The Painter's Daughters

                         Copyright 1995
                     by mule@tpe.com (Mule)
                               and
                 farnorth@alaska.net (Farnorth)

                            Chapter 2

I was awakened again at 8 a.m. by Linda at the door. I let her in
without a word and made my way towards the kitchen to make some
coffee. I was half relieved as I saw her set up her stuff
outside. The weather had turned nice today, and she apparently
decided to take advantage of it to paint the outside trim. At
least she wouldn't be waving her ass in front of me as I ate
breakfast, although I did get several tantalizing views as she
gathered her materials.

I went back to the den to work. Occasionally, I heard her moving
the ladder outside, or doing some other work. After a while it
became routine -- just another one of the commonplace household
noises you hear but never pay attention to.

I tried to concentrate on my work, but I couldn't. My thoughts
kept going back to the night before. My cock was already hard,
having been invigorated by watching her seductive work-dance on
my patio. Now that the image of my masturbational delight of 12
hours earlier was in my head, I couldn't control myself. I held
off as long as I could, but by mid-morning, I made my way towards
the laundry room and the spare bath.

Everything was exactly the way I left it. I picked up her
sneakers and put them on the vanity. I kept my eyes on them as I
stripped. Since I was wearing only a robe, underwear and
slippers, I was naked in less than ten seconds. I picked up one
of the sneakers, dropped slowly to my knees and lifted it to my
face.

I breathed in deeply allowing the molecules of her body mingle
with mine. The effect was intoxicating and I was lost in a world
of imagination. I closed my eyes and I could see Linda, I let my
mind wander, and I could hear Linda. It was several seconds
before I realized that I wasn't imagining that I was hearing her.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" the very real Linda was yelling at
me through the window.

I almost dropped the sneaker into the toilet. I turned to see
Linda standing on the ladder outside the window, bristling with
anger. She disappeared briefly and appeared at the door. "WHAT IS
THIS?"

I didn't know what to say, so Linda filled in the details for me.
"I saw you through the window. What were you doing? Were you
going to play with yourself? And what were you doing with my
sneakers?"

She really didn't wait for an answer. "You *were* going to play
with yourself! What are you, a little boy? You're just like my
thirteen-year-old cousin Billy. He jerks off all the time. He
doesn't know that I know, but I do. I thought about telling my
aunt about it, but I think I'll hold off and tell my cousin Amy
when she comes back from camp next month. She's just about old
enough to be able to handle her older brother."

"Look at this," she said, holding up the other sneaker and
waiving it at me. "The opening is forced open. The laces are
stretched out. You've been sniffing these things haven't you?
What are you, some sort of pervert?"

I was studying my toes as I felt the heat of embarrassment rising
in my face. I hadn't had this kind of a scolding since my mom
caught me stealing her panties. Even though I had a thing about
women's clothes, I never acted on it except for playing a little
with Margo's shoes, and now, Linda's sneakers.

The only reason I was after my mother's panties was because of a
challenge made by some of my friends when we were 16. We were
supposed to get our girlfriends' panties. I couldn't get my
girlfriend to cooperate that weekend, so I was improvising. Mom
misunderstood my actions.

Linda stood in front of me hands on hips, leaning forward
slightly, and demanded, "ANSWER ME. LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO
YOU."

I looked up but couldn't say anything. It wasn't only that I
couldn't think of what to say, I was physically incapable of
talking as my throat tightened with my humility.

She grabbed her sneakers and the rest of her clothes, and walked
out of the room leaving me standing there naked.

                              -=o=-

The shock wore off slowly, I put on my underwear and robe, and I
made my way back to the living room where I could see her packing
up her stuff.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing, you idiot? I'm quitting. I'm
not spending a minute more in a house with a sex maniac like you.
I can't trust you."

"I'm harmless, really. I'm sorry, don't leave." I didn't really
need the house painted this badly. I could always hire another
painter. I had the perfect excuse to tell my wife. The first
painter did leave the job.

What concerned me was what Linda might tell her father, and what
he might tell his wife, and what she might tell my wife. Thanks
to my adrenaline rush, I was totally alert by now, and my mind
was functional enough to reason this out.

Suddenly I was extremely interested in what Linda thought of me.
For some reason, I wanted to impress her, and I knew I was
getting off to a bad start. If I could get her to understand me,
she might take sympathy on me and keep quiet about this.

I tried to calm her, "I'll stay out of your way. I won't do
anything."

"Oh yeah. What kind of guarantee do I get? I saw the way you were
looking at my ass yesterday." (She turned and thrust her tush at
me for emphasis and my prick responded). She continued, "What can
you do that will assure me you won't harm me?"

"I'll do anything," I responded.

"Anything?" she asked, green eyes glinting.

"Just give me another chance."

"OK," she said, "Let's see how serious you really are. Come with
me."

I followed her back to the bathroom.

"I want you to show me what you were doing when I caught you."

"WHAT?"

"You heard me," she said, "Take off your clothes and do it!"

The rational part of my mind was telling me, "Don't do it."
However, being a man, my hard-on had its own advice. Testosterone
spoke louder than logic one more time.

I undid my robe, revealing the boxer shorts I'd slept in. Linda
smiled, and wiggled her index finger up and down a couple of
times to indicate that I should drop them.

Having to undress for her was more embarrassing than being caught
naked. Blushing profusely, I slid my boxers down. My erect member
sprang out like a soldier standing at attention awaiting her
inspection.

"Not bad," she giggled. "Now step up and do it," she said,
handing me a sneaker.

I knelt down in front of the toilet. She enjoyed the picture of
me submissively on my knees before her.

I put the heel under my chin, and slipped the tongue over my
nose. My penis twitched.

She laughed. "I knew you were up to something the moment I saw
the way you were looking at me. I suspected you were oversexed,
and in need of some disciplining. What surprised me was that you
grabbed my sneakers. Nobody has ever done that before. I figured
you for a pantie man. Well, maybe we'll explore that later. I'm
surprised, but delighted."

She gave me the coaching I wanted. "Breathe deep, my sneaker
sniffer. Smell me. These are my 'utility sneaks.' I wear them for
just about everything except work. I've worn them every day to
school for the last two months, and now that summer is here, I've
worn them to the store, the beach, ... everywhere. I have them on
my feet from the time I get up in the morning until I take my
feet off the floor to go to bed at night."

"Think about that as you sniff the home where my feet live. I
really should wear socks when I wear these things, but they feel
so much better without them. I imagine they smell better because
of it, too. Don't you think so?"

I muttered out a, "Yes, Linda," through the canvas fabric of the
shoe.

"Oh, you can call me Ms. Worthington. OK?"

"Yes, Ms. Worthington."

"Good," she said pointing at my erect member, "Now that you have
that penis of yours in the condition it's supposed to be in, I
want you to do something with it. I want you to put on a good
show for me."

I reached down with my free hand and grabbed my cock and started
stroking it. Although I had my eyes closed, I could feel her eyes
staring at me. My heart was pounding and I never found my penis
so hard. The increased blood pressure made it even more sensitive
than normal. I pulled on my penis about two dozen times before I
exploded.

It was a fantastic orgasm. I could feel the strong contractions
in my groin. Linda sucked in some air. I kept pumping and
pumping, and found it difficult to kneel erect. I was getting
dizzy from the smell of her feet, and the sudden release of
sexual tension. It was almost like being on a drug, and I was
getting addicted. I thought then that regular intercourse or the
other games my wife and I played would never be as good as this.

Linda applauded as the last feeble squirts of my ejaculation
dribbled out. "Very good," she complimented, as I lowered the
sneaker from my face, "I think you have promise. Are you willing
to behave yourself and do as I say?"

I was in no condition to object so I nodded my consent.

"Good! Clean up in here and meet me in the living room."

I looked at my robe. She said, "Oh no, you won't be needing that.
We aren't done yet."

I looked at the toilet as she left. What a mess! I had come
everywhere. It took quite a while to clean it up.

                              -=o=-

Linda was setting up some scaffolding when I got to the living
room.

"Give me a hand with this, will you?" she asked. I helped her set
up a low scaffold in the middle of the room. She arranged a
single board over it about 18 inches from the floor.

"Sit down," she commanded. I sat on the board. "Swing your leg
over, and straddle it."

I did.

"Now, lay down."

I had an idea what was in store, but I tried to object
nonetheless as she grabbed my arms under the board and started to
tie them together. "Hey what are you ..."

"Shutup" she quickly cut me off. "Look, I still can't trust you,
so I'm putting you where I can keep an eye on you."

After securing me to the board, she took one of the sneakers,
pulled out the laces, and restrung them through the top eyelets.
She placed the heel of her sneaker over my nose and tucked the
tongue under my chin. She took the laces and tied them together
behind my head. I wore her sneaker like this for the next several
hours. I had already learned to associate the tennis shoe with
sexual activity. Its constant, literally "in-my-face" reminder
had me in a perpetual hard-on.

I tried to relax and watch her paint. Every now and then she'd
turn towards me and give me a girlish smile. Except for a cock
standing up and begging like a puppy, I was getting quite
comfortable with our arrangement.

At about 2 P.M. she took a break. She brought out a lunch box and
a thermos. She set them at my head and poured herself a cup of
coffee. Then she unwrapped a muffin.

Next she stood beside the board and pulled off her shorts and
panties, leaving herself clad only in an oversized shirt and work
boots. It was probably the least feminine attire I've ever seen,
but for some reason, it had me fully aroused.

She undid my sneaker mask, swung her leg over my head, and
lowered her body onto my face. "You know what to do," she told
me, "Tongue!" As she sat there humming to a song on the radio,
contentedly nibbling on her muffin and sipping her coffee, I was
busy at work on her clitoris.

I swirled my tongue around her sweet nubbin exciting it into a
mini-erection. I sucked it in gently and tried to ignore the
streams of fluid dripping over my face. I barely touched it
against my teeth, grazing it tenderly. She shuddered and my face
was awash with her feminine juices. We repeated this scenario
several times over the next ten or fifteen minutes.

Before leaving me to get back to work, she propped her sneakers
up against my erect penis. The afternoon wore on, and I was
getting uncomfortable. For one thing, my face was wet, and my
eyelashes were getting sticky from her drying come. The other
thing that was a problem was that my bladder hadn't been emptied
since I got up. Sex, even masturbation, causes me to want to
urinate. I was about four hours overdue!

I was afraid to mention this to Linda, but the pain was too much
to ignore. "Ms. Worthington, I need to go to the bathroom. Will
you please untie me." Ouch! It sounded so formal and stilted, but
how else does one address an 18-year-old girl who has you tied up
and at her mercy?

"Hey, that's not my problem." She replied, "If you got to go, you
got to go." I knew I was in trouble when I saw her face brighten.
She slid the board at my head out of the support and lowered it
to the floor. I was now laying on an inclined plane with my head
down. She immobilized my head with an ordinary belt that went
around my head and buckled behind the board. Strapped in this
position, I couldn't move my head from side to side or up and
down. About all I could do is shift my eyes.

She grabbed an unused paint stirrer, laid it across my stomach,
and propped it up under the head of my penis holding it in place
with some masking tape. I looked down (actually up) at my penis.
It sat there like an artillery piece at the ready.

My quasi-inverted position only made my bladder condition worse.
I couldn't hold it any longer. Once I started pissing, I started
pissing hard, and I couldn't stop for at least a full minute.

Linda figured out the geometry perfectly. My stream of urine hit
my face right on the chin and lips. It flowed up my face into my
nose so I actually swallowed some of it that way as well as
smelled it. It washed up into my eyes burning them, and dribbled
into my hair and even my ears. For the sake of my rug, I was glad
there was a drop cloth under me.

Linda had to dismount from the other scaffold and sit down, she
was laughing so hard. I felt about an inch and a half tall. Here
was this girl -- cute -- but still a girl, and she arranged to
have me piss all over myself. There was absolutely no sympathy
for my plight in her. In fact, she was enjoying the whole
humiliating event.

I spent the rest of the afternoon on my back with head tilted
down. Just before 5 p.m. Linda brought me back to the horizontal
position and untied me. I was dirty, I smelled of dried piss, I
was stiff, and sore.

She said to me as she collected her things, "Same time tomorrow?"

My mouth answered for my penis before my brain could interrupt.
"You bet!" I said.