My wife, Carol, and I were going over to Becky's apartment to refinish an old chest of drawers. Becky is my stepdaughter, Carol's daughter from her first marriage. Becky is 29 years old now, but this incident occurred when she was 18. Becky is remarkably cute, with long, curly red hair, a round face, big smile, brown eyes, and thick lips. She's a big girl, too, which I don't mind. So, the story...
The dresser was sitting in the middle of Becky's living room.
"Hmmm...we need to get this outside, or the fumes will drive us all out," I said.
Carol does most of the stripping of the old finish, using some pretty nasty solvents. The three of us moved the dresser out of the apartment and took it around to the side of the building, where we could set it on top of a tarp to protect the grass.
"Man! I think I worked up a sweat, there!" I joked.
Carol rolled her eyes. "Go ahead, I put a six-pack in the refrigerator when I came here yesterday."
I laughed and went back into the apartment to grab one of the beers. It was a pleasant surprise. Yuengling, in longneck bottles. And it was ice cold, perfect for a hot summer day.
I was tempted to turn the TV on and sit down for a while but I wasn't sure if Carol would be yelling for me to come down again soon, or not, and didn't want to get too comfortable just in case. Instead, I opted for a different form of male relaxation...a magazine and the bathroom. Yeah, a nice relaxing pee, something to read, total privacy, and a cold beer. Does life get any better for a guy?
When I got up, zipped up, and was about to open the door, I noticed the clothes hamper. It was overflowing with clothes...typical Becky...and some had spilled over onto the floor. There I saw a pair of lavender panties. I knelt down and picked them up. They had a very smooth and satiny feel to them, with lace edges around the top and the leg holes. They were sitting on top of a nice skirt and a blouse. Becky's work clothes, I bet. She had come home and changed out of her work clothes to help with the dresser. She was now wearing sweatshorts and a t-shirt. Becky must have had these panties on just an hour ago!
I stood up the panties, looking at them, feeling how smooth and soft they were. I felt a stirring between my legs, and thought for a moment about smelling them, but then thinking no, that's perverted. But I kept holding them, wanting to see if I could smell Becky on them. I was totally focused on those panties, part of me wanting to get the hell out of the bathroom before doing something perverse, and part of me thinking this is one of the few chances I'll ever get to actually smell Becky's pussy. Yeah, it's perverted, but...it's Becky's pussy.
All of my attention was focused on that choice, so of course I never heard the sound of the apartment door opening.
Becky burst into the bathroom, at a run, almost running right into me. It startled the crap out of both of us, and I blurted out, "OH!"
She yelled, "OH!" at the same time.
Very embarrassed, she said, "Sorry," and started to move toward the door. As she turned, she stopped cold for an instant, staring at her lavender panties in my hands. Then she left the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
"Oh Christ," I thought, "this is a fucking disaster! How the fuck do explain this one?"
I wondered how long I could hide in the bathroom before I had to come out. Then I thought about Becky going outside and telling Carol that her husband is a closet panty freak.
"Fuck!" I thought.
I put Becky's panties back on top of her clothes just like I found them...as if it mattered at that point. I might as well have worn them on my head. I was already caught lavender-handed. I opened the door wondering if she'd already run out to tell her mother. Instead, Becky walked past me at a fast clip, into bathroom.
"God, I gotta pee!!" she said, and shut the door.
I was relieved but still nervous. Damage control, damage control. I had to figure a way to explain it to her logically, but it's hard to bring logic and total bullshit into alignment.
Becky came out of the bathroom and asked, "Where's the beer, I'm thirsty." She went into the kitchen and grabbed a Beck's out of the fridge.
My head was spinning. The parent in me took over. "Becky, you're not old enough to drink beer."
Becky stared me right in the eyes as she pulled the lavender panties out of her front pocket. "If I were you, Dad, I wouldn't tell me what I can or can't do right now..." I snapped out of Parent Mode and felt my face go hot. I must have been red as a beet.
"What were you doing with these?" she asked. Becky dangled the panties from one finger, letting them swing back and forth.
Thinking fast, I offered, "They were on the floor," which was true. "And I was putting them back into the hamper", which was a lie.
"Dad, you are SO full of shit!" Becky countered.
Becky's eyes drilled into me and she had a smile on her face that looked vaguely evil, and pleased with it. She had picked up a bottle opener and was holding it like it was a knife to be slipped between my ribs. Becky opened the Beck's longneck and started drinking...chugging almost half of it. Then she stopped drinking and let out a long, practiced burp.
I stared at her in disbelief. I was speechless. I had never known her to drink, and there she was, chugging it like Pepsi!
That's when the screen door slammed shut and both of us almost jumped out of our skins. Becky flinched so violently that the bottle started to fall out of her hand. She grabbed it before it actually fell, but the shock made the beer foam up out of the top and over her hand, onto the floor. Becky looked at me in horror as we heard her mom's footsteps on the living room floor, approaching. I grabbed her beer, lunged to fridge and put my own beer inside, then grabbed a dish towel from the sink, just as Carol walked into the kitchen.
Carol took in the scene in front of her.
"What happened?" she asked.
I told her I shook my beer accidentally before opening it, and it foamed up all over.
"Oh," she said. Carol walked over and picked up the rubber gloves from the kitchen counter. "I'm going back out to start stripping that old finish off". Carol walked out of the kitchen, and neither Becky nor I made a sound until we heard the screen door shut.
"Wow...thanks for telling mom it was your beer," Becky said. "She would have killed me!".
"Well, thanks for NOT telling your mom about..."
I didn't know how to finish that sentence. I still felt humiliated and nervous. Becky went to the kitchen window, where she could lean out and see her mom about 40 feet away, working on the dresser again. Then she opened the fridge and retrieved my beer, taking a long swig of it.
"Unbelievable," I thought to myself. "She's already back into the beer!"
My balls were still up in my abdomen, where they fled when my wife came back in the apartment and almost caught us in mid-confrontation. Becky was still a mystery to me.
"So...what did you do with your, uh...underwear?" I asked her, nervously.
Becky reached down the front of her sweatshorts and pulled out the lavender panties. "Here," she said, tossing them to me, "go ahead".
"Go ahead?" I asked. I didn't know what she meant.
"Yeah", she said with a sly smile, almost challenging.
"What do you mean?" I asked. But I had an inkling what she was getting at.
"What were you gonna do with them?" she asked.
She was asking for real, not goading me. It was an honest question.
"I won't say anything," she promised.
Becky knew I had a guilty look on my face when she saw me with her panties. She knew I was doing something I shouldn't have been doing, but she didn't know what. She may have suspected, but she didn't really know and wasn't ready to ask explicitly.
I could feel butterflies in my stomach. I looked out the window at Carol working on the dresser. I started to say something, but stopped. I could have answered her question, but I thought better of it.
"Becky, just forget it, ok? Let's pretend it didn't happen...please?"
She drank the rest of the bottle. Becky now had a nervous look on her face, like someone who knows she has gone too far, but doesn't want to stop.
"Dad, tell me..." she said.
