This is a print version of story A Stepfather's Revenge part 2 by Acebottom from

A Stepfather's Revenge part 2

After Ned had finished tidying up the bathroom he proceeded to the young women’s shared bedroom. It was a repeat performance there, only on a larger scale: more bras and panties strewn all over the bed and floor.

Indignantly he reflected that these were really some nasty little bitches. Only, they weren’t so little anymore and they should have known better. He completed the task there and moved to the master bedroom that he shared with his wife.

The only clothes lying about in there belonged to his wife . . .. Like mother, like daughters. His was neatly packed away.

Ned didn’t realize, till later, after he had finished cleaning the living room, and sat down on the sofa in front of the TV, to take a five, that he was experiencing a raging hard-on.

What the hell . . .!

Whoa there boy where’d that come from? As far as he knew he wasn’t thinking about pussy, so how come . . .

It seemed that all the panty sniffing, and the smell of fresh, young cunt had wreaked havoc on his poor male member, without his even being aware of what was happening.

Immediately he felt embarrassed and slightly ashamed within himself.

He had never felt any sexual attraction towards his step k**s before as far as he knew—at least, not consciously. He had been too busy paying attention to their incessant animosity towards him.

But now he found himself thinking of them in a different manner; seeing them from a totally new angle. As a matter of fact they did carry sexy frames. Both of them had lost much of the lankiness of teenage, and they now possessed the rounded curves of more mature females.

The big one, slightly chubby, and tallish was going to be a giant of a female when she became fully matured. He bet she was packing an equally chubby crotch; and the little one, the one with the really smooth looking skin, who knows what her naked body might look like . . . a little goddess from Venus maybe.

On few rare occasions he had had glimpses of them going from bathroom to bedroom after showering, but not long enough to really see anything, and he was never particularly interested—preoccupied as he was with their negative social interaction with him.

But now he became possessed with an intense desire to see them naked or in the bras and panties that he had just finished putting away. Ned really wanted to know what they looked like under their clothes. He needed to know. He was aching to know.

And then the thought dawned on him that there was only one way to find out. He had to find a way to view them more closely as they went to and fro from the bathroom.

He put off his odd-job-hunting trip for the day and stayed home to hatch a plan. He waited for the younger girl, whom he knew would be first to arrive home from school. He knew that upon her arrival she usually undresses, wrapped herself in a large beach towel, and then went straight to take a shower in the bathroom—which was near to his bedroom— after she raided the refrigerator for some light snack.

He came up with a plan to stage an accidental collision with her after she finished taking her bath and then went from the bathroom to her room to get dressed.

Later in his bedroom, getting ready to execute his plan, he listened intently to the sounds coming from the bathroom, waiting for his stepdaughter to finish her business there. He waited for a good half of an hour. His patience was rewarded when he heard the shower spray turned off and she got ready to go to her room.

As she left the bathroom, Ned came out of his room suddenly and “accidentally” bumped into her. In her panic, the bath towel that was wrapped around her wet body slithered to the floor. She let out quite a squeal and ran to her room down the hall. Ned’s eyes ogled her. He then lamely apologized, and not too quickly, retreated back into his room while his brain registered a flurry of jiggling tits, black pubic hairs, and quivering butt.

He had seen enough to leave his own rod quivering with lust. He lay down on his bed and reflected on the vision that he had just witnessed. It was riveted in his brain forever. His earlier assumption was correct: the little vixen was packing quite a body. This was no mere c***d.

He knew then that he had to see more. He must see more. By whatever means necessary. By whatever it takes. But he knew that he couldn’t employ the same ruse again. There had to be a better way.

He came to the conclusion that he had no option but to construct some kind of mechanism by which he could see while at the same time not being seen. He thought of the little binocular-type spyglass that he had often seen advertised in some novelty stores.

But even if he acquired one, where could he put it so it wouldn’t be detected?

The closet! His bedroom closet was directly adjoining to the bathroom. It was perfect! It would be a perfect place to install one of those nice little spying apparatus.

He forthwith proceeded to inspect the closet with his professional Mr. Fix-it eyes, but he immediately detected flaws that would prevent such an installation.

All the spyglasses that he had seen—even the miniature ones—would be too bulky to install inside the closet that he shared with his wife. She might discover the contraption one day (what a hell that would be)! Then there was the further problem of how would he get it to actually see into the bathroom.

Finally, after long, careful thought, he decided against rigging up any kind of mechanical object into his bedroom closet. But his handyman’s instinct wouldn’t give up. He felt in his gut that there must be a simpler, easier way to accomplish this task

As he lay down on the bed, on his back, looking up at the ceiling, his stiff manhood aching at the thought of the girl’s naked body, other thoughts came slowly.

He was never a fast thinker and he knew it. What was obvious to other people took him ages to figure out, but once he got it, the knowledge would stay riveted in his brain forever.

He could feel the sense of an idea forming, seeping into him brain, the way he always get his best ideas on how to fix problems. It was like a flower floating on a gentle summer breeze. He could see it gradually taking form, until it was clear before his mind’s eyes. It produced the same elated feeling like when one of his most difficult drains had just been de-clogged.

The idea was about an exquisite little peephole; actually a high tech peephole; one that only he could build. It would be a cute little peephole that possesses its own little invisible personality. It would be so ingeniously built that it would be totally invisible to a non-technical eye such as his wife. It would be his own little friend, right there in his closet, in his bedroom.

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