I was getting seriously annoyed at my sixteen year old niece, Ashley. This was the fourth time I had done laundry for her and found brown skid marks in her panties. What? She's sixteen! This is what I'd expect to find in the underwear of an eleven year old boy, not a teenaged girl halfway through high school! I need to do more than just have a talk with her this time...

Wait a minute. You're probably asking yourself why I, a middle-aged male, has been doing laundry for a sixteen year old who is plenty old enough to do her own laundry. Right? Well, I got roped into house-sitting and, by default, babysitting (aka: riding herd on) my younger brother's house and his teenaged kid, my niece, while he and his wife took a month long cruise he won as a sales bonus for selling the most of whatever the hell he sells for that computer widget manufacturer he works for. Now, normally a forty year old male is not asked to watch over a sixteen year old girl, and such was originally the plan here. Ashley's mom, Sheila, had made arrangements with her sister, Judy, to do the job, but an eleventh hour turn of events put all those plans in disarray. To put it in simple terms, Judy took a bad fall while rollerblading the day before the vacation was due to start and ended up with her left leg in a cast. My brother & sister-in-law were encouraged to try to go ahead with their cruise, so yours truly ended up receiving a desperate eleventh hour phone call from my brother, Ed, asking me to pull a last minute rescue. Ed knew I was independent of the daily grind and worked from home. My office was wherever I could plug in my laptop and log-on. I pissed and moaned for a while, but finally agreed. After all, Ashley was big enough that she couldn't really be a lot of trouble. Ha! Out of the mouths of fools...

The first few days in the house with Ashley went okay. She was reasonably neat – for a teen. She did pretty good at picking up after herself, and she always kept herself well dressed and groomed. Ashley was constantly on the go with after-school activities. The usual: cheerleading, choir (did I mention she had a voice like an angel?) soccer, and various other clubs. Between those activities and homework, she had little time for anything else, and apparently didn't date. Did I mention that she managed almost a perfect 4.0 GPA while taking AP classes? This girl was no dumb blonde! I had little to do for her except cook meals and try to keep tabs on her comings and goings. We got along very well, so I wasn't terribly surprised when, on the fourth day of my stay, I was starting to do my laundry along with assorted towels and linens when Ashley walks into the laundry room and sets a hamper of dirty clothes on top of mine. She flashes her sad kitten look at me and goes "pleeeease," drawing it out. "I have to go to soccer practice." I just nodded yes and she took off like a shot. A minute later, I hear the front door slam and then heard her drive off in her little Smart Car. I started sorting her items that needed washed separately and added them to mine. I was surprised that all of her bras and panties were plain white cotton. Nothing frilly or lacy at all. That was the first time I found a pair of panties with that dreaded brown streak in the seat, and was dismayed to find it in every pair of panties in her basket. I needed to talk to her about that. She was too damned old and smart to not know how to wipe her butt!

A word about Ashley: At sixteen years of age, she could best be described as a petite golden haired beauty. That hair was more properly described as a wavy mane that fell halfway down her back. It always appeared perfectly in place, but never seemed to be gelled or sprayed with any of that gunk other girls use to keep their hair under control. She'd just give her head a shake, run her fingers through it, and it would fall perfectly in place. If she was more than 5'-1" tall, she'd have to be on tiptoe, and I doubt she weighed 95 pounds soaking wet. She was the one on the cheerleading team that was always on the top of the human pyramid, or launched into low earth orbit by her teammates, where she would do some flips or spins that would do a gymnast proud, then land light as a feather. Soccer? I just figured she was so small that the opposing team never noticed her, because she almost always scored once or twice every game. Not everything about her was small though. Her tits were perfectly shaped C-cup beauties and she had a very cute little bubble-butt. I know, I read the size on her bra when I did that first load of laundry I'd never seen her naked, at least not since she was a toddler, but she had a delightfully tiny bikini she wore for tanning in the back yard that caused her old uncle some very improper thoughts.

Anyway, I'm digressing. When she returned from soccer practice, I had her laundry dried and folded. When I handed her laundry basket to her, I said "You're a big girl. Don't you think you should know how to clean your bottom?" She just gave me a cheeky grin, kissed me on the cheek in thanks, and said "Oh, don't be silly!" As she walked away, I noticed that bubble-butt seemed to have an extra little bit of hitch to it. "Two cats in a gunny sack" is the actual thought that ran through my mind at the time.

Unlike a lot of old bachelors, I'm a bit of a neat freak and hate to have dirty laundry pile up, so I did laundry every 4 or 5 days. Ashley knew I was a soft touch, so every time I did laundry, she would bring me a basket of her dirty clothes. The second and third times I found her dirty undies, I said something about it to her when I gave her back her clean laundry. The second time I got a similar reply as the first time. The third time, I looked straight into her eyes as I handed her the basket and said "You know, girls with dirty panties need their bottoms cleaned out." This time, she gave me a long, sober look before that cheeky grin returned and I got another kiss on the cheek in thanks – this kiss just missing the corner of my mouth.

While putting away clean bath towels and linens in the closet next to the main bathroom, I noticed something in the far back corner of the top shelf. There, still in it's rather worn & tattered box, was an old red squeeze bulb enema syringe – a full 12 oz model, and next to it was a bar of Castille soap! Aha! A plan to cure Ashley of her dirty panty habit quickly formed. This brings me to the fourth episode of doing laundry. I deliberately delayed starting the laundry until later in the evening. I needed Ashley home to stay for the evening before I carried out my plan. When I started the laundry, it was after 8:00 pm on a Friday evening. Ashley was in for the evening and had traded her school clothes for her usual lounging wear, which was a pair of her dad's old boxers and a wife-beater undershirt – sans bra. Oh, Lordy! Did that girl have any idea what she was doing to me? That's a rhetorical question. I'm sure she knew 'exactly' what effect it had on me.