Spying on a Spoiled Brat

I stared at the huge scarlet stains in the center of Olivia's napkin, traced my fingers around the edge of the pad including its wings and felt the absorbent material within the pad and its soft, stay dry cover. I thought about Olivia pulling her knickers down, pressing this pad into her panty saddle and then pulling her knickers up, adjusting the pad so it was comfortable around her pussy.

Salivating in anticipation, I put Olivia's panty pad to my nose and sniffed her menstrual blood. The smell of Olivia's period was stronger on the pad than the tampons, maybe because she had worn it for longer? I absorbed as many musty female smells as I could, then moved my nose to the back of the pad where it would have rested against Olivia's anus. I could smell Olivia's poo on this section of the pad, but no stains were evident. Presumably Olivia had farted into the pad while wearing it, and the smell still lingered.

I could have spent all afternoon sniffing young Olivia's soiled and smelly feminine hygiene products, but I had another place I wanted to check out so returned Olivia's pad and tampons to their bags and placed them back in her period bin, making sure I closed the lid.

My next destination was also in the bathroom, and was the large pink clothes hamper with 'Olivia' prominent on it near the girl's shower. As I approached the clothes hamper I looked through the clear glass screen of the shower, and imagined Olivia naked under the water, soap running down her legs to her bare feet, both when she was normal and also when she was menstruating.

Feeling my heart pounding, I opened the hamper and hoped that Rose, the family's housekeeper, had not done Olivia's laundry in recent days. I was in luck. There were quite few of Olivia's clothes in the hamper awaiting washing day, and this meant panties. A number of panties worn by a hot 18-year-old girl.

The laundry hamper had a main part where most of Olivia's dirty clothes could be found, but also a small basket at the top presumably for special items, and in this compartment was a pair of Olivia's panties, apricot in color, in a plastic bag. One look at the crotch of Olivia's apricot-colored knickers showed why they were kept separate -- there was a massive red stain on the double-cotton panty saddle. Clearly young Olivia had had a menstrual mishap while wearing them and my interest was aroused. But I did not open the bag yet, I had other panties to find, and accordingly dived into the laundry basket.

While Olivia had very expensive tastes with clothes, it seemed the same did not extend to her underwear. All of Olivia's knickers were plain cotton bikini-brief panties which could be purchased cheaply at a supermarket or discount store. But while Olivia's panties may have been plain ordinary cotton bikini briefs, it did not diminish their feminine beauty or appeal.

Olivia had four pairs of dirty knickers in the hamper besides the ones that she had gotten her period blood all over. There was a pure white pair, a light blue pair, a light pink pair and a pair of lemon-colored panties that had blue flowers on them. On the white, blue and pink panties I could see the creamy feminine stains that Olivia's vagina had left on the cotton.

I raised each pair of panties to my nose in turn and smelled the double cotton saddles, absorbing the wonderful smells of Olivia's teenage twat, the musty feminine smells from her teenage pussy driving me wild. On the pink panties I could pick up the slightest scent of urine as well as pussy, but while it wasn't strong it was enough to turn me on and think about how I had seen Olivia pissing into her toilet ahead of her massive poo.

My hand reached for the lemon panties with blue flowers, but before I picked them up I noticed that Oliva had a pair of pantyhose in the hamper too, and my attention was diverted. I picked up the black tights and admired them, seeing the mesh of the crotch that allowed Olivia to breathe between her legs while wearing them. Like I had done with her undies, I raised Olivia's pantyhose to my nose and smelled the crotch and was rewarded with the smell of her snatch. I continued smelling her pantyhose for a few for moments before I replaced them in the hamper and returned my attention to Olivia's yellow and blue flowery knickers.

From watching Olivia on the toilet, it was obvious that she was fastidious about wiping herself clean when she went to the loo. And well she should have been, with extra-soft three ply toilet paper for her to use to wipe her bottom, and also a bidet to wash herself after her bowel movements. But from looking at the back of Olivia's yellow and blue flower knickers, when she was wearing these she had messed up. Not just a little bit. Big time.

On the back panel of the panties were three massive brown poo stains, Olivia's skid marks looking like melted chocolate all over her cotton knickers. I wondered how she had soiled her undies so badly when she had such high quality toilet paper and a bidet to use. Had she farted and accidentally pooped herself when she was wearing these knickers? Had she used a public toilet with inferior toilet paper and not used enough when she wiped her bottom? Or maybe she was daydreaming about my apprentice Luke while she was sitting on the loo and forgot to wipe her arse? I could never know, but the reality was that Olivia had stained these panties with her feces, and here I was with them in my hand, putting them to my nose and smelling Olivia's skid marks, enjoying the smell of girl poo that lingered on her dirty knickers.

Then I opened the plastic bag containing the apricot colored knickers where Olivia had had a time of the month mishap. I sniffed the dried period blood on Olivia's panty saddle, the musty and fishy odors going up my nose and increasing my erection.

I loitered around Olivia's laundry hamper, taking it in turns to sniff all her dirty panties, the ones with normal feminine stains, the ones she had bled on and the ones she had soiled during a visit to the toilet. Looking at Olivia's knickers stained with period blood and poop, I couldn't help wondering if Olivia would be embarrassed at the family's housekeeper seeing her panties in this state and the teenager's obvious failings at her feminine hygiene practices and her toilet habits on these occasions. On the other hand, Olivia had grown up never having to do her own laundry and a maid doing it for her, so maybe any embarrassment at the maid seeing her dirty panties was outweighed by not having ones dignity lowered by having to perform peasant level tasks such as washing feces and menstrual blood from one's knickers. And Olivia had left poo stains in her toilet during her last visit, the maid must have seen this on other occasions too when she cleaned Olivia's bathroom.

Taking some final sniffs of the odors of Olivia's pussy and bum from her smelly knickers, I replaced her underwear in the hamper and making sure that I had left no evidence of my voyeurism, went back downstairs. But I was so distracted by everything that I could not concentrate on any work, and packed up, locked up and left by 3pm, the weather over Melbourne now grey and overcast.

My head was all over the place and I nearly reversed my van into a hedge as I backed down the driveway. I did not make straight for home, but rather to Melbourne's scenic Brighton beach, where I parked and walked among the iconic bathing boxes, looking north to St. Kilda and the Melbourne CBD skyline, and out to sea.

I had numerous raging emotions about my actions today, hiding under Olivia's bed watching her using the toilet and bidet and changing her tampon, changing her top then checking out her used feminine hygiene products and dirty knickers. I felt shocked and confused that I had done this, ashamed and guilty. I tried to tell myself that I had gotten turned on by seeing Olivia's breasts, bare bottom, pubic hair, vagina, bra and panties, all normal things to be turned on with an attractive 18-year-old girl.

Yes, seeing these private parts of Olivia had turned me on, but I was even more turned on by seeing her menstruating, peeing, pooing and farting on the toilet, wiping her bottom, changing her tampon and using her bidet. When I sniffed Olivia's knickers, I had been more turned on by her period stains, skid marks and the slight smell of urine on the pink pair than her regular snatch smells. What the fuck was wrong with me? Was I crazy? I had never been turned on by that sort of thing before, so why now? And why with my wife's much younger half-sister who I thought of as a spoiled brat?

I had three choices to cool myself down. One, I could jump into the cool waters of Port Phillip Bay and swim all the way across Bass Strait to Tasmania. An ocean swim of several hundred kilometers in cold water to Hobart, Launceston or Devonport might do the trick. Two, I could run all the way to Western Australia until I reached Perth, jog up the coast until I reached Darwin in the Northern Territory, then turn back and run through the desert to Victoria. Or three, I could have sex. And a certain tall attractive blonde who I had sex with all the time in our marital bed was just getting home around now. Option three seemed the most realistic and more enjoyable option.

Getting back in my van, I drove back home. I was so distracted thinking about the personal and private parts of Oliva's day that I had seen, heard and smelled that I nearly pulled in front of a tram close to the city, the ringing of its bell alerting me to danger and slamming on my brakes and nearly going through the windscreen.

Arriving home, I could see Vicki's car so my wife was home. I could feel my erection rising as I unlocked the front door and went inside. "Hi Vicki, how are you?" I called out, almost running through the house to search for her, already taking my wife's knickers down in my mind's eye.

I heard Vicki's voice, somewhat muffled. "Hi Steve, good thanks."

"Where are you?" I called back.

"I'm on the loo," came my wife's reply.

This simple statement sent more blood to my groin, and I made my way to the laundry, where the toilet door was closed and locked. "Are you going to be long?" I blurted out.

Vicki's voice was somewhat indignant. "Steve, I only just sat down on the toilet a minute or so before you got here. Why are you asking me that?"

"Sorry Vicki, I didn't mean to be personal, I just ..."

I heard my wife unwinding herself some toilet paper. "Steve, are you okay? You sound weird."

"No, perfectly fine, just can't wait to see you, honey."

"Well, you'll have to wait about five minutes or so," said Vicki.

For the first time in my 18 year marriage, I loitered outside the toilet door while my wife was on the loo, getting my rocks off listening to the sound of her pooing, Vicki's feces intermittently splashing into the toilet water followed by the sound of her getting toilet paper and using it to wipe her bottom. My erection throbbed as Vicki farted followed by more splashing sounds in the bowl, and I pondered about the color, consistency and odor of my wife's shit. I wished I was in the toilet with her, watching Vicki having her crap.

After about five minutes, Vicki unwound a couple of lengths of toilet paper and flushed the toilet. The door opened, and my tall, blonde attractive wife emerged barefoot and wearing the white blouse and black knee-length skirt she had worn to work, adjusting her knickers as she did so.

With a raging hard on, I threw myself at my wife, grabbing her in a tight hug, pushing aside her long blonde hair and kissing at her neck.

Vicki looked at me with a surprised expression on her pretty face and had a laugh in her voice. "Steve, what's gotten into you? I've just been to the toilet, I need to wash my hands."

"Sorry Vicki," I said, releasing her from my tight grip. I watched Vicki make her way to the sink and give her hands a thorough wash, as she did so I discretely stuck my head through the open toilet door and took a quick sniff.

It was a jackpot, the smell of my wife's shit was very evident around the toilet. Vicki's poo did not smell as strongly as the poo of her much younger half-sister, with Olivia having absolutely stank the toilet out earlier in the day, but the odor of Vicki's feces was strong enough and acted as an aphrodisiac not that I needed one, although I was confused why it did.

As Vicki dried her hands on a towel, I was on her again from behind, fondling her bum and touching the outline of her knickers through the fabric of her skirt.

"Steve, stop it, I'll report you for sexual harassment," Vicki giggled. "What's made you like this? Did something weird happen today?"

I couldn't tell her the truth of course, that I had watched Olivia using the toilet and managing her period then getting changed, followed by smelling her used pads and tampons and her knickers and pantyhose, so I simply said. "I've been thinking about you all day, Vicki."

"That's nice to hear, Steve," said Vicki, a coy expression on her face. Vicki often liked to play hard to get, it was one of her favorite sex games.

I put on an exaggerated Australian accent as I followed Vicki into the living room, still fondling her bottom. "So, how about it then darling?"

"What girl doesn't want to hear that?" Vicki laughed.

"Come on, let's do it right now," I said, indicating the couch. "Remember on your Mum's couch that time, when you were 19? I still think about that."

"Obviously a lot today," said Vicki, indicating my erection.

"Let's do it again," I said, pulling Vicki towards the couch. "It'll be exciting."

"Steve, if I don't let you get into my knickers right now, am I going to get any peace at all tonight?" Vicki laughed.

"Probably not," I said.

"I thought as much," Vicki giggled, both of us on the couch making out like teenagers, before a sudden thought came over me and I stopped.

"What about the kids?"

Vicki looked confused. "The kids? Steve, are you sure you're feeling okay? Matthew is at work, and then he's staying at his friend's house overnight. And Hannah's in Adelaide with her netball team. She's not back until Sunday."

"Adelaide?" I asked confused.

"Yes, Adelaide. It's a big city, the capital of South Australia. You dropped Hannah at the airport on Monday to catch her flight."

"Oh, that's right, I did," I said, before undressing in front of my wife, nearly injuring myself in my haste to take off all my clothes, before standing in front of her with a throbbing erection.

Vicki had already taken off her shoes when she got home, and now unbuttoned her blouse, showing me her big boobs in a white bra. Then she unzipped and took off her skirt, and I saw that Vicki was wearing white cotton full-brief panties, which drove me wild.

I had always enjoyed taking off my wife's underwear, and today was no different. I reached behind Vicki and unclasped her bra, freeing her big boobs then did the same to her knickers, taking them in my hand and taking them down, seeing her full bush of blonde pubic hair and from behind her bare bottom.

But rather than put Vicki's panties down with her other clothes, I took them in my hand and smelled Vicki's snatch stains on the double cotton saddle, the musty feminine smell of Vicki's vagina entering my nostrils. As I sniffed the knickers, I thought about how similar my wife's pussy and Olivia's pussy smelled. Perhaps it was a genetic thing?

"Steve, stop it, you're being such a perve!" Vicki giggled in mock indignation. On the couch, Vicki sat completely naked, and spread her long legs wide, showing off her snatch and lower down the tight starfish shape of her anus. Putting down her knickers, I leaped on top of her and we made out again, our hands going all over each other, me playing with first her big boobs and then her pubic hair before inserting my fingers up Vicki's vulva and feeling her clitoris, Vicki squirming and getting nice and wet and sticky between her legs.

Vicki took hold of my cock and jerked me off slightly, caressing my balls with her other hand. Then she changed tactic, opened her mouth and went down on my groin, sucking my cock with much vigor, me feeling like I could shoot my load into her mouth.

When Vicki stopped giving me fellatio, I said to her, "Vicki, have you ever heard it's better to give than to receive?"

Vicki laughed. "And I know what you want to give me, Steve?"

"Right," I said.

Vicki got on all fours on the couch, and thrust her bum high in the air. I got behind her and looked at the wonderful sight of my wife's arse, her pretty pink vagina, her tight little anus, and her toned butt cheeks.

Lowering my face into Vicki's fanny, I could smell her arousal and inserted her tongue deep into Vicki's vagina, her pussy juice getting on my face as I ate out her snatch, some of Vicki's blonde pubes tickling my nose. Vicki moaned and twitched in pleasure as I ate her out.

With Vicki's front bottom having enjoyed plenty of attention, now it was the turn of her back bottom to get some attention too. I moved my tongue along my wife's twat and to the delicate skin that separated Vicki's vulva from her anus, before my tongue lingered on the opening to her bowels.

"That feels so good, Steve!" Vicki gasped as I went down on her anus, my erection pulsing. That Vicki had just been to the toilet and emptied her bowels a few minutes earlier made it all the hotter. Kissing and licking my wife's hot arse cheeks a few times, I removed my head from her bum and we sat together on the couch.

Vicki lay back, opened her legs wide and I could see my target, her perfect pink pussy among a forest of blonde pubes. I mounted Vicki in the missionary position, and pushed my cock hard up into her wet vagina, Vicki gasping in delight as I entered her womanly area. While it was two weeks between Vicki's last period and her next one being due, she was on the pill so we didn't need protection to prevent her becoming pregnant.

Sometimes when Vicki and I made love we went slow and sensual, other times hard and fast. This afternoon fell into the latter category. I pushed hard and fast into my wife's sticky snatch, her pussy smell filling the room and making me wild. Vicki, despite being a married and conservative mother of two teenagers who worked as an accountant had quite the filthy mouth on her when she was getting fucked nice and hard, and she gave me words of encouragement such, 'Fuck me harder,' 'Stick it right up my cunt!' and 'Don't be a soy-boy faggot, fuck the shit out of me!' I followed my wife's orders.

Vicki wrapped her long legs around me, running her bare feet against my back and I ground hard at her pussy. Having had sex exclusively with each other since Vicki was 18 and me 19, Vicki and I were pretty good at synchronizing our orgasms.

I felt my orgasm sweep over me, and I shot my load, ejaculating hard into Vicki's vagina, my semen exploding inside her and presumably swimming up her birth canal and into her uterus and fallopian tubes. At the same time Vicki's pretty face contorted and she screamed in delight as she came too, her pussy juice soaking my groin. Breathless and sweating, Vicki and I withdrew from each other and we lay on the couch, caressing our naked sweaty bodies, me stroking Vicki's nipples, her running her fingers through my hairy chest.

"Well, that's not how I expected my afternoon to turn out, that's for sure," said Vicki. "Steve, you're full of surprises. You must have had a good day today. "

"Sometimes it's just good to be spontaneous," I said, not giving away any details of the day's strange events.

"And it's not over yet, shower time," Vicki laughed.

I allowed my wife to lead me to our ensuite bathroom and soon we were showering and caressing under the warm droplets, me enjoying seeing Vicki's bare bottom, bare breasts and flat stomach covered in soap, her full blonde bush covered in suds and bubbles, and soap running down her legs to her bare feet and the shower floor. Vicki did seem to enjoy me washing her vaginal and anal areas, and she returned the favor, washing my dick and balls.