INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER - When Steve, a painter and decorator from Melbourne Australia does some painting work at his father-in-law's magnificent house, things don't exactly go smoothly. Steve's wife Vicki's family is complicated, and the result is that Vicki has a much younger 18-year-old half-sister named Olivia, who is a complete spoiled brat, shallow and self-absorbed.

Bratty Olivia makes a bit of a nuisance of herself, but when Steve's curiosity gets the better of him and things go wrong he finds himself forced to hide under her bed, before seeing his much younger sister-in-law in the most personal and private parts of her day when she goes into her bathroom to go to the toilet. How will Steve react?

Please note the strong and graphic themes in this voyeuristic story, which include fetishes about urination, scat and menstruation. If these story themes are not your thing, it may be best not to read this. All characters and events depicted are fictional, with any similarity to real persons living or dead coincidental and unintentional, and only characters aged 18 and older are in any sexual situations.

Please enjoy 'Spying on a Spoiled Brat' and rate and comment.

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For the first 12 years of her life, my wife Vicki was part of a perfect nuclear family -- mother, father, son and daughter, growing up in Oakleigh, a suburb in the south east of Melbourne, Australia.

Vicki had an older brother Bart, two years her senior. Her mother was Lorraine, a registered nurse who worked at a local hospital, and the kids' father was Cliff, a computer programmer. Lorraine was always the firm, fair and responsible parent, but unfortunately for his wife and kids Cliff was a little too into computers to be a good Dad to his son and daughter. He worked long hours at his job, and spent almost every night and weekend in his study working on programs that he thought might be the next big thing.

Cliff, a slim and unobtrusive man with light brown parted hair and glasses, was very much a computer geek well before his time. All of this of course took place in the 1980s, very different times of Commodore 64 home computers, Atari gaming consoles, printers with white and blue striped paper, large floppy disks and the like. He at least tried to be a good parent, but even if his only contact with a computer was to see one in an electronics store, he lacked enough social skills to be a great husband and father.

Not surprisingly, all of this took a toll on the marriage, the fed-up Lorraine ending things with Cliff in 1989 and the pair divorcing a year later. At least the separation and divorce were amicable, and Bart and Vicki, now teenagers, lived with their mother and stayed with their father some weekends and at times during holidays.

Cliff continued to spend his time working on new computer programs, and with no wife and no kids around most of the time, could spend hours and hours writing code. He was still hopelessly absent-minded and one time when Vicki was in her mid-teens, she visited her father and found an empty fridge and a pile of unpaid and overdue bills, not due to a lack of money but because her Dad was so absorbed in his computer programming that he had overlooked them.

It was up to Vicki to drag her father away from his computer, get his cheque book to pay the bills, then take him shopping to buy essential things such as food. Perhaps it was this experience of being a responsible daughter to an irresponsible father that led Vicki to become an accountant, and a very responsible mother to our son Matthew and our daughter Hannah when they arrived in 2004 and 2005 respectively. Or it could have been that her mother Lorraine's DNA was more dominant in her son and daughter than the genes of her husband, as Bart like his younger sister got a good career and was married with a son and daughter.

Lorraine herself never remarried although she kept active, but it seemed more likely that she would meet a new partner rather than her ex-husband. Spending most of the early to mid-1990s in his house working on his computer programs would have stood in the way of this, but in 1998 after many years of struggle Cliff finally had a breakthrough of immense proportions.

A software giant loved Cliff's programs. They loved Cliff's ideas. They loved Cliff. They paid Cliff many millions of dollars for his computer programs. They offered Cliff a dream job worth millions to develop even more programs for them. And Cliff's life got even better. Within weeks of Cliff becoming a multi-millionaire, the then 53-year-old had another massive stroke of luck when Simona, a stunningly attractive 29-year-old from Romania entered his life and it was love at first sight. How is that for coincidence?

A quick marriage followed, and soon Cliff, Simona and Tatiana -- Simona's two-year-old daughter from a previous relationship -- were living in an opulent double story mansion in Brighton, one of Melbourne's most exclusive suburbs. The mansion boasted nine bedrooms and many other features including a heated swimming pool, spa, home theater and even a wine cellar, the mansion's stunning ocean views of Port Phillip Bay adding at least another zero to the price tag.

But what to do with so many bedrooms? The master suite of course was occupied by Cliff and his young bride, and Tatiana another, with a live-in housekeeper taking another bedroom on the ground floor. Some bedrooms of course were for Simona's designer clothes, bags and shoes. Simona had rather expensive tastes that seemed only to come to the surface when she married a much older man who doted upon her, but again surely this was nothing more than pure coincidence. Her taste for the finer things in life was shared by her young daughter, Cliff's bank balance given a solid workout by the girl's mother who wanted Tatiana to have the best things in life that she did not have growing up in Communist Romania.

However, one of the bedroom was reserved for a very special reason which became evident in mid-2000 and was fully revealed in early 2001. Vicki and I got married in May of that year, and our wedding was interesting to say the least.

On my side were my mother and father, married for many years, and my older sister Lisa and her husband, Lisa showing a considerable baby bump. On Vicki's side were Bart and his wife, Bart's wife like my sister sporting a pregnant stomach.

Also on Vicki's side were of course the mother of the bride and the father of the bride. The father of the bride of course sat with the stepmother of the bride, a woman young enough to be his daughter, and just six years older than his son and eight years older than his daughter who was getting married. Sitting next to her was the bride's four-year-old stepsister, and in Simona's arms was the bride's two month old half-sister Olivia, 24 years younger than Vicki.

I don't think the mother of the bride was overly impressed with the situation, but Lorraine bit her tongue. As the years went by Olivia grew up and unfortunately she could only be described as a spoiled brat; an entitled, stuck-up and self-absorbed princess who had both parents wrapped around her little finger. She wasn't the type of brat to throw tantrums in public, mainly because her parents never said no to her and hence no need for tantrums, tears and drama.

Simona, with her firm control over her husband's money coming in, ensured Olivia loved the fine things in life as she did. Entitled older half-sister Tatiana was hardly a great role model for Olivia. Cliff was also responsible for the problem. With his first attempt at fatherhood he had been so absorbed in his work that he often tuned out to his kids Bart and Vicki. One time when Cliff had supposed to be watching them while Lorraine was at work, Bart and Vicki had told their father they were going to kick a football around in the park, to which Cliff said, 'That's nice, kids.' Then to test him, they had said, 'And then we're going to play chicken with the cars on the freeway,' to which their father replied, 'That's great kids, have fun.'

Now, with more time on his hands and much more money in his second attempt at fatherhood later in life, Cliff perhaps partly out of guilt at largely ignoring Vicki and Bart growing up was determined to lavish his new daughter with as much attention as possible. Unfortunately, this backfired and the apple of Cliff's eye saw her Daddy as her personal ATM, and a means to get her own way. Mild-mannered Cliff could never stand up to his new wife, he could never stand up to his stepdaughter and now the same was true with his daughter with his second wife.

There was a definite gap between Cliff's new family -- the wealthy, entitled family who had every luxury and lived in a mansion, leaving the mansion to go on expensive overseas holidays with first class travel, five star hotels and luxury cruises -- and the son and daughter from his first marriage who lived ordinary suburban lives in Melbourne and who were each married with a young son and daughter of their own.

Bart and his wife and Vicki and I often saw Cliff, because our kids were obviously his grandchildren and we wanted them to be part of his life, and he felt the same. Bart and Vicki also wanted to spend time with Olivia, because even though she was younger than them by more than two decades and generally had a disagreeable personality and showed little if any gratitude for outings they took her on, she was still their sister.

One could tell that Simona wasn't overly pleased that the kids and grandkids from her husband's first marriage were part of her life -- she wanted Cliff's attention all upon her and her daughters - but she was astute enough to realize that there was little she could do about it without looking bad. She would be polite enough and engage us in conversation, but always reserved and somewhat stand-offish, clearly preferring it if we weren't around. Likewise, Bart and Vicki were polite to their father's second wife, but clearly neither liked nor trusted Simona, and in private had used the words 'gold' and 'digger' in the same sentence when discussing her.

A person who we could never warm to was Simona's daughter Tatiana. The girl was always a cold fish, never one to show emotion or humor. Olivia might well have been a spoiled brat like her older maternal half-sister, but at least you could get a genuine reaction out of her. This wasn't the case with Tatiana. Olivia when spending time with our kids laughed at funny movies they watched or was saddened by sad things. She thought that our kids' pet guinea pigs and rabbits were cute. She thought carnival and theme park rides were exciting and scary at the same time, all normal reactions. But Tatiana never showed any emotional reaction to these things at all.

A source of worry with our own kids was that Matthew and Hannah would see the life of privilege and luxury their young 'aunt' lived as a positive, and want all the things she had in her life -- designer clothes, a mansion with ocean views, a huge allowance, luxury travel within Australia and overseas while never having to do anything to earn it, and want it for themselves. But Matthew and Hannah seemed more grounded and sensible, saying that 'Olivia is spoiled' a number of occasions, Bart and his wife's kids expressing similar views. They seemed happy with their normal lives and were not swayed by the wealth of their grandfather and his new family. Their preference was to spend time with their maternal grandmother Lorraine, my parents and my sister Lisa and Lisa's husband and son and daughter.

Olivia herself clearly preferred her half-sister Tatiana to her much older half siblings, which was understandable given that Tatiana was only four years older than her and they had grown up together. Olivia would spend time with us and to give the girl at least some credit she would not make any complaints such as saying she was bored, but one could tell that she was indeed bored, more interested in her phone than us and wishing the time away so she could go back to where she belonged.

Vicki and I really got on her nerves one day by talking to her about the 1980s and 1990s, Olivia clearly horrified that a time so uncool could ever have existed, and that hearing about this somehow made her uncool too. While Vicki was born in 1977 and me in 1976, to young Oliva we may as well have been born in 1926 and 1927 and be reminiscing about the 1930s and 1940s. My joke about saying how we couldn't come home from school and 'go on an internet' was particularly poorly received by the teenager. Another joke on a different occasion when I asked the technology addicted teen if she was looking at My Space when she was obsessively using her phone and phubbing the rest of us was received just as badly.

By early 2019, Olivia had turned 18 and was an absolute stunner. This was to be expected, her mother Simona with her long dark hair, brown eyes and perfect Romanian features was still stunningly beautiful at age 50, and a clear example of a cougar or a MILF. Icy big sister Tatiana was also stunning, at 22 looking a younger version of her mother. As Olivia was only half Romanian her Eastern European looks weren't as pronounced as those of her mother and sister, but it was clear from one glace that she had an Eastern European background.

Olivia had long brown hair, a shade or two lighter than her mother and sister's hair, their big brown eyes and a pretty face with a flawless olive complexion. Standing about five feet five, Olivia's slim figure was perfect from the top of her head down to her perfectly pedicured feet. If there was a prototype for a perfect 18-year-old girl, young Olivia might well have been it. The only shame was that the personality inside did not match her looks, which masked a spoiled, selfish and entitled brat who shallowly lived her life through social media.

Vicki and Olivia looked nothing alike, my stunningly attractive wife tall at five feet ten and having long blonde hair, blue eyes and a fair complexion. Based on looks, it would have been more believable if Olivia was my much younger half-sister as I had brown hair and brown eyes. But given what Olivia was like, I was somewhat relieved that she was my sister-in-law not my sister.

In recent weeks, I had been spending more time with my father-in-law and his interesting family. My trade was a painter and decorator, and with three colleagues we ran a successful painting and decorating company that employed a number of people and worked all over Melbourne on both commercial and residential properties.

Cliff and Simona wanted some painting and redecorating done at their Brighton mansion, and as I was Cliff's son-in-law he contacted me. I went through the plans and ideas with them, mostly trying to tactfully turn Simona's grand plans into realistic renovations. Finally I was able to make a workable plan and quote, which Cliff and Simona accepted. Cliff was well pleased, however, I got the impression that Simona was not 100 percent happy.

"I think Simona thought I would do the job for free on the weekends as I'm Cliff's son-in-law," I said to Vicki as we got into bed.

Vicki laughed. "Steve, that's typical of Simona. She doesn't want any of Dad's money to go to anyone except her and her daughters."

The job was scheduled for eight days not including weekends, and took place in the school holidays to end Term One. This meant that Olivia was on two weeks from her private girls' school, a Melbourne school so prestigious and exclusive that only girls who were super rich or super intelligent and able to get a scholarship were able to attend. Olivia fell into the former group as had older sister Tatiana.

I thought Simona might have taken the girls away for a holiday while the painting work was going on but the family remained in Melbourne during this time, although coming and going out during the day. Tatiana no longer lived at the mansion and had her own apartment in Melbourne's Docklands which she shared with her boyfriend Tyrone, but she spent plenty of time with her mother and stepfather. Tatiana had some sort of job involved in online marketing of beauty products and cosmetics, but obviously it did not impact on spending time with her family and friends. And it must have paid well, given the luxury apartment had stunning views of the Yarra River, Southbank and the Melbourne city skyline from its balcony. A well paid job was the only explanation as to how Tatiana and her boyfriend could afford such an apartment. It was inconceivable that Tatiana's mother and stepfather paid for it, just impossible.

For the outside painting to be done on the first two days, we had a team of three; myself, a chubby, balding middle aged guy named Barry and my apprentice Luke, a tall, muscular and good looking 18-year-old guy with brown hair who played football and cricket. Then we moved inside to work on the next stage of the job.

This job was a nice change from some I had done recently. The plethora of renovating reality shows on Australian television had inspired many DIY enthusiasts, who found out the hard way that renovating is much harder than it looks on TV. Then my team and I would be cleaning up the mess, spending twice as long on a job as we should have, fixing the work done by misguided homeowners. However, spending time in a mansion in Brighton with stunning ocean views was hardly unpleasant. Despite the fact that the man who purchased and paid for the mansion was my father-in-law, I had about as much chance of living in a house like this as I had of visiting Jupiter or Saturn.

With the outdoor painting completed on Monday and Tuesday, we moved inside on Wednesday. It was such a big house that it was going to take the rest of this week and some of the next to finish. I could see that Simona was not overly pleased about how much disruption there was to her house during this time, but she was the one who pressed for the work to be done so what could she expect? Cliff, now retired just kept out of the way and tried to keep his wife happy. Tatiana looked at us the way she normally did, with cold contempt. However, there was one person in the family who seemed very happy about all of this, and this was Olivia.

Olivia's pleasure at a painting team in her house was not because I was there, I was her much-older half-sister's boring husband who in the past had committed the terrible crime of affronting her dignity and trying to make her laugh with corny jokes. Nor was the privileged teen enamored with Barry, the overweight and balding 50-year-old obviously not her type. Olivia's attention was all upon our apprentice Luke.

From the start, Olivia could not hide her delight at Luke's appearance and initially wearing jeans and a tee-shirt on the first day, she immediately went back upstairs to change into something that showed more of her hot teenage body. She would meander through the area where we were working and flirt with Luke, twisting her long brown hair in her fingers and fluttering the eyelashes on her pretty brown eyes. She would put on her bikini and swim and lie by the pool or go in the spa bath when we were in the vicinity, and after a swim made her way towards Luke on her bare feet, very much aware that her wet bathers showed the shape of her breasts and her nipples at the top, and the shape of her pussy and her bottom on the lower half. On the Wednesday she invited her rich girl friends over, the posse of teens lying by the pool in their bathers and swooning and giggling over the good-looking young man. It was quite warm weather and Olivia frequently brought out cold drinks for Luke, saying she did not want him to get thirsty. Barry and I were ignored, presumably Olivia thought we would drink from the garden hose or perhaps drink from the water directly from the pool?

While Olivia, who had dated guys but did not have a boyfriend at present, clearly had designs on Luke getting into her panties, poor Luke didn't know quite what to make of this. He was obviously flattered by the attention and taken by Olivia's good looks and fine teenage body, but he was very much aware he was working here and that this flirty little rich girl was my much younger sister-in-law with her father also my wife's father. Screwing around with his boss's family members probably wasn't a great thing to be doing, but if the teenagers had let their desires get the better of them snuck away for a quick fuck I would have turned a blind eye.

On the Thursday morning, Melbourne dawned bright and sunny. I kissed Vicki goodbye and headed out for my van when my phone rang. It was Barry, and he sounded terrible.

"Mate, I'm really sorry but I won't be able to come in today," he apologized with a croaky, congested voice. "It's this flu, my missus had it, our kids had it and my sister had it, now I've got it."

"It's not a problem mate, you sound really sick, best you rest," I assured Barry. He sounded more like he had the flu in 1918 rather than in 2019, and I definitely did not want to catch it.

I drove my van down to Brighton, admiring the early morning sunlight reflecting off the tall blue Rialto building, silver Eureka Tower, the distinctive black Melbourne Central skyscraper and the other tall Melbourne buildings in the CBD as I passed the city to the east, and also looked at the inviting blue waters of Port Phillip Bay as I arrived in bayside Melbourne.

When I reached Cliff and Simona's house, Luke pulled in a few seconds behind me. "Barry's sick with the flu, so it's just us today," I explained to my apprentice.

"He said he had a bit of a sore throat yesterday," said Luke. "I hope he feels better soon."

As Luke and I walked up the path to the front door of the mansion, we passed Rose, the live-in house keeper, a middle aged woman from the Philippines who was heading out for her day off, seemingly glad to be away from her employers if only for a few hours.

We rang the doorbell, and it was answered by Tatiana, the young woman wearing a white blouse and a pair of jeans so tight that they would have pushed her knickers so far up her vagina they would have ended up in her birth canal.

"Come in." Tatiana's greeting was devoid of any warmth, any welcome and her frosty expression showed this.

The rest of the family were in the living room, Cliff and Simona along with Tatiana's boyfriend Tyrone. Simona like Tatiana wore a white blouse and super tight jeans that her knickers and vaginas might have objected to if they had a say on the subject and their long brown hair loose on their shoulders, the mother and daughter often dressing and styling their hair similarly.

Tyrone was always a strange one, a chubby young man with red hair and little personality who mainly sat there and said nothing, probably because he could think of nothing to say. Tyrone and Tatiana always seemed an odd pair given the differences in looks, Tatiana a 10 and Tyrone a 2 at best, but maybe it was because Tyrone could be so easily controlled by Tatiana that was his appeal to her?

As for Cliff, he was well and truly showing his 74 years and looked much out of place with a hot 50-year-old wife who looked young for her age, a 22-year-old stepdaughter and an 18-year-old daughter.

"You're going out today, Cliff?" I asked my father-in-law conversationally.

"Yes, we are going out to the Mornington Peninsula for the day, and Cliff is really looking forward to it, aren't you Cliff?" asked Simona. Despite emigrating to Australia way back in 1991, the passage of 28 years had done nothing to reduce Simona's Romanian accent and she may as well have stepped off a plane from Bucharest the day before.

"Yes honey," Cliff agreed, staring vacantly out the window. Vicki and Bart often worried that their Dad was showing early signs of Alzheimer's, and the way he spaced out and stared like that did nothing to allay these concerns. But as long as the money was plentiful, the gravy train uninterrupted and their meal tickets remained, I don't think it bothered Simona, her daughters, nor hanger-on Tyrone.

Simona and Tatiana then engaged in a conversation in Romanian, of which nobody else understood one word. They often talked in their native tongue in front of others who could not speak Romanian, knowing that few people understood what they were discussing. Olivia could also speak Romanian, but was not as fluent as her mother and sister and did not use it as frequently.

However, Olivia was not in sight this morning, and I think Luke was relaxing, thinking maybe this Thursday would be one where he was not flirted with or teased by a girl who was clearly off limits. This was to be short-lived, and Olivia soon made her appearance when she realized the object of her affections had arrived.

Olivia was dressed in a flowery top that left her shoulders bare, and gave plenty of views of the valley of her C-cup breasts and her firm mid riff and naval. Olivia's skirt was also a matching floral design and short, so very short, barely covering her panties and showing her shapely legs, Olivia's feet also displayed by white strappy sandals. Unlike her mother and sister, whose hair was loose, Olivia's long brown hair was tied up in a high pony-tail this morning.

"Hi Luke," gushed Olivia. "How are you today?" The young girl adjusted her knickers through her skirt. Perhaps her undies were just uncomfortable, or perhaps it was a subconscious desire as to where she wished Luke to be?

"Oh hi Olivia, good thanks, how are you?" Luke asked, looking at the little flirt most uncertainly. It was obvious what the young man wanted to do, but obviously could not act on his desires.

"Hi Olivia," I said, giving my much younger sister-in-law a wave.

"Hi," said Olivia dismissively, her brown eyes regarding me like a peasant who had dared address a princess in her palace.

"We had better be going, are you sure you don't want to come Oliva?" Simona asked.

"No thanks Mum," said Olivia. "I'm good here." She hugged her father. "Bye Daddy."

"Have a nice day, Princess," Cliff said to the apple of his eye in response.

"Come along Cliff," said Simona, noticing that her husband was doing his space cadet thing and had not accompanied her, Tatiana and Tyrone.

Cliff as always followed his wife's instructions, and went out with Simona, Tatiana and Tyrone. As Luke and I went to get some ladders and other equipment, it was clear they were travelling in Tatiana's car, an expensive four wheel drive. Tatiana got into the driver's seat, Tyrone in the front seat and Simona and Cliff in the back and Tatiana backed down the driveway, before driving away up the street heading for the Nepean freeway that would take them to the Mornington Peninsula for the day.

Now it was just Olivia, Luke and I at the house and Luke and I began to get organized for the day's work. It was not a day where we would be doing much painting, most of it would be fiddly and time consuming prep work. Olivia hung around of course, flirting with Luke while I was pointedly ignored.

We had been going around 20 minutes or so, when Luke got a call on his mobile phone. "Hello," he said, and his face grew serious and concerned. "No Mum it's okay, calm down. When did they last see Grandma?"

Luke walked further away down the corridor, and I could hear from his conversation and see by his worried expression that his grandmother, who lived in Geelong had escaped from her nursing home and gone wandering off. If Vicki and Bart worried about their father showing early symptoms of Alzheimer's disease, then Luke's grandma was a clear example of what he would become like in a few years' time. She had done this a few times before she was placed in care Luke had said.

"Okay Mum, I'll just talk to my boss," said Luke, ending the call looking most stressed.

"Is everything okay Luke?" Olivia asked.

"My grandma again," said Luke. He turned to me. "Steve, as you probably heard my grandma's done a vanishing act in Geelong. Mum still can't drive after an operation a few weeks ago, Dad's in Sydney for work, my sister still hasn't got her license yet and the rest of the family aren't around ..."

"Luke, you need to help your family," I assured my apprentice. "Go and drive your Mum and sister down to Geelong."

Luke looked worried. "I don't want to leave you on your own today, I know we're busy ..."

Luke was one of the best apprentices I had ever had, and I knew that he was a good worker who would never lie to get out of work for the day. "Luke it's okay, go and help your Mum. I'll be fine here."

"Thanks Steve, and I'll be back tomorrow," said Luke.

"I hope your grandma is okay," I said as Luke hurried out to his car.

"Yes Luke, sorry about your grandmother, I hope everything is okay," said Olivia, who was standing a short distance away.

Luke drove away, and now it was just Olivia and I in the house together. I could see how disappointed she was that the good looking young man was gone for the day. I probably shouldn't have done so, but I could not resist asking her, "So Olivia, how about I get you a coat and you can help me with some of the prep work?"

Olivia's brown eyes gave me a look that was a combination of, "I'd rather die,", "How could you be so stupid as to ask me that?" and, "Go and fuck yourself, Steve."

Her phone was more interesting to Olivia than I was, and the girl began to mindlessly scroll through it. "Why don't you get the fat guy to help you?"

"Barry? He's sick today."

Olivia was completely zoned out now and absorbed in her phone. If a water buffalo appeared in the hallway in front of her, I doubt she would have noticed it. I decided to test the teenager. "Barry has cancer, he needed to have a chemotherapy session today at the hospital."

Olivia was completely oblivious. "That's nice," she said. The teen then looked at her nails both those on her fingers and her toes, which looked fine to me. "I need to get my nails done."

I considered pointing out to Olivia that the things she needed in life were food, water and shelter, but I doubt that the pampered teen would have paid any attention, and if she did it would have gone over her head.

"You have the spare keys?" she asked me as she collected her purse and car keys.

"Yes," I said. "Enjoy your morning, Olivia."

My sister-in-law said nothing more and simply walked away talking on her phone, clearly organizing a time at an expensive nail salon in Prahran. I looked out the window as Olivia reversed her small car with P plates displayed out of the driveway. Olivia's car was not a sports car or a luxury car, but was an expensive make and model nonetheless. Another pricey thing Daddy had purchased for his princess.

I tried to concentrate on my work. It was quiet and I was alone in the house so no distractions, but my mind was not on the job. I just kept thinking over and over about what a spoiled and self-absorbed brat Olivia was. While my comment about Barry having cancer was of course a lie, he was sick with the flu, that Olivia showed no reaction at all and was more interested in her phone was somewhat disturbing.

Mid-morning I knew I was becoming obsessed with Olivia and her pampered life, thinking about her over and over again and tried to think about other things, but I could not. Around 11 am, I took a break and did something I thought I would never do. I put down my tools and walking like a robot, went upstairs towards Olivia's bedroom. I knew what I was planning to do -- snooping around Olivia's bedroom -- was wrong, yet still I kept right on my path. It was like I was outside of my body watching myself.

Opening Olivia's bedroom door, I entered into pink walls and mainly pink décor. Olivia was definitely a girly girl that was for sure. I opened her walk in wardrobe, my eyes taking in the many designer and expensive brand clothes, shoes and bags. I had heard Olivia saying to my daughter that she had another whole bedroom to store more clothes, shoes and accessories, so this was just the tip of the iceberg of indulgence.

Olivia had all the modern technology I noted as I explored more, and she even had professional photos framed on her wall -- of herself. The word 'narcissist' flashed before my mind. There was nothing sexual in my exploration of Olivia's bedroom, it wasn't like I was rifling through her underwear drawer, just me getting more and more outraged about things the rich bitch had on tap.

I went into Olivia's ensuite bathroom, and found a bath tub, a shower, a vanity with a sink and closet, a toilet and next to the toilet was a bidet. A bidet! How many teenage girls had a personal bidet? There was nearly a full roll of toilet paper on the roll holder next to the toilet, and a spare roll on the cistern. I reached out and felt how soft and absorbent Olivia's loo paper was, triple-ply with a quilted cover. Opening the small closet under the sink, I immediately saw the other toilet rolls in their packet, and of course it was the most expensive brand of toilet tissue on the market. Heaven help it if Olivia had to wipe her pampered little bottom with anything but the best toilet paper.

My conscience was nagging me as I stepped out of the bathroom and back into Olivia's bedroom. Olivia may well have been a spoiled princess, but this was how she was raised by her parents. On the scale of bad people, I was far worse. I was a 43-year-old married man and the father of two teenagers who instead of doing work he was billing customers for was going into an 18-year-old girl's bedroom and prying into her personal things that were none of my business was far worse, a total invasion of her privacy even though there was no sexual motive for my voyeurism.

I was about to leave the bedroom and go back downstairs and have lunch, when a sound outside caused me to stop dead. My feelings of outrage and guilt were placed with a new one -- panic. The sound I heard was a young female voice -- Olivia's voice as she walked up the hallway. Shit! Time had flown by, she was back and now I was in a place I should not be -- her bedroom. I had no possible explanation for being in here, we weren't painting these bedrooms.

My heart pounding, I had to find a solution to my problem -- and fast. I looked at Olivia's bed, which had a fair bit of space underneath -- enough for a tall but slim middle-aged man to hide? I hoped so, as I frantically dived underneath the bed, concealing myself just in time as the bedroom door opened and Olivia entered her room then closing the door behind herself, me seeing her feet clad in white sandals.

It wasn't comfortable under the bed but I could fit, unlike Barry or Tatiana's boyfriend Tyrone neither of whom would have been able to fit under there at all. I reminded myself that I had nobody to blame but myself for being in this predicament, and hoped Olivia was just making a quick visit to her bedroom so I could sneak out again sooner than later.

Oliva walked over to her wardrobe, gossiping to one of her school friends on her phone as she did so, the girl's name Caitlyn. Olivia held in her hand a shopping bag from an expensive boutique in Prahran, the teenager taking a pink top out and putting it on one of the wardrobe shelves, then put her phone to face-time and on speaker and went and sat in a chair near her bed, kicking off her white sandals so she was now completely barefoot, her toenails and fingernails now sporting a new bright pink coating.

"So, is that really hot guy Luke still there?" I heard Caitlyn ask, her voice faint thanks to her being on a phone.

"No, could today be any worse?" the dramatic Olivia lamented. "He turned up, but there was a problem with his grandma in Geelong and he had to go. So now I'm stuck in the house with my boring older sister Vicki's even more boring husband Steve, you know the one who makes all those stupid jokes, and he's just about the world's biggest fuckhead."

"Charming," I thought to myself. I actually had no idea what a fuckhead was, what one looked like, did or said, but apparently I was the world's biggest one. But maybe in some bizarre way maybe Olivia was right. Only a fuckhead would go around snooping through teenage girls' bedrooms, then get stuck under the bed when she returned unexpectedly with no idea how he was going to get out.

"You want Luke to get into your knickers, Olivia," laughed Caitlyn.

"Yeah, and like you don't," laughed Olivia. She grimaced on her chair, and massaged her tummy. "But even if Luke was here, I couldn't let him get into my knickers unless he wanted a nasty surprise. My parents have got the painters in, and I've got the painters in too."

I went rigid under the bed. The expression 'having the painters in' was a slightly outdated expression for having a period, and more commonly used in England than Australia. It wasn't the sort of thing an 18-year-old Australian girl would frequently say, but regardless Olivia had said it so I now knew she was menstruating. Great, now I wouldn't be able to look at her the right way.

"You've still got menstrual cramps?" Caitlyn asked, seeing Olivia's discomfort.

"Yeah," said Olivia. She paused. "Actually Caitlyn, I'll have to call you back, I have to, well, you'll see."

Olivia pressed some buttons on her phone, and a few seconds later I heard Caitlyn exclaim, "Ew, gross, too much information Olivia, why would I want to know you need to have a period shit?"

I could see Olivia's phone screen as the girls giggled, and the two emoji's that Olivia had sent her friend, one a period emoji, the other a poop emoji.

"You don't want to stay and talk to me while I'm on the toilet?" Olivia asked.

"No, definitely not, you're on your own for that," Caitlyn assured her friend.

"I'll call you when I'm done in the bathroom," said Olivia, the teenager standing up but as she did so she accidentally farted, the sound echoing between the cheeks of her bum. She blushed and giggled, and I could hear Caitlyn giggling too.

"Olivia!" exclaimed Caitlyn.

"Sorry, excuse me, it slipped out, I couldn't hold it," laughed Olivia. "Blame it on my period. I'll call you back soon. As you heard by that, I really need to be sitting on the loo."

Olivia finished her call, but held her phone in one hand and her purse in the other as she walked to the bathroom on her bare feet. I had a bit of a problem; I could try and make my escape while Olivia was on the toilet, but even with her bathroom door closed would she hear me open her bedroom door?

Unfortunately for me, this issue proved moot. Olivia stepped into her ensuite bathroom and turned on the light and exhaust fan, but did not close the door behind herself. She left her bathroom door wide open, and made a beeline for the toilet, setting down the phone on the top of the toilet cistern and her bag on the vanity. With the door wide open, I had a grandstand view of the toilet, the bidet and the vanity and sink from under Olivia's bed. I told myself to look away, but something seemed to have gone wrong with my body and I was frozen and could not stop staring into the bathroom. It was like I was having an out of body experience, and I could feel and hear my heart racing in my chest.

In the bathroom, Olivia reached into her bag and she extricated a small pink box. I knew what the box contained even before the teenager reached inside and pulled out a tampon, me seeing the white cylindrical object wrapped in plastic in Olivia's nimble fingers.

Olivia placed her new tampon on the edge of the vanity for later, stood in front of the toilet then took a facial tissue from a box next to the sink. I watched with wide eyes as Olivia hitched up her short floral skirt, showing that underneath she was wearing white cotton bikini-style panties with pink and purple flowers on them. Olivia hooked her thumbs into the elastic waistband of her knickers, and pulled them down to her ankles.
I was in for quite a surprise when Olivia's pants came down. I expected her to be fully shaved down there as was the current trend with young women, but to my astonishment Olivia had a triangle of brown curly pubic hair on her feminine mound. She did not have a full bush, she was pretty well trimmed down there around her bikini lines and I could see the front of her vulva and it appeared bald too, but regardless young Olivia did have visible pubes.

Holding the tissue in her right hand, Olivia squatted down slightly with her legs apart, and I could see the slim pink lips of her vagina, from which was hanging a blue tampon string. Reaching between her legs, Olivia took hold of the string and pulled her tampon out of her pussy and into the tissue. Olivia's tampon emerged from her vulva swollen with scarlet menstrual blood. On the cistern next to Olivia's spare toilet roll was a small basket that contained paper sanitary disposal bags, which I had overlooked when I was looking through her bathroom earlier. The teenager took one and put her saturated tampon and the tissue, which now had Olivia's period blood on it into the bag, and disposed of the bag into a small pink bin that sat between the toilet and the bidet. Obviously it was Olivia's period bin, my wife and daughter had something similar in our house.

With her skirt up and her knickers down, Olivia lowered her bottom down and sat on the toilet, positioning herself so she was comfortable on the seat. Her legs were open so I could see her vagina, and I noted that Olivia's pussy was exactly the same size and shape as my wife's vagina, a perfect oval shape with slim, pink lips. Olivia's pussy was a darker shade of pink than Vicki's vagina which could be explained by the fact that Vicki was a fair skinned blonde while her much younger brunette half-sister had an olive complexion due to her Romanian background.

To my dismay, I could feel my erection throbbing in my pants as I observed Olivia's lowered panties, her pubic hair and her pussy. I tried to tell myself it was normal, Olivia was a very attractive 18-year-old girl, what straight guy wouldn't get an erection looking her genitals and her underpants? But the other part of my brain told me this was anything but normal, hiding under a bed watching my wife's younger half-sister sitting on the loo with her knickers around her ankles and on her period too. Yet I could not look away from the teenager in her most personal and private moments on the toilet.

While staring at Olivia's pussy, I could see some of her menses seeping out of her vagina. This should have cooled me down -- I normally found menstruation quite uncomfortable -- yet my erection got harder still as I looked at her period blood making its way out of her pussy. From what I could see, young Olivia had quite a heavy monthly flow, and she had more menstrual cramps too, given the way she clutched her abdomen as within her body her uterus released its lining.

Menstrual blood was not the only thing coming out of Olivia's pussy, soon a new sound filled the bathroom, a splashing, tinkling noise that filled the bathroom and bedroom as she began to urinate, the teenager's piss going into the porcelain toilet bowl. It lasted a fair while, then abated to a few splashes and stopped altogether.

Olivia reached for the toilet roll, unwound some squares of paper and applied the soft tissue to her teenage twat, me seeing it come away from the menstruating teen's pussy wet with urine and stained with her period blood, before she dropped it into the bowl and remained sitting on the toilet to do what she needed to do next.

I had never had any sort of fetish about female bodily functions before, but my cock did not seem to be listening as I saw Olivia's brown eyes furrow, and a look of straining on her pretty face, which made her look cute. Olivia's teenage toes curled up on the tiled floor as the young girl looked down at her knickers, then she farted, one of the loudest farts I have ever heard from anyone, much less a petite 18-year-old girl. It was way louder than her earlier fart when she was on the phone to her friend and had accidentally passed gas, and echoed loudly in the toilet bowl. Olivia farted hard on the toilet a second time, this just as loud as the first, but when her bottom opened to release her wind a third time, Olivia's anus made a squelching noise and from her bum came what sounded like an avalanche of poo which splashed into the toilet with a massive rush.

Olivia's shit didn't stop there, the teenager continuing pooing on the toilet, load after load of feces coming out of her rectum and going into the bowl. Jesus, how did skinny little Olivia have so much shit in her intestines without looking pregnant? The sounds from the toilet bowl sounded like an exaggerated gross out scene from a comedy movie, and it was hard to believe that a pretty 18-year-old girl was making them, but this was the reality.

Finally, there was a big splash as what sounded like a massive log came out of Olivia's bum and joined the rest of her bowel movements in the toilet bowl. Olivia farted again, this fart making a gross noise and poo clearly coming out of her bottom as she did it. To use a vulgar expression, Olivia had 'sharted', but when she farted for the fifth time there was no sound of poo coming from her bowels, it was just a normal fart, albeit a very loud one.

Young Olivia turned around on the toilet, looking down the back and her pretty face registered surprise at all the poo she had done. The girl stood up off the toilet, hovered her bum over it so as to avoid any splash-backs, me seeing period blood dripping from her vulva as she did so, reached behind herself to the cistern and flushed the toilet, immediately sitting back down on it to continue pooing.

As the sound of the toilet cistern refilling filled the bathroom and bedroom, Olivia reached for some toilet paper, and while I knew it was weird and gross, I could not wait for her to wipe her bottom so I could see the results on the pristine white toilet paper. I wasn't disappointed, Olivia dragged her toilet paper between her legs front to back, and it emerged with huge dark red stains from her front bottom and massive brown poop stains from her back bottom, Olivia's poo looking something like peanut butter that had been stored incorrectly. Some of Olivia's shit was liquid, some very soft and messy but there were some small solid lumps among the feces all over her loo paper.

Olivia got more toilet paper and wiped her bottom a second time, this tissue coming away from her buttocks and anus suffering the same fate as the first, covered in her messy shit. And very smelly shit too, even concealed under the bed and despite Olivia having the exhaust fan going in the bathroom, the smell of Olivia's poo soon reached my nostrils.

Never in my life had I ever smelled feces as bad as Olivia's poo today. She stank, absolutely stank to high heaven. If Olivia had eaten Mexican food, Indian curry, cabbage, Brussel sprouts, broccoli, baked beans, eggs, cheese, onions, licorice and prunes, avoided going to the toilet for a week, then shit in a dumpster, covered her feces with Sulphur and set fire to the dumpster after she finished pooing, it could not have smelled any worse.

Previously the worst smelling shit I had ever smelled had come from my own wife's bottom. About two years before we got married, Vicki had caught food poisoning and was on the toilet suffering diarrhea, and I had to pass her a bucket through the door so she could vomit. I caught a whiff of Vicki's diarrhea, and thought I might throw up myself. But young Olivia trounced her much older sister in this regard, and probably every other woman in Australia too if there was a competition. Yet despite the fact that Olivia's feces smelled absolutely foul, in something of a paradox the odor of her excrement turned me on possibly because Olivia would not anyone to smell her while she was sitting on the toilet doing number twos.

Olivia got more toilet paper and wiped her dirty bottom a third time, me again staring at her shit stains all over the paper and thinking that earlier I was overly critical of her being provided with the best and most expensive toilet paper money could buy. If all of Olivia's dumps were this messy and smelly, then extra-soft three-ply toilet paper was not a luxury but a necessity to clean the poo-poos from the pampered and privileged princess's back bottom.

Being a mobile phone addict, Olivia could not leave it alone and reached over and took the phone, texting as she sat on the toilet with her knickers around her ankles and farting, so much farting. Olivia sat blowing off on the toilet for several minutes at least, her farts echoing in the toilet, but did not defecate during this time. Perhaps Olivia was one of those girls who had problems with her bowels and was abnormally gassy when menstruating? I was dismayed at how my much younger sister-in-law's farts were turning me on, but could not help myself, my erect dick throbbing each time she passed wind.

From my position under the bed, peeping at Olivia and perving on her pubic hair, her perfect fanny and her teen panties, I wondered how she would react at the thought of my apprentice Luke, the object of her desires, hiding there watching her on the toilet. It would be her worst nightmare come to life. Olivia stared at her phone in her left hand, then with her right hand reached out for toilet paper and wiped blood from her pussy. Thinking about Olivia using her phone while she was on the loo, I suddenly thought about my own phone, and a feeling of panic came over me. What if it rang and alerted Olivia to the fact I was hiding under her bed? I hastily grabbed the phone and turned it off, potential disaster averted.

On the toilet, Olivia farted again and there came some splashing sounds in the bowl as she pooped, before getting more toilet paper and wiping her arse, her toilet paper emerging from her bum covered in her messy shit. The smell got even stronger.

My conscience was nagging at me, reminding me how young Olivia was. She wasn't born at the time of the Sydney Olympics back in 2000 and was a baby at the time of September 11 in 2001, but the bad side of my brain countered this by telling me that she was now 18-years-old and therefore an adult. Not only did I keep staring at Olivia as she was wiping her bottom, but I had even more dirty fantasies about her too, imagining the menstruating teenager farting in my face, or me at her bare feet, smelling her lowered knickers as she continued to sit on the toilet.

What was wrong with me? Had I gone from completely sane this morning to completely crazy by noon? I had never had dirty fantasies like this before, not even with my wife. I had seen Vicki on the toilet once, when we were on our honeymoon in Brisbane and the Gold Coast in Queensland. Vicki was sitting on the toilet having a poo in the Gold Coast apartment we were staying, ran out of toilet paper halfway through and was stranded on the toilet with a dirty bottom, me having to get a new toilet roll and rescue my new bride from her predicament. But it was just a matter of passing Vicki her toilet paper, then exiting the bathroom and closing the door and leaving Vicki in privacy thereafter while she finished on the loo. It had never turned me on at the time, and not in all the years since then.

Olivia took another crap, her pretty face showing her straining as she defecated, and I stared at the toilet tissue as she wiped her vagina and anus and I saw her menstrual blood, this turning me on no end. I never had period fantasies before today. Why now, and why with spoiled brat Olivia?

Clearly cramping from her uterus, young Olivia farted again and another series of splashes were audible in the toilet bowl as her poop went into the water and joined her other feces and her dirty toilet paper, this finishing with another big fart from the gassy teen.

Putting down her phone, Olivia unwound toilet paper and wiped her bottom five times in a row, the amount of her shit diminishing each time until the fifth length of toilet paper showed no smelly brown poo stains at all.

I presumed that Olivia was done now, and this was confirmed when the teenager stood up off the toilet seat, put down the lid and flushed the toilet, the water consigning her bodily wastes and all the toilet paper she had soiled to Melbourne's sewer system.

While still smelling the odor of Olivia's shit as it continued to drift into her bedroom, I watched with wide eyes as the barefoot teenager still with her white flowery panties around her ankles moved to the bidet and sat down on it. I had never seen a woman using a bidet before, and lay in amazement and turned on beyond belief watching as Olivia operated the taps and a jet of water sprayed up into her pussy, cleaning her front bottom of residual menstrual blood.

Now it was her back bottom's turn. Olivia changed her position on the bidet, and this time the jet of water sprayed up between the cheeks of her bum and to the teenager's anus, no doubt getting rid of any smells of poo that lingered around her bottom after her massive smelly shit.

Finishing on the bidet, Olivia stood up and turned off the taps, then took a red wash cloth, using it to dry herself between her legs, at the front first and then at the back. Holding the cloth between her legs, presumably to stop her period blood dripping onto her pants, the floor or running down her legs Olivia shuffled back to the vanity. Holding the cloth in place between her thighs, Olivia thoroughly washed her hands and I waited with bated breath as she picked up her new tampon.

Unwrapping her tampon and casting aside the cloth, I watched with delight as she pushed it up her pussy, adjusting it so it fit comfortably in her vagina and in the right position to absorb her menses. Her knickers still down, Olivia disposed of the tampon's plastic wrapper in her period bin, then washed her hands again.

With her back to me, I got a perfect view as the teenager bent over to pull up her knickers. With her tiny skirt riding up, I saw her perfect, peach-shaped bare bottom, and between her legs her vagina, now with the tampon string hanging out of it. But best of all her bum cheeks parted and a got to see Olivia's anus, me finding it hard to believe that such a tight, delicate little opening that looked like a starfish could be responsible for the terrible smell that Olivia had made while she was on the toilet, not to mention all the farting.

My view of Olivia's pretty teenage arsehole lasted just seconds, as she pulled up her knickers and adjusted them around her pussy and bottom, then smoothed down her skirt. Picking up her phone and putting the red cloth in a dirty clothes hamper, the barefoot Olivia walked back into her bedroom, me wondering what she was going to do next.

First, Olivia walked to the window and looked outside. From my position I couldn't see the weather, but I noticed that the sun was no longer shining and probably the weather had turned. It was pretty common for Melbourne, especially in the autumn or the spring.

Moving to her huge closet, Olivia opened it and took out a white long sleeved blouse and a pair of jeans, then she opened a drawer and took out a white bra. I watched in delight as the teenager began to undress, taking off first her skirt to show her lower half clad in her white floral bikini briefs. Then off came her sleeveless blouse, and underneath the girl wore a strapless bandeau bra, but not for long.

I salivated in delight as Olivia removed her bandeau, and her wonderful teenage C-cup breasts came into sight. I had seen the most private parts of Olivia; her vagina, her pubic hair, her bare bottom and her anus while she was using the toilet and bidet and dealing with her feminine hygiene requirements but of course not her boobs. Now I could and Olivia's tits were as perfect as the rest of her sensational 18-year-old body, firm and round with perfect pink nipples.

Like my view of Olivia's anus from when she pulled her knickers up when she had been to the toilet, my view of Olivia's perfect young breasts was fleeting, as the teenager put on her standard bra and clasped it up. Then she put on her long-sleeved top and finally pulled up her tight blue jeans, which were so snug around the crotch I worried that they might force the teenager's tampon up her birth canal, and present a gynecologist with a difficult challenge.

Slipping on her open white shoes, Olivia admired herself, then raised her phone to take a selfie, before making a call as she left her bedroom. "Hi Caitlyn. Sorry I took so long. You know what it's like when you have to poo on your period. So, I'll see you in about half an hour ..."

Olivia's voice faded as she went downstairs, and soon I heard her car reversing out, and I was alone in the house and emerged from under her bed, sporting a massive erection. I should have gone back downstairs and gone back to work, but like everything today I did the wrong thing and went into Olivia's bathroom.

While young Olivia had had the exhaust fan going while she was on the toilet, the fan was no match for the teenager's bum, and the area in the vicinity of the toilet absolutely stank of her shit. I eagerly sniffed the air, not only inhaling the odor of poop but also the musty, fishy and feminine smell of Olivia's period.

Keen to smell even more of the odors from Olivia's uterus and her bowels, I lifted the toilet lid and got quite a surprise. It should have been an unpleasant surprise and until this morning I would have found it unpleasant, but in my current odd frame of mind it was more like a surprise of winning a lottery.

While most of Olivia's poo, period blood and dirty toilet paper had gone down the drain and into Melbourne's sewer system when she flushed the toilet, the teenager's smelly shit had left a couple of massive brown poo streaks on the white porcelain bowl that failed to clear when Olivia flushed. There was also a small clot of dark red menstrual blood that had failed to go down with the rest of Olivia's mess, and was floating in the water. But best of all, a length of Olivia's toilet paper had also failed to flush away, and was now visible at the bottom of the toilet water, bearing the signs of its rendezvous with Olivia's pussy and her bum -- a huge red patch of period blood at the front, and a massive stain of brown shit at the back.

I lowered my face into the bowl of Olivia's toilet, my nostrils absorbing every lingering molecule of her period odors, farts and poo smells as I looked at her shitty toilet tissue, my erection threatening to bust my undies open. When finished I put the lid back down as I had found it, but did not leave the teenager's bathroom. I had other things to check out.

This item was just next to the toilet, Olivia's period bin. I opened the lid and looked inside, where I saw a number of sanitary bags, plastic wrapping from tampons and the plastic packet and adhesive strip from a sanitary napkin.

My trembling hand reached inside and took out the sanitary bag closest to the top, extricated it from the bin and opened it. Inside was the tampon I had seen Olivia pull out of her pussy earlier. I took the tampon fully expanded with Olivia's dark red menstrual blood from the bag and dangled it in front of me by the string, thinking about how it had spent several hours up the teenager's vagina absorbing her period. I put the tampon to my nose and smelled it, the musty and fishy odors of Olivia's menses entered my nostrils.

I took a second bag out of the bin and extricated a second dirty tampon, this also full of Olivia's smelly period blood, which I eagerly sniffed. A third sanitary bag contained not a tampon but a sanitary pad. It was quite a big super-absorbent one, and I presumed that Olivia wore pads overnight and tampons during the day, much like my wife.
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.
Vicki and I dried off and dressed and both of us got phone calls at the same moment, Vicki from her mother and me from my apprentice Luke, who had good news that his grandmother had been found wandering around the main Geelong city streets, fortunately having not found her way to the foreshore and the cool waters of Corio Bay. She had now been returned to her nursing home, and Luke would be back at work tomorrow. Barry would not be, I got a text from him saying that he had really bad flu and would still be sick tomorrow.

"It's good that they found Luke's grandma," said Vicki, who heard the end of my conversation. "I worry about Dad, he seems to be going that way at times. How was he this morning?"

"He did seem a bit vacant this morning," I admitted. "He went out with Simona, Tatiana and Tatiana's boyfriend to the Mornington Peninsula."

"So long as Dad's health doesn't impact Simona's income she'll be happy enough. How about Olivia?" Did she flirt with Luke again?"

"Olivia was in and out all day, I didn't see much of her." What a lie that was. I had seen way more of Olivia today than I had ever thought I would see.

"I bet you'll see more of her tomorrow with Luke back on board, knowing that sister of mine."

I laughed. "I think she'll stay home all today tomorrow. She was kind of disappointed today when he had to take off."

"I bet she was," laughed Vicki.

The evening turned a bit wet and Vicki and I were in bed together, listening to the rain on the roof. I was wearing boxers and Vicki an over-sized tee-shirt over white full-brief panties with blue flowers on them. I felt Vicki's bare feet against my legs, and had my hand up under her shirt, in her knickers, playing with her genitals, Vicki giggling at my attention to her pussy.

A million thoughts raced through my mind. I kept fantasizing about seeing Olivia on the toilet and changing her tampon again, although I knew that today's events were a one-off caused by a few freaky things happening at the same time. And with Luke back, I would have no chance to hide under her bed to watch her in her most private moments again. Plus there was every chance that Cliff and Simona would be around tomorrow, preventing me from perving again.

My mind thought about gold digger Simona and her icy daughter Tatiana, and how I would like to see them on the toilet and changing their feminine hygiene products, to smell their dirty panties in the laundry, hopefully with shit and period stains, and sniff their used pads and tampons. This of course could never happen, I could never see Olivia's mum or older sister in such private positions or get my hands on their knickers or their used time of the month things, but this morning had I been told how things went with Olivia today I would have said no way, so maybe there would be that freak chance that it would?

But Tatiana was not Olivia's only half-sister, her much older sister was in bed beside me. I would have plenty of chances to engage in covert voyeurism with Vicki when she went to the toilet, although my chances of seeing my wife using a bidet as Olivia had done were close to zero as we obviously did not have one. I could get into Vicki's laundry hamper and smell her knickers covered in pussy stains, and if Vicki fucked up her period and poo stains on rarer occasions.

And on the subject of Vicki's period, normally I counted down the days to the week my wife was due for a period with dread, fearing her hormonal bad temper and not getting any sex the week she was menstruating. Before getting into bed, I had taken a peak at Vicki's sanitary napkins and tampons in her underwear drawer awaiting their turns to go up her pussy or being stuck to her knickers.

I was now counting down the days to Vicki's next time of the month with excitement and delight, thinking about how I could sniff my wife's dirty pads and tampons full of her menses. I was amazed that I suddenly had these strange fetishes in just one day, but seeing my wife's spoiled younger half-sister in such a personal and private position using the toilet while menstruating had had an unexpected effect on me and I would never be the same again. It was probably best I didn't go around hiding under 18-year-old girls' beds anymore.

THE END