Cleaned 16 By timos111@hotmail.com Janelle's plan was to let Christine stew for a couple of days, then phone her up all little-girl-lost and say "we have to talk." This waiting was murder on her, though. The need in her had still not been sated, and in fact was steadily increasing. But then, suddenly, there was an unexpected bonus. Right out of left field. Out of nowhere. Next day Janelle got in from work at five-thirty, feeling kinda stinky from a day of office cleaning. Brad had the TV on, watching an incessant stream of cable music channels. Doug was still at work, where according to usual form he'd probably remain until about seven. In Doug's bedroom she shucked off her work clothes and underwear, then pulled on a robe so she could go and put her clothing in the laundry basket on her way to the bathroom. While showering, she noticed a slight movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned around in the shower stall and peered past the clear plastic shower curtain. After a moment or two she noticed that the bathroom's sliding door was about one inch from being fully closed. Hmmm ... she was sure she'd closed it when she entered. But hadn't bothered to lock it. Why should she? There was only ever Doug in the place, and now Brad, and besides she wasn't all that hung-up about modesty. What had been the cause of that movement she'd seen? Just Brad walking past? Or had he been peeking? She left the shower running to cover the sound of her wet footsteps as she padded to the bathroom door. She eased it open a tad. Glancing down the hall, she could partly see Brad's denim-clad butt through the laundry doorway. He seemed to be bending over the dirty-laundry basket. Seeing him straighten up, she pulled back and quickly returned the door to its original position. Was he, she wondered? Was it possible that ...? Shutting off the shower and drying herself, she put on a fresh pair of panties and the housecoat again. She waited quietly in the bathroom, checking her watch until about four minutes had elapsed. Ought to be sufficient time for him to have gotten started. Then she strode down the hall, turned the handle of Brad's bedroom door, and shoved it suddenly open. Brad was lying on his bed with his jeans thrust down, his very-erect cock gripped in one hand, and the yellow-stained crutch of her recently-discarded panties pressed against his nose with the other. The poor lad just about leapt out of his skin! The panties quickly disappeared under the bedcover, but he could do nothing in a hurry to conceal his massive erection. With mortification in his face, he slowly pulled his briefs and jeans back into place. She stood with her hands on her hips, contemplating him implacably. She looked poker-faced, but in fact her mind was a whirl. It was like that scene in the Animal House movie when a girl passed out drunk, and an angel appeared on the guy's shoulder to say "Stay your hand! This helpless lass is but a child!" Meanwhile a devil appears on his other shoulder to say "Fuck her! Go on, fuck her!" Janelle's angel was saying she should turn on her heel, walk out of there, and pretend nothing ever happened. Her devil was telling her she ought to seize the opportunity to teach this kid some respect for womanhood. More specifically, show him there'd be consequences if he messed with her panties! Consequences that would bring her maximum satisfaction, of course. Her racing mind fleetingly considered what Doug might think. He'd disapprove of course, but she didn't feel she had to tell him, or owed him her fidelity. No, it was too perfect. Too delicious! It brought back fond memories of what she and the girls had done to that kid in the backseat of a car so many years ago. And right now, it would be fulfilling the need in her. "Stand up" she said, quietly but firmly. He did, jeans more-or-less up but not yet zipped. "Strip off." "Excuse me?" "You heard me." He shoved his jeans down and stooped to pull them off each leg. Then he raised his t-shirt up over his head and let it drop to the floor. His prick was large and magnificent. His body perfectly muscled, almost hairless. A light dusting of fluffy golden pubic hair, and a sum total of about two translucent chest hairs gracing his breastbone, but the rest of him was as smooth as a baby's bottom. "Do you like my panties?" He blushed red, but didn't say anything. "You better answer me when I ask you a question. Otherwise I'll be telling your Uncle Doug all about this!" "No ... please!" "Then answer - do you like my panties?" "Yes" he muttered, feeling very exposed in his nakedness before her. "Explain why." "I ... uh ... I love the smell." She already knew that for a fact, and she couldn't blame him either, but it was good psychology to have him to state it out loud. Acting on a hunch, she stepped to the bedside drawers and pulled them open. Sure enough, in the bottom draw there were two more pairs of her panties. They were crusty and yellowed in places. She pulled them out and held them up. "What have you been doing with these, exactly?" she enquired. Getting an answer from him was like pulling teeth, but he forced out the words. "I ... I been jacking off into them." "Do you think about me, when you do that?" He blushed even redder, to the roots of his hair. "Yes." "Do you imagine you're fucking me?" "Yes." "One thing I can tell you right now, Brad - you will never ever get to fuck me. But there might be other stuff I'll want you to do." "Like what?" "That's for me to know, and for you to find out. But just for starters, I don't ever want to catch you wearin' no more mens' briefs. Since you love panties so much, from now on you ain't gonna wear nuthin' but!" "No shit?" "No shit. And I'll expect you to verify the fact any time I request. Got it?" "Got it." "So ... what are you waiting for?" She held out one of the crackly pairs of panties, and he took it from her reluctantly. Bending, he pulled them up into place. Ill-fitting, and without enough fabric in the front, his prick stuck well out over the top. "Now, finish what you were doing when I got here." "You serious?" "Yep." "I don't think I can." "Whaddya talkin' 'bout? You were doing fine when I first come in here!" "But ... but ... I ain't done it before, y'know, in front of a girl!" "Are you a virgin?" "No! But I never let no one see me jack off before." "You start right now, or I'll be telling Doug." He sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking about it. It didn't take long for him to accept defeat. Laying back, he arranged a pillow under his head and curled his right hand around his dong. What a dong! There was plenty of it - certainly much longer and thicker than Doug's. He stroked diffidently, though. Like he was having trouble getting into the swing of things. "Several times now I've caught you staring at my tits" she informed him. He had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Wanna see what you can't touch?" she tantalised. He said nothing, but his eyes were definitely answering in the affirmative. She shrugged open her robe, enough to expose her shoulders and chest down to her navel. He gasped at the sight of her pointed tits with their proud dark nipples. Full and heavy, and so well shaped. A chocolate paradise. He couldn't take his eyes off them, and was wanking in earnest now. She stood there like she was modelling for Christine, turning every so often to give him another angle while he beat his meat with increasing vigour. She stepped forward and leaned over him, so that her boobs hung down about a foot above his face. He was too intimidated by her to even think about trying to touch them, but the close-up view he had of her down- hanging globes got him to the brink. His breath gave a couple of soft snorts, his toes curled inward, and she saw his stuff shoot over his belly to land in thick white gobs, with the final spasms dribbling down over his cockhead onto his thumb. "Impressive!" she said admiringly. She pulled her robe back together again. Then she reached under its hem and whisked off the panties she was wearing. She did it in such a way that he only got the teeniest glimpse of her nether regions. "Here, let's get you cleaned up." She reached down and used the panties as a cloth to wipe the sperm off his belly. She even dabbed some off the end of his prick. To him this was maddening, because a minute ago he'd wanted so badly to be touched by her. Now she was touching him, after he'd cum - too late to be of any use! Then she suddenly shoved the soiled garment against his face, smearing its juices onto him. He rolled away and tried to fend her off, but was too slow to prevent it. "What's the matter? Those panties got my fresh pussy smell on them. It's the closest you'll ever get to having your sperm near MY pussy!" "What else do you want from me?' he asked miserably. "That'll do for now. Just remember this will all stay our little secret, as long as I get your full cooperation." "You got it" he whispered. She closed his door behind her and scurried back to the room she and Doug slept in. A mental image of Brad's strong young cock splurging pecker snot all over his belly was engraved in her mind. Time for a quick bout of masturbation before Doug got home? No, dammit. She heard his key in the lock, and he entered the apartment. "Hi, honey! I hope looking after that nephew of mine hasn't been any trouble." She kissed him on the cheek in greeting. "Nothing I couldn't handle" she said mysteriously. She reached down to firmly grasp his testicles through his business-suit trousers. His eyes widened in apprehension. Using this tender handhold, she led him aggressively toward the bathroom.