I love laundry day. Sure, it's an easy job, as far as housework goes, and I have the uncanny ability of making a few loads seem like I've cleaned the whole house. Although the smirk my wife gives me every time I declare the family's clothes to be clean makes me think she might be onto me. But more than anything, it's the perfect excuse to get my hands on my stepdaughter's dirty panties.
Last Saturday began the same way as all the others of late. My wife, Liz, had taken our twelve year old daughter to her weekly netball game, yet again losing the battle with Natalie to take her across the Harbour to North Sydney on the ferry. I tried to reassure Liz that it was in fact the quickest way when she kissed me goodbye, but she wasn't having any of it.
"Your daughter," she scowled in mock accusation as she stabbed her finger into my chest on the way out the door.
I smacked her ass playfully in reply, eliciting a giggle, and wished Natalie good luck with her game as I watched them walk out to the street.
Then I felt Julie's shoulder push into my back, and her breast press against my arm as she sidled up beside me. "Good luck, kiddo! Knock 'em dead," Julie called after them from the doorway as they made their way down to the Balmain pier.
Julie gave me a quick smile, her deep blue eyes twinkling, and the smell of peanut butter on her breath. She touched my arm affectionately, then padded up the stairs. Her perfect heart-shaped ass rose before me, firmly clad in pink and purple striped pyjama bottoms. I shook myself free of the vision, locking the front door and returning to the kitchen to finish my breakfast.
The sound of running water and other assorted feminine beauty rituals wafted down from upstairs as I tidied up the dishes, and tried to keep my thoughts out of the gutter. At nineteen, Julie had blossomed into such a beautiful young woman, and it was driving me to distraction.
I turned to see that she had pulled up a stool and was watching me bustle around. Her head was tilted slightly, with her long, sandy blonde hair falling over her shoulder. I snorted a laugh at her t-shirt. It was the light grey one with a Storm Trooper holding a tissue, and the words, 'I had friend's on that Death Star.'
"You like it?" she smiled, sitting up and pushing out her ample chest.
My voice caught slightly, but I managed to croak out a response, before putting much more attention than was required into the coffee machine. "Do you want one?"
"No, thanks. I just brushed my teeth." She wrinkled her nose at the thought, then tapped the book that lay face down on the bench. "I'm just going to read for a bit outside."
"Oh, okay. What are you reading?"
Julie didn't answer. Instead, she just grinned at me, sliding the book off the bench and holding it close across her stomach as she skipped out onto the patio.
"Okay then," I said to myself, a little confused.
I savoured the taste of the coffee, and the anticipation of the prize that awaited me upstairs in Julie's dirty clothes basket. When I had waited as long as I dared, I went upstairs to her bedroom.
I scooped up her scattered clothes from the carpet, where she had stepped out of them the night before. Kicking her shoes under the bed and flicking the lid off the hamper in the corner, I dropped in the bundle, then stretched for the plain white t-shirt just out of reach. Then I saw them, a pair of tiny lavender panties up against her bedside table.
Sitting on her bed, I bent down to pick them up. The softness of the satin instantly tingled my fingertips. I held them out in front of me, studying the cute little bow on the front of the waistband, and the frilly, lace embellishments down either side of the gusset. The '10' on the tag, I'm ashamed to say, offered a much more seductive thrill than the size sixteen Liz had become in her mid-forties.
I exhaled slowly to try and calm my heartbeat. Then, turning them inside out, I held the crotch to my nose and mouth, and breathed in her scent. The hint of perfume combined with the earthy aroma of her sex brought me an indescribable relief.
I'm such a scoundrel, I silently confessed to myself, before deeply inhaling again.
I balled up her panties in my pocket and took the whole basket downstairs to the laundry. Sorting the load into lights and darks, I sniffed at each pair as I went, but none of the intoxicating delicates were quite as fresh as the lavenders I had in my pocket.
I got Julie's lights on first, frowning as the old plumbing in our Balmain terrace hissed and shuddered with exertion to fill the washing machine. Then fishing her panties from my pocket, I took another long, comforting sniff. When I opened my eyes, I noticed Julie out through the window.
Illuminated by the sunlight, she was sitting on the far side of the table from the kitchen door, reading with her feet up on the chair beside her. But from my vantage point at the small laundry window, my view of Julie was unobstructed by outdoor furniture.
From that angle, I could see the cover of the novel. I chuckled to myself as I read the title, Fifty Shades of Grey. Her mother had been right into it herself, ploughing through all three books in record time. It had certainly sparked up our sex life, I remembered fondly.
This sexy little acorn apparently didn't fall far from the tree.
With my forbidden secret safely back in my pocket, I watched her. She was engrossed in her book, turning the pages every minute or so with considerable urgency. I noticed her lick her lips and swallow, her lips shiny and coming to rest slightly parted. A pinkish hue too, began to spread across her cheeks and neck.
I focussed on the deepening rise and fall of her chest as she read, and I flushed with warmth as I caught sight of her nipples hardening beneath that Star Wars t-shirt. I began to grow hard myself, my cock straining against my jeans.
Julie pulled her sunglasses down her nose, then looked over the top of the rims into the kitchen. I stepped out of view as she swivelled her head back towards the laundry, and counted to ten before poking my head back around the window frame. Craning her head up to look at the windows above her, and obviously not seeing me, she pushed her glasses back up and sank back into her chair.
She rubbed her bottom lip with the tip of her index finger as she resumed reading, then began slowly tracing a path over her chin and down her throat. When her finger found her nipple, mine once again found the lavender satin. I breathed her in as she circled the proud point atop her breast, then pinched the engorged nub with a twist through her t-shirt. The sensation caused her to bite her bottom lip.
As Julie repeated the process with her other breast, I released my aching cock from my jeans and began to stroke. The slimy pre-cum already at the tip provided half the lubrication I needed. I licked my palm for the rest and began pumping my fist up and down my shaft.
