sexual description of a typical event many single fathers have encountered through the moderators, I have been reduced to this note. The site moderators have objected to even the suggestion of any nudity in conjunction with any characters under the age of 18. Therefor it is up to the reader to self determine what transpired leading to the need of the single father to have the "sex" talk with his daughters.
An event occurred when they were fifteen the made the "sex" talk mandatory, discussing among other things, the virtues of abstinence and saving it for someone you loved and not treating it as a commodity to be traded around like so many young people did today.
The next day I made an appointment with their gynecologist for them to talk about birth control. They had me come in and listen to the doctor as they decided which form was the best for them. I left during their pelvic exams, feeling more uncomfortable about it than they apparently did. After their exams I met again with the doctor to discuss their results and their prescriptions. I'd known Sylvia for a number of years now, and even gone out on a date once at the behest of my daughters. Because of our history she felt comfortable suggesting that I get them more appropriate things to use than the handle of a hair brush, going so far as to suggest that she'd be willing to go shopping with me.
I reluctantly accepted and Sylvia and I went to an adult store to select the appropriate devices, ending up with two simple torpedo shaped vibrators. The sales clerk, a very good looking thirty something young woman, apparently sensing my discomfort, suggested that she instruct us on use as well as proper cleaning. While I was sure Sylvia didn't really need any such instruction, she seemed to revel in my discomfort as she lifted her skirt in the little classroom area in such a way that she could remove her underwear and insert the vibrating device into herself while coyly blocking my view of her pussy. The whole "class" left me feeling extremely horny and uncomfortable at the same time.
Through high school my girls became less concerned about how they covered themselves at home, often wearing things that were far more revealing than I would have allowed them to wear in public. They argued that they weren't in public, but I didn't know how to explain that the difference was that they were becoming young women not the little girls I'd bathed.
Now don't think that staying a single parent was a conscious choice. The reality was that the girls had spent many an attempt to "hook me up" with some nice woman to date. It seems that single women just can't refuse a daughter's request to take their dad out on a date. Some of those dates turned out to be okay, others total disasters. A few even turned into pleasant sexual encounters. But finding a "replacement" for my wife just wasn't happening. I was far too busy between work and keeping up with the girls and all their activities to really have time to develop a relationship with someone. Or at least that was the excuse I used, an excuse that I was about to regret using. My girls, now eighteen, would in a few short weeks be headed off to college and that would leave me alone in this house. It was a prospect I wasn't looking forward to.
After the first few years without my wife the girls and I had started taking a family vacation together each year. For the last half dozen years I'd allowed the girls to choose where we should go. Cost wasn't particularly an issue, but finding the time to plan the trips was getting more and more difficult as my business grew. The last two years I'd allowed the girls to plan the trip and this year they were determined that the trip would be a "surprise" for me. I didn't even know where we were going, except that we were taking a cruise someplace. The only reason they had allowed me to know that much was because we were going to have to go shopping.
About two weeks before our departure, the girls took me on a "shopping trip". We hit a number of stores, the girls picking a variety of light weight dresses, all of which they made me watch them model. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy getting my two princesses new clothes, but today they seemed even more interested in modeling not only things I agreed were "appropriate", but also things that were far more revealing, knowing full well I wouldn't allow them to purchase those particular items. By the time they had picked a dozen dresses, several shorts and shirt combinations, and a variety of underclothes to go with it all, I had to say, daughters or not, they had me turned on. I almost wondered at times if it weren't their intent to cause less than fatherly thoughts, especially when they insisted on modeling some of their bras and panties for me, arguing that their swimsuits would certainly show off at least that much. I should have expected what came next.
They took me to our final stop, a swimwear store. It was a little out of the way shop that didn't look overly busy, which turned out to be true. Other than the clerk, a good looking woman that seemed to be only a few years younger than myself, we had the place to ourselves.
The girls got into the task with gusto, drawing the clerk into the conversation and choosing a number of suits to try on. I settled on an offered chair, expecting a long wait while they tried on the variety of suits. I wasn't going to be so lucky. My girls quickly returned from the dressing room wearing their first selection, each a different but rather modest bikini. They turned this way and that, looking at themselves in the multi-sided mirror as well as showing me how they looked and inadvertently how much did and didn't show.
The show continued, with each subsequent suit getting smaller and skimpier. I hoped that they didn't notice how big the bulge in my pants had gotten with their twists and turns, doing my best to hide it with my hat.
"Okay. Now you can't wear that in public!" I said as Tabby stepped out of the dressing room in a tiny lime green string bikini that looked as if she wiggled too much, her 32 D cup breasts would simply pop the strings. Not that the top covered all that much anyway. The triangles of cloth held by the tiny strings looked like they barely covered her nipples.
"No?" she asked, turning to admire herself in the mirror, exposing her back side to me, and along with it her completely bare ass, only three very tiny strings breaking the expanse of soft looking butt.
"Definitely not!" I said with a frown, watching her turn to and fro. I almost gasped in shock as she bent over, her barely covered pussy pushing out between her legs at me. "DEFINITLY NOT!"
"But I could wear it at home, right? Laying out? I wouldn't have hardly any tan lines at all!" she said cheerfully as Diane came out to join her in an equally daring yellow bikini.
"Look you two. There isn't any way in hell I'm letting you wear those in public without carrying a shotgun!" I said, trying to lighten the tension I was feeling with one of our standard jokes.
"I'll get you a new shotgun if you let me wear it on the trip," Tabby said, pressing the issue.
"Absolutely not. You can go back to the last one. That's about as small as I'm comfortable letting you wear," I said sternly, letting them know that they had pushed the limit.
"But we still have more to try!"
"Not if they're smaller than these!"
"But we REALLY want to see what the next ones look like!" Diane complained. "It's just us. It's not like it's out in public, right Daddy?"
Okay. I knew I was in trouble right then. The ONLY time I got "daddy" any more was when they were about to try and convince me to do something or let them do something that I wasn't going to be happy about. "You can try 'em on, but just stay in the dressing room and you can see what they look like."
"But the mirror is out here!" Tabby said with a frown. "Isn't there something we can do?"
"You're not wearing anything skimpier than those. You might as well be naked!" I said, standing firm.
Then the unexpected happened. They had set me up so completely that even I had to admit it was masterful. Diane turned to the clerk and with an impish little grin asked. "Would you model them for my dad so he can see that they're really not that bad?"
"Well. I wouldn't usually do something like that," the clerk protested weakly.
