The Sitter

It had been one of those work weeks, when you pray for Friday to come, and come quick. I had been fighting a deadline on a report, and just did slip it in before the end of the day on Friday. The boss wanted it earlier, but sinners in hell wanted ice water too.

I was looking forward to taking my wife out to dinner, and maybe a movie. We tried to go out on Friday nights, keeps the marriage alive, blah, blah, blah. To me, it meant time away from the office and the kids.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. We have a ten year old boy, and a seven year old girl. And Saturdays is my day to spend with them, going to the park, the zoo, whatever they want to do. Everey now and then, a buddy from work, Walter, and I, will go knock back a few down at Harry’s on the corner. But I really wanted a thick juicy steak and some sex, which meant that I better take the wife somewhere, instead of boozing it up with Walter.

So I get home, at the usual time, kiss the wife, pat the kids’ heads, and head upstairs for a shower. My wife informs me that we have reservations at one of the better steakhouses in town, and movie tickets for two hours later. I can handle that, I think to myself. Hell yeah, I can handle that. My wife, God love her, she’s so damned efficient. She takes care of the details. Which is good for me, because I hate to be bothered with the penny-ante shit. I have known Susan since tenth grade, when we were both pimply honor roll students. We didn’t actually start dating until the beginning of our senior year, and by graduation, we knew we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. Two months after graduation, we tied the knot in a quiet ceremony in my parents’ living room. And the rest, is, as they say, history. We have had our ups and downs, what couple hasn’t? But we managed to keep it together for almost fifteen years now.

We didn’t have kids right off, because we wanted to get our careers underway, and truthfully, I’m glad we did it that way. Because now, we both have good, stable jobs and live very comfortably. Our kids can wear the name brand shoes, and get all the latest video games before the rest of the crowd does. I know they are probably spoiled, but what the hell. I didn’t have very much when I was growing up, and if I have it to give, they are going to get the best.

The hot water starts to relax my shoulders, and I feel the day’s tensions running out of me. I don’t know what it is, but hot showers make me feel like a million bucks. It’s almost sexual. I always end up with a hard on when I shower, and sometimes I take care of it myself before I get out. But I think to myself as I look down at the semi I’ve got going on, I better save this one for Susan, or I might end up having to mow the grass and plant rhododendrons tomorrow instead of taking the kids to the amusement park. I get out of the shower and dress, putting on the casual clothes that Susan has laid out for me. Yes, I start thinking, tonight just might make up for the crappy week I have had.

I head downstairs and find Susan ready and waiting in the den. I look over and see Amanda, our babysitter, sitting on the sofa, getting instructions from Susan. Which are the very same instructions she gives her every single time she sits for us, but you know wives, every box must be checked, every detail carefully pointed out. Emergency numbers, bedtimes, etc. Susan rambles on, looking at the notepad in her lap as she tells Amanda what to do and what not to do, and I suddenly notice that Amanda is not looking at Susan. She is looking directly at me. And I don’t mean a hi-how-are-you look either. I mean one of those I-could-make-you-leave-your-wife looks. I am taken aback for a second. It’s been awhile since any woman, much less a young one, has looked at me like that. I fidget for a minute, feeling my neck getting hot under the collar. She is still looking at me, with one of those Mona Lisa smiles.

Now let me tell you about Amanda. She is possibly the most sexy 18 year old girl I have ever laid eyes on. I realize that 18 is still considered young, but this girl’s body is fully developed. Her tit’s are bigger than my wife’s, for God’s sake! I glance over at her again, and catch her eyeing my crotch. I start wondering if I still have that semi going on. But no, I don’t think so. I probably will develop one now, seeing her look at me like this, I chuckle to myself. She is wearing a tiny black miniskirt, which is in style these days from what I can tell when I drive by the local high school on my way to the middle school. She has on a white button down long sleeve shirt, which reminds me of a man’s dress shirt. It is unbuttoned enough that the top of her smooth round breasts can be seen over the edge. My eyes travel lower, and I can tell she isn’t wearing a bra. The darks of her nipples are clearly visible through the thin white fabric. Dammit, I am thinking, here it is my dick is getting hard from checking out the babysitter and my wife is giving a lecture on CPR.

I clear my throat, hoping my wife will take the hint that we need to go. Luckily, she does, and we leave. Just in the nick of time, too, I’m telling you. I am wearing a snug pair of khaki’s and I know if she bothered to look, my dick would stand out like sore thumb. I am not a huge man, but I am close to eight inches long, and very thick. Big enough, that in a tight pair of pants, everyone can see what’s on my mind.

On the drive to the steak house, my wife chatters away about the latest gossip snaking it’s way through her garden club. I find myself only half-listening. My mind is back at home, on that 18 year old sex kitten, and those firm, luscious tits, and those long, tan legs. Which does nothing to reduce my erection. But I can’t stop thinking about the way she looked at me. I used to know that look. I start trying to make excuses, maybe she was just being polite, or being friendly. Or being a teen-ager. Sure, that’s all it was. Teens these days…they always have sex on their minds. Not like when I was in school. Sure, I thought about sex. But I thought about my SAT scores too. I half-convince myself that I was reading more into it than I should have.

We arrive at the restaurant, and I proceed to let a slab of T-bone and a couple of frosty-mugged beers take my mind off of it. It’s been awhile since I have had a good, cold beer, and I think to myself that I really should drink more often. Not every day, mind you, but one or two after a hard day. What can it hurt? It relaxes me, and God knows I need some stress relief after a hard day’s work at the office. I make a mental note to pick up a cold six pack on the way home.

We finish dinner, and get to the theater, and end up watching a chick flick. I make another mental note to myself that this is the last time I let my wife buy theater tickets. I fall asleep twice, and excuse myself to go to the restroom every fifteen minutes. No offense to the ladies, but I don’t give a frog’s fat ass about how Stella got her groove back. So, on one of these trips to the john, I am sitting on the can, and suddenly Amanda pops into my mind. I start picturing her dark nipples, standing at attention through that shirt, and my dick starts to swell. I sit there for a minute, contemplating this, and my mind’s eye is traveling up those long legs, which are slightly parted, and I imagine seeing the edges of white silky panties, and…the door opens, and another gentleman walks in to use the urinal. Thank God I am behind a door, I think to myself. I didn’t even notice my hand slowly stroking my throbbing cock. I stand up quickly, tucking everything back into place, flushing, and then step out. I nod to the other gentleman as I walk out, and slip quietly back into the dark theater. I scan the aisles for my wife, as my eyes try to adjust to the darkness. Finally spotting her, I slide in next to her.

“Where’ve you been?” she asks with a grin.

“There was a line” I lie.

She must have accepted that, because she turns back to the screen and gets lost in the sappy plot once more. I scoot down in the seat and doze off. Visions of Amanda’s young body invade my nap, and I am slowly undressing her, kissing her neck, touching her long, silky hair, when Susan nudges me in the shoulder.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” she whispers, “the movie’s over.”

We drive home, and because I ‘accidentally’ fall asleep, she proceeds to give me a play-by-play run down of the entire movie. I remember to stop at the curb market for a six-pack, and get back into the car, hoping to change the subject. I am thwarted by The Wife, who manages to pick up right at the last sentence she left off at. I sigh, realizing that I am going to find out how Stella got her groove back whether I wanted to know or not.

We finally pull into the drive, and Susan rushes in to check on the kids. I come in behind her, carrying my stress-relief-in-a-bottle, and head for the kitchen. After putting my beer in the fridge, I slowly trudge upstairs, where I find Susan undressing. I go into the bathroom, take a leak, and start to undress, as well. I kick my shoes off, and slide into an old pair of Levi’s that Susan has been after me to throw away for more than ten years. But they are my most comfortable pair, and I have had them since right out of high school. They are a little tight, because somehow over the years, I have managed to develop a small gut. I don’t bother with a shirt, it’s a long night, and I just want to kick back and watch the news before bed.

I kiss Susan’s cheek, and tell her I will come to bed after the news. I start downstairs, and remember that I had bought an issue of the latest nudey magazine last week, and hadn’t even had a chance to open it yet. I go back into our room, and see that Susan has already fallen asleep. I grab the magazine, and wonder if tonight is going to be a solo night. I can already hear Susan snoring, and I think, yep, tonight’s a solo night, buddy. I head downstairs, and decide to have a cold beer, screw the news, the chick on the cover of this magazine beats out the dried-up old weatherman anyday. I get into my recliner, and take a swig of brewsky, opening the magazine up to the pictures. Now, let me tell you, I am not one of those saps who will tell you that I buy these magazines for the articles. Hell no, I want to see some pussy! And if I am going to pay six bucks for a magazine, it better be loaded with it! So here I sit, in a dark, quiet den, my feet up, chugging icy beer, looking at pussy and tits, and I am thinking, man, it just doesn’t get any better than this. My dick starts hardening as I flip through page after page of moist-looking cunts, and round, bulbous tits. The beer is almost gone, so I finish it off, and head to the kitchen for another one. I start thinking to myself, you know, I don’t have to get up early in the morning, and it looks like I am on my own for the night, so I am going to drink every last one of these beers and enjoy the fuck out of it.

I am almost through my second beer, when I hear a faint knock at the back door.

“Who in the…” I mutter to myself, as I get up to go see who it is. I look through the blinds, and damn near drop my beer when I see it is Amanda. Our sexy babysitter is standing at my back door, and here I am, with a beer in one hand, a nudey magazine in the other, and a hard-on trying to gnaw it’s way out of my jeans. I open the door and say “Yes?”

She looks up at me, grinning, and says,

“I hate to bother you, Mr. Vance, but your wife forgot to pay me, and I am going shopping first thing in the morning, and, well, I was just wondering…”

“Oh, sure, sure…” I say, holding the door open so she can step inside.

“Let me grab my wallet, I’ll be right back.”

“No problem” she purs sweetly.

I run upstairs, looking for my khaki’s that I wore earlier. I finally find them, and dig out my wallet. I start to head downstairs, when I see Amanda standing in the kitchen at the bar. She obviously can’t see me, so I take the opportunity to stop and watch her for a minute. It will give me some good mental material for my solo session later on. I am eyeing her tits, which are even visible from here, those dark nipples standing erect. Suddenly, she looks around, and seeing no one, she turns up my beer and drinks it! I am stunned. She downs that brew like she is a sailor on shore leave. I had only half a beer left, but still. She polishes it off, and then starts flipping through my magazine. By this time, I am amazed, so I continue to watch. She is obviously looking at the centerfold, and I swear it looks like her nipples just got even harder.

To my utter amazement, she slips her hand up under her skirt, and starts to rub herself. I almost burst my zipper, my cock is rock-hard. I clear my throat, to give her warning, and and come down the stairs looking downward, so she doesn’t suspect that I saw anything. But then I start wondering, what if she wanted me to see? I push that out of my mind, and begin to count out her money. She strolls over to the sofa, and sits down, while I count out the correct amount. I sit down at the other end, and hand her the money, saying how much we appreciated it. She smiles at me, almost wickedly. I don’t know what the hell to think at this point. She says, “Mr. Vance, can I talk to you for a moment?” I clear my throat, stumbling out, “Well, sure, what’s on your mind?”

As if I didn’t know. She begins telling me about this guy she has been going out with. Yes, I tell her, I know his father. She goes on to tell me that they had a date last Saturday night, and it didn’t go as well as she had hoped. I innocently ask why was that, and she tells me that he is gay. I chuckle a little, assuring her that I didn’t think he was gay, and why did she think that. Me and my big mouth, I thought later. She says, because I showed him something and he didn’t like it. I ask what, and she spreads her long tan legs apart, until I can see slam up her skirt, and she wasn’t wearing white silky panties like I dreamed, she wasn’t wearing ANY panties! Her mound was shaved on the sides, leaving a light-brown colored strip of silky fur trailing up the split. I almost lost it.

“Now Mr. Vance, I showed him this, and he just took me home! He must be gay to pass this up!”

“Well, ummm…” I muttered.

“Would YOU pass this by, Mr. Vance?” she asked, pouting those full red lips.

“Well, no, I, ummm…”

She leaned over towards me, and looked deep in my eyes, and told me she would tell me a secret if I promised not to tell. At this point, my cock was so hard, I would keep her secret even if I was being castrated by the CIA. She proceeded to tell me that she was a virgin. And to tell you the truth, I thought she was full of crap. She went on to explain that she had planned on saving herself for marriage, but that she was having these urges, and didn’t I know what those awful urges felt like, and so she didn’t think she could wait any longer to get fucked.

She said she had went out on three dates with different guys, and not one of them would fuck her. Oh, one wanted a blowjob, that was it. But the other two just acted so shy and they ended up pecking her on the cheek and taking her home. Well here’s the good part about being an older man. All of those shy boyish feelings have been replaced with a big dollop of male attitude. And any older man will tell you, when it comes to getting a young piece of ass, no is not an option.

The beer has leveled me off to a smooth buzz, and I lean closer to her. She brushes her lips across mine, and I swear to God, she smells like pure ecstacy. I hungrily kiss her, feeling it my duty to show her how a real man would react, and she starts to lay herself back on the sofa. Now here’s where I should have stopped. I know. Shoulda, woulda, coulda. But the beer was working on me, my dick was hard enough to cut glass, and she wanted it so bad you could smell it.

Most women don’t realize it, but when they are aroused, they release a scent in the air, and males pick up on that scent like a bloodhound tracking a convict. It makes our dicks hard, our mouths water, and we will instinctively follow that scent until we find the source. And believe me, she was aroused. She reached behind her head and turned the lamp off, enveloping us in total darkness. I was kissing her lips, her face, working my way down her neck, and she was holding my head, making small growling noises in her throat. She thrust her tits upward, and I took the hint, and started licking a trail down her neck and to her cleavage. I darted my tongue in and out between those mounds, then I started unbuttoning her shirt. My fingers were fumbling a little, my coordination shot all to hell, and before I knew what she was doing, she ripped her own shirt open, buttons popping loose and pinging the floor and coffee table.

Let me say right now that I did not plan on fucking her. I was hoping to eat her pussy and maybe get a blowjob out of it, that’s all. I wasn’t going to take her cherry, no sir, not me, too many complications related to that. Her fat round tits plopped out of her shirt and into my face, and I sucked a nipple into my mouth, feeling it harden and pucker with each suck. I could feel her blood red nails scrape across my chest as she worked her way down to my zipper, struggling to unzip it over my erection. I heard her gasp loudly as it sprang out into her hand. I could tell she had not seen one that size before. Those little punks she had been out with most certainly did not have a man-size slab of meat like she was holding right now.

I remember hoping that she would be deterred from sex, maybe thinking that a big cock like that would surely hurt. She held it like she was gripping a tennis racket, and she started squeezing it, then releasing it. Squeezing it, releasing it. I was bobbing back and forth between her tits, lapping at them like a hound dog. She started slowly stroking my cock, taking her soft warm hand all the way to the base, and back up to the tip, then squeezing the head a little before stroking back downward. God Almighty, I thought. Where did she learn how to do this. She was jacking me like a pro. I moaned a little, and she started pushing my head downwards, letting go of my cock and spreading her legs. I knew what she wanted. She wanted to get her pussy eaten. I decided to oblige her.

Looking back, I don’t know what I would have done if Susan had walked downstairs. The position we were in, the things we were doing, there was no way getting out of it. I would have been as busted as a pie thief with cherry filling on his lips. She started bucking her hips upward, as if to say, here it is, take it. I buried my face in her sweet, young pussy, inhaling her clean musky scent, running my tongue right up the middle of her slit. At the top, I could feel her tiny rosebud clit, and I began to swirl my tongue around it in slow circles. I could hear her making tiny groaning sounds, and she was pulling my head into her. I could feel her clit swelling under my tongue, and every time I would sweep my tongue across the top of the nub, she would shiver. Her long legs were up over my shoulders, her ankles crossed. She was pulling my face deeper into her snatch. I drove my tongue into her hole, and she raised her hips up, moaning as it drove in deeper. She was whispering to me, almost like a chant, “Ooh yess tongue fuck me baby yesss, that feels sooo good…”

I slid my tongue in and out, in and out, rubbing one finger around her clit tracing circles around it and pressing on it. I could tell she was close by the way her breath was catching in her throat. I continued to tongue fuck her, my face pressed so tight against her virgin young pussy, and yes, she was definitely a virgin, because there wasn’t room for a drop of spit between my tongue and her pussy walls.

All of a sudden, she grabbed my head, arched her back, and pulled my face down into her hard and fast like a fucking motion, moaning louder for me to fucccckkkk her. I covered her mouth with one hand, my other hand busy jacking that little clit as she came hard in my mouth. I could taste a semi-sweet musky warm liquid as I sucked the juices out of her cunt. It was more than my wife ever produced, and much sweeter.

Suddenly, she jumped up, and I thought she was going to run out, but instead she pushed me back onto the sofa, and dropped to her knees, quickly sliding my entire cock into her mouth in one fell swoop. I sucked in my breath, trying to be quiet as she pumped her hot little mouth up and down my steel-hard dick over and over. She was taking every damn inch of my cock, something my wife couldn’t even do! I watched in amazement, squeezing my eyes shut every few seconds as the pressure in my balls was building. She sucked hard and deep, her chin pressing into my balls every time she went down. I was on the edge, I knew I was going to fill this hot teen girl’s mouth with my jizz, when she pulled her mouth off of it, and crawled into my lap, kissing me hard and guiding my throbbing cock to her tight virgin slit. I started to say no, but men will understand, there was just no damned way. I reached under her soaked pussy, and helped guide the head, trying to whisper to her that it was going to hurt. She mumbled “I don’t care” and kept sliding her tongue inside my mouth. I raised up a little, feeling the head enter her, and God it was tight. I remember thinking there was no damned way my cock was going to fit inside her. She moved a little and pressed down, and I bucked up again, and a little more slid in. Not enough to break through, though. She whimpered a little, and I could tell she was getting frustrated. I thought, okay, what the hell, you asked for it, and I grabbed her hips to hold her down, reached up and covered her mouth, and rammed my cock upwards, tearing through her hymen, making her scream into my hand. I didn’t even slow down. I probably should have, it would have been easier on her, but this girl needed to know that you never tease a grown man. I continued to ram my dick up in her hard, driving it all the way in, and pulling it almost all the way out with each stroke. I wanted her to feel all eight inches of my cock. I knew she would remember this night for at least a week, because the way I was ramming that pussy, she would feel it for at least that long. She started to ride me, thrusting her hips, holding my shoulders, moaning and begging me to fuck her harder. I held her hips with both hands, and shoved it up into her over and over again, still covering her mouth, trying to muffle her cries, and trying not to moan too loud myself.

Her pussy was so tight, I just knew it was taking the hide off my cock with every thrust. I moved my hands to her ass, which was round and pudgy, and uncovered her mouth, still fucking her for everything I was worth. My balls were so full, they were near to bursting. I knew I didn’t have long. I started to pull out when I felt the cum rising up in my cock, but she held on, kissing me deep and hard, and I exploded into her tight wet pussy over and over, cumming harder and more than I ever have. We were both out of breath by then, and sweat was running down my back. She gently climbed off, and went into the kitchen coming back with some paper towels. I helped her clean up, cleaned myself up, and kissed her gently. She smiled at me like the cat that ate the canary, and slipped out the back door.

I barely slept that night, as crossed feelings of guilt and extreme satisfaction overwhelmed me. I finally did drop off though, and life went on as normal. A couple of months later, Susan and I were invited to dinner by a business aquaintence, and we needed a sitter. I had not seen Amanda, except in passing, when she would be standing in her yard, and we would wave casually. I asked Susan if she was going to call Amanda, thinking naughtily to myself that I wouldn’t mind some young twat tonight. But Susan told me that Amanda had moved to Florida to live with her grandmother, because she had gotten “in a family way”. I froze.

“What’s that mean?” I asked with hesitation and dread.

“She’s pregnant. I feel so sorry for her parents, the poor things. She won’t reveal the father, and she was a virgin up until she got pregnant. Nancy had just had her to the gynecologist a week earlier to see about putting her on some birth control, because she found Amanda’s diary that said she wanted a baby so badly, she was going to have sex one time just so she could get pregnant. I guess she will finish school in Florida. Isn’t that just awful?”

I stood there silently, staring off into space, and could only mutter, “uh huh, awful”.

That was all we spoke about it, and a few months later, Amanda worked things out with her parents, and she moved back home. She was beginning to show by then, and every time I saw her, I couldn’t help but think that she was walking around with my child growing inside her body. I would watch her in awe, as she took on a beautiful glow, her hair shinier than ever, her smile brighter.

Then one day I came home from work to find Susan and Amanda in our kitchen peeling potatoes. Susan greeted me with the usual kiss, and began to explain to me that Amanda and her parents had agreed that they needed some time apart, and Susan had offered for Amanda to come and stay with us until the baby was born. My heart dropped into my stomach. How would I be able to watch her baby, my baby, our baby, here, in mine and Susan’s home, and not let on about what happened? But, time flew by, and before we knew it, it was time.

Susan had taken Amanda to the hospital, and I came in just in time to see her struggling to push. Susan was at her side, wiping her sweaty brow, coaching her, and I stood off to the side, watching quietly. I stared in amazement as my son came into this world, kicking and screaming, a chubby round ball of a boy. The nurse, not knowing any better, I suppose, handed me the tiny bundle, and said “Congratulations, Dad!” I stuttered and looked into the eyes of this five minute old little baby boy, and walked over to Amanda, where they were cleaning her up. I handed her the baby, and she looked deep into my eyes, as if to say thank you.

She and little Matthew moved out a few months later into their own place. She still babysits for us occasionally, but nothing ever transpired between her and I again. That is, until I came home one day, to find her and the baby over visiting, sitting on the very sofa where little Matthew was conceived. I was in the kitchen, when I overheard her telling Susan how much she loved Matthew, and how much she wouldn’t mind giving Matt a little brother or sister. Susan chuckled, saying “Yes, but you have to find a father for it first.” It was at that moment that Amanda looked up, and said, “Oh, hi Dan!”

I quickly grabbed a beer from the fridge. Somehow I just knew I was going to need it.

THE END