He didn't know, finally, who first suggested the idea. The trio pressed on to Zoara. Lot's explanation, that their mother looked back and turned into a pillar of salt, was accepted without comment. The cities of the plain were destroyed for them all. Each realized that, though the means of destruction was perhaps unclear.
It was the Eldest, thought Lot, who'd planned it. Her brain, feverish with desires. So late to marry. So ripe. She must have it. Now.
The trio had reached Zohar, refilled their jugs of water and traded some of the goods found in saddlebags for dried meat. The beautiful dates of the city could be had for a pittance, so they'd stocked up. Months of provisions. And into the caves they'd started, the father and his two daughters.
Knowing what was to transpire, Lot elected passivity in the cave. He lay himself down on the rock, a bit of bedclothes for a pillow. Aside, the last of the wine jug. Lot feigned drunkenness. But apart from a single glass of regular wine with his meal, he'd not tasted a drop.
He heard the Eldest make her way-first pulling back the makeshift curtain Lot had placed over their side of the cave. Then a splash of water. Another. Clothes rustled to the ground.
She approached.
“Father?” she whispered.
Lot said nothing. The girl waited for a time. Lot grew impatient. Rolled over with a moan. His loincloth opened. Magically. The girl climbed nearer.
“Father?” she asked again. Still a whisper. She looked him over now. Slowly.
“Mother was cruel to you, Father,” she said finally.
Decision made, she grasped him. Held him in the palm of her hands. She stroked, slowly, with the tip of her fingers, running from the base to the circumcised head. A drop appeared. She bent down, tasted it. Lot moaned. She reared back, almost spitting him out. Waited. Lot, earnestly, flexed his muscles. The tip of his cock pointed towards her. Expecting.
The girl bent again to the shaft, gripping it fully, as she'd seen so many men do after they'd had their fill of wine. She moved her hand up and down. Delicately. Poorly. Lot winced, said nothing.
“For our line, Father,” said the girl. There was no way he could find another wife. Or three. She believed it now. “For our line.”
The Eldest stood up. Lot saw her firm, bare breasts by the light of a torch. She dropped her thin skirt to the floor, stepped towards him once again. Kneeling down, she tried to take him in. All the way in. It didn't work. The virgin entrance was too narrow. Dried by fear.
Lot took her to himself. Crushed her against his chest. He felt the edge of her nipples press against him, round, full, so much like her mother had been. His right hand swept to her mound, running about it in circles, pressing up against the tip.
Now she moaned, for the first time. “Yes,” she said, slightly. “Yes, father.”
Lot continued his strokings. Her heart beat faster against him. “Yes, father.” He felt the slit loosening, water seemed to drip out. The moment was right. He drove himself into her, feeling the band burst, and himself all the way in. “Yes, father. Give us our line!”
Lot held nothing back now. Furiously, he swept his daughter to her back. He threw himself against her. Again, and again. Driving from his mind the nagging visions of her mother. Driving the shame away. “Yes! Father!” cried his daughter. She bucked beneath him, spread her legs like a harlot, then wrapped around. His motion was limited Still she writhed below. “Yes! Father! Our line!”
Lot could hold back no more. He broke her grip around his waist. His efforts doubled, then redoubled. “UHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” he cried. “UUHHHHHH!” And spread his seed.
She lay beneath him. Panting. Radiant.
“Wonderful, Father,” she said. “Wonderful. But is it enough?” she asked.
“I know not,” answered Lot. Abandoning the pretense of sleep. “Such gifts are from the Lord.”
“Then we can only work at it until a child is made.”
“Yes, Daughter,” said Lot.
“But what of my sister?” she asked.
“She does not-”
“She understands the importance. She is shy. Afraid. Inexperienced.
“Perhaps-” said Lot.
“Yes, Father?”
“Perhaps, she should join us. The three of us. Can maintain the family line.”
“You… are so wise, Father.”
“I will need your assistance to prepare her. She is so terribly young.”
“And beautiful, Father.”
“And beautiful.”
Rested, turned again to his daughter.
The next night, both came to him. Lot wasn't sure-he would not force this upon her. He'd always loved his Youngest most.
She stood shyly, wearing her full robe.
“Is it not warm in this cave?” asked Lot of the Youngest.
“It is,” she said.
“But you are not warm?”
“I-I suffer chills.”
“Oh, that is too bad,” said the Eldest, standing to one side. Almost an afterthought. “Father can warm you. Can't you, Father?”
Lot nodded.
“If you wish it.”
“I do wish it, Father.” But the Youngest made no move.
Lot stood up from his place. Nude, he glanced at the pair. Already, the Eldest had removed her clothes. Slowly. He and the Youngest both stared, entranced, as one article of clothing after another came down.
“Now you, Sister,” said the Eldest.
“I am-still cold.”
“I will warm you first.”