Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Envy

   By Videll Dais

   Part 3

   I could not believe what had gone down since my much despised boss had
asked me to work maintenance on his house.  In just two short days I had
fucked his lovely wife twice and forced my attentions on his backward
youngest daughter, six year- old Leanne.  Poor Leanne, of course, had had
no true comprehension of what I had made her do and remained blissfully
ignorant and unaffected by the act of sucking a grown man's cock and
swallowing his cum.  I had felt bad about that for a while, but the thought
that I'd stuck another iced blade into my dumb fucking boss's back soon
obliterated any pangs of conscience still lurking in the dark alleyways of
my thinking.  The whole situation, as dangerous and bizarre as it was,
fuelled a hot and insatiable fire in my belly and inspired such deep
depraved cravings in my heart and mind (hitherto unknown to me) that I felt
as I'd imagine a crazed junkie would feel buzzed out on some Class A shit.
What's more, I liked the feeling.  Day 3 began much as the days before.  It
was overcast, the leaden clouds so low you felt as though you could reach
up and touch them and, though the wind was light, the rain fell as fine as
mist and soaked me through to the bone in no time.  I completed the trench
work for the new driveway lighting and, glad to be out of the weather, made
good progress on rewiring in the stables - all before 8 am.  Soon after
eight, I heard the familiar sound of Mathew Holt's Merc purr to life and
watched him drive off for another day of laying his kind of crap on the
poor unsuspecting menials who worked under him.  I was about ready for
coffee by then and, as soon as he was out of sight, I casually made my way
up to the house, all the time wondering what delights were awaiting my
discovery on this miserable morning.  I went around to the back door and,
without bothering to knock, let myself in with the key Junior had entrusted
me with and, after removing my muddy boots, went straight into the kitchen.
Much to my surprise (and pleasure) Mrs Holt was up and preparing breakfast
for the youngsters.  She wasn't dressed and, looking slightly dishevelled,
wore only a thin housecoat over her night attire.  Her thick auburn locks
were sleep-tousled still and the finely chiselled features of her ashen
face unadorned by any cosmetics.  I couldn't take my eyes off her.  She was
absolutely the most beautiful and seductive woman I'd ever seen.  She must
have heard me entering the kitchen because she abruptly turned from the
breakfast bar and stood at the sink, her back towards me, diligently
busying herself at some spontaneous chore.  "Good Morning, Mrs.  Holt," I
said, keeping my tone light and conversational, not wanting to embarrass or
alarm her - well, not yet anyway.  All ready, just eyeing the smooth
symmetry of her long back and the hour-glass swell of her hips and buttocks
(and remembering how subservient, how hotly fuckable she had been
yesterday), I felt a distinct and urgent stirring in my loins.  "Lousy
weather again isn't it?" "Good morning Mr...eh, Ray," she replied, her
voice respectful, tremulous, barely above a whisper.  "Yes, the remnants of
winter seem to be...eh, lingering longer than ever this year." "That's a
shame.  What with the kids being off school and all.  Always the way.  "
"Would... Would you like coffee, Mr...Sorry, I mean...  Ray." "That would
be nice, Mrs.  Holt: very nice." I moved up close behind her, smelled her
familiar, exciting, feminine smell.  "Do you mind if I wash my hands?" She
flinched.  She hadn't heard me cross the kitchen.  My nearness startled
her. Flustered, blushing almost crimson, she stepped aside from the sink.
"Oh, eh - not at all.  Would you rather use the downstairs washroom? 
I...It might -" "Just here will do fine," I said.  I looked straight into
her wide emerald eyes and smiled.  I reached for a bottle of hand soap on
the windowsill.  It smelled of lemons, of sunshine.  As I lathered my
hands, I quietly asked: "And how are you feeling today, Mrs.  Holt?  Did
you sleep well?" The poor woman, obviously agitated at my proximity, unsure
of herself, hesitantly answered, "I...I feel well, thank you.  Just a
little tired that's all." She averted her gaze, looking at the sink, my
lathered hands, the great outdoors beyond the window; looking at anything,
anywhere, but at my face.  Nervously, she brushed the back of her hand at a
stray lock of hair that had tumbled over her brow.  "U-unfortunately, I...I
didn't sleep that well." "I'm sorry to hear that.  Everybody needs a
refreshing night's sleep, especially a Mum raising two young kids." I
rinsed the soap suds from my hands and looked enquiringly at her.  "Oh...
Yes.  Sorry," She said, looking confusedly around.  She reached into a
drawer beside the sink and took out a clean tea towel, timidly offering it
to me.  "Dry them for me," I said, quietly." "Oh...Please, I...I..." Her
voice faltered and a helpless, pleading expression swamped her lovely
features.  Her beautiful eyes begged me.  "M-my children will... will be
coming down for breakfast at any minute.  I don't w-want them to-" "Do it,"
I said, firmly, extending my hands towards her.  Images of yesterday, of
fucking her into moaning submission, flashed through my mind.  My cock was
semi-erect and strained obscenely against the front of my jeans.  I wanted
her.  Now.  Hotly blushing, she covered my hands and took them gently in
hers.  "That's better," I said.  "It's the little things that add the most
meaning to a... relationship." I smiled my most friendliest of smiles,
seeing in my minds eye the leather belt slashing across Mrs.  Holt's
shapely arse yesterday, hearing again the satisfying crack as it had
stingingly kissed her naked flesh.  Flushed, Mrs.  Holt bit her bottom lip,
kept her eyes fixed on the towel, on the job at hand.  The momentary
silence was so charged, so thick with tension, you could've cut through it
with a knife.  I stared at the mounds of her bra-less breasts under the
housecoat, the prominence of her nipples thrusting against the material. 
She didn't know when or how, but she definitely knew I was going to make
another move on her - and soon.  And after yesterday's events, she was also
very aware there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.  "Make sure you
do between each finger," I said.  "They can easily become chafed
outdoors... in this weather." Unintentionally, she made even the simple
task of drying my hands a sensual, delightfully erotic experience.  When
she had finished, my shaft was as rigid as a steel bar and I had to adjust
it to a more comfortable position in my jeans.  Mrs.  Holt turned away and
placed the tea towel straight in the washing machine.  As she was bending,
I moved closer to her and ran my palms over the rounded cheeks of her firm
bottom, feeling the fullness, the taut warmth of the resilient flesh quiver
beneath the thin housecoat.  "My God, you have a wonderful arse, Mrs. 
Holt," I said, digging my fingers in.  "Mr.  Dean...Ray.  Please... don't.
My children...I have to-" She made to straighten up.  "Don't move.  I want
to feel you," I said, running a finger the length of the deep divide
between the rounded globes of her taut buttock cheeks, going under to the
join of her thighs, gently pressing inward, intimately probing the softness
and heat.  "Stay as you are.  I like you like that." "W-what about...your
c-coffee?  God, I haven't made your coffee.  I'll do it..." "Be quiet," I
said.  "Just be quiet and stay still." I bunched the housecoat and her
undergarment in my hands and quickly raised them up over her delightful
curves, exposing the creamy flesh of her bare arse, bunching the material
high around her waist.  Conveniently, she wore no panties.  "Put your hands
on the counter to support yourself," I said.  She did as I told her,
raising up slightly and placing her hands flat on the counter top, her head
and mane of tousled auburn hair hanging limply between her outstretched
arms.  "R-Ray...Please.  I beg you... Don't do this.  Please don't.  The
children...I'll do-" "You'll do as I tell you," I cut in, the hard edge to
my voice letting her know in no uncertain terms that I meant business.  My
control and power over this utterly desirable woman fired my arousal. 
"Unless, of course, you want your girls to come in here and find their
Mummy getting her fine, bare arse tanned with my belt.  Do you want that,
Mrs.  Holt?  Do you want another half-dozen welts marring your deliciously
creamy, unblemished flesh?  Do you want to see your little girls crying,
wantonly upset by such a distressing scene?  Do you?" "N-no - T-that would
be..." "The worst thing you could imagine," I interjected.  "So behave.  Do
as you're told.  Then I'll be happy, get things done quickly, and
everything will be fine.  You'll enjoy it just as you did yesterday." I
reached under her, cupped my hand over the crease of her arse, my
fingertips touching the hot, wrinkled indentation of her anus and the
smooth, rubbery folds of her quim.  I traced the fatty lips with just my
middle finger up to the tight little button of her hooded clit.  I slowly
rotated my fingertip around and over the quickly stiffening nub.  I felt
her tremble violently at my touch.  "Open your legs wider." Mrs.  Holt
obeyed unquestioningly in an instant.  "That's a good girl," I said.  I
removed my free hand from the warm flesh of her hip and unzipped my jeans,
jerking my boxers aside at the same time.  My erection sprang from the
opening, throbbing, thickly veined, red and angry and pumped for action,
precum leaking from the single eye in the bulbous head.  It pulsated with
urgency in my fist.  "P-please..." Mrs.  Holt mumbled, "Please be quick. 
Don't let my children see... see you doing this.  Please." "Shoosh now," I
said, fisting my cock with my left hand while my right fingered and probed
her soft, moist cunt lips.  They parted easily beneath my probing, were hot
and oily between.  "Have you been thinking about yesterday, Mrs.  Holt?" I
pressed my cock along the crease of her bulging arse, the warm contact
offering slight relief to my aching, my need.  I reached under her and slid
a hand roughly up beneath the bunched clothing at her waist, found and
cupped the weighty orb of her naked left breast.  The long nipple was as
hard as a walnut and eagerly dug into my palm.  I squeezed and fingered it
as I swayed and thrust my hips against her bared, vulnerable flesh, moving
my cock along the deep cleft of her bottom.  Mrs.  Holt softly moaned an
unintelligible reply.  "I know you have you've been thinking about
yesterday, about my cock ploughing your hungry cunt.  So have I," I said,
breathlessly.  "I've been thinking about your cunt all night.  I've been
thinking about how tight it is, how wet it got yesterday, and how thirstily
it milked my big, hungry cock.  Can you feel it throbbing?  He wants some
more, Mrs.  Holt.  Lot's more.  He wants to get up your quim again; wants
to fuck you to paradise and back; wants to make you weep with pleasure. 
And he wants to do it now: Badly." I applied some pressure to Mrs.  Holt's
clit, tipping the hooded nub, gently teasing it from its hiding place. 
After a minute, I dragged my finger slowly backwards, hooking it slightly
so as to part her puffy folds and dip into the moistness between.  The
mouth of her cunt was dripping and my finger easily slid up the oily,
clinging sheath.  I slid another in beside the first and slowly
finger-fucked her while she whimpered and trembled, her outstretched arms
trembling, straining to support her weight.  I removed my fingers from her
gaping quim and stood up straight to unbuckle my belt and drop my jeans and
underwear.  "Raise your lovely bum up a bit, Mrs.  Holt," I said, studying
the delightful picture of debauched woman-flesh before me, fisting my
erection into an impossibly harder length of throbbing gristle.  I stepped
in close, bent my knees slightly, found her hot core and drove my cock
balls deep in one urgent thrust.  I groaned with pleasure as the wet,
ribbed walls of her cunt fully engulfed me, gripping me in a velvet-soft
vice.  I bottomed out, my helmet nestling against the mouth of her cervix.
Thoroughly corked, I remained still, soaking in her heat.  Reaching under
her, I played with each of her soft, perfect breasts, tugging, pulling and
twisting the spikes of her nipples.  I felt her thighs quiver against mine
and the almost imperceptible thrust back of her luscious, curvaceous
buttocks.  God, what woman!  What a delicious fuck!  After a minute or two,
I slowly withdrew to the ridge of my cock-head, rimmed her for a bit then
thrust back in.  Mrs.  Holt made a strange mewing noise in the back of her
throat; like she was in some sort of pain, but I knew it was merely the
pain of lust, of passion.  I eased out again, gave her another rimming,
ploughed back in again, repeating the motion a half-dozen times more.  The
grip of her slick cunt along my shaft was exquisite.  In my humble
experience, I've found there are women in this world born for cock, born to
fuck, and Mrs.  Holt was one of them.  She loved it.  I instinctively knew
that I could do anything sexually to her that I wanted and, yes, she might
object, might make a bit of a fuss, but it would only be half-hearted, only
be some sort of pretext at shame or indignation, a nod to the bounds of
decency or the moral code by which she was raised.  But in the end,
whatever it was I desired of her body, she would give and give it
willingly. What's more, deny it as she might, she would thoroughly enjoy it
all.  How I envied Junior Holt.  I gripped her arse cheeks in each hand,
raised and spread them wide so I could watch my cock going in and out of
her cunt, the stretched membrane of her inner lips tightly ringing the fat
intruder, appearing to grip and suck on it as if never intending to let it
go ever again.  I increased my rhythm to a steady, deep, slow fucking.  She
groaned low in her throat.  I wet my middle finger in her juices and rimmed
the tight star of her unusually pale-coloured, almost pink, anus,
occasionally exerting a little pressure until her sphincter gave up
resistance and I could easily slip in to the first knuckle, then the
second, then out again; wet it some more, then in to the second knuckle,
then all the way in.  Mrs.  Holt quivered from head to toe.  "N-no," she
muttered.  "P-please...No!" I gently fucked my cock deep in her cunt as I
finger-fucked her anus, a two-pronged attack which had her gasping and
humping back onto both in seconds.  "You like that, Mrs.  Holt, a stiff
cock in your juicy cunt and a long finger up your arse?  Is it nice?  Be
honest now.  Make sure you tell me the truth or I'll have to take the belt
to you again.  Understand?" "Ooh...God!  Y-yes...Yes!  I like it.  I like
it!  Fuck my cunt!  Fuck my arse.  Do anything you want: Anything!" "Oh, I
will, Mrs.  Holt.  I will.  Trust me." She let out a wail, a kind of
hopeless whine and trembled violently.  I wet two fingers and slid them
deep into her pouting anus, could feel my cock through the thin membranous
walls separating arse and cunt.  I continued to plough both Mrs.  Holt's
hot furrows even when the kitchen door opened and her two daughters walked
in.  Alia and Leanne stood stock still, staring wide-eyed as I slowly
fucked their mother.  I smiled at them, held a finger to my lips indicating
they should not make a sound.  Half-witted Leanne looked bewildered by the
whole event and nonchalantly went to the breakfast bar where she calmly
mounted a stool and, dismissing her surroundings, reached for the cereal
packet.  Alia, on the other hand, the gorgeous ten year-old, remained
transfixed, her startled eyes glued to where my cock squelched steadily in
and out of her groaning mother's sopping quim.  Mrs.  Holt had no idea she
had an audience and continued to grunt and groan and fuck back at my cock
with unparalleled enthusiasm.  "You like my cock, Mrs.  Holt?  Tell me," I
said, staring at the silently gawping Alia.  "Y-yes...Yes!  I like your
cock.  I love your cock." "Why?" "B-because...Ooh, God - because it's so
big and fat and...and...aagh!" I stuck it to her hard and fast a half-dozen
times, our flesh slapping together loudly in the silent kitchen.  I could
feel her juices running down my thighs.  Alia watched intently, her pretty,
generous-lipped mouth agape.  She looked like she might cry.  I smiled at
her again, took in at a glance her budding young breasts spiking against
her thin nighty.  Her belly and hips were rounded with puppy fat and her
legs were long and slender.  As with Leanne yesterday, I could see she wore
no knickers under her nighty and her plump little mound was clearly
visible. Again, I held my finger to my lips warning her to be quiet. 
"What, Mrs.  Holt?  Finish what you were saying; what else is it about my
cock that you like.  Be honest now.  Tell me the truth.  " "Ah...Oh...Ooh!
I-I like the-the way it f-fucks into my wet cunt.  I like... Oh-ah!  I like
the way it goes in so...so deep.  It makes my cunt weep." "Good girl.  And
you like this - my fingers fucking your arse at the same time?" "Oh, God,
yes!  Yes!  Finger my arse!  You're making me cum!  I'm cumming!  Oh...Ooh
God!" I stared at Alia as her mother creamed over my cock.  My balls were
tight and I knew I was about to blow my load.  Mrs.  Holt sensed it and
used her internal muscles to grip my throbbing rod.  "Please..." she
whispered, her rump backing hard into my thighs, "don't cum in me.  Only my
husband is allowed to cum in me... Please don't." What an exquisite thing
for her to say, I thought.  "Hold still now," I said, and got a firm grip
on Mrs.  Holt's fleshy hips.  As I slowly fucked in deep, I looked at Alia,
a perfectly proportioned miniature of her mother, looked at her beautiful
little body, her belly button and her plump, bulging mound neatly split at
the bottom...I wanted to lick it.  I really wanted to hold her down and
lick the split peach of that little-girl slit.  I wondered if I could make
her cum like I could make her mother cum.  Then I came, shooting a heavy,
pulsing wad into Mrs.  Holts cloying, palpitating womb.  My knees trembled
so much I almost fell over.  Still holding the woman down, bent low over
the counter, I said, "You are an exquisite fuck, Mrs.  Holt: Exquisite. 
Now - about that coffee?"

   * * *

   To say Alison Holt was shocked, dismayed, humiliated and embarrassed at
discovering her daughters had been watching our antics is a bit of an
understatement.  How she held it together in the following very awkward
moments I shall never know, but she did.  She coped wonderfully, explaining
to Alia that I was a skilled medical practitioner helping her with a bad
lumber problem and not to take any notice of what she had seen.  Alia
wanted to know what an `exquisite fuck' was - which I found quite amusing -
but caused Mrs.  Holt some considerable distress.  Leanne needed no such
explanation, but continued on with her breakfast as though everything was
as normal as it could be.  Later, upstairs in her bedroom, Mrs.  Holt
turned on me.  "How could you, Ray?  How could you let my daughters watch
us have sex?" "They have to learn sometime," I said.  "What better way for
them to learn than by seeing their own beautiful Mother riding a hard cock,
revelling in the lust and pleasure it brings?  Besides, if I'd have made a
scene and fumbled it, it could have had a detrimental effect on their minds
and put them off sex forever." "My god: How long were they there?" "Alia
saw everything.  She watched you cum." "That is appalling.  Why on earth
didn't you stop?  I would've made it up to you." "It was impossible, Mrs.
Holt.  I -" "You could call me Alison when we're alone," Mrs.  Holt
interrupted.  "No, I don't think that would be right, Mrs.  Holt.  You're a
respectable married woman.  I don't want you to forget that - especially
when I'm fucking you." "You are such a bastard." I may have been a bastard
just then, but half-an-hour later, she was behaving herself and sucking
contentedly on my cock, the incident with the girls all but forgotten.  She
said she didn't want to swallow my cum.  "N-no, I won't.  I-I don't even do
that for my husband," she indignantly stuttered.  Somehow, after all that
had happened over the last couple of days, Mrs.  Holt continued still to
miss the point: It's what I want that is of prime importance and what I
want I can assure you, I usually get.  I tied her over the a-frame, gave
her a dozen buttock-stinging slaps on both raised, tight arse cheeks, some
even right in the crease on her pink, twitching little anus and plump,
weeping cunt-lips.  She yelled so loud I was forced to gag her.  It took me
twenty slow minutes to adjust her thinking.  By then she could deep-throat
beautifully and had no qualms about swallowing my hot, copious cum.  Ah,
the benefits of some firm discipline.  It's a pity so many people have
forgotten the fine art these days, especially those blithering idiots in
authority.  And therein lies the crux of so many of societies woes.  Never
mind Human fucking Rights.  Let's get back to instilling some good,
old-fashioned discipline; some respect.  Problem instantly cured.  I did a
little more work around the place (almost enough to warrant a days pay) and
at 3-o-clock took a break for coffee and whatever else might be going.  The
house was as quiet as a tomb when I entered and I wondered what was
happening - or not, whichever the case may be.  I went upstairs to Mrs. 
Holt's room, stuck my head in the door and found her sound asleep on her
bed.  It looked like she had bathed and dressed ready to go out somewhere,
but the morning's activities had obviously taken their toll on her physical
resources.  I decided to go check on the girls to see if they were ok.  I
found Leanne in her bedroom.  She had also fallen asleep, but on the floor
in front of the TV, surrounded by a pile of cuddly toys.  There was no sign
of Alia.  I returned to the kitchen and finished my coffee, took a piss and
decided to have a look around and make up some requirement lists for
tomorrow's jobs.  Upstairs, in the west wing, I went into what I thought
was a spare room but was, in fact, yet another bathroom.  It was full of
steam and I could hear water running in the walled-off half.  I quietly
slid back the glass door and took a peek inside.  To my utter astonishment,
there was Alia sitting, naked, in a bath full of bubbles, thoroughly
engrossed in washing her hair.  Just to my right, on a fancy, pull-down
stool, was a pile of clean little-girl clothes and, suspended from a hook
above those, a large pink fluffy towel.  Alia wasn't yet aware of my
presence and I took advantage of this by studying her every move.  The girl
had her arms raised and I was thrilled to see she actually had quite a nice
pair of developing breasts for one so young, the fleshy cones high and
jutting from her ribcage, topped with sizable pink nipples that had my
mouth watering and cock twitching in an instant.  So small, so perfect, I
thought.  I quietly moved further into the warmth of the bathroom until I
was standing close to the edge of the bath just outside her field of view.
Her titties were so firm they hardly moved as she vigorously worked shampoo
into her hair.  It was a pity the bubbles covered the rest of her
delicious, nicely-rounded little body.  "Oh, Sorry Alia," I said, loudly,
startling the child.  "I didn't realise you were in here." Alia made the
mistake of rubbing her eyes and a moment later was squealing as the soup
blindingly stung her.  "Stand up," I said.  "Let me help you." She
struggled to stand upright revealing her lovely naked curves to my avid
gaze.  Making no attempt to go to the poor girl's aid, I stood appraising
her delightful assets, especially her long slender legs and the prominent,
inverted saddle of her smooth mons and dainty, neat split at their
juncture. My cock was rigid.  I took the washcloth and rinsed it under the
tap with clean, fresh water.  "Put your hands down," I said, and took Alia
by her upper arm, turning her to face me then applied the cloth to her
tightly-shut eyes.  She whined a bit, but soon settled and allowed me to
bathe the stinging soap suds away.  "There, there," I whispered.  "Keep
your eyes closed for a while and the stinging will soon stop.  I'll finish
bathing you." I knelt down, my face only inches from her silky-smooth belly
and mound.  I took the soap, dipped my hands in the water and began to work
up a plentiful, creamy lather.  I started at her neck and wide shoulders,
slowly and gently caressing her.  Her skin felt so soft and slick and I
felt her tremble beneath my touch.  "Turn around.  Let me do your back." As
quietly docile as her Mother, Alia complied.  I looked at the rounds of her
surprisingly full, delightfully curving bottom and was sorely tempted to
run my tongue down the deep, dividing indent.  I wanted to taste the
rosebud of her anus, to tongue it and teach her the forbidden pleasures of
her flesh.  Keeping my lust under control was increasingly difficult.  I
worked up more lather and soaped her back, under her arms and down her
sides, taking my time so as not to alarm her then, at last, began stroking
her taut, slippery buttocks, cupping each globe, gently squeezing the firm
flesh.  "Lean forwards," I said, "put your hands on the wall in front of
you.  Open your legs a little wider." She did as I told her and I slipped a
finger down her crease and touched the wrinkled star of her anus, slowly
circling it.  The soap made a wonderful lubricant and I easily dipped my
fingertip into her tight arse.  She shivered, but bravely suffered my
explorations in silence.  She felt exquisite beneath my probing fingertips,
opening easily and admitting my finger to the first knuckle without
complaint.  "Bend your knees a little and poke your bum towards me." Alia
made to look over her shoulder questioningly.  "Do as I tell you.  Face the
wall," I said, sternly, slowly working my soapy fingertip in and out of her
clasping anus.  Legs shaking, she complied and I reached around her with my
free hand and placed it on the soft swell of her belly.  I slid my palm up
over her chest to cover the small hillock of her left titty and tweaked the
nipple a few times until it was erect then moved to the right.  I
alternated, gently nipping and pinching each little bud, all the while
slowly probing her bottom hole to the second knuckle.  I had to smile as I
felt her tremble and, almost imperceptively, move her bottom in sympathy
with my intimate explorations, urging my soap-slick finger slightly deeper.
"Good girl," I muttered, encouragingly.  "We have to make sure you're nice
and clean all over.  Have your eyes stopped stinging now?" "Mmm," Alia
nodded her head.  "Good.  Open your legs a little wider and poke your
bottom out a bit more sweety." Obediently, Alia complied.  Still tweaking
her hard little nipples, I eased my finger from her bottom hole and slid my
hand, palm upwards, between her spread thighs, cupping the smooth, rubbery
lips of her cunt.  Confident she wouldn't make a scene of any kind, I
casually sawed my hand back and forth, a finger tracing the length of the
narrow trench from clit to anus.  "Does that feel nice, Alia?" "Mmm," she
said.  "It feels like when Daddy does it." My heart skipped a beat.  I
gently eased a finger between her soft, bulging labia, circled the warm,
wet entrance to her vagina and then slid upwards and diddled the tiny nub
of her clit.  "Your Daddy bathes you like this does he?" "Mmm," Alia
muttered, and nodded yes.  So, I thought, there's more to Junior Holt than
meets the eye.  That little bastard was full of surprises.  Well, that
certainly went some way to explaining Alia's lack of nervousness or anxiety
at my deliberate sexual explorations of her gorgeously cuddly and supple
body.  "Does Daddy bathe you often?" "Yes.  All the time," the girl
replied, unhesitatingly, seeing no wrong in the statement at all.  "He gets
in the bath with me.  Daddy says it saves on water if we both have a bath
together." "Do you bathe him?" I asked, gently stimulating her nipples and
caressing the out-thrusting rounds of her obediently curving bottom.  "Oh
yes.  He says it makes him feel nice." I felt envy boil up inside me.  I
instantly hated my twat of a boss for having already beaten me to the
pleasures of this luscious prize, and determined there and then, one way or
another, to get the better him.  In the back of my mind, a mere seed of a
plan slowly took shape.  In the meantime, more important, more urgent
matters were at hand - and what a supremely lovely handful she made. 
"Actually, Alia," I said, "I'd like to freshen up myself.  Would it be ok
if I got in the bath with you?" "Mmm.  Sure," she said, quite unerringly
direct, "if you want to." `If I wanted to', Fuck, does the Pope want to
play with his beads?  "Sit down and relax a minute while I get undressed,"
I said, smiling down at her.  I impatiently began to strip off, dropping
each article of clothing right where I stood.  Alia watched me, her eyes
wide and innocently curious, her expression serious as, for the second time
that day, I boldly and unashamedly revealed to her just how lustfully
aroused I was, the only difference this time being, of course, that she
instead of her mother was the sole object of my attention.  Smiling still,
I towered over her, deliberately and slowly fisting my throbbing erection.
"Does your Daddy do this?" Alia, eyes fixed on my cock, sensuous mouth
slightly agape, nodded in awed silence.  "Does he let you touch it?" Again
she nodded.  "Why don't you show me how you touch him, Alia?" For an
uncertain moment, Alia sat quite still, the soapsuds surrounding her making
a soft, wet popping sound then she slowly reached out her left hand.  I
removed my own hand and pushed my hips forwards.  I almost came as her
small fingers tentatively encircled my aching rod.  "That's it," I
murmured, hardly able to speak.  "Do just what you do to Daddy." Evidently,
Alia had been taught well and needed no further tuition in how to wank an
excited cock.  I closed my eyes and gasped, slowly rocking my hips in time
with her gentle rubbing.  "That feels wonderful, Alia.  Just a little
faster...Yes, yes, that's good; just like that." In less than a minute, my
tingling balls tightened and I was ready to cum.  "Wow," I said, gently
removing her hand from my twitching cock.  "You've got a lovely touch. 
That felt really nice, Alia.  Let me get in there with you.  We'll bathe
each other.  Move down." Alia moved to the tap end and I stepped into the
warm soapy water.  The bath was bigger than average and there was plenty of
room for both of us.  I sat down, spread my legs and sighed as the warm,
soothing water engulfed me.  Alia knelt facing me, watching my every move,
a knowing and expectant look on her sweet face.  Her wet hair clung to her
skull and hung in limp strands over her shoulders, framing her oval face
and pink, erect nipples.  "Come here," I told her.  On her knees still, she
waddled up between my legs.  When she was close enough, I encircled her
soft, slick body in my arms and drew her to me.  I had a feeling this girl
knew and had done more, much more, than I'd dared give her credit for. 
"Stand up," I told her.  Alia obeyed and I took my time admiring her
charms. I made her turn this way and that, then asked her to bend over to
show me her lovely bum and the smooth, pouting of her sex that peeped
invitingly from below.  She made no protest or showed any hint of
unwillingness to comply with my wishes or actions.  I leaned forwards and,
holding the tops of her trembling thighs, tongued the pink, wrinkled star
of her anus.  She tasted delightful.  I couldn't get enough and, making her
lean on the edge of the bath and bend even lower, I licked and probed her
tight bottom hole and smooth slit until I thought I'd made her cum.  With
Alia, it was difficult to tell really.  Mainly, I suppose, because I was
expecting more of a response, a spectacular display of uncontrolled emotion
more in keeping with the sort of responses elicited from her mother.  But
there was none of that, though, there was no doubt she enjoyed what I did
to her.  She quivered from head to toe more than once but, apart from that
and a couple of little gasps, made no sound or action I could fully
interpret as orgasmic.  Again, I took the soap in my hands and worked up a
rich, creamy lather.  I caressed her shoulders, her breasts, her excited
nipples, and her softly rounded belly, slipped my hand between her
accommodating thighs and spent a long time gently soaping and playing with
her cunt, focusing much of my attentions on her bottom and rude little
clit. Her cheeks quickly became flushed and her breathing deepened and
became quite agitated.  She couldn't keep still at all, particularly when I
diddled her clit.  I smiled at her.  "Ok," I said, eventually, "your turn
to do me now." So we were more even in height, I got on my knees and handed
Alia the soap.  Frowning with concentration, following my example, she
started at my neck and shoulders, slowly working her way down my chest to
my belly.  Her touch was exquisite and my cock twitched constantly in
anticipation of pleasures to come.  God, it was worth the wait.  She took
my length in both her small hands, expertly slipping it back and forth
between her palms.  I closed my eyes and, throwing my head back, gasped at
the ceiling.  "Don't forget my balls," I said.  She gently cupped them in
one hand while still working my erection with the other.  The sensations
were primal, supreme.  "Do my bum," I said, spreading my thighs, trying in
vain to shock her.  In the space of a heartbeat, her soapy hand searched
for and found my anus.  She gently caressed me.  Her touch was so soft and
delightful.  "Put your finger in me like I did you," I told her.  "Oh, yes.
Good girl; keep your other hand rubbing my cock like that.  Yes, that's it.
That's good.  Keep doing that." The sensations soon became too much.  In
danger of instantly cumming, I was forced to ask her to stop.  My God, this
girl was a little expert and no mistake.  Junior had been a busy boy in the
tuitional stakes and, so far, I could find no fault whatsoever with the
results of his methods.  "Give me a cuddle," I said, sitting down again. 
Alia obediently placed her arms around my neck and pressed her pliable,
naked body sensuously against mine.  I cupped her curvy bottom with both
hands, my fingers going under and into her cleft, and pulled her even
tighter to me so her little nipples brushed my chest.  I leaned backwards
against the bath so she lay over me, trapping my throbbing cock against her
baby-soft lower belly.  The feeling was electric.  I was desperate to cum.
"You are so beautiful and feel wonderful, Alia," I whispered into her neck,
running my hands all over her, rolling my hips so my erection massaged
itself against her belly.  I drew my legs together and the girl allowed her
own legs to spread and drape either side of mine.  Gently, I pulled her
higher up on my chest and my cock sprang up between her open thighs. 
Reaching down, I pressed my cock against her soft pussy and gently rubbed
the tingling head back and forth along the slippery smooth cleft.  "Does
Daddy do this?" I asked, almost breathless at the sensations rippling
through my cock and abdomen.  "Mmm," Alia murmured, her panting gasps
tickling my ear.  She was definitely one turned on little girl.  "Do you
like it?" I asked.  "Mmm," she uttered, simply, frankly.  "Yes.  It's
nice." Leaving the head of my cock wedged against her cleft, I placed my
hand on Alia's bobbing little bottom and slipped a finger easily into her
anus.  I gently finger-fucked her gyrating arse, but with each passing
second I quickly concluded that this child wanted more than gentle.  "Show
me how you like it," I whispered, kissing the soft curve of her neck,
feeling her quiver from head to toe.  Alia slowly rotated her hips,
pressing down and up, firmly moving my cock against her bald little slit in
an obvious fucking motion.  "Is that what Daddy showed you how to do?"
"Mmm," she gasped, concentrating everything on getting a steady, smooth
friction of her pussy and my cock going, the water sloshing around us with
the intensity of her efforts.  Her naiveté added such eroticism to the
situation, the sensations quickly became overwhelming.  Working a finger
deeper into her anal canal, I relaxed completely, slightly moving my hips
in sympathy with her motions, aiding her as she wriggled slickly against
me. My heart pounded in my chest.  I felt her swollen labia spread around
my cock head and, suddenly, the soft mouth of her cunt opened wider and
just sucked me inside.  I groaned and gave in to the exploding wash of
ecstasy and my balls tightened.  With no more than an inch of pulsing cock
engulfed in the velvet clasp of her hot, tight little cunt, I clasped her
arse to me and violently came.  Incredibly, the adorable girl could fuck as
well - if not better - than her mother.  Alia continued to wriggle like a
speared eel on my pulsating rod, taking me deeper and deeper into her with
each molten spurt of cum.  I couldn't believe a ten-year old could take my
cock fully into her, balls deep, but she did and what's more showed no sign
of difficulty or discomfort.  I was both delighted and totally amazed. 
When I had recovered somewhat, I asked Alia, "Are you ok?  Did you enjoy
that?" "Yes.  It was one of the best bath-times ever.  Daddy doesn't -
Well, he doesn't lick me...you know...down there; like you did.  It was
so-o nice.  " "Really," I said, wondering if she wasn't just boosting my
ego, "your Daddy doesn't lick your pussy?" "No.  He doesn't touch my...my
bum like you did, either." "Did you like me touching your bum?" "Mmm...
Yes, it was ok." "How long has Daddy been bathing you, sweetheart?" I
asked. "Oh, er, since I was seven." Around three and a half years then. 
Junior wasn't as thorough as I'd imagined.  The fucking idiot didn't even
abuse his own daughter properly.  It didn't make sense, but that annoyed
the hell out of me.  The selfish little prick really ran true to form even
when it concerned his family.  Perhaps the tide was changing.  Maybe I
didn't have so much reason to envy him after all.  Well, the plan cooking
back there in my mind, if implemented, would put paid to Junior Holt and my
envy once and for all.  It was only 4-o-clock.  I still had plenty of time
to deliberate.  We got out of the bath.  I wrapped Alia in a big, soft
towel and carried her to her bedroom.  Once there, I thoroughly dried her
off, dusted her with talc and then made her lay spread-eagled on her bed. I
pulled her to the edge, knelt down between her long, slender legs and,
again, gently began tonguing her slit.  As though I hadn't had sex in
months, my cock refused to slacken and from semi-erect quickly became as
erect as ever.  To fuck this delightful girl just the once could never be
enough.  I had to have her again.  Alia soon began to writhe and twist as
my tongue teased her clit and, for her anyway, in an extraordinary show of
emotion, reached down and held my head in both her hands as her lovely body
quivered like a live wire carrying an excess load.  I took both her legs
behind the knees, lifted and pressed them back to her chest so her sex and
buttocks were thrust forward and open to me.  I tongued her, clit to anus
and back again then slipped a finger into her cunt and, at the same time,
one in her arse.  I finger-fucked her whilst I tongued her clit.  She
really seemed to enjoy that.  I did it to her for a long time.  Not
forgetting a thing, I tweaked and pinched gently on her nipples until they
were tight blushing buds of sensation and Alia was wriggling all over the
bed.  Then, breathing like a steam train and unable to restrain myself a
minute longer, I pulled her back closer to the edge of the bed and slipped
my throbbing length into the velvet grip of her juicy little quim for the
second time in less than an hour.  I held her legs up and watched intently
as the thick, smooth folds of her slit parted, elastically stretching
around my girth, and sucking me in to the balls.  I fucked her with long,
deep strokes, pulling out to the head, rimming her for a bit then going
back in all the way.  I'd never felt anything quite so exquisite.  I lasted
longer this time, but nowhere near as long as I would've liked.  Her belly
and hips rocking, Alia stared up at me, her eyes never leaving mine as I
gasped and, touching bottom, exploded, emptying my balls against her
cervix. It was such an intensive, exhausting fuck, I almost collapsed. 
After, when my cock eventually wilted and slipped from her wetly tight
quim, I kissed her, told I loved her (which was perfectly true) and told
her to clean up and get dressed.  I went back to the bathroom, retrieved my
clothes and dressed, then went looking for Mrs.  Alison Holt.  It was time
to put her in the picture about my plan especially as it concerned her.  I
found her still in her room, stirring from her afternoon nap.  Gently, I
shook her by the shoulder.  "Alison, are you properly awake?" "What?  - Oh,
Mr...eh, Ray.  It's you." "Are you properly awake because I have something
important to say to you?" Slowly, she got herself together and,
bleary-eyed, sat up.  "Please, Ray... Don't make me do it again... Not just
yet." "I'm not going to make you do anything," I said.  I sat beside her on
the bed, put an arm around her shoulders and just held her tenderly for
several minutes, enjoying just being with her, being close to her.  I felt
the resistance melt from her body, felt her relax against me and my heart
swelled.  This was it.  This would either be the last time I'd hold her or
be the beginning of many such embraces.  After a long silence, I knew it
was time to state my case, to go for broke.  "Alison, listen to me.  I'm
only going to say this once.  I think you are a wonderful woman and, to put
it as simply as I can, I'm in love with you.  I love you utterly and
completely and want you to come with me.  I can't give you all the luxuries
like horses, swimming pools and all that other rich stuff that Junior has
given you and I won't pretend life with me will be easy.  What I can give
you is my heart, my soul, and a promise to take good care of you and the
kids for, God willing, the rest of your lives.  That's it.  I'm going down
to make some coffee and give you five minutes to think about it.  If you
want to come with me then pack your stuff and some stuff for the girls.  We
need to be out of here in two hours.  If not, I'm gone.  You'll never be
bothered by me ever again.  I'll be waiting in the kitchen." Later, as I
sat quietly sipping the steaming coffee, the enormity of what I'd admitted
to Alison, of what I had committed myself to, churned my stomach.  I
couldn't remember ever feeling so nervous.  The last three days had changed
me, changed my life.  I'd been cruel and tough on the wrong people because
of old pain, of envy, of jealousy, and because, deep down, I knew I was
falling in love with another man's wife - albeit, a man I loathed.  One of
my cardinal rules had always been never to fuck with another man's wife no
matter what, mainly because of the memories still haunting me of how it
feels to be the betrayed man.  I almost got myself bent out of shape here
for all the wrong reasons.  I had sifted through the mire of the last three
days and found my true motives, was sure of my intentions and realised it
was way past time to get my life back on track.  My mind and my heart were
ablaze with feelings I'd kept a tight lid on for many years and that fire
would now burn for a long time to come regardless of Alison's decision. 
Mentally, I crossed my fingers and, though I'm not much of a praying man,
even said a small prayer.  She was longer than the stipulated five minutes.
Who could blame her?  When the kitchen door finally opened and Alison
entered with the girls in tow, I stopped breathing.  Tearfully, she stood
across the room looking at me for what seemed like half a lifetime.  I
couldn't say anything.  All I could do was look at her, drink in her
majestic beauty, and feel the love coursing through my veins like volcanic
lava.  At last, the spell broke and Alison walked slowly towards me.  She
got real close, looked deep into my eyes, deeper into my soul.  Her bottom
lip quivered.  She looked so fragile I was too scared to move or breathe or
speak in case she disintegrated before my eyes.  Then she burst into tears
and threw her arms around my neck.  I held her trembling body close until I
felt her settle, felt her meld herself to me.  Heart bursting, I said,
"I'll take that as a yes.  Let me help you start packing."

   Fini