I had been married then for fifteen years, that made me thirty-six years old. My wife Susan was eight years my senior, we had one daughter of our own, Lucy who was eighteen going on nineteen and working now, and Rosalind who had just turned eighteen and still in sixth form, she had lived with us since she had been six years old.
Sue had been almost my first love. I had not been a confident young man around women, that macho bravado which young women often find so attractive was a stranger to me, so when she and I met, it was not I who made the first moves but her. I was though more than happy to oblige, and we were soon an inseparable couple. My daughter Lucy came along about four years into our marriage, which was a joy to us both.
The pregnancy though had so physically depleted Sue, that afterwards she found that she was unable to recover her libido. I was patient and understanding with her, it would come back I reasoned, when her body had rested, it had after all nearly killed her. It did do so too after some time, but not ever as much as before, and I always longed for those days of full on passion, and fumbled exitement that we had shared in our early days together.
Just a few months after Lucy's birth, a casual friend of ours Anna, became pregnant too, not planned like ours, this was a result of a drunken fling. Anna had decided to keep the baby though, and so Rosalind was born about 10 months after our own Lucy.
Over the next few years, we would see Rosalind's mum pretty regularly around town, pushing her about in a pram, then in a pushchair. As a baby, Rosalind was not given the right food to build strong bones, or the right exercise to grow healthy muscle on them. She was a painfully skinny looking child, and it worried me and Sue sometimes just to look at her. So from when she was about four, Sue and I began to look after Rosalind, or Ross (as we called her,) for her mum on odd days. We would secretly fill her with good food and lavish some much needed attention upon her, it was all we could think to do. Then the occasional day became regular days and nights. So it was not really a surprise when Ross was six years old, that her mum suggested that she go and live with us permanently, as she no longer herself "had the energy for her".
Years passed and things settled into a pattern of family life. Both girls got on together most of the time, Lucy quiet and kind, Rossalind noisy and more mischievous, but only as much as is healthy for any little girl.
Rosalind was still a skinny girl at eighteen, but healthy looking now, her milky white skin was as smooth as alabaster (the only good thing that she had got from her real mum). Her small face framed by shoulder length straight dark blonde hair. At about 5ft 6" tall, she had long gangly legs topped by a girlish bottom, buttocks about the size of two large Jaffa oranges, little globes on hips which hardly widened from the front, between her belly and her thighs at all. Her arms were slender with long delicate fingers on her little white hands. Her boobs were tiny, (to her obvious disgust), she would often wear padding in a training bra intended for young girl. Her lips were thin, pretty rather than luscious, but standing out red against her pale face. What really got your attention though, were her beautiful pale blue eyes, the sort that could stop you in your tracks as you find yourself falling deep into them, until utterly lost.
it was about then that she began to show a real resentment towards our natural daughter Lucy, no longer calling her sister, but now referring to her as "number one daughter". Lucy had been "wanted" by her real parents, Ross hadn't, she reasoned, that was unfair, and she became much more of a handful for us. Rossalind and Lucy no longer got on at all now, I felt terribly sorry for Rossalind, trying to work all this out for herself, and guilty too that I had imposed this problem upon Lucy, by taking Rossalind in to our family, in the first place. She also began to target her resentment on Sue my wife, whilst becoming increasingly affectionate and appreciative of me, she wanted to be a daddy's girl I suppose, and I was the daddy on the spot. I felt in an impossible situation, sandwiched between three waring females, understanding all sides, but unable to bring much peace between them.
As things had been getting more and more difficult between Rossalind, my wife and Lucy, it seemed like a good idea when Sue said one day, that she was going to stay with her mother for a while, who was old and quite ill at the time, and that Lucy was going with her. The girls could get a rest from each other for a while, and Sue wouldn't be worried about her mum all of the time. Her mum only lived at the other end of town, and it would be just for a while. So they took enough stuff for few weeks away, and left the house to me and Rossalind.
Rossalind's reaction to this development was exultant. In her mind she was now the woman of the house and she began to behave as if she were. I should say now that she had always acted as if she were a few years older than she actually was, trying to get some control in her life I suppose, after being passed around like a parcel in her younger days. She had never liked being dressed in baby clothes, even when she very small, and she had started being interested in boys and had begun clumsily applying make up ridiculously young, although having had no serious boy friends that I had been aware of, which had puzzled me.
Within just a few days of me and her having the house to ourselves, she began to take over some of my wife's usual domestic chores, (which she had previously taken no interest in), the alarm bells should have started ringing for me then, but they didn't. She would make my meals, tidy up after me, hoover round, but only when I was there to appreciate it and to notice her, which I of course did.
It was when she was hoovering around me like this in the sitting room one day, that I first noticed her sexually. She still had her sixth form school uniform on, white knee socks, black buckle shoes with a bar and no heals, white blouse, a tie and a grey pleated skirt.
School uniform was strict, skirts to be worn just above the knee, but every waiting parent outside the school knew that as soon as it was over, many of the more precotious girls would turn over their waist bands a few times and hey presto, on the way home a maxi skirt became a mini. I had often enjoyed the site of some of the older girls doing this, which made the chore of picking my kids up from school a real pleasure sometimes. Once a blonde haired girl had noticed me staring at her thighs and at tantalizing flashes of her panties as she sashayed along. She had looked at me directly I remember, as if to say "you dirty old man," and then as she had passed by my car, she stopped and ostentatiously scratched her bottom, lifting up her skirt with her hand as she did so, giving me of perfect view of just what I wanted, but she knew that I could never have.
As Rossalind bent over that day, just three foot from my face, hoover nozzle in hand, I was given a glorious view of her bottom and upper thighs, her white cotton panties loosely covering her dainty little bum. I could even see the beginning of a lacy white panel rising up from over her but hole, which would go on to cover her crack and pubis mons I imagined.
I knew that Rossalind often turned her skirt up after school was over, but it always been lowered again by the time she had entered the house. I had never said anything about this to her, it had seemed harmless enough, until now.
Today had been different though. Her skirt had indeed been down when she had come in from school, but she had rolled it up again before doing the hoovering around me as I sat on the sofa. She was showing herself off to me, teasing me with her womanhood. As this reality began to sink in, I found myself in an utter state of confusion. I did not react to her provocation in any way, I didn't lean over and touch her as perhaps she wanted me to, but neither, I noticed, did I want to correct her, as I might previously have done. The truth was, that the view in front of me was just too nice to spoil, and I was enjoying the show. When she had finished the hoovering, (which had involved more bending over in my direction than seemed at all necessary,) she stood facing me and said "right that's done". I was, and she knew it, I sorely wanted to cup that little arse in my hands right then, but resisted still.
After she had gone to bed that night, my mind raced, it had never occurred to me to lust after Rossalind before, she was my daughter, well sort of. Then the thought occurred to me, that my natural daughter Lucy had developed much more than Rosalind, with perhaps C cup breasts, and very womanly hips, yet I had had no such feelings about her. Even when I had walked into the bathroom and had accidentally seen her entirely naked, just weeks before, it was embarrassing but in no way a turn on for me. Perhaps Rossalind was different, I reasoned, she was not my blood daughter after all, so maybe It was OK to lust after her skinny little body.
I went to my bed that night with a bigger hard on than I had had for years, and as I pulled myself off, I thought of her Of caressing her pale skin, of kissing her cute arse, yes and of pumping her pussy into ecstasy. No harm in just thinking about it after all.
Sleep was unusually difficulty for me, my mind in a tumult. I woke again after a few hours and immediately began thinking about her again, of sucking at her tiny breasts, of my cock end enclosed by her tight, (virgin I imagined), cunt. It was no good, sleep wasn't coming, so I sat up with my lap top before me in my bed. But catching up on my "E" correspondence held no attraction to me, and before long I was searching the porn sites, looking for a nubile, pale skinned young woman with dark blonde hair, about 5ft 6", to jerk off to, but search as I might, there was nothing quite like her.
Then, a small knock on the bedroom door behind me.
"Hello Mike, I heard you moving about, I can't sleep either."
Moving like lightning, I whacked at the screen off button, (shutting down properly would have to wait), and dived under the quilt, my boner safely hidden.
"I'm fine Ross." I said rather weekly.
"I think I'll try to get off to sleep again now again, goodnight." I told her.
