Chapter Text
“Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap,” the sunlight shown bright through the blinds waking Bailey from her deep sleep. Her alarm clocked flashed a repeated 12:00 AM, they must have lost power again that storm last night was pretty intense. She rolls over, feeling her cell phone under her, she must have fell asleep texting again. Pressing the power icon further explained why the alarm she set didn’t go off. “Dead, freaking great!” She says as she kicks the covers from the bed scrambling to the floor.
“Mom is going to kill me,” She could hear the car horn from her mother’s truck outside. “I’m coming, I’m bloody coming!” Bailey laments as she hops on one leg trying to get her leggings to cooperate. Her thick thighs made getting the fabric around them an act of will. She lets out a mighty sigh as her ample rear hangs from the back of the legging, “allllllmost,” she groans as she flops onto the bed finally wiggling her full rear inside the tight fabric. Rolling onto the floor she lifts a number of bras to her nose, “no, nope, ew!” she tossed each of her old sports bras in her dirty laundry. She manages one clean sports bra from her pile and quickly whips off her oversized T-Shirt, the sunlight casts shadows just under her developing breasts. The summer prior puberty had hit her like a ton of bricks, and while they were only B-cups, it was more than enough to garner attention from every boy in her 7th grade class and even a few 8th graders. She pulls the neon yellow sports bra down and grabs her volleyball jersey from the back of her desk chair as well as her weekend bag from her closet as she makes her way downstairs. She kicks her shoes down the stairs ahead of her pulling down the black crop top that she had to beg her dad to let her buy.
“Hi dad, bye dad,” she says grabbing her shoes before shifting to her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek while he eats his breakfast.
“Hey, whoa, whooaaaaa, where are you running off to?” He asks swallowing his bit of toast beckoning his daughter back to the kitchen table.
“Dad, c’mon you know it’s mom’s weekend,” she says shrugging, pulling her platinum blonde strands from her face and into a messy top knot. “She’s been honking out there for like 20 minutes.”
“Miranda can wait another ten so my daughter can have a hot breakfast.” He says motioning to the chair beside him. “Liv’s been working all morning, I mean look at this spread,” he said extending his hand across a full table consisting of pancakes, eggs, bacon, fresh fruit and OJ.
“Dad, mom’s weekend starts at 8,” She says giving him the smile that has always made his heart melt. “I’m already like super late.”
Charlie can’t help but to succumb to her adorable powers. “Alright, fine but at least try a bite, Olivia got up early for this.”
Olivia and Bailey glare at each other for a moment neither wanting to make the first move. There was no love lost between the two, especially with Olivia only being 8 years older than Bailey at 22. Bailey glances coldly back at her father never wanting to disappoint him but having nothing but pure disdain for his recently acquired taste in women. Her eyes find the least objectionable item laid out before her, smiling as her eyes find the one thing Olivia didn’t cook. Bailey grabs an apple taking a bite from it, planting another kiss on her father’s cheek as she scampers by.
He smiles not identifying Bailey’s passive aggressive dig. Olivia’s stare follows Bailey to the backdoor, “you know I bought those apples,” she shouts as Bailey exits. Bailey pauses at the door as Olivia’s words reach her. Before continuing her stride towards her mother’s truck, she spits the apple onto the sidewalk, glaring back over her shoulder.
“What was that about?” her mother asks as she climbs into the car.
“Bad apple,” Bailey says without addressing the matter much further, “I’m starving can we get breakfast.”
“Absolutely B.B.” Her mother says backing out of the driveway, “Waffles?”
“Waffles!” Bailey replies with a wide smile as they pulled away from the secluded 5 bedroom, 4 bath tudor. The divorce has been predictably messy, the judge awarded Miranda a rather large settlement due to Charlie's indiscretion, but custody of Bailey had been awarded to Charlie. Given that Miranda had spent the last 16 years as an unemployed homemaker, it was no surprise, but it still hurt. Miranda made up for it as best she could, spoiling her daughter whenever the opportunity presented itself, but it ultimately still felt like she lost.
“She hates me you know,” Olivia curtly says as she trashes the scrambled eggs she needlessly made. “And not like, oh she’s a teenager, and is just being super moody so she’ll eventually get over it.” She continues as she loudly throws the pan into the sink. “This is, carry it with her for the rest of her life, never bring her kids to Thanksgiving, evil step-mother kinda hate,” she says turning to Charlie who was only half paying attention.
His mind quickly catches up to the topic at hand knowing that it’s a minefield of a conversation either way. “Wow, jumped all the way to hypothetical kids and turkey day snubs, quite a leap,” he says chuckling softly. “She doesn’t hate you,” he replies making sure she knows he isn’t taking the situation too lightly. “She’s just…” he searches for the right words, “she can be kind of…” no that wasn’t it either. “Just give her some time,” was the best he could conjure.
“Time?” Olivia laments, “It’s been almost a year, and she’s still like this.” Olivia’s frustration forcing her to turn away from Charlie.
He sighs, getting out of his seat, taking the last sip of coffee from his cup as he walks behind her setting the cup in the sink. “A year feels like nothing to her,” he says wrapping his arms around Olivia who softly sighed at his touch. “She’ll come around I promise,” he says as his hands move from around her waist to under her skirt. His lips grazing her neck, before whispering in her ear, “in the mean time I’ll just have to make sure you are,” he continues as one hand cups her pert breast and the other slides between her legs, “happy.”
“Oh yea?” she asks as she rocks her hips backwards pressing into him, feeling him begin to swell. “And how are you going to make me happy?” she asks as if she didn’t already know the answer, feeling herself getting wet at the thought of what’s to come.
His fingers pinch at her nipple, “I think I can figure something out,” he says drawing a soft moan from her, his other hand sliding her lace thong to one side running his fingers up and down her little slit.
“I dunno,” she says breathily as her hands grip the sides of the porcelain sink. “I’m umm- pretty---” she lets out a heavy sigh feeling her knees tremble as he teases her little clit, “Yea I’m pretty shaken up about this,” she says her 5” heels clicking on the floor as she steps wider giving Charlie more access between her legs.
“I can tell, let me see what I can do about that.” He replies with a smile his left hand quickly unzipping his jeans and pulling out a hard 8 inches before lifting up her skirt. He grips himself firmly, running his cock along her little slit, “let me know if this helps.” He says with a smile before sliding himself into her.
“OOOOHHhhhhh,” she moans as she practically melts as he enters her. Her arm reaches back pulling him in until she can feel him bottom out inside of her.
“Is that a yes?” he asks grinding his hips into her.
Olivia nods adamantly “Yea, I feel better,” she mutters.
“Good,” he says gripping her hips, he takes slow but powerful strokes into her, rocking his hips forward at the very end to hit that spot that she loved.
“Fuuuucccck!” she moans as her weight shifts to her toes arching her back and encouraging Charlie to continue. He takes great care to pull himself out slowly, letting her feel his girth disappear from her. He reaches around teasing her clit as he continually moves inside of her.
Charlie's hips respond to Olivia’s moans as his pace increases feeling her body respond each time he vanishes inside of her. His free hand twisted her nipple as her hands brace against the backsplash forcing herself backward to greet his thrusting hips. Practically begging to be fucked harder. With a smile Charlie gladly obliges. He watches her perfect tits bounce in the reflection of the window as his restraint begins to wash away.
Her tight little pussy gripping him with every little move. Olivia’s eyes open wide before rolling back in her head, pressing harder and harder against the sink each impact drawing her closer and closer until with the slightest change in hip position Charlie finds her G-spot. He smiles, rocking back and hitting the same spot, again and again, knowing what's coming; and knowing she couldn't stop it if he wanted to. Olivia trembles her toes curling under her as she grips onto the faucet, her body goes rigid as she shoots onto the balls of her feet squealing as she sends a stream of her juices onto the floor.
Her body quivers as she turns a bright red, she had never been comfortable with squirting but is unable to prevent it when Charlie finds that certain angle. Feeling her legs begin to give out, he hooks his arms under hers to prevent her from falling. She can’t form words, just unintelligible mumblings fall from her lips as her pussy convulses, Charlie teases her clit more with his free hand, priming her for the next orgasm before letting his free hand guide his cock back inside her.
“Oh, you’re not finished yet,” he moans as he resumes his piston-like motions each time finding that same spot deep inside her that keeps her knees weak. Two more orgasms later they stand in a small pool of Olivia’s good time. “Now, it's my turn,” he whispers to her, though after the climatic rush of three orgasms her response is mostly intelligible nonsense and a lot of nodding. Charlie’s arms wrap around her, spinning her 180 degrees and bending her at the hips over the breakfast table. Neither of them is particularly concerned with the plates or cups damaged in the process as Charlie forgoes the tender gentle strokes and savagely grips her hair with one hand and her hip with the other.
No words were exchanged, only the sound of the table being forced a few inches from its previous spot each time Charlie violently propelled himself forward. It was all Olivia could to do lay still as she was sent into near ecstasy at the carnal fucking she was receiving. He grunted repeatedly, releasing her hair in favor of controlling both hips, occasionally stepping forward to catch up to the table that was being fucked across the room. Nearly 3 feet later the table had reached the opposing wall and Charlie could really let loose, gripping tightly and pulling her little body back as plunged himself into her. His balls tightened over and over as he pumped her little pussy full of himself.
He collapsed on her for a moment, catching his breath before stepping back to admire his work. He watched in near artistic appreciation as her legs dangled from the table, her toes barely reaching the floor, cum dripping from her perfect little slit.
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The recording paused. Clint’s hands quickly flitted over his keyboard cataloging today’s footage, his eyes occasionally peering up from his computer screen to verify that no one was approaching his office. He used to hate getting called in on the weekend, but lately, it afforded him the privacy to dive deeper into his obsession.
It had all started about six months prior when his IT company had bought out Red Briar Home Security. He’d found a number of exploits to their shoddy security and surveillance code, which had earned him a promotion and the need to recruit and manage five new coders.
The long hours and tedious office politics made him increasingly grumpy and opened the fissures in his relationship with his girlfriend Trish. He’d never been one for invading the privacy of others, but the distraction and then the allure of watching other people’s mundane lives was simply too great a temptation.
At first it was simple and relatively innocuous, with him just cracking electronic doorbells to watch clients’ comings and goings, then another exploit for outdoor security footage. Enjoying the occasionally bored housewife sunbathing or skinny dipping. Relishing knowing about the illicit trysts that took place while a spouse was away at work. Perving at teenagers making out on the front porch while the parents were sitting oblivious only a few feet away inside the house.
His brain kept telling him it was harmless, really a victimless crime since they didn’t even know they were being watched. And no one would ever know. Even though at first, he couldn’t shake the doubt and anxiety of being caught. He had almost been caught as a young teenage hacker, when he’d achieved a series of hacks culminating in breaking into a major Bank. The FBI had traced the culprit to his college and had even questioned him but had not found adequate evidence to convict him. The terror of being caught had never left him and ensured he’d stayed on the right side of the law ever since...well until now.
As Clint quickly discovered, temptation begets escalation. When he discovered an exploit to the Red Briar system for home internal security cameras, his fascination grew. Watching people in their own homes was addictive, particularly when irritated with his work colleagues and the dullness of managing the team.
And Clint had an addictive personality. Originally the power of hacking was his drug, which shifted into alcohol abuse during his twenties. He was now three years dry, having nearly poisoned himself on a particularly wild binge. This voyeurism that his job enabled had become his new addiction and he wallowed in it whenever he could. Not that it affected his work, or so he told himself. . .
He was disappointed that home cameras tended to be in common spaces, rather than bedrooms and bathrooms, but he still enjoyed the voyeuristic excitement of watching people fight or fuck in supposed privacy.
But his curiosity and fascination only grew into obsession when he came across Bailey.
The first day he saw her, he couldn’t think about anything else for the rest of the day. Perhaps it was her strong facial features, piercing green eyes, and high cheekbones, with the cutest little button nose. Or maybe it was her athleticism and firm body with her muscular backside and thighs. Subsequently, he’d watched a few live streams of volleyball games from her middle school, where he liked how talented she seemed.
It could have been either of those things. But the most likely explanation was that their housekeeper had forgotten to put towels in the bathroom the first time that he saw her. This required her to make her way from the bathroom on the first floor, up to the linen closet on the second. There she was, casually strolling through the kitchen in unbridled nude glory, soft tan lines shaping her buttocks on the way to the closet.
Sure, she was home alone, and they lived in a mostly secluded area with the closest neighbor being a quarter mile away, why would it be a big deal to be nude in her own home, after all, she was home alone. Clint's brain stopped working for the whole 2 minute walk through the home, ogling her budding tits jiggling with each step with her muscular ass swaying back and forth, and he was hooked. Like with any good drug, he realized he would need another hit…soon.
For about two weeks his work suffered, as he spent nearly all his time watching Bailey, tracking her from screen to screen, as she lived her life blissfully unaware of the loss of privacy. He was entranced, she moved with a soft grace, and yet was still so captivating.
Every time he logged on thereafter, he hoped to see her naked again. But that didn’t happen. The best he saw was her in a tiny yellow bikini lounging by the pool. Which just made him eager for more. . .
Over time he realized she reminded him of the first time he had become obsessed with a girl as an older teen. Jenny had been four years younger than him, a high school freshman when he was in college. He’d met her at an athletic meet and started stalking her. From a distance at first, but then increasingly trying to talk to her. Wanting, no needing to be with her. So deeply that he couldn’t think of anything else.
At first, Jenny felt flattered by the attention, but soon became creeped out by his weirdness. Pestering her, despite her resistance. She tried to ignore him, but that did not deter him. Writing endless letters declaring that they were made for each other or that he needed her to "be safe."
After a couple of months, her father found out and accosted him. Threatening him with arrest if he continued. After that failed to deter him, they moved away, and despite his best online sleuthing he'd been unable to track her down. His unfulfilled desire frustrating him and warping his views on women and relationships. Always wanting to be in control, thereafter. Not prepared to be vulnerable.
His relationship with his girlfriend Trish deteriorated as his obsession with Bailey increased. She was a catch by most standards, but she simply couldn’t match the bubbly toned innocence of a naive teenager. And if Clint was being honest, Bailey was the better option in looks and personality, or at least his idealized version of Bailey he kept in his mind was better. Their fights became more frequent and progressively more acrimonious as he spent more time at the office and on his computer, mostly stalking the young teen as opposed to putting any real effort into the relationship.
Most nights, he’d lay awake in bed next to his increasingly frustrated and alienated girlfriend. Having spent the entire day watching the goings on of his new obsession, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was awake. His mind reeled with all the things she might be doing; the idea bored into his head until the solution to his acute bout of insomnia became obvious.
He wouldn’t let her get away, not again. Neither would anyone else get in the way of him actualising his desire.
Clint had seen her sneaking out of the house one night, after she’d supposedly gone to bed. He couldn’t see who she was meeting, which caused a flash of jealousy. That was until the second time she snuck out, he watched her through the porch video as she secretively hugged another young girl on the sidewalk and the two of them walk off down the street.
Wanting to know what that was all about led him further into the dark side. He’d cracked their wi-fi network thanks to the information Red Briar had as part of their home security setup. And then it was simple to own their smart locks, thermostat, cameras, speakers and lights; hell, for good measure he even hacked their fridge.
It had been relatively simple to hack her laptop camera which was strategically always open on her desk, providing a perfect view of her room and bed.
He’d enjoyed switching up the temperature in their home when she was there alone. Cranking the heat up to 88 degrees and locking her out of the thermostat gave him an intense rush as he watched her strip down to her pink girly underwear while doing her homework, beads of sweat rising on her pert breasts and the small of her back as the heat increased. Making her bra and panties slightly translucent so he could see her dark raised nipples and the sparce blond tuft on her pubic mound.
He also loved the moments when he caught her dressing, or more precisely undressing. Casually removing her clothing as if in an unwitting strip tease. Often when she removed her bra, she would cup her breasts and pout pensively in the mirror, but he liked to think that she was presenting them for his enjoyment. Her milky skin of her tits untouched by the sun, contrasting beautifully with her tanned torso. All of that was quite enjoyable, but the climax was when she removed those panties and revealed the treasure between her legs. The pubic mound with her little slit peeking out in the V between her thighs making him dream of the touch of those silky lips and taste her sweetness.
He loved the way her generous ass cheeks with their pronounced tan lines wiggled as she flounced across to the dresser, occasionally looking over her shoulder at herself in the mirror with an innocently provocative smile. At those moments, he would imagine her shaking her ass just for him, those gorgeous globes jiggling enticingly.
All of that was great but the gold mine was her phone. He cursed the coders who made iPhones, as they’d done far too well at encoding data for even some of the best hackers to crack. Luckily, the phone was only ever as secure as the network she was on. So, it took a little bit of doing; randomly spamming her inbox with makeup tips, sending the occasionally pirated links about volleyball camps or concerts, even creating a pirate tiktok account just to get his code into her phone. Two weeks’ worth of work sunk into getting access, but it was worth it.
He’d done this before, breaking phones for his friends, or hacking in remotely onto servers to help companies with IT issues. But he’d never done it without someone’s permission. His mind again repeating the constant refrain, ‘if she doesn’t know it won’t hurt her.’
For the past week he’d been scrolling through her phone’s details, reading text and emails, investigating apps, and of course downloading nearly every selfie she’d ever taken. His heart quickened as he did, her cute face smiling just for him. It was like scratching an itch, having this kind of access, and getting it was easy. So easy that it made him wonder what else he could access.
And then he hit the jackpot. He found the texts to her friend. Or more accurately her girlfriend, planning to meet, sharing sweet moments and inside jokes, exploring her budding sexuality all while veering away from titles like lesbian or gay. This made everything make sense, the sneaking out, some rather curious browser history for local youth LGBTQ groups, and the most obvious Google search, 'how to come out to my parents.'
The kernels of a plan started growing in his devious mind. There may be a way to have her after all. For him alone, to quench his obsession. He wouldn’t let her get away. Not this time.
Clint spent the rest of the day trying to finish his work so he could get home but was continually being distracted by Bailey. Or rather his tracking of her. Checking if she had arrived at her mother’s house. Reviewing her social media posts that he had browsed a dozen times. Watching her undress in slow motion using the montage he’d made of her from the best clips captured over a previous couple of weeks.
By the time he did get home he was incredibly horny, but not for his girlfriend. He couldn't think about anything but pressing himself into his muse, his obsession. Though all that did was add to the growing frustration felt. Clint had no desire for her, but she would do. Each thrust into Trish felt wasted, his mind painted over her face with Baileys, as he wildly grunted pounding into her as hard as he'd seen Charlie fuck Olivia earlier that day. Trish found herself bent over, their bed, one hand in her hair, mashing the side of her face into the sheets the other keeping her body pinned to the mattress. She quickly began to regret initiating sex as rather than enjoying the act of making love, she was grunting painfully with every stroke.
“Stop it.. .. Clint.. .. You’re.. .. hurting me.”
This wasn’t love, it was something else. It had started as attempted makeup sex after yet another fight. Trish nagging about him spending so much time on his computer, dismissively referring to it as ‘working or whatever he did.' Him losing his temper and yelling that she was ‘such a needy bitch’.
Half an hour later she came to him with a mug of hot chocolate, to try and bridge the gap that had been increasingly widening between them over the previous month. Kissing him and telling her she adored him and just wanted to spend more time with him.
Initially he hardly responded, simply wanting her to vacate his office so he could get back to watching Bailey. But after twenty minutes of trying to coax attention out of him, Trish, unfortunately, got what she was after...somewhat. His mind was so focused on Bailey that the very idea of fucking Trush was wholly unappealing. She’d valiantly attempted to coax his half-limp dick to life, nuzzling his neck and running her tongue across the skin in the way that he liked.
But he couldn’t shake his irritation with her, nor that he was tired of her presence. After three years it felt stale, the excitement dwindles. Eventually, he'd had enough of her fumbling attempts to arouse him, he would just have to do it himself. Grabbing her arm roughly he dragged her to the bedroom, pushing her onto the bed and somewhat unceremoniously ripping her panties off as he tried to get his semi-erection into her, hoping that her tight folds between her slender thighs would do the trick.
“OOOOhhhhh. . . Yes babe. . . Like that.” She cooed encouragingly, eyes sparking in arousal as the tip slipped up and down her slick labia. Hoping that he’d get it up for her and it’d be like it was at the beginning after they’d had a fight. Fireworks and mind-shattering sex.
Clint looked down at her petite body, sagging teardrop-shaped breasts flopping out of her flimsy tank top, his cock trying to penetrate her gash. She wasn’t doing it for him, even though he loved short thin women with large butts and thick thighs. But he didn’t like the slight flabbiness on her stomach, never acknowledging the irony of judging her while he had his own pudgy gut beginning to form. The thing was, she wasn’t athletic like Bailey and that had started to piss him off. Instead of bright round green eyes, Clint found himself staring at Trish’s tepid brown eyes.
“Fuck it. Turn over.” He growled, pulling on her hip to spin her and get her ass up where he wanted it. At first, she was on all fours, kneeling in front of him, her ample backside quivering in anticipation, her wet pussy pleading to be filled. That was better. He didn’t have to look at her face. He could visualize that young tight body waiting for his attention.
A hard slap to her ass cheek left a hand-shaped red mark. Her squeal, the loud crack and the warm impact...that's what he needed, now he was hard. Or hard enough to slip into her, one hand around the base of his cock to guide it in, while the other gripped her hip, pulling her back onto him as he thrust forward. Not caring to take it slow.
“Fuuuuck!” The groan as her tight passage opened suddenly, the muscled walls accommodating him in an instant, natural juices easing his way, engulfing him. Sudden discomfort blending with filled pleasure, his rod seated deep within her throbbing little hole.
Clint didn’t respond or wait, he started pounding like a man possessed. Imagining that young girl kneeling before him, submissively taking what he wanted to give her. She had a butt this round tapering to a narrow waist and torso. One that he could pound and slap mercilessly like he was doing to Trish’s backside. But probably firmer and tighter, given her youth.
“Don’t hit so hard. . .” Trish bemoans looking over her shoulder and imploring him, the pain of the repeated strikes distracting her from the delicious feelings in her pussy. She didn’t mind it rough and knew Clint liked to be dominant, but she had her limits.
“Shut up.” Clint was someone else, somewhere else in that moment and didn’t need her whining voice to distract from his fantasy. He grabbed her hair and leant all his weight to push her down into the mattress, face first. She couldn’t breathe and felt like her nose was about to break. Managing to twist her face sideward she gasped and pleaded.
“Pleeeee. . .” But her words were cut short by a vicious tug on her hair, a brutal deep thrust that bruised her cervix followed by an intentionally hard slap on her ass.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP, Take it bitch.” Clint growled hammering away at her tight hole, delighting in the control and the thought of Bailey submitting to his every depraved desire. He no longer saw Trish, although he relished her pitiful moans as he pummelled her. She was just a tight warm wet fleshlight for his masturbatory fantasy.
Feeling his balls tighten with the rush he got just before climax, Clint buried himself deep in her. Releasing a pleasurable load of cum deep inside, pulsating spasms taking over his loins and shooting up his shaft. Despite her whimpers of discomfort he left himself deep inside her pressed against her cervix wishing madly that it was Bailey under him.
When he was done, he pulled out of the miserable woman who’d collapsed onto the bed.
Trish moaned for a moment trying to clear her head from the pain, but Clint, wasting no time casually wiped the excess cum and juices off on her thigh and left the bedroom without another word or thought. It was time to see what Bailey was up to.