Mommy Helps Her Virgin Daughter
In a week my daughters had set up Best Dad's Daughter Services. "Showing young girls how to love their daddies!"
Sarah set up the website, Tonya did the banner and other graphic designs, and Janelle did the marketing. I couldn't believe how excited they were for me to teach other daughters how to love their daddies, and to teach other fathers how to be a great dad by fucking the hell out of their barely legal daughters.
This belt buckle was insane. Everyone who came near me fell under the power. I didn't even have to wear the belt buckle any longer. I could leave it at home and complete strangers would come up to me and ask my advice. They just
knew.
It cast some sort of spell on me. As impossible as that seemed, as crazy as it was, that was what had happened. And though I had tried to fight it, knowing that it was wrong to take advantage of the people controlled, I was weak. Especially when it came to my three girls.
The new cell phone rang. Tonya squealed and grabbed it. "Best Dad's Daughter Services," she said brightly. "This is Tonya speaking. How may I help you?"
As she spoke, she was sitting down at a laptop with a spreadsheet opened that had columns to fill in. She put the phone on speaker and a woman came up, saying, "...help with my daughter. She's just not sleeping with her father like she should be."
"Okay," said Tonya, typing in those comments. "Now, what's your name, ma'am?"
"Barbara," she answered. "Barbara Foreman."
"Foreman..." Tonya muttered under her breath as she typed. "Okay, and your phone number."
She started entering in all the contact information. The daughter was named Chantelle. Then she asked when Barbara wanted to schedule her appointment. "Uh, Saturday would probably be best. Maybe around noon."
"Noon on Saturday," said Tonya, clicking on the spreadsheet and pointing in a mark. "You're penned in, Mrs. Foreman."
"Okay," Barbara said. "That's great. I hope this can help Chantelle out. She's a good girl. Mostly. But she's just not..."
"Loving her daddy." Tonya giggled. My youngest glanced at me, her blonde hair, gathered in a pair of pigtails, swung about her face. "That's what we're here for. My sisters and I all love our dad. He's the best daddy in the world, that's why he's going to help your daughter out."
"Wonderful," the woman said. "I have to go."
"You have yourself a great day, Mrs. Foreman," Tonya said brightly, the eighteen-year-old girl's face bursting with delight. "Bye!"
She tapped the screen to end the call and then turned to face me. "Daddy!" she squealed. "First customer!"
* * *
Saturday at noon came around. As I had agreed when my daughters came up with this plan, one of my girls would be there to help. Tonya penned herself in for the first one, but they were supposed to alternate normally.
She was just so excited, Janelle and Sarah didn't mind getting skipped.
DING-DONG!
"That's them," Tonya squealed. She wore a tight jean skirt that hugged her bubbly butt and a tank top that clung to her round breasts. Her blonde pigtails flew behind her as she raced to the door. I swallowed, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, some cologne on.
Tonya insisted on me wearing the old spice.
She reached the door and wrenched it open. A blonde woman was standing on the porch in a sundress. She was my age or maybe a few years younger, with a gorgeous face and a full figure. Her large breast swelled out the front of her yellow dress. She adjusted her purse slung on her shoulder as she smiled.
"Mrs. Foreman?" my daughter asked.
"Yes," she said and licked her lips. Then she looked behind her where a petite and shy girl waited halfway on the path from the driveway. She wore her brown hair in pigtails and had on a pair of jeans a pink baby doll t-shirt with a unicorn prancing on the front. She was staring down at her phone, her shoulders hunched. "Come on, Chantelle. Don't be shy. Mr. Daniels is supposed to be the best at this."
"My daddy is," Tonya said. She motioned to me.
I felt that same nervousness as the daughter, my mouth dry and stomach twisting. This wasn't helping out my coworkers but a complete stranger. A woman who was
paying me
to fuck her daughter. I stepped up to her.
"Hi, Barbara," I said, trying to be friendly. "I'm Trevor."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, giving me a polite smile, a wedding ring gleaming on her hand. Then she glanced again at her daughter. "Chantelle, come on. I'm not going to ask again."
The girl looked up at me. Her blue eyes widened. Her cheeks went red. She shoved her hands into her pockets and rushed up to stand beside her mother. She trembled there, looking up at me. Her chest rose and fell.
"Hi, Chantelle," I said, holding out my hand. "You don't have anything to be afraid of. We're going to give you the confidence to love your father."
She swallowed and then took my hand with her trembling fingers. Her warm digits held me lightly. I smiled and gently pulled her into the house. Tonya was beaming as I did. The girl stared up into my eyes, her cheeks going redder and redder.
"See," Tonya said, grabbing Barbara's hand and pulling the married woman in after her daughter. "This is going to be perfect. The bedroom is this way."
"And I just wait down here?" Barbara asked, staring at the living room.
"Of course not," said Tonya, this wicked gleam in her blue eyes. "You need to be up there to support your daughter. Help her out."
What was my daughter up to?
"Oh, okay," Barbara said. "Anything to help make this easier for Chantelle. I thought it would be easier if I wasn't in the room. I mean, I don't want to embarrass her."
"Mom," groaned Chantelle.
"Trust me," Tonya said. "We're professionals."
We were?
"Yeah," I said, my dick so hard in my jeans.
I led Chantelle to the stairs and up them. My other two daughters had made themselves scarce for the appointment. I had two more today scheduled with Janelle and Sarah respectively helping out. We were just starting, but people were booking up to have their barely legal daughters
fucked