I'm a home security expert. I travel a lot. I can be overseas for two years at a time. In this case, it was my third trip.

When I'm in the US I stay with my friend Ian. We own a large house together with a spacious, spare room. It has a separate bathroom and entrance. He's married with four daughters -- Sally, a pretty blonde, is six; Pem, the youngest, is four; Heidi is nine; Cris (Christine) is eleven. She's the darkest and the product of an earlier marriage.

Ian's wife is Mary.

My last stay with the family was for a year. In that time, I developed a great relationship with the kids and they started calling me "Uncle" - "Uncle Tony".

For the first six months of my stay I took everything very slowly. I observed. I listened. I waited. I knew where things were heading, but I was careful. I didn't want to jeopardize anything. I didn't want to attract the wrong kind of attention.

Ian, who works for the fire department, is always up and gone early. Mary would rise at seven, make breakfast for the kids, then get them off to kinder and school. I'd rise around seven-thirty and help her pack the lunches and carry the bags to the station wagon. By eight-fifteen I was alone. When I'm back in the US, I work from home, so my time is my own.

Sally and Cris slept on a bunk in the room across the hall from me. One morning, after Mary drove off with the kids, I walked into the girls' room and sat on Sally's bed beside a Daffy Duck lamp. Sally had the lower bunk, Cris had the upper one. As I had hoped, I found Sally panties between the blankets. They were small and white. I turned them inside out to look at the cotton crotch. There was a yellow streak. I lifted the panties up to my nose and inhaled the aroma. It was amazing. Intoxicating. I was given an instant "taste" of Sally's young, hairless cunt, a small, unseen part of her that I began to crave the moment I set eyes on her three years earlier. Now I wanted it even more.

I replaced the panties and climbed up slowly to Cris's bunk. Being a tidy type, Cris had already made her bed, so there were no panties to find. But there was a cane laundry hamper in the corner. As I lifted the lid, my eyes were drawn to a pink pair of larger panties that clearly belonged to Cris. I placed my hand on them and I swear the cotton was warm. I even hesitated at that moment because the suspense was killing me. So was the paranoia.

I moved to the window to check that the driveway was empty. I didn't want Mary arriving home early or returning to pick up something she'd forgotten. I needed to feel secure before I touched Cris's panties. I needed to know that my intentions were not suspect.

Why touching Cris's panties made me so paranoid is obvious now, but it wasn't obvious then. I guess I knew that the day would come when I would fill Cris's belly and bottom with my cock.

It was inevitable. Perhaps it was also inevitable that I would feast on the creamy pink openings of every little girl in the house, but Cris represented real possibility. She trusted me. She wasn't self-conscious in front of me. She was becoming sexual. She liked frilly, girly things. She thought of herself as "grown up". ......(cont)