After School Delight Pt. 12

As the door opened, the small girl looked up to see a man of average height with a rugged presentation and rough looking hands. He had the appearance of a builder or other labourer of some kind, as he stood on the step smiling down at her.

In stark contrast, the cute little visitor had bright blue eyes and long, golden locks set in ringlets. The hair was tied neatly with a shocking pink ribbon that passed beneath the thick mane at the back, then wrapped around the sides, being drawn up to the top of her head where it was tied off in a pretty bow.

"Hello sir," she greeted him, albeit a little nervously.

"Well well," he began in his broad Irish accent. "Now what is it we have here?" he asked. "Now ain't you a sight for sore eyes," he smiled.

She smiled bashfully back at him. "Sir? Is Macey home?" the girl asked.

"Oh, it's Macey you're wantin' is it?" he replied. "Well now, Macey is out with her mother," came the kindly response.

"Oh," the girl sighed, glancing toward the man's feet, and clearly looking disappointed.

"Why did ya not ring da bell?" he asked. "I nearly didn't hear ya."

"I couldn't reach," she replied. "Will she be back soon sir?" she asked.

"Ahh... well... maybe nottoo long. Would ya be wantin' to come in and wait now?"

"Oh, yes please. Thank you sir," she smiled.

"Well, ain't you a polite little lady," he complimented. "Would ya mind slipping ya shoes off first?" he asked.

"Of course sir," she replied, bending to unbuckle her black patent shoes.

As she did so, he couldn't resist watching from behind as the back of her skirt rose up, exposing a brief pair of lovely white lacy cotton panties and the tops of her creamy pink thighs, the sight of which quickly began makingthings extraordinarily uncomfortable for him.

She stood and smiled, leaving the shoes beside the door, following him into the lounge as he asked, "Can I offer ya a biscuit and a glass o' milk, maybe?" He badly needed an excuse to leave her alone to adjust himself.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir. I'm not allowed to have milk. I'm lactose intolerant... but a biscuit would be lovely, thank you," she added.

"Biscuit it is den," he smiled, quickly turning to leave before she might notice the significant growing lump in his pants.

She waited patiently in the lounge as he went to the kitchen, returning presently with a plate of biscuits.

"Here y'are, honey," he said, offering the plate.

"Thank you sir. You're very kind."

"Well now... haven't ya been taught well," he told her. "What's yer name honey?" he asked.

"Paula sir. Paula Wilson," she told him.

"Have a biscuit Paula," he smiled.

She picked one and took a bite, sitting smiling up at him as he gazed down, fighting to resist the lusty thoughts rushing through his mind, when all of a sudden she began coughing.

"Are ya OK honey?" he asked.

(Cough, Cough) "I think it went the wrong way," she croaked, raising a hand to her mouth and spluttering as she tried to speak.

"OK," he hurriedly blurted. "Just you sit you here. I'll go get ya some water."

He rushed from the room, quickly returning with a tumbler of water.

"Take care now," he told her. "Da glass is a bit wet. I was kinda in a hurry," he explained.

She took it from him and quickly gulped a few mouthfuls, recovering in a few seconds, then smiled to thank him as she passed the glass back. But as he reached for it his rough fingers slipped on the wet glass, dropping it into her lap. As it fell, some of the water splashed on her blouse, soaking one side to reveal her extremely attractive physical attributes through the now almost transparent material where the wetness made it stick to her skin, making her look even more desirable than ever. The remainder of the water emptied into her lap, leaving a large puddle in the lap of her skirt, that quickly soaked through.

"Oh Begora!" he exclaimed. "I am so sorry. Clumsy fool dat I am. Quick. Let me be gettin' a towel for ya."

Quick as a flash he left the room again, returning just seconds later with a hand towel, but by then the damage was done. She sat there with a horrified expression on her face, the water having now soaked completely through her skirt and drenched her legs beneath.

"Oh calamity," he said, "but don't ya be worryin' none. Just slip dose wet t'ings off, and I'll be puttin' dem in da dryer for ya."

"No!" she squealed, horrified. "I can't undress in front of you!" she objected.

"Oh. Oh no. No. O' course ya can't. Silly me. OK den. Let's be takin' ya up to Macey's room. You can slip ya wet t'ings off d'ere."

"But... I won't have anything to cover me," she objected.

"Oh, but ya can wrap dis towel around ya," he suggested.

"Oh. Oh yes. OK," she replied. "I'll do that. Thank you sir," she smiled.

"Follow me den honey," he said, leading the way up the stairs, and she followed along, holding her wet skirt out in front and looking decidedly forlorn.

At the top of the stairs he led her along the hall landing, then opened the door to my room, leading her inside.

"Here y'are," he told her. "Now I'll be waitin' outside while ya slip da wet t'ings off. Den ya can be wrappin' dat towel around ya."

"Well... OK. If you say so," she replied.

"Call me when you're ready now," he told her. "Den I'll take da wet t'ings down an' get 'em nice an' dry for ya," he assured her.

She looked at him, uncertainly.

"Just sit yer'self down on da bed, while you're waitin'," he told her. She wasn't at all happy about the situation, but it appeared she had little choice.

"OK," she agreed, as he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Several minutes went by, and he became impatient, so he tried the door and peeped in. "Are ya ready honey?" he called.

There was a gasp and a squeal, and he caught a glimpse of her bare back as she snatched the towel from the bed, swiftly wrapping it around her.

"Oh!" she cried out. "I wasn't quite ready," she told him, forcing a nervous smile as she finished tucking the towel in around her chest.

"Sorry honey," he apologised. "OK. Now give me d'ose wet t'ings and I'll go get 'em dry for ya."

He put his hand out for her clothes, as she reached forward to pass to him the bundle, and he waited a few seconds longer than absolutely necessary, studying her while subtly delaying taking it from her.

Seeing the look in his eyes, her hands quickly returned to grip the towel where it was none too securely tucked in under her arm. He smiled, taking the bundle from her, then turned again to look back at the cute little nymphet with nothing but a towel hiding her modesty. It looked like some sort of short tunic, the length wrapped around her and one corner tucked in at the front. His pulse began to race as once again he turned to look at her, then resisted the temptation.

As he left the room, closing the door behind him, he studied the bundle of clothing in his hands and was surprised to find among it, a pair of wet, lacy cotton panties. 'Oh my sweet Lord', he thought. 'She took da panties off too'. He gulped, realising that she was now quite naked under the towel - apart from her socks, that is.

He smiled, as a wicked thought crossed his mind. He held the gusset of the panties up to his face and inhaled the faint scent of her sex. 'Oh... sweet', he smiled.

Quickly - almost running, he hurried to the utility room to dump the clothes into the dryer, then rushed back to my bedroom.

As he opened the door, he found her sitting on the bed, as he had suggested. There was a brief glimpse of pink flesh under the edge of the towel, just for a moment. Then as she saw where he was looking, and realised her predicament, her knees quickly snapped together. For a moment he just stood there in the doorway, staring at her.

She frowned, and fidgeted, uneasily.

"Oh my. What a beautiful sight ya are, dat's for sure."

"What do you mean?" she asked, standing to avoid displaying her private parts to him any longer than necessary.

"Oh honey," he sighed. "You don't know what it's loike for a man like me," he told her, "seein' lots o' pretty girls all da toime.

Now she was scared. "What time will Macey be home sir?" she asked, in a desperate effort to divert his attention from her predicament.

"Macey?" he replied. "Oh... Ya don't need to be worryin' yerself about Macey. Her and her mother, dey gone to the town. They's shoppin' for a Ball Gown," he smiled. "I wouldn't be expectin' dem back until tea-toime, an' it's only just after lunchtoime now. So... we have ourselfs plenty o' toime ta play," he grinned.

"What?" she cried, horrified.

"Please Mr. O'Reilly. Can I..."

"Oh, my name isn't O'Reilly, he smiled. I ain't Macey's natural father, ya see. Oh no. I'm her step-father. My name is Donnelly," he said, pulling himself up straight and puffing his chest out.

"Please Mr. Donnelly. May I have my clothes back. I'd like to go home now."

"Oh, ya can't be gettin' dressed yet honey," he replied, shaking his head and smiling. "Oh no. Yer clothes are still wet honey. Can't be puttin' wet clothes on, now can ya? You'd be catchin' a cold."

"Please Mr. Donnelly," she began to cry.

"Oh, honey. You're good," he told her. "If I din't know better, I'd t'ink them was real tears," he smiled.

"I want to go home," she sobbed.

"Oh but honey," he said softly, his tone changing, as if talking down to a child. "I can't be lettin' ya go yet," he smiled. "We still have lots o' t'ings to do."

She began to sob.

"Have ya ever done anyt'in' like dis before?" he asked, approaching her.

"Like what sir?" she replied, looking really scared.

"Not'in' honey," he grinned, licking his lips. "Probably easier if I be showin' ya."

He smiled as he loosened his belt, slipping a hand inside the front of his pants and reaching down to make a necessary adjustment to some essential equipment that was rapidly becoming very restricted for space.

"What are youdoing!" she squealed.

He just smiled back at her. "It's OK honey," he told her. "Ya can stop pretendin' now. I know she sent ya here fer me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, Begora, Ya look even younger dan da little Chinese she brought home," he grinned.

"I don't know what you think..."

"But, Macey promised me dat none o' yous is underage," he interrupted, "so I guess it's OK, ain't it."

"No. Please. You don't underst..."

"Oh yeah. Dat's good honey. So, ya like a bit o' role play do ya? OK, I can go fer dat," he smiled.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

"Oh no honey... Not hurt... Not exactly," he smiled.

"What do you want then?" she sobbed, terrified.

"Oh," he grinned. "I t'ought we might just try a little... matin'?"

"What? she exclaimed in horror, as he began releasing the buckle on his pants.

"Ya can start by givin' back da towel," he grinned.

"What?" she repeated.

"Are ya hard o' hearin' now honey," he said. "I t'ink I'll be wanting da towel back," he grinned.

He took a step toward her, and in response she tried to back away, but finding herself up against the bed, she felt herself begin to lose her balance. Her arms instinctively moved back to save herself from falling, and as they did so, the increased tension around her chest caused the towel to slip - faster than she could catch it.

Anyone listening from outside would have heard Paula's surprised squeal as she began falling backwards onto the bed, then a cry of fear as the the grip of the towel around her failed completely, followed by Mick Donnelly's voice saying, soft and low, "Well, well... I'm t'inking theremust a God," he laughed, "an' it looks like he's just answered me prayers."

"Please sir. Don't," Paula's voice cried. "Please sir. I don't want to..." she began.

"Well now, pretty Paula Wilson. Ya know ya can't go tellin' no-one what we be gettin' up to here, can ya."

"Please sir. I don't want..." she tried to object.

"Not anoder livin' soul now. Understand?"

"No Sir," her voice replied, more calmly this time.

---------- Fin: ----------

To The Reader:

Thank you for reading my story.

Obviously, if you have reached this point, you were game enough to seek the final outcome, so thank you for that.

To help me better provide what my audience want, please be kind enough to click the link of myUser-ID below, then click theContact tab to let me know which section(s) you enjoyed the most. If you would like a reply, please provide a valid email address (or Lit won't give me any address to send it to :)

And, finally:

My apologies for having togloss over a number of sections. There simply wasn't the time or space to include everything here. If you feel you would like to hear about the missingincidents, please message me, and if I decide to expand on these, I will let you know in due course.

Thanks again.

Macey xx