Life is good about 'throwing us a bone' every now and then. My stepdaughter had a sleepover at our house recently and invited some high school girls to come over. She's seventeen, but most of her friends have recently turned eighteen. None of her friends are exceptionally beautiful, but that doesn't stop me from having my fantasies about them.
The sleepover went well and the girls stayed up all night doing who knows what. Late the next morning they all got up except for Victoria, who was still asleep. The girls asked my wife if she'd take them to a water park about an hour away to have some Saturday fun (and probably check out the boys as well).
My wife asked her daughter, "Why not wake up Vicky right now then?"
She went to her room and returned downstairs alone.
"She says she doesn't feel very well and is going to have her mom pick her up."
My wife said, "Ok." and proceeded to get ready to leave. She asked if I would make sure Vicky got up when her mom arrived. I told her I would.
When it was time to leave my wife and the girls loaded into her truck and headed out for the water park. I sat down on the couch and turned on the tv. About thirty minutes later Vicky walked into the livingroom and sat down on the couch, just a few feet away from me. She had on sweat pants and an old wrinkled t-shirt. Her waist length auburn hair was wet and it left little trails of water on her shoulders. She recently turned eighteen and poked fun at the seventeen year olds for being 'children'.
"I hear you're not feeling well."
"No. I just took a shower to make me feel better, but I guess only time will make me feel good again."
"Time?" I asked inquisitively.
The look on her face was of surprise. She looked absolutely guilty.
"I sort of drank some of your wine last night." she answered sheepishly.
"Ohh..." I responded, "Well then what you need is some Gatorade. It'll help more than a shower."
I walked to the fridge, got out an orange Gatorade, and handed it to her as I sat back down. She drank it down fast.
"You'll start feeling better soon."
"I hope so. I didn't call my mom yet because I was afraid she'd smell it on my breath. Y-you wouldn't tell her would you?"
"Nah," I said, "It'll be our secret."
We both sat there a while watching tv. I kept smelling body odor, almost like armpit or something. Inconspicuously I turned my head in her direction and took a deep breath through my nose. It really seemed to be coming from her.
"Can I say something to you and not be mean?" I asked.
"Uh, ok." she replied hesitantly.
"Even though you've taken a shower, I can still smell you. It's not real terrible or anything, I'm just thinking that the boys might not find that ok."
"I think I washed everything good enough." She said with a smirk on her face. It came out almost as a question though, as if she doubted her shower skills. "Where do you smell it from?"
Since I was sitting to the right of her, I leaned closer to her and guided my nose around her left armpit. Taking a deep whiff I replied, "I think it might be your armpits, but I'm not really sure because your t-shirt is covering them." I motioned toward her sleeve and asked, "Would you mind?"
She shook her head as she raised her arm a little in the air. I grabbed the inside of her sleeve and pulled it out and away from her body as far as I could and stuck my nose right in there. The reason I pulled her shirt sleeve out so far was so I also get a look around her breast area as well, hoping she was bra-less.
Again I drew a deep breath. No, it wasn't her armpit. It was the t-shirt. It smelled like days old armpit. Peeking around I could see she was wearing a light pink bra. I could even make out the bumps where her nipples were, though they weren't hard.
"I'm having some trouble locating it." I said with a tiny bit of frustration, "I'm not sure if it's your armpit or your shirt. Can I smell your shirt?"
