I had been waiting for the call all evening, but I had expected it much earlier. Around 7 p.m. my wife had dropped our daughter Cindy and her friend and "temporary sister" Angie off at a parentally-supervised middle school party. It was my assignment to pick them after a few hours of soda, chips, and perhaps a few games of innocent "spin the bottle."

When Cindy finally called at almost 11 p.m., I knew something was wrong. In the background I heard loud music and loud male voices. In short, a party of decidedly un-middle school characteristics. "Dad, you're gonna kill us, but we need your help. Angie and me snuck out from Tanya's party when Mrs. Thomas wasn't looking. We're at a high school party. Can you please come get us?"

"A high school party? Are you both okay?"

"Well... they had some beer here, and they got us to try it. I had some--I know I'm not supposed to--and Angie had some too. Then she drank something they called 'Jungle Juice'. I think it had some booze in it or something, 'cause she started acting really drunk. That's why I'm calling you, Dad. She just went into a bedroom with some high school guy!"

"Where are you? I'll be right there!"

-o0o-

High school punks parted like the Red Sea before me as I strode through the beer-sodden ranch style on the far side of town. I quickly found Cindy, and she looked positively relieved to see me, despite the punishment she knew must lay ahead. Taking my arm she pulled me down a hallway to a closed doorway, indicating that Angie was within. I threw open the door.

In the light of a small bedside lamp I saw it all. And so did Cindy.

Angie lay on her back, shirtless, her training bra pushed up under her hickey-bruised neck. Her A-cup titties glistened, presumably with her despoiler's saliva. Her jeans were pushed down around her knees, and although her panties were still around her hips for the most part, the jock's hand was buried so deeply within them that I was certain at least one meaty digit was driven deep into her thirteen-year-old pussy.

"Get the fuck off of her!" At this command the kid, probably seventeen years old himself, leapt off of the bed, pulling his hand from her panties and darting for the bathroom door. I noticed his finger was wet. Shithead. "She's in eighth grade for Christ's sake!" I called after him. By then, he had already exited the bathroom via its second door and was gone.

"Come on, Angie, let's get your clothes and get out of here. Cindy, help her get dressed."

"I'm shorry, Mr. Wilthon," the young teen slurred as my daughter did her best to get her decent. Not that I didn't find the sexy schoolgirl "decent." I found her most excellently "decent," and under different circumstances I would have enjoyed gazing upon her lithe body, the barer the better. But I was responsible for this girl's safety, so I had to master the worst angels of my nature and speed things along.

"We'll talk about that later, now just get dressed."

-o0o-

Cindy tried to do some fast talking on the drive home, but I shushed her. "I'm too angry and surprised right now. You will fare much better if we talk about this tomorrow. Right now, I'm getting you two home and to bed."

Frankly, I was angry with myself. My wife and I were responsible for both of these girls, our own, of course, but also Angie on a temporary basis. Angie's parents were out of the country, in Ukraine, trying to adopt a younger brother for the girl. They had left her, also a Ukrainian adoptee, in our charge. In fact, I had legal power of attorney over the girl's affairs and well-being, since the adoption process was expected to take over a month. Legally, my wife and I were each in loco parentis for Angie.

Angie's parents, the Browns, had certainly lucked out with her genetically. While they were both plain and rather portly people, Angie was a certified Slavic knockout. At thirteen, she looked like a runway model. Well, except that she had a rather juvenile body, but from what I've noted, that doesn't seem to be an impediment for modeling nowadays. Okay, at 5-foot-2 she was a little short for the big time, but heck, she was still only thirteen. Despite my anger, I couldn't help reliving the scene of Angie's half-naked display over and over in my mind. Lord, she was a cutie all right!

Shaking such distractions, at least for the moment, I returned to thoughts of responsibility. Yes, I had concerns about my daughter, but even greater ones about Angie. For one thing, her parents were counting on my wife and me. For another, Cindy had exercised at least some control. Angie had almost ended up in big trouble, and on my watch! Of course, I'd always known Angie was a little bit of a hell raiser, and wasn't above a little sass-mouth, either. But during the past two weeks under our supervision, she had been a paragon of good behavior.

When we got home, I sent Cindy inside while I had to rouse Angie to help her into the house. No question about it, that Jungle Juice had contained at least vodka, probably grain alcohol. Angie was totally fucked up. She'd have a hell of a hangover the next day, I was sure. As she stumbled once or twice, I caught her--and a handful of ass or tit in the process as well. I had to admit that I sort of envied that high school punk who'd gotten to finger her sweet little box. Youth is wasted on the young, though--he'd probably not even appreciated it in all its glory. To him, the fact that she was so young was probably a shortcoming made up for by the ease of the Jungle Juice seduction. For someone with my longer life experience, her youthfulness was a delight in itself.

When the two of us entered the house, my wife was already in hysterics from the admissions Cindy was making to her. I broke it up, again stating, this time for my wife's benefit, the fact that the "investigation, prosecution, guilty verdict and sentencing" would wait until tomorrow. I ordered Cindy to her room and, with a rolled-eye signal to my wife--intended to express exasperation rather than my true fascination--I helped Angie to her bedroom. I flipped on the light and laid her on the pink coverlet, pushing aside a few of the stuffed animals she had brought from home for her extended stay. What a discordant pairing her drunken state and her childish bed companions made!

Leaving her there, I found my wife in our own bedroom.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Hon. I'll stay up for a while on 'drunk watch.' I don't want Angie to get sick on herself. She could choke or something."

"Oh, dear. Do you think you'll have to watch her all night?"

"Maybe for a couple of hours. It's a precaution we always took with young drunk sailors back in the Navy. When they're so inexperienced, you never know how drunk they really are, so it's best to watch over them for a bit. If she's sleeping peacefully after a while, I'll probably be able to come to bed. Thank goodness tomorrow is Saturday. I'll take my book along."

"Okay, Honey. Wake me if you need any help."

"Goodnight, Babe."

-o0o-

Back in Angie's room, I set out to make her comfortable. Don't get me wrong; from the very start I expected some voyeuristic pleasure. However, I only planned to steal a quick peek and be done with it. Turning out all the lights but a bedside lamp, I at sat at her side on the edge of the bed.

First, I removed her shoes and socks. Such pretty, tender little feet!

However, that is not my particular fetish, so with shaking fingers I unbuttoned the unconscious girl's jeans. She mumbled as I did this, so I gruffly but quietly said something like "Gotta get you ready for bed," just in case she was a little bit coherent. However, she didn't even open her eyes, not even a flutter.

Next, I pulled the denim down her long lean legs, baring her succulent white thighs, adorable knees, and slender shins before I removed them completely and tossed them on the floor. Exposed to my gaze were the self-same pink cotton panties that the high school jock had been invading. "Oh, look. There's a little bow in the front." I hadn't seen that before.

Angie just lay there, her thighs slightly spread, and I couldn't take my eyes off the tender rise of her mons veneris, forming a delicious topography out of her underpants.

At this point, she was ready for bed. I could have tucked her in and been done with it. "Oh, but she still has her bra on. That can be uncomfortable to sleep in. Better get that off, too." Yep.

Off came her t-shirt. Off came the bra. Out came the sweet little A-cups. One had a hickey on it, smaller than those on her neck. The other was pristine. This is the point at which I should have put her t-shirt back on. Instead, I broke bad.

Tentatively, I gently reached out a hand to graze one small bosom with my fingertips. It was wonderfully smooth and soft, yielding but resilient. Nice.

My other hand joined the first, or mimicked it, rather, lightly investigating her other cupcake. Not surprisingly, but nonetheless delightfully, it was as exquisite as the first.

I became bolder as it became clear that my young ward was oblivious to these attentions, so I leaned forward to take a taste of one rubbery nipple. It swelled it my mouth, to my approval, as did the other when similarly tested. For those keeping score, at this point I had been on "drunk watch" for a quarter of an hour, and had read nary a page of my book.

-o0o-

I was now a half an hour into this beauty duty, and I surveyed the consequences. Before me lay an unconscious Ukrainian-born doll clad in nothing but a cute pair of pink cotton panties. Her chest was bare, and slick with the saliva of her legal guardian. Her nipples were hard, chilled by their wetted exposure to the conditioned air. Now, each tender white hillock sported a matching hickey, although the one on her right breast did look a little fresher than its model on the left. I thought that would make a very nice touch, seeing that she had been in no state by the time we found her to recall exactly what brands the boy had left her with. My mark could lie camouflaged among his and she'd never be the wiser.

However, at this stage I knew I was going to carry things farther. I was going to be a very bad man. A very normal, natural, predictable and, therefore, very bad man. So I crept out of her bedroom for a minute to ensure that both my wife and my daughter were sound asleep before moving forward.

-o0o-

It was with renewed caution that I slowly drew Angie's sweet eighth-grade panties down off of her hips. Despite my thief-like caution, I nearly chortled out loud at the sight of her succulent cunt as it was revealed, for the fat outer labia of this child's vulva were practically hemispherical, protruding obscenely in the absence of the pelvic layer of cushioning fat her active pubescence was yet to produce.

This full-bodied pout was a darker pink than the surrounding flesh, but unmarked by a single hair. Only a light patch of honey-brown fuzz adorned her crotch, perched above her cleft like an inadequate eyebrow. Needless to say, as a whole it was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever beheld.

Angie did not stir, so with little hesitation I completed her disrobement and leaned in to experience some aromatherapy of the most fundamental sort. The musky tang of thirteen-year old puss worked wonders; at least twenty years were stripped from my own age with that first inhalation.

My watering mouth would not long be denied, so soon I pressed forward, tasting with my tongue what I had already tasted with my mind: the most precious possession of a helpless young girl.

-o0o-

As I sampled at, savored of and slobbered over the extraordinarily well-sculpted teenaged twat, it swelled, reddened, and opened, its inner secrets blossoming in the dim light of the room. Inner petals protruded, glistening like slick sealskin. A pearl peaked out, pink and eager. And a sleeping schoolgirl breathed more heavily, raggedly, unevenly.

I had just finished telling myself that this was as far as I could dare to take it when I felt moist warmth around my right index finger. No wonder, for I discovered I was sliding it into her swampy channel already, without waiting for my brain's permission! Well, in for a penny, as they say, so without further self-delusion I set about digitally investigating this spiritual wonder. I groped, prodded, and continued to mouth my appreciation, all the while reveling in my misdeed.

I discovered that her hymen was missing. I wondered about her virginity. Had it been taken? Could be, but who knew. Both Cindy and Angie were active girls who had played youth sports. I guess that meant that the next guy, who might be her "first guy", would have little impediment on that front, when he came to fuck this sweet little crumpet.

Next guy, first guy, that guy--me guy!

I know, I know. She was only asleep, yes quite drunk, but certainly not drugged into Elysium. Did I really believe I could shove my stiff meat into her and not wake her?

Well, a hard cock has no discretion and, as it turns out, she never once opened her eyes. Soon my clothes lay in a pile beside our young charge's bed, and I was kneeling at her juncture, gently lifting and spreading her thighs, pressing her knees up toward her chest to roll her crotch upward. My angry purple rod lay lengthwise in her gravy groove, through which I could feel the telegraphed beating of her adolescent heart. It was time.

A slight pelvic maneuver of my own was sufficient to bring my point to bear, kissing at the vibrant entrance to her innocence. A steady pressure, calculated to prevent any quick jarring sensations, slowly served to split her box and begin to slowly bury my bone.

She was tight, probably a virgin after all, I surmised, but also capable, with patience, to accommodate my entire need. In no hurry, I took my time, fully ten minutes, before I finally felt my pelvic bone pressing into the babyfat of her middle school fuck mound.

The entire inward journey had been ecstasy, as was the slow retreat. A speedier follow-on advance was just as pleasant, and the more urgent pullback was no slouch, either. Soon I was steadily pumping into the violated playpen, miraculously taking my pleasure without apparent danger of discovery. Her face showed no notice of the mating she was taking, but her middle school vagina sure knew how to cooperate. So you see, you can hardly blame me, nor can you be surprised, that I turned out to be, like most others would in this situation, a very bad man.

-o0o-

If there is one thing I learned about myself that evening, it was that one thing I have trouble resisting is temptation.

Now, despite everything I have so far related, I am not by nature an imprudent man. In fact, I am quite the opposite, by nature. Usually. For example, I did not forget that the thirteen-year-old receiving my deep, rhythmic attentions was very unlikely to be on the pill. Therefore I resolved to pull out and jerk off all over her flat tummy and perky titties at the last moment. However, the last moment actually arrived early, for seconds after making this resolution I was pumping my batter deep into Angie's belly without an ounce of regret.

-o0o-

In the morning, I let the girls sleep in. Cindy awoke first, and after a stern lecture on the dangers of drinking, not letting us know where she was, the hazards in general for girls out at night without chaperones, I let her off easy since she had been smart enough to call me before things went past the point of no return.

In the early afternoon, I had my private talk with Angie. Not only did I want to make sure to play the guardian role up to snuff, but I was starting to worry whether she might remember anything from our mutual misadventure.

"Angie, I don't know how much of this to tell your parents when they return. Drinking, sneaking out from the Thomas's house, fooling around with that older boy. What do you think I should do about it?"

"Mr. Wilson, I don't think my parents would want to hear about any of that."

"What do you suppose I should do, then?"

"Well, I suppose you could punish me yourself, and not have to mention it to them."

"Now Angie, this is serious. The tone you are taking doesn't sound too sincere."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wilson. I mean to be sincere. What I'm saying is, if you think you need to punish me some more, I suppose you could fuck me again. That wasn't so bad and you seemed to really enjoy it. Then we don't have to tell my parents anything--about the party or about the punishment."

-o0o-

Sometime in the two weeks prior to the Browns' return, their eldest child conceived. Somehow it got pinned on an anonymous and not-to-be-found high school jock, but today the Browns are raising my son right alongside their new Ukrainian adoptee. After all their own struggles with having children, there was no way they were going to countenance aborting Angie's baby. They managed to keep things pretty discrete, and adopted the little tyke at birth, sending Angie to ninth grade with none of her schoolmates or teachers the wiser. They are not delighted with the circumstances that added to their family in such an unexpected way, but they are with the result of an additional child. As am I.

Comments

Nickname Feedback
4fingers Yup,....that was a good one. Especially liked the young girls remarks about "the punishment"...
Indeed. More than one young lady in Stepdaddy's history have come to prefer the term "my punishment" in reference to the stern -- but very welcome -- unprotected poundings of their young vaginas.

-- Stepdaddy
Anonymous Wonderful short piece. Thanks!
Thanks for taking a moment to comment!

-- Stepdaddy
Anonymous I came! Thanks, bro.
Success!

--Stepdaddy
Anonymous Short and to the point. (all pun intended) well done.
thx

--Stepdaddy
Anonymous Beautiful piece! Everyone got exactly what they deserved... Thankyou.
Thanks. And if you have a teenaged daughter, she can stay with me during your next overseas trip... :-)

--Stepdaddy
fred4sluts Sexy, arousing story with a nice twist. Kinda like twisting a nipple!
...and with a pinch of something else, that something being an adolescent bottom, perhaps...

--Stepdaddy
Chris Hailey Wonderfully hot, Stepdaddy. I think it's my favorite of yours.
Encouraging praise indeed, mine host!

--Stepdaddy
Anon The hickeys idea was inspired! We don't hear enough about that form of 'commentary' on a pretty girl's body. Equally the way the teen boy would have looked as he pulled himself out of her - that was nicely done. Do you think Angie tells Cindy, who gets a mite curious?
Thankyou.
She might, just a mite!

--Stepdaddy
16sweetie I loved it! Similar to one of my experiences, thank you so much! ;)
Thank you for your comment, 16sweetie. I'd love to hear about your experiences (which might help me write future stories, in addition to simply interesting me thoroughly). If you send me your email, we can discuss offline (Of course, I never reveal reader identities).

--Stepdaddy
Anonymous Enjoyed it very much, could see myself in this story!
I know what you mean. After those fateful (and delicious) events, every time I looked in the mirror I relived that weekend. I never felt the least bit guilty -- more gloating, actually. Finally, I decided I just had to write the story down for the rest of the world to enjoy vicariously.

--Stepdaddy
mike "gravy groove"...great turn of a phrase
...yup. Are you wanting to get on the gravy train?

--Stepdaddy
bill Great story, keep up the good work Stepdaddy
She helps me keep it up, and so it hardly feels like work! Or were you referring to my writing about it?

--Stepdaddy

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