Taboo Times Ten(47)

Veronica was exceptionally sweaty and cum-smeared, multiple strands of wet shiny semen on her upturned bare breasts, in her hair, on her face, and running down her chin.

A single extra-long strand of it was even dangling precariously from the perfect tip of one of her distended pink nipples.

As Veronica looked over to her aunt, the stiff cock she'd been servicing with her mouth erupted, an additional load of ropy semen covering her face and, a moment later, dripping from her full lips.

Stunned at the timing, Mrs. Rimfield's young niece could only drunkenly laugh with child-like surprise, then shrug with a guilty little smile as she licked the excess off her fingers.

To which her aunt reacted:

“My God, you filthy little slut!”

Of course, it was a case of the slut calling a slut a slut, because Mrs. Rimfield wore only a pair of crotchless black panties herself and was on her hands and knees being fucked doggy-style by an eager line of young college boys.

“Aunt Katherine,” Veronica could only say in her own defense, “it obviously takes one to know one.”

From that moment on, they were closer than ever.



“There's the little girl herself,” Mrs. Rimfield warned her niece. “With her father. I'll have them come over and I'll introduce you.”

Veronica nodded.

They'd been still sunning themselves at the pool when Alex walked out of the maintenance shed, a toolbox in one hand, his daughter with him. He spotted Mrs. Rimfield across the parking lot and smiled knowingly at her, then pointed for his daughter's benefit.

A minute later, the young girl smiled and headed toward the pool as her father headed in the other direction.

“She's a cute little thing,” Veronica allowed.

“Act casual,” her aunt commanded. “I want to discover what's going on, but I don't want to alert her to anything odd going on.”

“I'll be good,” her niece promised.

“Hello, Mrs. Rimfield,” Stephanie nodded pleasantly. “Is this your daughter?”

“Stephanie, this is Veronica, my niece,” Mrs. Rimfield smiled. “She visits her boring old aunt whenever she has absolutely nothing else to do.”

Veronica smiled at that.

“Wrong,” the high school girl corrected. “I visit her whenever I need an adventure of sorts.”

“An adventure…?” Stephanie asked, intrigued.

“She's trying to make me sound more interesting than I am,” Mrs. Rimfield told the girl. “Anyway, how are you enjoying your stay here? Having any…fun?”

The young girl gave her a sweet smile.

Her youthful, freshly scrubbed face had no hint of worry or concern, and certainly not any of the understated angst one might expect from a girl being sexually abused in any way. Of course, during that night she'd listened to them, it was obvious there was no coercion going on-the little 10-year-old was a full-blown participant.

“Have you and your dad been up to anything…unusual?” the Resident Manager probed ever so gently. “When I saw you late last night, you had a most unusual look on your face, is why I ask.”

And your small hand was working in your filmy underpants, she could have said.

But, of course, did not. Instead, she studied the little girl without seeming to, trying to see the truth of the matter in her bright young eyes.

Stephanie began to respond but then stopped abruptly with an uncertain smile.

“Last night?” she said slowly, clearly trying to recall. “I didn't see you last night, not that I can remember. What time was it?”

Mrs. Rimfield gave her a quick smile.

“Dear, it was well after midnight,” she told the child. “I was, uh, visiting your father and you came to the door of your bedroom. Maybe you were too sleepy to remember seeing me.”

If there was any attempt on the girl's part to conceal her memory of their meeting, to pretend nothing had happened, Mrs. Rimfield couldn't detect it in any way. It was obvious Stephanie didn't remember a thing about it.

“I'm sorry, but I don't remember,” the little 10-year-old said. And then she looked to Veronica, who appeared to be staring at her with an open frankness. “Is something the matter? You're looking at me so oddly.”

Veronica merely smiled at Stephanie.

“You are cute as a bug,” she told the girl. “My aunt told me all about you, that she heard you and your father playing a game in your apartment a couple of nights ago. A loud game, that went on all night. And that you were having so much fun, she could hear you in her place right above.”

But Stephanie clearly drew a blank, her little-girl's brain working (obvious from her puzzled expression and the little frown line that appeared on her smooth forehead), but no recollection of that night apparently registered.