Home Help

We'd been in Jakarta just nine months when Rebecca's mother fell ill. She was back in the UK, of course, and Rebecca fretted and fussed for a week or so, and we debated the right thing to do, but this was ill in the long-term sense, prognosis uncertain but not good, and so we made the arrangements, and she packed for her and Josh and flew back to a cold and rain-swept London.

I stayed. Jakarta was where the oil company was paying me shedloads to be, and so that's where I had to be. And actually, that was OK. I liked Jakarta, sprawling great city of contradictions, old and brand new, rich and poor juxtaposed in concrete, glass and wonderfully warm people. I liked our house as well - airy, five-bedroomed place in one of the nice districts - and I was rapidly getting used to the expat life - me the oil exec, Rebecca the lady who lunched, four-year-old Josh with his own private nanny - snug in our gated community with our live-in staff and our tax-free friends. As well as Josh's nanny Annisa we had the obligatory pembantu maid, and a gardener who dropped in once a week. Work was hard, brokering oil deals with hard-eyed Chinese and sly Russians, but life was good.

We let Annisa go, of course - no Josh, no need - but agreed I should keep on Aanjay the maid. From a distance that might have seemed questionable, telling of a very trusting or very naive wife, but in expat Indonesia no-one batted an eyelid. A home without a pembantu just didn't happen.

Aanjay was our second live-in maid-cum-housekeeper. The first, a sullen girl from an agency, we let go under something of a cloud, and it was Annisa who recommended her replacement. Best to go direct to a family, she advised, word-of-mouth recommendation, get a good, steady rural girl. She'll be harder working and more loyal than these flighty girls you get from the agencies.

She was right. Aanjay had been with us a month and was already a huge improvement on the first one. A calm, serious girl, demure, polite, grave - almost watchful - who cooked and cleaned and shopped and kept house with an efficiency that belied her years. She claimed to be seventeen - that's what it said on her contract - but I was sure she wasn't a day over fifteen. She was pretty, too, in her serious way, a fact that hadn't passed me by, but of which I became distinctly more aware after my wife's departure.

We'd discussed the family change with her - her English was pretty good for a rural girl - and given her the option of leaving should she find it uncomfortable, but she was happy to stay and keep house for me. Besides, we all expected Rebecca and Josh to return within a month or two, so there was no call for any huge upheaval. In reality she hadn't much of a choice - the only place she could conceivably go was back home, and her wage was almost certainly one kind of lifeline for her family in the sticks. And Indah really wanted to stay.

Indah was Aanjay's little sister. Annisa warned us that the one drawback with hiring a rural pembantu was that you often got a younger sibling along too - too many mouths to feed back home. This was actually no problem for us, and as it happened she and Josh clicked really nicely in that way that children so easily do. Indah was five or six, it wasn't quite clear, with only a few words of English, but Josh loved her and she took to him in a sisterly way straight off, so we regarded this live-in playmate as a bonus rather than an extra obligation. Aanjay, I came to understand, wasn't quite as enamoured at having to mother her little sister as well as look after our household, but she was too polite to let it show in public.

We were a happy little expat household, then, and although Indah was really quite upset at Josh's departure - her farewell tears made him and his mother both cry - the three of us settled into our new groove within a day or so and life went on.

Life went on. A curious phrase. Suddenly I was alone in my house with a live-in teenage maid and her little sister and - life went on? Kinda. It felt a little odd, awkward at first, just me and the girls. The first day or two were like, we hadn't really noticed yet, and then suddenly - weird. Aanjay was grave and polite like she always was, but maybe a little wary, like she expected me to grab her, attack her, something. She was as efficient as ever, though - washing, cleaning, shopping, sometimes preparing meals for me - and she scolded Indah and walked her to and from school morning and noon just the same. I was out at work a fair bit, although I also worked at home quite a lot in my office/den near the kitchen, and as the weeks passed I noticed a steady increase in my awareness of where Aanjay was around the house at any one time.

Maybe that was just a part of settling into a new pattern of life. It was natural that people sharing a house tune in to who else is there, where they are, what they're up to. Aanjay went about her chores discreetly, of course, as a good pembantu should, and she did her best to keep Indah from being too boisterous, but the dynamic was different. It felt silly to be quite so rigid as we had been - this is the household, these are the servants - and I was perfectly happy to share more of the "family space" with the girls. They only had to ask to watch the big lounge TV, or play DVDs, and I told them I had no problem with Indah playing around the house as long as she was careful and the girls tidied up after themselves.

So we were more relaxed in many ways than a standard expat family. And I knew when Aanjay was in the kitchen, or making the beds, cleaning the bathroom or just heading out to market. The days I worked at home I began to time my coffee refills to match her working in the kitchen, just to have someone to chat to. I loved her grave politeness and the demure way she kept her eyes lowered, with lovely flashes of deep brown every now and then when she looked up. I teased her gently, about anything and everything, whatever came into my head, just to see her look up from under those dark, pretty lashes. Yes, it was nice to spend a little time with her, like getting to know a niece you hadn't seen for years, or something like that.

I guess I was a little lonely, too. I had work, and expat mates and all that, but the house was too big to rattle around in on my own. I spoke with Becky every day, of course, and missed both her and Josh, but her mother's condition didn't seem to be improving and the docs were lining up for a long haul. Becky's dad was taking it hard and not coping properly, so we agreed we were looking at months rather than the weeks we'd hoped for. So chatting with Aanjay over coffee, or sometimes over a shared early evening meal, with Indah giggling and prattling away in Indonesian Malay with the occasional English expostulation ("Hello Keety!", "Dorar Explorar!") was comforting, I guess. Companionship for all of us.

Indah still missed Josh, even after a month, and every now and then she'd see me and remember and give me big mournful eyes, with a "Jossy home?" that always made me smile. "Soon, I hope, Indah," I'd say, and she'd smile back, not because she understood I think but because I'd smiled at her. She was such a happy little thing, cute as a button, easy going with me, if somewhat willful with her big sister. Whether she sensed Aanjay's hidden resentment of her I couldn't tell, but there was a definite niggling between them when they thought I wasn't near. Nothing serious, just sibling stuff, I guess, but Aanjay had a sharp tone sometimes with her little sis, and Indah was a queen of the sulky pout.

With me she'd been shy at first, almost overawed by the Big Man of the house, but with the changed household she'd clearly decided, with impeccable childish logic, that with Josh and Becky away that she, Indah, had better help cheer me up. With that wonderful lack of self consciousness that young children have she began to take my hand whenever she saw I wasn't too busy, and prattle away, telling me about her day or her latest painting from school, or whatever. No Jossy, so Indah be Jossy.

The first couple of times Aanjay saw Indah being so familiar with the boss she'd tried to bring her away, with many apologies to me and an icy undertone to her sis. Even after I'd told her, with a certain degree of amusement I must say, that it was fine and I didn't mind at all, I got the sense that she didn't like it. She relented though and let Indah be; I got the idea that Aanjay's powerless disapproval was one of the things that Indah liked.

I also got the feeling that having a father figure she could turn to, even a distant, Big-Man-of-the-House father figure, was something she wanted too. And that was fine. Little incidents, the tiny dramas of life as a child, when sometimes what you want is a cuddle from mummy or daddy: one such, not long after Becky and Josh departed, was a fall from Josh's swing in the garden. I'd given Indah permission, of course, to play on Josh's swing, and she'd proudly climbed on and, with fierce concentration, was trying to work out how you swing your legs to get moving, when she'd swung too hard and fallen off backward. Bump on the head, big tears, and as it happened I was closer than Aanjay. I went to help her up, and her arms opened and she stumbled tearfully into my embrace, and it just felt natural to lift her up and cuddle her. Her big sister was quietly, hissingly scolding of her younger sibling about the perceived breach of household protocol, but to me it would have been ridiculous to do anything else. And anyway, it was nice to cuddle her, warm little bundle of cuteness that she is.

So, a little less of the master-servant relationship, a little more of the step-family, perhaps. Indah's unselfconsciousness in displaying clear affection to "Jossy datty" eventually melted even Aanjay's reserves of decorum a little. And that's probably where the problem started.

I've said that my awareness of Aanjay around the house had risen steadily over the weeks, but it wasn't just awareness of her presence. The flashes of her eyes from under the rich, dark lashes I've mentioned, but there were plenty of other things I found myself noticing. The quirk of her lips - full, sensuous lips for a girl her age - the fall of her glossy ponytail across the starched pink of her pembantu maid's tunic, the way her hair looked when she let it down in the evenings. She was a very pretty girl, and her demure aloofness made her somehow more - attractive. There was no other word - attractive.

Other things. The way she walked, the way her pink maid's skirt clung to the curves of her ass. I've always been a butt man, and Aanjay had one of the shapeliest I've ever seen. I would find myself staring at it as she busied herself around the kitchen, and once or twice I'm sure she noticed. In fact, after the initial thaw some of her former watchfulness had returned as my attentions became more obvious. And they were, I'm sure. She was a very attractive girl with a great ass, and was it my fault she'd lied about her age?

I was lying in bed one night around midnight, dozing but erect and masturbating idly, images of Aanjay around the house in her tight pink pembantu uniform coming unbidden into my head. The combination of a hard prick and Aanjay's ass felt just fine to me. It brought to mind a conversation I'd had with an expat friend a few months after we'd moved here. Mike was American, another oil guy, and a charismatic Jack-the-lad in more ways than I realised at the time. He and I hit it off really well early on, he finding my British reserve amusing and me his American brashness likewise. We'd become regular drinking buddies and he'd introduced me to some of the smarter bars around Jakarta, and some of the seedier ones too. One night he'd also introduced me to the notion of sex with younger girls.

"So fuckin' easy in this town, man! You wanna get it on with a teenage girl, and I mean a real fuckin' teenager, like 14, it's so fuckin' easy! Shit, half the pembantu in town are younger than they claim and gettin' banged by the boss regular. No shit, man."

We were speaking quietly above the hum of the bar, and he'd leaned closer.

"In fact, you know our girl, Mawar, Rose, yeah?" His eyes glinted slyly. "Tight little piece, yeah? Her contract says she's 18 but I know for a fact she's only 15."

He's leaned further over, conspiratorially close.

"I been bangin' her for a month now. Wife's out a lot, I'm home, and my little Indonesian rose is right there. Fuck man, I tell you, sweetest pussy I've ever had! Hard body, perky little tits and a reeeal tight pussy, know what I mean? Fuck, it's like sticking your dick in a vice, man, feels so fuckin' good! And she goes like a fuckin' rabbit! Forward, backward, upside down, fuck I've had her all ways from Sunday and she bounces up and down on my dick like I dunno what!"

He'd looked at me slyly.

"Man, you gotta try it. Get you a tight little pembantu, one of them that claims to be 18 or 17. Always younger. And if you want something even -"

He'd paused here, given me a queer look, and leaned back up again.

"Yeah, well, honestly man, can't recommend it highly enough."

Yes, that was Mikey all right. A few months after that he and his wife had a big bust-up, she left town and Mikey kinda vanished. I heard through the grapevine that his maid got pregnant and confronted Mike right in front of his wife. There was a lot of hush money and cover up, she got packed off back home, and Mrs Mikey packed up and quit. I think Mikey's company got wind of it too, which is perhaps why he vanished. Expat life, hey?

Get you a tight little pembantu. A hard prick, and pictures of Aanjay's ass...

I got up.

The house was as quiet as it gets, with the roar of the city a few blocks away and the constant buzz-saw background of the night wildlife. The stairs to the top floor were at the other end of the hall and I padded quietly along, naked in the moonlight lancing through the high windows. My prick cast a shadow in front of me, leading me, pointing the way.

I climbed the stairs to the top floor, smaller and tucked under the eaves. There were two small bedrooms and a little shower/toilet room. The girls shared one of the rooms and used the second as a sitting room cum den. Their bedroom door was a little ajar; a faint glow of moonlight showed around the edge. I tried to remember if it squeaked.

With my stomach playing strange games and the adrenaline buzzing I reached out, noticing the clear tremor in my hand. Carefully I pushed the door. No squeak. I pushed a little more, and peered in. On the right was Aanjay's bigger bed; straight ahead, beneath the sloping rooflight, was Indah. Their soft breathing sounded sweet in the stillness.

I stepped across the threshold, my prick rigid, my mind spinning crazily.

Aanjay lay on her side, facing the wall, facing away from me. The sheet covered her lower half, and a thin t-shirt her top. Her hair, lustrous in the dim moonlight, spilled gloriously across her pillow. I watched the gentle rise and fall of her back, my heart beating in my mouth. My hand found my prick, stroked, stroked again.

There was a soft snuffle to my left and my head snapped round, but Indah was soundly asleep still, sprawled on her back, arms thrown up either side of her head. She wore nothing but a pair of small white panties and her short, brown body glowed softly against the white of the sheet. She lay on top of them, legs cast wide, one foot dangling. Noiselessly I stepped over and gazed down at her. Something about her posture, something at once beautifully childlike and incredibly lewd, struck me. I traced her smooth, flat chest and belly with my eyes, the pale V of her panties and the splayed thighs, small and perfect in the moonlight. Whoa... Just - lovely...

I gazed down at the sleeping Indah and masturbated slowly, thoughtfully, cascades of strange ideas crashing through my head. After a little while (or maybe longer) I turned back to Aanjay and stepped up to her bed. The sheet lay neatly across her hip, unpinned by an arm, surely easily disturbed. Did she wear panties in bed? If I lifted the sheet carefully, just so, I would find out if that fabulous ass was naked in the bed. I would find out if she enjoyed the freedom of nudity at night.

I hesitated, one hand actually stretched out, the other squeezing my prick hard. The room was quiet, the only sounds the buzz of insects and city and the low rasp of my breathing. Do it! Just picture that butt! Do it!

I reached forward - just as Aanjay sighed and turned. I froze. She rolled onto her back, her arm flopping across the sheet that was inches from my fingers. Her full lips parted, limned in moonlight, and she sighed, a long, soft sound.

She was asleep still.

My heart was loud enough to wake a hibernating bear, adrenaline burning in my veins. I forced myself to count to five in my head, then stepped back and slowly retreated to the door. I slipped out, pulled it nearly closed again, and stole back down the stairs and along to my own bed.

It was one o'clock in the morning. I lay there in the dark, my whole body tense as a hawser, my prick as hard as I can ever remember it being, and masturbated. Thirty seconds and I came, a fountain, two feet, three in the air, a splattering mess across my belly. It was the most intense orgasm I'd had in - years, I think. Years. And even as I came, back arched, butt clenched, prick gloriously rigid, I thought: that was a line; that was a line I crossed there, and things are not going to be the same now.

Next day was hectic, and I was knackered and a little spacy, and my regular jousting partner Oleg was all smiles and bonhomie and Krug in La Vue at six, which probably meant he'd stiffed me on that short position we were jockeying over, but hey, whatever. I'd had recurring visions of a flash of pale brown, tightly toned, naked ass rolling over in the moonlight, and I gave a fuck about little else that day.

I was late home and the girls were in their rooms. I took a shower, masturbating quietly, so very, very conscious of their presence just a few feet above me, and went to bed.

Another day, another two million dollars. Late home again, but buzzing, my Russian friends having been caught completely flat-footed on that particular deal. Oleg had been at his mournful Slavic best, toasting me in Russian Imperial, and I'd heard a rumour that Mikey was back in town. That had set me thinking about Aanjay, of course, thinking very carefully indeed.

And then it was Friday, quieter, and I was in my home office. Aanjay was about, of course, but busy. We met briefly in the kitchen and smiled and chatted about nothing much, and if I stood too close she gave no sign. I looked into her eyes over my mug and saw again the smooth curve of her ass, so briefly revealed that night just as I stole from her room. We shared a joke, and she turned away to wash the mugs, and I had to stop the hand that had half-reached out to pat her butt. I went back to work with a partial erection. I hoped she hadn't noticed; and then I hoped she had.

Aanjay picked Indah up from school at noon, with instructions to be quiet and helpful because I was working. I listened to the two of them bickering quietly around the house, and the sound thrilled me in a way it didn't used to.

Every other Friday Aanjay goes into town to meet friends. Usually it's early evening and Indah has been bathed and packed off to bed, but this Friday she asked if she could go a little earlier. I'd said sure, no problem, I could see that Indah got to bed OK. Aanjay was grateful. If she had any qualms about leaving Indah with me she didn't show them; indeed she seemed a little distracted and excited and I guessed she was meeting a boyfriend who might be a little more than just one of the gang. That thought made me smile, though almost certainly not for any reason that Aanjay might have guessed.

And so at five, Aanjay, out of uniform and looking, well, ravishing in jeans shorts and strappy top, was just heading for the door when there was a kerfuffle outside and the door swept open and Indah stumbled in. I had a fleeting glimpse of a departing gaggle of similar small children before my attention switched to Indah. I couldn't help grinning, in contrast to Aanjay's look of horror, slowly escalating, I could tell, to a quietly-violent sororal fury.

Indah was crying, and angry to the point of tantrum, and dripping, head to toe, in slimy, foul-smelling mud. It looked like she'd tried swimming up one of the weed-choked creeks over the way, and perhaps she had, or perhaps she'd just set out to ruin her big sister's big date.

Or perhaps it was just one of those kid things.

I forestalled Aanjay before she went nuclear, thinking as I did so that she looked particularly sexy when she was angry; it made her eyes flash in a way that would send any grown man into a primal frenzy. My smile had become a low chuckle, and this helped disarm things more than anything else.

"It's OK!" I laughed, the tableau of the gorgeous, angry sister and the cute, sullen, filthily wet one just too wonderful. "Aanjay, it's fine! Look, you go on, I'll take care of Indah. Really."

She started to protest of course, her anger turned suddenly to appalled realisation that she'd nearly lost her composure in front of the boss, but I waved it away.

"Honestly. No problem. You mustn't keep him waiting."

It took a second before she twigged my meaning, and then she went bright red under her sugar-brown skin. Bam! Brown to mahogany red, just like a switch; it made me grin even more broadly, and I winked at her. She hung her head, still blushing furiously, then looked up again with such a grateful expression that I almost flushed in return. Godfathers, what a girl.

So, with one last low murmur of Indonesian to Indah ("I'll see you later, you little pain in the arse, and make bloody sure you behave yourself" or the equivalent), she slipped out. I would have watched her ass in those shorts until it was out of sight, but Indah was dripping all over the carpet.

I looked down, still chuckling, and held out my hand. She looked up, still sullen, but perking up, and reached up to take it. Together we climbed the stairs to the main family bathroom.

With gestures and a few words I chivvied her, fully dressed, into the big walk-in shower at one end of the room, and turned it on. It seemed the best way to get the worst of the slime out of her hair and off her clothes. While she stood there dripping, runnels of green-brown chasing each other down the drain, I ran her a bath in the big, free-standing tub. I saw her eyes widen as I did so; the sleek, granite-floored shower space was one thing, but she'd never, I'm sure, been in anything quite as luxurious as the tub. I poured in a generous helping of bubble-bath, and the frothing white suds had her eyes popping wider still.

She looked so cute and bedraggled under the shower, pale blue top and pink shorts slowly revealing their original colours from under the gloop. I chuckled again as I turned off the bath taps, and then the shower. I took a deep breath. It was mostly steady.

OK then...

"Come on then, honey, let's get you into the bath and properly clean."

I knelt and held out a hand. She stepped out of the shower, smiling back at me. I helped her off with her sandals to start with, velcro-fastened which made it easy. Then I mimed she should take her top off; a moment of inquisitiveness on her pretty face and then a grin, and off it came. It got tangled in her sodden hair and I helped her wriggle out. Her torso was a smooth, soft brown, the colour of sunlight on the forest floor perhaps, with her tiny nipples just a shade darker. She was slightly pudgy, delightfully so, a child from the expat pembantu life. Her tummy had that childish curve which would look out of place on a woman, but on a young girl is just perfect.

Another breath.

"Now your shorts, honey, and your panties. Down we go with them."

I tried not to stare as she tugged down her bottom half as one sodden garment and stepped out. I tried not to stare at the beautiful geometry of her young body, but I failed. She was gorgeous: naked, soft brown with a paler Y around her butt and - and her pussy. Yes, her pussy. There it was - a simple little cleft with no unnecessary adornment, a neat continuation of her tight little butt crack. How beautiful was that?

How damned was I? Inside my loose linen trousers my prick was erect. I shuffled on my knees with her across to the bath, then hands carefully on the smooth softness of her chest I lifted her into the foaming bath.

Ah, did that little girl love that bath. She was the cutest, the giggliest, the most delightful little bundle of utter loveliness I'd ever come across. Her tears and anger were gone, forgotten like yesterday's news, and she laughed and splashed and scooped bubbles at me just as I laughed and splashed and scooped them back. It was like bathing the daughter I'd never had.

Except it wasn't. The unrelenting erection in my trousers told me it wasn't like bathing a daughter. For all her beautiful little-girl-ness, I found this soft little bundle sexually arousing. The sight, the feel of Indah's naked skin beneath the bubbles turned me on. I had an urge to lie naked with her on my chest and touch her, stroke her - and have her touch me in return.

Something that Mikey had nearly said that night. Yeah, buddy, I think I hear ya now...

Eventually, my new-found thoughts still cartwheeling through my head, I helped her out of the bath, wrapped her in a huge, fluffy towel - and then scooped her up and tickled her. Gentle fingers in the ribs, just like I did with Joshy, and she loved it. She giggled and screamed and laughed and wriggled and I carried her through into the master bedroom room and plopped her down on the huge, white kingsize, still tickling mercilessly. She screamed with sheer delight, wriggling to escape, but not too far that she did, rolling over, squirming, from gorgeous little butt to beautiful little pussy and back.

I stopped, almost as breathless as she. She lay on her back, sprawled naked on the towel, legs apart, hands waving, face one huge, utterly unmanning grin. I loomed over her, making her squeal with delight, then swooped, catching her little hands in mine as I stooped to her tummy.

Thrrrrp!

Perfect; I caught her right on the tummy button with the biggest raspberry I could blow. She spasmed, screaming with laughter, and her little tummy quivered gorgeously under my lips. So smooth, so soft and warm.

Again! Another hysterical shriek. I looked up, grinning.

"Gotcha! You can't escape me! You can't escape the marauding raspberry monster!"

And I ducked again, and my face hovered an inch above her gently undulating pussy.

It was there, right in front of me, literally in front of my nose, her smooth, perfect mound with its single, perfect cleft. Oh Lord above, how beautiful is that...? My heart

stopped

then restarted. My head swam as I crossed that last inch of air, and kissed her right there, right there on the soft, plump lips of her pussy.

She giggled. I blew a little raspberry into the side of her pussy, the smooth junction of her mound and her thigh. Then the other side. Then I kissed her pussy again, my lips lingering, my heart hammering, my prick aching in my pants. I held her little hands and kissed her pussy and blew raspberries on her tummy and her thighs, and she wriggled and giggled and I felt like I'd gone to heaven.

I've no idea how long I kissed Indah's pussy; time had no meaning for me then. But I became aware that her hysteria was subsiding and her wriggling becoming a little more like fidgetting. For me, kissing her six-year-old pussy was the culmination of such an intensely taboo sexual fantasy that it could never end; for her, it was a funny game but she was getting a bit bored now. And maybe hungry.

"Jossy datt?" I heard her say through the blood roaring in my ears. "Jossy datt?" and I caught the Indonesian for "hungry". I focused, and raised my head.

"What's that, honey? You want me to... EAT YOUR PUSSY?!"

With a roar that elicited a last shriek of delight, I dived a final time, mouth wide, and enveloped the whole gorgeous softness of her pussy with my mouth. I held it there, wriggling my tongue between her lips, growling in mock ferocity while my prick leaked precum into my pants, and then, oh so reluctantly, released her.

She wriggled away to the edge of the bed and sat up, pushing her wet hair back from her face in a faux-grown up way. She was still beaming. Just gorgeous.

I knelt back on my haunches, striving to conceal the tent at the front of my trousers, and the spreading damp stain. I smiled as I helped her down off the bed. "Go get dressed, sweetheart," I said, miming for her to head up to her room and wrap up. She nodded happily - then quite spontaneously through her arms around my neck and kissed me squarely on the cheek.

After a split second, I hugged back, squeezing her glorious little butt gently with one hand as I did. Then she was off, trotting out of the bedroom and down the hall to the top stair.

I stood, slowly, and thoughtfully unzipped my pants. I pulled out my prick, hard and wet and angry-red at being confined through such an awe-inspiring incident. I jammed my fist down over the slippery tip, squeezing hard, hauling my foreskin back, forcing even more blood into the engorged head. A blood vessel, raised above the usual pool-ball smoothness, pulsed angrily. Precum oozed steadily.

Oh my dear fucking Christ I'd just gone down on a six-year-old girl.

And oh Christ I'd enjoyed it more than any other sex I'd ever had.

I didn't jerk off. It would have taken me seconds to blast a long, thick ribbon of pure lust across the bedroom, but I heard Indah descending the stairs again. Not yet. After such an incredible, wonderful beginning to - to whatever might follow - I didn't want to scare her. I tucked myself away, hiding my prick against my thigh as much as my pants would allow, and headed on down to the kitchen.

I made us both big, soft, overfull sandwiches, with some little sweet cakes to follow and Indah's favourite thing in the world, Coca Cola. We sat at the breakfast bar, she cute and slightly damp still in neat pink pyjamas, I in a state of inner turmoil, and she munched and smiled and chatted occasionally in Malay and practised her few words of English, and I reciprocated with my fews words of Malay, gazing at her with some strange sense of awe. Did she understand what we'd just done? Did she understand the enormity of the thing, the chasm over which (into which?) I'd just stepped - or had it just been a fun game to her? What did she know of sex, of the irresistible force that drives men, sometimes, to acts that transcend any and all norms of behaviour?

I sat, eating quietly, smiling back as she chattered away, and thought: my God you are a gorgeous little creature. Soft brown, smooth and beautiful, and with such a delicate musk taste between your legs... My erection remained hard the whole time.

I sat with her in the big lounge after our supper and watched some largely incomprehensible kids' show on TV. She snuggled up to me on the sofa, a warm, fragrant little bundle, and sucked her thumb in a way that was both endearing and extraordinarily sensual. I arranged myself as best I could, but the course of my thoughts and that lovely little body pressed so close sustained my erection throughout. She must have noticed - but then, it must have been meaningless to her. For me it was, of course, very far from meaningless. Words shot through my mind - paedophile, child molester, nonce, beast - followed rapidly by visions of a shattered future - horrified Becky, tearful Josh, job, career, liberty.

None of this caused my prick to subside, not for an instant.

It was late for Indah by the time the show finished, and I escorted her upstairs to her little bathroom yawning mightily. I sat outside while she brushed her teeth, and looked away while she climbed onto the toilet for a pee - OK, I peeked; one last glimpse of that beautiful little butt before bedtime. Then it was into bed, night-night sweetheart, night-night Indah you gorgeous little thing. See you in the morning. Aanjay will be in soon and she'll come and tuck you in.

I went back down to the lounge, my erection two hours old, and poured myself a drink. Yes, Aanjay would be in soon...

Aanjay arrived back a little before her appointed curfew of nine, about an hour after I'd put Indah to bed. My prick had relaxed by then, of course, but the rest of me hadn't. I was sitting quietly in the dimly lit lounge, a third whisky in my hand, when I heard the back door open and close quietly.

"Aanjay," I called, "that you?"

She came through. She still looked good. Really good. "Good evening Mr Roger. I am not late?" Her voice sounded a little strained; interesting. A row with the boyfriend? I couldn't tell if she was upset, tired or just her usual demure self. She didn't seem to be as bouyed be her evening as one might expect. Certainly not as bouyed as I was by mine.

"Right on time Aanjay," I smiled.

"Indah is OK? No problems?"

"No problems at all. She's been down about an hour." I hesitated; Indah would undoubtedly chatter casually, so better to be nonchalant. "I helped her with a bath, then we had a sandwich, watched some cartoons."

"OK. Thanks you for her." If she was troubled at all by my admission of helping her little sister with her bath, she didn't show it. "I go see her."

"Sure. Oh, could you pop back down again, Aanjay?"

"Pop?"

"Come back down again after you've seen Indah, yeah?"

"Ah. OK, Mr Roger."

There was her wariness back. I guessed that she'd much rather just go to bed, and perhaps forget about the row with whichever boy it was. That was maybe; I wanted to talk.

She was down again in five minutes, still wearing the shorts and top combination. I gestured to the sofa next to me; she sat carefully at the other end, hands folded in her lap.

"Indah OK?" I asked.

She smiled. "Sleeping, yes."

"You OK?"

She paused there. Her eyes were careful as she briefly returned my gaze.

"Yes, OK, thanks you."

"Good," I said. I rolled the whisky around the heavy glass for a second. "She's a lovely girl, Indah," I continued. "So are you."

I looked directly at her, my eyes making my challenge, my intention, plain.

"Come to bed, Aanjay."

She smiled. "OK, thanks..." Then her imperfect command of English caught up with the verb I'd used, and she stopped dead. Her eyes widened and stared at me. I stared back, frank. Her mouth made a round 'O', but no sound emerged.

"You're lovely, Aanjay, and I want to go to bed with you."

For several more seconds she stared. Clearly the thought had never crossed her mind that the man of the house might want to bed her now that his wife was away. Her naivety made her all the more desirable in my eyes. Seventeen years old my arse...

Slowly, her eyes still wide, she shook her head, her reserve returning in force. Watching me carefully, she stood.

"No, Mr Roger, you not ask that. No good. I... No. You...

"No. I go to bed now."

She turned to go, tension in her shoulders as if expecting an attack. I let her go. I watched her ass the whole way, my hand inside my trousers squeezing my hard prick.

Next morning I was busy in my office, and as far as I could tell Aanjay and Indah were up as usual and off to the morning school. It was 30 minute round trip, and Aanjay must have stopped at the market on the way back because it was a full hour before she returned. In the meantime I'd been up to their room but found no sign of packing or evidence of a planned runaway; their toothbrushes were still in the bathroom. These discoveries did quite a lot to calm the triphammer that was my heart; a few hours' sleep and a buttload of adrenaline had me edgy as hell that morning.

The extra half-hour also helped, and by the time I heard Aanjay return I was as collected as I could be.

"Aanjay? Could you come and see my in my study, please?"

It wasn't long before she was there; obedient to a fault. She stood, eyes downcast but casting a brief glance up now and again. Her hair was up in her usual ponytail and her pink pembantu uniform was as neat as ever. And as fetching.

I took a slow breath. This was not an "about last night" conversation. This was going to be something else.

"Aanjay, how old are you?"

My question surprised her. She looked up, confusion in her eyes, off balance already.

"S... Seventeen, Mr Roger."

"No, Aanjay, don't lie. How old are you really? Answer me - truthfully. This is important."

Her eyes searched the floor. I saw her throat working above the V neck of her tunic. When she spoke, her voice was unsteady.

"F... Fourteen, sir. I... I think, sir."

Fuck me, that was something of a surprise.

"What would happen, Aanjay, if you were to lose your pembantu job because you stole money?"

She looked up in alarm, but I didn't let her speak.

"If you lost your job because you stole, and because your employers discovered that you had abused the little boy in your care?"

Now that was nasty; even as I said it I winced internally and passed a silent apology to Josh. But the stakes here were high, and I had to win.

"No! That not true! I never hurt Joshy! I never steal! Lies! You tell lies!"

She was angry now, and frightened - but more frightened than angry. I could see it in her eyes. Tough, independent fourteen-year-old though she was, I had her.

"That's not what I said, Aanjay. I asked you what would happen if you had to leave your job because you had been accused of theft and - and child abuse? What would happen if a reference from your employers raising these suspicions went to the main pembantu agencies in Jakarta, maybe to the police? Nothing concrete, Aanjay, just suspicions - from a decent, trusting family.

"What would happen? What would you do?"

I leaned forward, my eyes intent on her, the adrenaline coursing again but for different reasons now.

"What *could* you do?"

I let my questions hang, and watched her. Her hands were shaking; she clasped them tighter together but still they shook. There was a sheen of wetness on her face.

"What would happen to your family?"

At that her head shot up. I was expecting perhaps hatred in her red-rimmed eyes, but no. Anger, yes, but mostly shock. Her cosy world was suddenly blown wide open, her plans for herself, her family, even her annoying little sister, now exposed to the bitter winds of fate. Welcome to the jungle, honey.

I lowered my voice.

"You know why I'm asking these questions, don't you Aanjay? Sure, 'course you do.

"OK, here's what we'll do. I'll pick Indah up from school today. You make us all a nice lunch, OK? You stay here, finish your chores, make lunch - and think about my questions, OK?

"And tonight, Aanjay, after Indah is asleep - you come to me, OK? I'm not going to hurt you, I don't want to be mean to you - but you come to me, OK?"

I let her go.

The rest of the morning passed in a grind. I might have got some work done, I can't really remember. Oleg could have stiffed me for a million dollars if he'd been paying attention to my positions, I'm sure. I was on edge, a mass of nerves, conscious of every sound Aanjay made around the house. As near as I could judge she seemed to be getting on with her day; mechanically, perhaps, no quiet singing or chatter with itinerant wildlife. She was in the kitchen when I left my office and headed for the door.

I strode through the haze and noise of Jakarta still in something of a daze. Indah's little morning school was a ten-minute stride for me, and I arrived just as the pupils were emerging. Indah had just stepped into the yard and was looking around slightly puzzled when she saw me approach. Her lovely little face split into a big smile and she trotted over, hand outstretched. I took it, enveloping it in mine. She gazed up at me happily, then a thought struck her and her face clouded momentarily. She asked me something; I caught the word "Aanjay" and I squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"Aanjay OK," I replied, smiling. "Aanjay's fine, honey."

Well, mostly fine, I thought to myself, and a squirt of adrenaline washed through me.

Indah walked happily beside me on the slightly longer return journey. She chatted away, trying the occasional word of English as I pointed to cars, taxis, trees and so on. She giggled at gentle corrections, at my attempts at Indonesian in return - and generally, she giggled at the world at large. She was such a happy little girl. She was a delight to be with.

As we approached our front gate, on a whim I reached down and scooped her up. She was as light as a feather, quite petite even for a six year-old, and I carried her easily, arm supporting her neat little bottom, up the path and into the house.

Indah called out to Aanjay, but it wasn't until her big sister appeared (very slowly, I thought) that she wriggled to jump down. She chattered quite happily to Aanjay, waving her hand back at me and smiling merrily.

"Everything OK?" I asked innocently as I changed my shoes. Aanjay flashed me a tight smile.

"Yes, of course. Indah says you very kind. Thanks you, Mr Roger."

"No problem. I'm a kind man, Aanjay, yeah?"

She bowed her head slightly at that, and turned to hustle Indah away upstairs. Just as she disappeared thorough the door she gave me one backward glance. It was quite long, but I couldn't read it.

I went out to the office shortly afterwards, and stayed quite late. Through the dogged application of raw will I made myself focus and forget visions of smooth, brown limbs, of soft young flesh and the insides of an Indonesian jail cell. It more or less worked. I grabbed a bite to eat on the way home, and arrived back around nine. Indah's usual bedtime was around 7.30.

I climbed to my bedroom, stripped and showered, my heart pounding as the cool water washed away the city grime. I spent twice as long as usual, and laughed quietly at myself behaving like I was seventeen again. Seventeen, and getting ready for that date with Heather Wilson, hot Heather, nineteen, sophisticated, dyed blonde and fit as a butcher's dog. That date with Heather that culminated in the pich dark of the playing fields and the most mind-blowing blowjob then or since.

Yeah, but Heather did that for all the boys - and I was pretty sure that Aanjay didn't. And this wasn't seventeen plays nineteen, this was thirty-six to fourteen. My prick was hard when I turned off the shower and stepped out. It felt fantastic in my hand. I towelled dry, slipped on a robe and went downstairs for a gin and tonic. I returned to the bedroom, threw off the robe and slipped into bed - and thought: now what? Just wait? Go find her? Was she even still here? Had she taken Indah and run? How the fuck would I explain that? Had she phoned the police, told them everything? Would they be knocking on the front door any second now? What the fuck was I doing...?

There was a tap on the bedroom door. It stood ajar, and there, framed in the light from the landing, was the slender form of my pembantu. Her hair hung loose in rippling waves half way down her back. She wore a simple summer dress. Her feet were bare.

Fear melted away. She was here, and as she stepped hesitantly across the threshold my tensions slipped gear suddenly from fear to lust. My prick began to swell and harden again, erecting rapidly under the thin sheet as I watched the girl approach the bed slowly.

"Mr Roger..." she whispered, her voice catching slightly. "This not right..."

"Shh," I replied, a trembling finger at my lips. "Yes it is, Aanjay. Yes it is.

"Take your dress off."

She hesitated, and my heart beat hard and fast. Her face was part-shadowed in the glow from the lamps; it was troubled, but either because or in spite of that, it also looked astonishingly sexy. My prick swelled as her hands reached down to her skirts, and quickly drew the dress up and off.

She wore panties beneath, plain white cotton. Her breasts were bare, the most perfect young breasts I have ever seen. They were high and firm, bare hemispheres of smooth brown flesh with small, dark nipples perfectly centered. Her body was everything a young girl's should be.

At my indication, she slipped onto the bed, lying next to me on top of the sheet, curled stiffly on her side. Her eyes were large in the dimness, wide and lustrous. I ran one hand into her hair, cradling its softness against her neck, then another, pushing errant strands gently behind her ear, cupping her face with its smooth unblemished skin and trembling lips. I held her like that, gazing into the twin dark pools of her eyes, then bent forward and kissed her.

I kissed the side of her mouth, lingering a little. Her lips were soft and full and tasted of sweet coconut. Utterly delicious. My body tensed, the man in me massively aroused at the presence of this perfect girl. I kissed her again, longer this time, my tongue flickering. Her eyes were closed; her face betrayed the battle inside her. Give in to it, honey, give in. I murmured something and kissed her a third time, and this time her lips parted.

That kiss was long. Her mouth opened under mine, hurriedly, that rushed, urgent way of first true kisses, but I kept it slow, controlled, sensual, consuming, and I felt her body tense - and suddenly relax. I savoured that kiss on her delicious mouth, and her hand rose, tentatively, and came to rest carefully on my upper arm. Her touch was cool against my skin.

Gently I pulled her closer, letting my hand slide down her shoulder and onto the slim curve of her back. I pressed her body into mine, the thin sheet between us, enveloping her arm, her whole slender form. Her body felt tiny beneath my palm - tiny, thin, smooth, perfect. I kissed her, and let my hand rove lower down her back.

As I touched her bottom outside her panties she gave a start, tensing again, but not breaking our embrace. She murmured something in her throat, the words lost in our kisses, and I stroked her gorgeously toned bottom through the cool cotton of her panties. For minutes we embraced like that, her grip on my upper arm becoming firmer as my hand explored her bottom and the tops of her thighs. Every inch of her felt just divine, her skin smooth over toned young flesh. I wanted to devour her.

I broke our embrace and slid lower, extending kisses across her throat, her shoulders, her arms. I pressed her gently back into the pillow; she acquiesced without a murmur. I kissed her between her tight, high breasts, then let my lips drift across her nipples. I flicked with my tongue and kissed with the gentlest of suction, and her whole body arched beneath me, responding beautifully in a way that made my prick jerk and fill. I kissed her breasts and belly, my fingers simultaneously stroking her lower abdomen across the top of her panties. I let my tongue flicker across her perfect belly, licking her navel, returning to suck her angry little nipples, my fingers rubbing gently lower and lower toward the dimple at the edge of her pussy.

She shivered and writhed slowly under my touch, her reluctance powerless in the face of the yearnings of her young body. I kissed lower, inching my way down the bed, my lips pressing their way across her belly, across the leg of her panties and on down her thigh. Beneath my cheek I could feel the tension in her legs, hovering between closed and open, no and yes. I kissed inwards, gently nuzzling her inner thigh, sensing the warmth of her close to my face. She smelled of shower gel and the softest hint of fresh, young sweat. Without a pause, I placed a slow, open-mouthed kiss right in the middle of her panties.

She jerked upwards on the bed, her hands reaching out. They hung in the air for a moment, uncertain whether to jam my face into her crotch or push me away screaming. I kissed slowly, eating the smooth cotton, relishing the fabulous sensation of her soft, warm pussy beneath.

"Mr Roger..." Her voice was soft, strangled. She lay back again, her fists curling into the sheet. I slithered around to kneel between her legs, and reached for her panties. One hesitation, her eyes glittering in the dark, then she lifted her bottom, and smoothly I drew her panties down and off.

She held her knees up and together, defensive, defiant, or just plain nervous; they yielded to my lightest touch, and I spread her tight young thighs wide and slowly, implacably went down on her.

The sound she made when I ran my tongue along the sweet, damp slit of her pussy was indescribably beautiful. The most fabulous sound I'd ever heard. I slowly lapped at her pussy; she tasted clean and fresh, with only the faintest undertone of woman, a hint far in the background that underlined her youth and innocence and made my prick strain and surge.

With Indah it had been an astonishing, spur-of-the-moment game, exciting but funny. Not so with her big sister; blood pounding in my ears and my prick, heart racing, I slowly and deliberately ate her pussy, tongue and lips devouring every fraction of her. I was merciless, exposing her with my fingers, laying her bare, licking everywhere, my lips tormenting her swollen young clit, my tongue as deep in her vagina as I could reach. Her hymen was gone, I noticed; interesting, and convenient.

She was wet and getting wetter. Whatever reluctance she'd had had been washed away in a flood of hormones and pussy-juice. I drank her, not rushing but slow and deliberate; I wanted every inch of her body burning with the fever of young desire. Wanted her mine.

It was only a few minutes before she came for the first time. The tension in her tight body was fabulous. I had my hand on her belly and her muscles were solid beneath the smooth, sweating skin. Her hands were bunched in the sheets, her back arched, and she moaned the most glorious sound as the wave crashed over her. Her hips ground her wet, spread pussy into my face and I felt the surge of heat in her. I revelled in it, but didn't release her. Her fingers came searching for my head - enough, that's enough for me - no it's not, honey, not by a long way - flailed gently through my hair, then subsided as I stayed put.

Another delicious passage of time and she was writhing on the bed again, her glorious young pussy nothing but a hot, pulsing locus of sex for her.

I released her then, suddenly sliding away and back up the bed to kneel beside her. I gazed down; she lay sprawled, panting, sweating beautifully even in the cool of the air-con. A flush lay beneath the usual brown-sugar tones of her face, spots of colour on her cheeks highlighting a delightful expression of mixed bemusement and desire. Her eyes glowed, part child, part woman, in a way that was overwhelmingly sexy. She looked up at me in wonderment. I smiled, then gestured towards the stiff, red prick standing glistening between my thighs.

"Your turn, honey..."

She looked down at my prick, seeing it, really seeing it perhaps for the first time. I spread my legs slowly, shuffling my knees over the crumpled sheets. I rested my hands on my thighs, and waited.

She looked up, eyes gleaming, looked down again. Tentatively she reached out a hand, and I shivered as her fingers first touched, then encircled my prick. Her hand looked tiny against my engorged flesh. She leaned over, her hair brushing my thigh, and the glorious feeling of a warm, wet mouth enveloping the tip of my prick rose up to claim me.

She was slow, uncertain, timid, but that just made her touch all the more fabulous. I leaned back, improving my view, tensing my belly, as my fourteen-year-old pembantu maid took my prick in her mouth and began to suck me off.

Unbelievable. Fantastic, and unbelievable.

Had she been a practised cock-sucker I wouldn't have lasted long, but her unskilled approach was perfect. Her mouth was wet and warm and my prick seemed to fill it completely. She sucked gently and wriggled her tongue, and my blood roared and surged and my prick was harder than I'd ever known. Pre-cum oozed constantly and she sucked it out and swallowed it down and looked up every now and then, eyes wide and bright beneath her fine brows, and I looked back at the soft, full lips enveloping my prick, and groaned softly in the evening's dark.

Listening to the mounting pressure in my tightening balls, I leaned forward after a while and, with some willpower, withdrew my prick from her mouth. I cradled her face in my hands again and raised her into my embrace. I kissed her, tasting my own prick on her tongue, wondering if she could taste herself on mine, and crushed her slim body to me. I clutched her buttocks tightly, our kiss an animal brawl, my prick hard against her belly. Slowly I pressed her down onto the bed, leaving her sprawled as I sat up and reached for the bedside chest of drawers. I watched her the whole time I fumbled for a condom in the top drawer; this was perhaps the final test of her resolve.

I didn't speak as I tore the packet and slowly rolled the sheath onto my prick, just watched her face. She gazed back, her eyes switching between my face and the hard, red shaft of my prick looming above her. She didn't say a word.

I tested her with a finger, two fingers; she was flushed and swollen still, wet and hot, her cunt ready for me. Good girl, Aanjay, good girl. I wondered fleetingly what had happened to her hymen - boy, toy, accident, birth? - but then I was above her, guiding my prick, nuzzling the wet warmth between her legs with the tip. She reached out, her hand grabbing my bicep, fingers grinding painfully as I poised. She cried out when I pushed, a high, girlish cry part fear and part lust, and her thighs twitched around me, but my prick slid forward without pause, slowly, inexorably, filling her soft young cunt with hard, raw masculinity.

My God she was sweet. Hot, really hot, and tight, of course. Wet and smooth, too. It felt like she was just a little too small, a little too narrow, and her cunt squeezed my prick from every side as I slid deeper into her. I paused half way, listening to the hitching of her breathing, relishing the pain of her fingers in my bicep, then pushed further until I rested my belly on her tight-toned abdomen, the full length of my prick wrapped in her fabulous cunt.

I fucked her slowly, long, full strokes, and she came again after a very little while. The feeling of her cunt tightening and rippling around me was beyond words. She came, a long, low moan against my cheek but I wouldn't let her go. My own prick was swollen tight, filling her completely, and I fucked her deliberately through her orgasm, fucked her through the sweet spasms, through the too-tender-to-touch and out the other side, to the upslope of sexual ecstasy once more. When she came for the third time, whimpering, I did too, a huge, spurting orgasm, my prick jerking spastically inside her.

We lay a little while afterward, sweetly, holding each other gently in the dark. She was shell-shocked, her world spun around and tipped upside down, her muscles still quivering. I was horny-tender, my prick half-rigid still, wanting more of her, wanting to hold her gently, stroke her hair, comfort her confusion, and nail her, yelling and screaming, over the edge of the bed.

But I kissed her goodnight and let her slip out to her room, with a long backward glance and a half-smile on her lips.

We met at breakfast the following morning, Indah's chatter and Aanjay's thinly-veiled annoyance at her little sister's prattle keeping the tone and tenor normal. Aanjay was different, not entirely present, but nevertheless keeping up some kind of appearance of formality as usual. If Indah noticed anything strange I couldn't tell, and I found it difficult to read Aanjay's mood in any detail. Her eyes found mine occasionally then slid away before I could understand what was in them.

I had to go into the office shortly after breakfast, and I spent the day in mixed euphoria and trepidation, memories of last night breaking into my consciousness and swelling my prick involuntarily. I hit the bar after work, and came home later, around nine. The house was quiet and I went up to me room to change out of my suit. I was peeling off my shirt when Aanjay slipped quietly into the room behind me.

I turned at the sound. She stood framed in the light from the landing, hair loose, wearing t-shirt and panties.

Her thighs were taut. Her eyes glowed softly in the dark.

Within seconds she was one the bed, t-shirt discarded, and I was hauling down her panties. I feasted on her again, filling my mouth with her soft warmth, and she held my head and spread her thighs wide.

This time I rolled her on top of me and she sucked my aching prick as I ate her avidly from underneath, licking her from clit to perineum, the wet warmth of her teenage cunt spread out for my tongue. I held her open, first my fingers and then my tongue playing with her asshole, and she just shuddered and sucked my prick.

I fucked her from behind that night too, all fours, her slim, smooth butt high in the air and my prick impaling her and my thumb-tip in her ass.

That night and the next and every night that week my fourteen-year-old pembantu came to my room and we sucked and we fucked and she was hot and wet and oh-so tight and she tasted of heaven and the nectar of the gods. Her body was young, toned, smooth and soft and sweet as butter icing, and her fingers and tongue were quick learners. On Wednesday she brought me off without a condom, wanking me mercilessly as she ground her cunt and ass into my face. The sound she made as I jerked and jizzed hard and high, catching her in the face and hair, was indescribable. Shortly afterwards we lay in each others' arms, her juices slick on my face, my cum in her hair and running down her cheek, and we kissed and we kissed again and we couldn't stop and in short space I was hard again and she was rolling the condom onto me and straddling me and fucking me long and slow...

The week became a whirl, a blur. Once awakened, Aanjay's passion grew with a speed that was both enormously gratifying and scarily dizzying at the same time. The unsavoury pressure I'd brought to bear to bring her to my bed seemed forgotten in her new-found, hormonally-charged desire to be penetrated, filled and brought to multiple orgasm. Come the end of the week she was well-nigh insatiable, flirting across the breakfast bar, pouting and fluttering her eyelashes like a lovelorn teenager. Maybe this was too much. Maybe I'd opened a bottle and released a genie that would destabilise the entire household, put everything at risk.

Yeah, and maybe I didn't give a fuck. Tight, smooth, sinuous body wrapping itself around me, delicious young pussy wanting to be eaten out, sugar-sweet mouth hungry for my prick. Yeah, maybe I didn't give a flying fuck for the consequences.

And that wasn't all. Young flesh, smooth and toned. Hot, tight pussy - and my thoughts drifted more than once to that horny-sweet episode with little Indah. Teens. Young women. Where does a man draw the line? What's woman and what's girl and what's - whisper it - child? Check the teen porn websites, any of 'em - young girls, tiny tits, shaved pussy. Why teen, for goodness sake, when the legal limit is barely teen at all? The websites are tacit in their approval of men's lust for younger flesh: all our models are 18+ - but, they wink, we know what you want from "teen". Fifteen, fourteen - thirteen, sir? Certainly.

And then...?

"Get you a tight little pembantu," Mikey had said. "And if you want something even -"

Younger, Mikey? That what you meant? Oh yeah, Mikey boy, oh yeah...

And so Saturday came. I woke early, but stayed in bed, dozing, listening to the sounds of Jakarta and the sounds of the sisters downstairs. I lay quietly, playing with my erect prick, as Aanjay hustled and bustled Indah out of the door to a playdate with some neighbours.

I was downstairs in the kitchen when Aanjay returned. She smiled to see me at the breakfast bar and pouted and sashayed her way across the room. I rose, smiling back, and scooped her into my arms as she passed. I kissed her, a hard, dominating kiss, bending her back, crushing her in my grip. She gasped under my mouth, then responded, her tongue wrestling back against mine.

I turned her, a little roughly, and bent her over the breakfast bar, my hand lifting her pink uniform skirt. I pressed against her, pinning her, and slid my hand down the back of her panties, across the smooth, warm curve of her ass. Straight down between her cheeks I went, my finger questing for her pussy in its nestle of silk-soft hair.

"Oh Mr Roger..." she breathed. Little slut!

I reached my other hand around to find her small, taut breast within her minimalist bra. I sought the firming bump of her nipple and tweaked it between finger and thumb as my other finger roved up and down the warm crease of her pussy, my wrist nestling now between her asscheeks.

Her nipple swelled at my pinch, and I felt the first beads of moisture began to slick my finger. I leaned over, crushing her to the breakfast bar, my finger invading her cunt, the ball of my thumb now pressing her asshole. She squirmed beneath me, wriggling her ass against my hand, her thigh against the rigid rod of my prick.

"Christ you're a hot little hussy, Aanjay," I whispered hoarsely. I slid a second finger inside her, burying both to the hilt. She was hot there, and very wet. I rubbed her asshole with my thumb, feeling it shiver. I let go of her breast and slid that hand further forward and up, raising my finger toward her mouth. She took it, sucking it in greedily. Little whore.

Within a minute she was moaning, softly but continuously, her high, girls voice both tremulous and intensely erotic as her mouth fellated my finger. Her tight butt quivered under my hand, a hand wet with her juices, my thumb now one knuckle deep in her anus. That was the first time I'd penetrated her ass in any way, and clearly to her it was all part of her headlong sexual awakening. Good...

"Aanjay," I murmured in her ear, "we're gonna go out for lunch to McDonald's today, all three of us. Have a laugh, yeah? Then we're gonna come home and we're gonna go to bed. You and me -" and here I paused, but not for long - "and you're gonna bring Indah. We're all gonna have fun together..."

She squirmed, trying to twist away, but I held her pinned against the breakfast bar, my fingers deep in her cunt.

"No!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, Aanjay," I hissed. "Am I gonna hurt her? No, course not. Do I hurt you? No. I'll treat her kindly, you know it. Just have some bedtime fun together."

"She too little! Little girl!" She wriggled again but my weight and the fingers inside her gave her little room. She flopped her face into her arms on the breakfast bar, mumbling fiercely in Indonesian.

"OK, Aanjay?" I murmured, worming my thumb deeper into her asshole. Her legs trembled despite her ire. "I don't wanna fuck her, just play."

'Fuck' was a word Aanjay knew; knowing I didn't want to force myself into her little sister might mollify her. Even as I said it, though, I knew it wasn't strictly true. I'd come to realise in the last day or two that I would dearly love to fuck Indah, to ease my prick carefully into her lubed-up little butt while she squirmed and giggled and chatted away to me - oh fucking hell yes - but that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

Aanjay muttered something into her arms.

"What, honey?"

"She little girl. You bad man. Dirty man." But she sounded sulky now. I worked my fingers harder.

"So, OK?"

She grunted, a shiver running through her whole slim body. I suddenly sped up, pumping her tight cunt and her grunt became a moan, then a gasp, and she came. I leaned up, withdrawing my dripping fingers. My prick was rock hard as I sucked them dry.

She sprawled there for a second or two, breathing hard, then lifted her head. "Yeah, OK, dirty man." She looked over her shoulder, her face set with a slight sneer. "You not try hurt her or..." She shrugged and straightened up.

Yeah, or what, sweetheart? You'll do what, exactly? I grinned at her and slapped her delicious ass. She pouted, wriggled her skirt back down and set about the chores.

My heart gradually slowed, washing the tension out of me. "Good girl, Aanjay," I said.

I picked Indah up from her playdate and Aanjay let her know we were going to McDonald's for lunch. Her delight was priceless: she held both my hands and gave a little hopping dance, chattering away. Aanjay seemed fine, a quirk of a smile on her lips, the occasional thoughtful glance at me as I made a fuss of Indah, strapping her into the Toyota myself.

I hate McDonald's but Indah loved it - Happy Meal, McFlurry, the works - and her messy, sticky little face played itself neatly into the next scene as we arrived back at the house. Spending any time at all in the heat and dust of Jakarta traffic is a good excuse for a bath or a shower, and to be covered in ketchup and ice cream too... I closed the front door on us and strove to sound nonchalant as I hung up the car keys.

"Phew! I'm all hot and sticky, and you're a mess, young lady," I said. "Come on, let's all go take a shower."

Aanjay murmured something in translation, casting me an ironic glance as she did. For all I know she may have said "this dirty man wants you to play with his big wing wang"; Indah put one hand to her mouth and giggled, wide-eyed, but she took my outstretched fingers with her other. Slowly, my breath tight in my chest and the skin on my balls crawling in weird, weird ways, I led her up the stairs to the big bathroom where I'd bathed her lovely little body the first time. Aanjay followed a few steps behind; I glanced back to check and she gave me a cynically amused smile.

Deep breath...

Aanjay stopped at the door, leaning against the jamb as I smiled down at Indah and began to unbutton my shirt. Indah looked from one to the other, eyes wide, a lovely, slightly puzzled grin on her face. Aanjay spoke, her tone faintly amused. Indah giggled and began to pull at her t-shirt. My prick began to erect, a sudden rush of blood filling it.

I tossed my shirt onto the bath side and stepped out of my deck shoes, watching Indah's golden-brown, little-girl's curvy tummy as she dropped her t-shirt. I heard Aanjay give a soft laugh behind me, then she was next to me, slowly unbuttoning her own cotton blouse.

Indah dropped her shorts and panties together, and there she was, a delicious little bundle of nakedness. I glanced at Aanjay as she slipped off her blouse. No bra; her firm young breasts gleaned in the bathroom's fierce light. She stared back, looking me full in the face as she popped the button of her jeans shorts and pushed them slowly down around her thighs. She wriggled her hips and they slithered gently down to pool at her feet. Her panties were pink, blazoned with a big, red kiss.

My fingers trembled as I unfastened my own shorts. I dropped them quickly, along with my boxers, and straightened.

Indah giggled, her eyes gazing at the stiff rod of flesh standing out, fully erect, from between my legs. Aanjay folded her arms across her high-set breasts, cocked her hip and looked at me, laughter playing across her lips. "What now, dirty man?" her eyes asked, mockingly.

I froze. But only briefly.

I looked down at Indah; her big eyes met mine, her smile a little unsure. I grinned, gave a whoop of laughter and reached down to scoop up her delicious little body. I hugged her to me, cradled in my left arm, her gorgeous little bottom soft and warm against my forearm, her legs splayed wide against my flank. Her pussy kissed the side of my belly. I kissed the tip of her nose and carried her, giggling once more, into the shower.

I turned on the shower, turning with Indah under the first cold jets, making her squeal delightfully. The water settled to its refreshing lukewarm flow and I stood beneath it, running water gently over the little girl, stroking the soft, smooth skin of her back, her side, her bottom, her thighs. She was six, she was a giggly little girl - but the soft warmth of her little body next to mine was one of the most arousing feelings I'd ever experienced. My prick pulsed steadily as I stroked and tickled her.

Aanjay watched us, arms folded still. A flicker of nerves disturbed my insides, but only for a moment. Her face cracked in a half smile. She looked at me, pouted, then swiftly dropped her panties and stepped into the shower. She smiled at Indah, stroking her little sister on the back, and stepped close to me. Her arm snaked around my hips, her face tilted up towards mine. I cradled her tight ass in my free hand as I leaned down and kissed her. Our mouths opened into each other and Indah giggled and squirmed against me as her big sister and I made out under the water.

Happy surrogate family.

With shower gel from the dispenser I washed Indah's hair first, miming for her to close her eyes before I soaked and lathered it. I stroked the milky suds across her back and wherever I could reach on that gorgeous little body. She became a little too slippery to hold, so having rinsed her hair I knelt and set her down, water splashing across her shoulder. Next to us, Aanjay had washed her own hair and was rinsing carefully under the wide jets.

Reaching up, I took two handfuls of shower gel and beckoned Indah a step closer. She came, wet and smiley and utterly beautiful, and slowly I began to rub shower gel into her soft, golden brown skin. She stood sideways so I could soap her back and her chest. My hands glided over her body, caressing her slowly, slowly. Such a glorious feeling - smooth skin, soft puppy fat on top of the toned muscles of an active child. My prick twitched as my fingers ran lower - lower back, lovely, curving belly.

She squirmed and said something in Indonesian as my fingers simultaneously reached her bottom and her mons. Just over my shoulder Aanjay murmured something in reply and Indah looked at me and smiled. I smiled back, and gently moved my slippery fingers across the glorious curves of her bottom, and the unbelievably soft, dimpled valley between her thighs.

For a long time, it seemed, I washed Indah's bottom and pussy. Carefully I let my fingers slip between her buttocks; gently I stroked the deliciously soft lips of her pussy, the creases either side, and the beautiful little crease in between. Dizzy with desire I got her bend over, hands on her knees, so I could run a soapy finger up and down her butt crack, washing carefully her neat little anus.

Aanjay was at my back, her teenage nudity pressed into me, her arms around my neck, hands soaping my chest. As I finished rinsing the suds from Indah's soft golden thighs I felt Aanjay's first pinch of my nipple. Another rub of the little six-year-old bottom and the second pinch was more insistent. I growled a little, gurgling slightly in the water as I turned, and Aanjay's breasts were in my face.

Her young nipples were hard. I gobbled one into my mouth and sucked hard on it, startling her. My hands were on her hips, her thighs, her belly - I caressed her litheness under the gentle rain of the shower, a contrast with the little girl behind me - more woman, more sexually aware, but still the glorious flush of youth.

Suddenly I was kissing her belly, my hands on her thighs. She moaned and leaned back against the shower wall as I kissed lower, my fingers reaching around to touch, hold, spread. Aanjay's thighs trembled and her hand thrust into my hair. I heard Indah speak, questioning; Aanjay answered, her voice shaking a little. She was spread pink before me, hips thrust forward. I licked, and licked again, perineum to bulging little clit, and my teenage pembantu shivered like the fever-struck.

Indah spoke again; Aanjay answered. "Are you OK, sis? Is he hurting you?" "Yeah, I'm... fine Indah. No, no he's not hurting me... it's... good... really nice... Oh!" Something like that. I felt Indah approach and stand next to me, curious perhaps. Without looking round I moved an arm, hugging her to my side as I licked her big sister's pussy, licked her, sucked her hard little clit, lapped up the juices leaking steadily.

Indah was quite close to the action, then, when she saw her big sister cum for the first time.

It took Aanjay less than a minute, horny little pembantu that she was. Her fist tightened in my hair, her other beat the shower wall behind her and her belly rippled as the orgasm hit her. She gave the loudest cry I'd heard from her yet, so loud it made Indah start and bury herself against me. "Aanjay?" she asked, a little fearfully as her big sister's knees gave way and she sank to the shower floor. She was smiling, though, flushed and happy, and she hugged Indah to her, murmuring in Indonesian. Indah looked across at me through the mist of water, and flashed a big smile.

My knees were suffering from the granite floor, so I rose, a little painfully, with the intention of turning off the water. Before I could, though, I felt hands upon me, small hands, slippery hands, intent on mischief. I looked down; Aanjay met my gaze and laughed. "You not clean yet, dirty man," she smiled, and her hand enveloped my prick and began to rub.

Her hand was slathered with shower gel and she squeezed it down the length of prick to my pubes. She murmured to Indah who, smiling up at me, stepped against my thigh and began to lather up the base of my prick while her sister peeled my foreskin right back and squeezed the head with the most stimulating grasp. Then it was my turn to sag against the wall as little Indah soaped my dangling balls, reaching, at her sister's prompting, underneath towards my butt, while big sis worked slippery hand after slippery hand up and down the bare length of my prick.

God Almighty I can't describe how good that felt. The nerve-driven warmth flushed down the insides of my legs, tingling from belly to knees, as the two girls rubbed and stroked and teased my prick and balls. Five minutes and more they tortured me like that, my legs trembling, the veins on my prick standing harder than I'd ever seen them before, and I was just about to fold onto the granite floor when I felt the smaller pair of hands disengage and Indah whisper something to Aanjay.

"Indah need go pee," said Aanjay to me, cocking an apologetic eyebrow. I took a deep breath and let it out with an almighty shudder.

"No problem. Just pee here in the shower, honey."

Aanjay blinked in surprise, but translated. Indah looked up in surpise. I nodded and smiled and indicated she stand by the glass half-wall. "Sure, just pee here, baby. The shower will wash it away."

A little self consciously Indah stood where I'd indicated, facing into the fall of the shower. She stood her her legs apart, a deliciously child-like stance, and we all waited. She looked up, an embarrassed half-smile on her beautiful little mouth, and I winked back. I was stroking my tingling prick, but I don't think she noticed.

Indah gave a little squeak and began to pee. No big deal to her - a little naughty, peeing in the big family shower, perhaps - but maybe Aanjay understood my encouragement. From the corner of my eye I saw her look sideways at me as I watched the beautiful golden trickle patter from behind the gorgeous lips of that little pussy, watched and stroked my prick at the same time. Beautiful little girl peeing - yep, that really did work very well for me, thanks for asking.

Indah finished and I gave her a last skoosh with the shower head and finally turned the water off. I lifted my lovely little friend up and bundled her into an enormous towel. I rubbed her hair dry, used a corner to dry my own, then carried her through the bathroom and round into the master bedroom. Just like the first time, only this time I laid her gently on the towel on the bed and went straight down on her pussy.

She propped herself up on an elbow and giggled as I enveloped her soft little mons with my lips and licked her as deep as her hymen would allow. I sucked on her, found her tiny little peehole with the tip of my tongue, and shivered with the thought of her loosing another warm salty fountain into my mouth. She didn't of course. She lay there and giggled occasionally, and whispered to Aanjay when her older sister came to lie by her side. Aanjay asked her something; I recognised "yes" in her soft reply, and Aanjay gave a soft chuckle.

I couldn't quite believe how horny sucking on such an undeveloped, immature pussy made me - but there was no denying that it did. Where my wife had a neatly waxed but still wiry Brazillian and prominent labia, Aanjay's small, untended bush was soft as down and her pussy still neat - and Indah, of course, my darling little Indah was bare and smooth and perfectly formed. Perfect, delicious little pussy.

Aanjay was stroking Indah's hair. They looked beautiful together. I shifted, moving between Aanjay's legs. She spread them for me, opening herself out into that gorgeous pink flower, and I lapped up her nectar again while Indah cuddled into her side and watched.

I couldn't resist having them both kneel on all fours, their bottoms side by side for me. With one hand on Aanjay's buttock and one on Indah's I switched between them, licking their pussies and their butt cracks in turn. Indah giggled and squirmed as I licked her anus; Aanjay moaned softly. Indah's pussy was soft and warm; Aanjay's was wet and tasted of teenage hormones and want. My prick, iron hard and aching, leaked a continuous trail of precum.

With the lightest of slaps on each of their bottoms I left them, climbing onto the bed in front of them. I spread my legs wide around them. "Your turn, girls," I said.

Aanjay didn't hesitate. In a flash her soft lips were on my prick, her little tongue at work in the pulsing stream of precum. Within seconds she beckoned Indah, and I spent the most incredible minutes of my life as my teenage pembantu maid taught her little sister how to lick my prick. Four small hands holding my balls and my prick; two young mouths either side of my bursting prick-head; two little tongues licking and licking and licking...

If the cops had come in right there, right then, maybe, just maybe I wouldn't have cared a fuck.

Their glorious lack of expertise was the sweetest torture. Their eager lips were enough, more than enough, easily more than enough to drive the nerves in my prick to new heights of excitement - but their inexperience meant the rhythm to finish me off was never quite there.

So they sucked my prick, teenager and primary schooler, and suspended me in one long silent moan of utter pleasure.

Eventually, my nerves shredded and my body pulsing with testosterone, I could take no more. I waved Aanjay to the bedside cabinet drawer with one word - "Condom!" - and I scooped the little Indah into my arms and kissed her surprised lips. I licked her mouth, tasting myself on her. She wriggled her head and giggled, gorgeous, gorgeous little creature that she was.

Aanjay returned, sprawling across the bed with a condom unwrapped in her fingers. I indicated she should put it on me. "Show Indah how to help," I said. So she did, showing her sister how it fitted and letting her roll it down onto the solid rod of hard flesh between my thighs.

I rolled Aanjay over and hauled her up to her knees. Her pussy glinted below the tight curve of her ass, wet and flushed with blood. I poised behind her, my prick seeming massive above her slim-hipped butt. "Come watch, Indah baby," I murmured, and holding prick in one hand and Aanjay's hip in the other I entered her without a second thought.

Maybe I was more swollen than I had been, for she felt tighter - deliciously tighter, but still slippery with want and hot as only a hormone-soaked teen can be. I took her to the hilt, making her gasp, then drew out to the tip. Indah peered around the side of Aanjay's butt, her eyes wide at the sight of my prick poised to impale her sister's cunt. I slid forward, slowly, watching the little girl's eyes as my prick disappeared inside her big sister, and her big sister moaned beneath me.

Indah asked something; Aanjay replied in a low, strangled tone. "Is he hurting you, Aanjay?" "No, baby, no, he's fucking me." "Does it feel nice?" "Yes, baby, yes it feels so fucking nice..."

Indah leaned back again, fascinated, and watched my prick slide out and back in, six inches appearing and disappearing each time into her sister's wet cunt. On one stroke I pulled out, letting Indah lean forward to glimpse the dark, wet opening left behind. I had to fight the desire to push my prick into her little open mouth, or to line her up and take her in her sweet little butt hole too. Maybe next time.

Indah's eyes were like saucers. As I pulled Aanjay's butt back and penetrated her sweet cunt again, I heard her ask her sis something again. There was a part-muffled conversation as I slowly fucked the older girl upwards towards another orgasm; I was pleased I could recogise them now. Then Indah was back at the business end. I reached down to cup her beautiful little face as she watched me fuck her sister.

She looked up. "Phuk Aanjay?" she asked.

It took me a second to realise it was English. I smiled. "Yes, baby, I'm fucking Aanjay. We like it - it feels real good for us. You like it?"

"Phuk Indah?" she asked.

That made me pause. Oh my goodness yes it did. Fuck Indah? Oh yes please! But nature might have something to say about that. So might big sis.

Aanjay expostulated. Indah argued. I sped up, sensing Aanjay didn't need distraction just at this moment, sensing that what she needed was a big, hard prick in her cunt to speed up just so and...

Ahh, nothing like the sound of a young girl cumming with your prick in her cunt, let me tell you!

Aanjay bunched her fists and cried out into the sheets, shivering all over as her orgasm struck. I stroked her a few more times, relishing the feeling of her cunt rippling around me, then slowly pulled out. An idea had struck me.

I peeled off the condom while Aanjay recovered and rolled over. "I can't fuck you, Indah," I said, cutting off any further argument between the sisters, "but we can pretend-fuck."

Aanjay looked up at me, her face blazing with orgasmic blush. "She too little to fuck, not pussy, not ass!"

"I know, honey. I got something safe in mind. You trust me?"

Aanjay glowered a little sulkily but shrugged. I think she was annoyed that my attention was back on little sis. I asked her for the KY from the condom drawer; she reached it out and tossed it to me.

Carefully I skooshed some onto my aching prick, then beckoned Indah over. She bounced a little crossing the bed and stood inquisitively.

"I can't fuck you Indah, but we can pretend-fuck. What you think? Shall we pretend-fuck?"

"Pee-ten phuk?"

I grinned and held her gently by the shoulder as I rubbed a finger of KY down between her legs. The cold made her jump. I turned her around and reached down between her beautiful little ass cheeks to make sure she was good and slippery.

"OK. Now, come here you lovely little thing..."

I pulled Indah towards me, backwards, my hands across her tummy, drawing her between my thighs. With the smallest wriggle, my slippery prick popped neatly between her equally slippery thighs and poked out from between her legs, wedged neatly and beautifully between her thighs and her gorgeous little pussy.

"Pretend fuck, baby. OK?"

I arranged her thighs together and hugged her round her middle as I began to fuck the beautiful slippery wedge between her thighs and her pussy. She watched with fascination has the head of prick appeared and disappeared between her legs, and I gasped with the sensation of her soft little bottom pressing my crotch and the smooth, bare slippery lips of her six-year-old pussy gently kissing the hard length of my prick.

I hugged her little body, kissed her hair, and fucked her smooth baby thighs with a gentle rhythm that drove me up, up and so quickly up that it was over too soon.

Too soon!

Oh my God what a sweet way to cum!

I held her tight as I pushed forward one last time. My prick was already dribbling semen down her silk-soft thighs, think, milky globs a precursor to the big one... And then the orgasm hit and I shot thick ribbons out across the bed - three, four of them, so far that Aanjay jumped and giggled as the first splattered her legs. I heard Indah giggling too as I held her little body to me and ejaculated up between her beautiful little thighs, my semen smearing her gorgeous pussy lips and trickling down her legs. I sank back as I finished, the last surges of cum oozing out and pooling in the little girl's crotch, covering her sweet little pussy crack with my semen.

After that, the only sensible thing was a big, bubbly bath for Indah, a light supper and an early night for a very sleepy six-year-old. No sooner was Indah in bed than Aanjay appeared in the living room, naked, led me back to bed. With neither of us showered from the afternoon we set about each other like animals, licking, sucking, fingers up each other's asses. I penetrated her ass with my prick for the first time, and she took it like a pro and asked for more.

And so our little expat household entered a very different kind of phase, and I had a hard time believing it was real. Every night I enjoyed increasingly wild and dirty sex with my maid, while one evening in two her little sister would join us and we would play "shower games" and "bath games" and "bed games" until it was time for Indah to go night-night.

Over the course of those weeks I came more often than I'd ever done, and more intensely. Sexual nirvana, it was - two young, pliable girls, clearly having agreed privately that pleasing Mr Roger was the way to go. I guess Aanjay had said something like that to Indah, but there was obviously more than my nasty threat behind my teenage pembantu's near-insatiable sluttery. I reckoned, quite simply, she loved dick. Fourteen years old and she loved a big, fat dick in her cunt, loved the taste of one in her mouth, and loved a man's tongue on her little love button (and up her ass, come to that!).

There was barely an inch of their beautiful brown skin I hadn't ejaculated on, and I'd cum in both their mouths. Indah spat and pulled a face, but smiled that she'd made Mr Roger "go cum!"; Aanjay swallowed me from the very first time, sucked the cum from me even as I came. I'd cum in Aanjay's butt (still wearing a condom) a few times, and all over Indah's bottom as she knelt in front of me and let me rub my prick up and down her butt crack until I could bear it no longer. I loved her bottom with a deeply horny passion, but her sweet brown little anus was just too beautifully tight for my prick. My finger, yes, and I'd pushed my finger up her butt numerous times, but my prick just wasn't going to fit without bruising her.

I'd got my watersport wish, too. A gloriously coy Indah had been persuaded to stand over me in the shower and pee in my face. She could only do it without looking at me, so Aanjay straddled me - and I mean properly, tight hot cunt gripping my prick - and held Indah's hands while the little girl watched her sister and peed into my waiting mouth. She was so embarrassed she ran away afterwards and hid behind the toilet as her sister and I fucked in the shower, me with the relish of the little girl's pee washing around my mouth.

Aanjay and I pissed on each too, more aggressively, when Indah was in bed. Aanjay didn't like me to piss in her face, but anything from the tits down was fair game, and I just loved it when she stood above me and emptied her bladder all over me.

Utter, child-molesting, child-fucking debauchery. And utterly fabulous.

And real life went on in the background, of course, for what I noticed of it. If people remarked that I seemed on very friendly terms with my pembantu I didn't hear them - or didn't listen, perhaps. If colleagues thought I was acting weird, and much less focused on the game than I had been, well, whatever, you know?

And Becky and Josh? Yeah, sure, we Skyped almost every day and... Sure. Becky's mum seemed to be a little better after some apparently revolutionary new treatment, and Joshy missed his dad and...

But clearly, regular sex with two young girls was the principal focus of my attention because it came as something of a surprise that Friday when Becky said, across the miles, "So she's *so* much better. Can't believe it! Daddy can't believe it either but it seems to be true, and the docs are saying that yes, it seems to be true, so we're out of the woods, really out of the woods! Oh, darling, she's going to be OK! So we're coming back. I'll maybe stay a little while and pop back to England, but Josh will be better staying with you, now that Grannie is going to be OK. Aanjay will look after him, and we can get Annisa back if we need...

"Roger? Rog? Hello! You listening?"

"Er, yeah. Wow, of course! That's great...! Yeah... er, when?"

"Well, there was a last-minute flight tomorrow, and I thought what the hell - and I just got it! All a bit rushed, but isn't that great? We'll land Sunday morning. Come and pick us up, yeah?"

"Sure!"

Sure. Sunday. A day away. Sure.

"Aanjay and Indah still getting on OK? Have you managed OK while we've been gone? Joshy's so looking forward to seeing Indah again, he does like her. They'll have so much to talk about!"

So much to talk about?

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess they might..."

Fucking hell...