How I Lost My Babysitting JobbyHandsInTheDark©
[For an absent friend.]
So... I've always been a good girl. Not a perfect girl -- there's Amy and Missy for the guys looking for that. But I don't fuck around. There was that one guy when I was 17, he dumped me when he got what he wanted, and I learned from that. Since then, I've kept my legs together, and now I'm nineteen.
If I'm gonna be honest... guys my age are immature jerks. They are all over me for free handouts, and that's not as flattering as they think. Amy just shakes her head in that all-grown-up fashion (she's like fifteen months older) and says I need to just learn to deal with it, that it's just the ways guys are with a hot girl. (And yeah, alright, I'll just put it out there, I'm hot. Google Katie Vernola. That's not me, but I have her face, I have better boobies, and I'm an inch taller.)
But it still pisses me off. I want a guy who'll respect me, every girl wants that, but above all I want a guy who's got some style. Who can be laid back about what he wants. Hell, I'd consider a guy who didn't talk about fucking my tits on the second date, at this point. Look, I get it. The boobies, the long legs and the long blonde hair are a plus. Can we talk about anything else? I'm tired of wearing bland loose clothes just so every boy in the neighborhood won't think it's for hire.
So my parents are after to me to figure out what I'm going to do with my life, since I don't have a college gig planned and I'm not in a serious relationship. I'm doing part time at Hooters (don't even fucking say it) and babysitting on the side. Hooters is good money -- the tips are like triple what you get anywhere else. Yes, I know what the word objectification means, but a lot of the guys that eat there are older and are less crude than what I see outside of work. And it's not like it's a strip club. My parents don't love it, but they are the ones charging me rent, so I have to do something. And some of the girls there have landed modeling work. So I figure it's a start. It beats saying I'm still babysitting at nineteen.
You'd think babysitting would be a sucky job, but kids kind of like me, I show up when I'm supposed to, and I leave the fridge alone, and so I get a pretty good rate. It's ok work. Except one time, a new boy, maybe four years old, climbs up into my lap uninvited, stares at my breasts and starts feeling them up. And he wasn't looking for milk. I mean, shit, at age four? There's just no fucking escape from the Y chromosome. I wanted to spank the little prick, but at least he had his age as an excuse. Unlike every twenty year old guy I know who basically tries to act the same way. But still, it wasn't cute.
Oh, and my name is Alona. Well, no, not really, but if you think I'm posting this under my real name, forget it.
So it's a hot summer night, and I get a call for babysitting at the last minute. Not a problem. Dr. K and his wife usually ask for me every two weeks; regular work is good, so this is a customer I want to keep. And their daughter is always like "Hi, 'Allie', read me a story, ok, I'm sleepy now, goodnight" and she practically puts herself to bed. And Dr K lets me use his exercise machine as long as I put everything back the way it was. So I'm getting paid to work out. They always come home when they say they will, so I can do an hour on the machine, change out of the exercise outfit, check on the daughter, and get online and chat until they get back. Dr K pays well, too. His wife usually tells me all about the theater show they saw, which is the only dull part. I know more about Gilbert and Sullivan than anyone my age now. I'm not sure what Dr K sees in her.
So... right. You can see where this is going.
Part of it is, Dr K is a hunk. He's thirty, strong face, he works out, and, well, nothing he wears manages to hide his package. I've got a lot going for me, but this guy is out of my league. Which is fine, he's married and too old for me. Not too old to look at, just too old to think about. Much.
So anyway, he calls, it's some kind of emergency, can I come straight over. Choking down an "anything for you, Dr K", I grab my knapsack (chance favors the prepared babysitter), and bop on out there, ten miles away. They could get someone closer -- I like the fact they use me anyway.
I pull in, and they are just coming out of the house. It turns out that the wife's mom is suddenly sick, and they are driving over to check up on things. This might be a long night. As it happens, I'm not working tomorrow, so that's fine. And I'd have done it in any case.
I have to stick this in. Dr K has definitely noticed I'm pretty. I've seen his eyes move over me, a couple of times. But that's it. No comments. No jackass behavior. Not even a smile. It's all subtle. Hell, I'm not sure I'm that subtle when I look at him.
The wife carries a bag to the car, and Dr K hangs back to have a word. "Alona... I appreciate this. She's very worried and I'm not sure when we will be back... four hours at least. Maybe much more. Make yourself completely at home, spare bedroom, kitchen, shower, phone, whatever you need. If it's going to run into tomorrow I'll have someone over at 7am to take over."
"Don't worry the hours... take whatever you need," I tell him. I swear I didn't hit that particular pose on purpose as I said it, but it came out kind of suggestive. I blushed. He didn't notice any of it. He squeezed my hand, and said "Thanks."
He looked me in the eyes as he did it, and a fingertip trailed across the inside of my wrist as he let go. I didn't imagine it, and I blushed hotter. Then he was gone.
I got inside and breathed until the blush faded. It had been a single fingertip, for fuck's sake. It could have been accident. On an impulse I lifted my wrist and inhaled. His cologne. Oh....... Crap. That was kind of hot.
I connected up with my charge, who was a little distraught by her parents' sudden exit, and a board game and a story are needed to calm her down. To my surprise, she scoots over and leans against me as I finish the story -- first time she'd ever done that. I cuddle her in until she gets sleepy, and then convince her to get through the bedtime routine.
She curls up for the night, and... I have the big, pretty house to myself for hours.
Inevitably I lift my wrist again, and inhale. The scent of him is very strong. It suddenly occurs to me that he might have deliberately wet his finger with the cologne right before he touched me. Deliberately marking me with scent. Like what animals do.
The blush is back. He... shit, this makes no sense. He and his wife will be back in a few hours. Emphasis on wife. Nothing was going to happen. My imagination was just running a little wild.
Imagination... what would it be like, to just... imagine? I settle on the leather couch, kick my shoes off, and just let the images form. Dr K and I, meeting somewhere. Flowers. Flirting. And then the kiss. The kiss, starting gentle but turning... hot. So hot. I'm pressing my breasts against him. I mean, what would it be like to have to lure him a little? He's so controlled, I barely ever catch him looking at me; guys are always coming to me, what if Dr K knew how to make me come to him...
If he knew how to make me...
I was shivering. I'd just run a scene in my head that, well, no, I'm not even going to think about it again. I had no idea I was such a slut.
Ok, I needed to get off this couch, find something to do. If I didn't that fantasy would be back. I, like, made it a point not to snoop in people's houses, but tonight I had hours and... why not? I started wandering.
I ended up in his little home office. Leather chairs, big heavy desk, computer laptop. Which is on. Hm. It says it's locked, but I click and it just opens. No password.
It doesn't take long to figure out he's got a thing for younger, chesty blondes. Hell, he's got a whole section for images of Katie Vernola alone. I can't decide if it's sick or it's hot. I think about him in here, his hand on that hunk of cock, wanting, hungering for pretty much what I see in my mirror in the morning... fuck, how did he play it out, in his mind? Did he take me from behind right over this desk? Up against a wall? Right on the floor? Would he make me ask for the privilege of being taken on a bed?
I smelled the cologne again, and shook my head. I was getting worked up for nothing. Fuck, I really was pretty worked up, though. I was going to end up getting off. Wouldn't be the first time I'd gotten off while babysitting, to be honest, but it was usually to youtube videos, not thinking about the guy who was paying for my servi-
Wow. No. Not even going to think about it in those terms. That would be tawdry. Cheap. Meeting in hotel rooms, making me suck his cock, open my legs, work his meat for him until he came on me, and then handing me money and dismissing me like the slutty little-
Shit. Ok, "Alona", step away from the naked blondes. What else is on this computer?
I found some technical papers he was working on. Way over my head, but the title of one was "Late teen sexual behaviors: self-actualization deferred", and just the title had me blinking. I didn't read it, I didn't want to know. All I could think of was him "interviewing" one hot late teen after another for his research.
Hell, I was going to have to masturbate. My imagination was in flames now. And damn, had I really spent an hour in here? Shit. I better get off this computer -- wait. Browser history. Just a peek. I mean, he was a guy, there'd be porn sites, but he might have other interests...
So. Girls and porn sites. Mostly they don't go together; visual porn is too explicit. Sure, I've peeked, just to see what guys like. And I'm not saying some of it isn't freaking hot. It's mostly a non-starter, though.
Dr K's porn site preferences were... hell, I can't call a porn site high class. But this was more Playboy than Hustler, and the videos were all... tasteful? Hot guys seducing hot, shy girls. Some story. Some nice camera work. Some monster cocks getting licked by girls working vibrators into themselves... shit, some girls getting tied up and made to beg for it...
Shuddering, I closed down the browser and locked the machine again. Fuck. My panties were soaked. I was getting paid for this?
I went back to the living room, pulled out my own little laptop, and got online. I put on some music videos... when you're horny, you really end up focusing on certain kinds of music and music vids. My hand was suddenly down my pants, ooooh, yes, this wouldn't take long... oh FUCK yes...
I got interrupted by a ding. Megan was online. I hardly ever ran into her, with her three hour time zone difference and crazy schedule. We caught up, but she was in a hyper mood because her boyfriend was sextting her like crazy. She shared some of the pictures he was sending her, and any other day I'd have been pretty impressed, but tonight her boyfriend was competing with Dr K in the "hot unobtainable fantasy male" category. She finally waved goodbye, admitting that her guy had gotten to her and she was going to give him what he wanted on webcam.
Ok... I needed to get a grip on myself. If I start masturbating again I'll come. And then slut out online with videos, and come again. I'm not going to have an off switch this evening, not in the mood I'm in. So I wasn't going to masturbate. I was going to work out, damnit.
He had his own little gym in the house, downstairs, with a shower off to the side. Whatever he did, it brought in money. He had a Jacuzzi in his bedroom, a hot little sports car. I imagined him counseling women on sexual matters... teaching them how to suck cock, making them rub his cum into their skin... it took me a couple minutes to realize every woman I imagined him with had blonde hair and a rack like mine. Right, my imagination wasn't even trying to be subtle.
I stripped off the tight jeans and T shirt, put on the exercise outfit. Ok, so, the top is form-fitting lycra with a plunging neckline. I work out alone and it's one of the times that I can dress hot without getting pestered. Short shorts complete the outfit. I look at myself in the mirror he's got in here, and I'm kind of stunned by what I'm seeing. Eyes wide, nipples hardening, lips shining from the licking I hadn't realized I was doing... I mean, my body was transmitting Yes Please on all frequencies. I played with my hair, arranging it a little...
Suddenly I bolted upstairs, checked on my charge, grabbed my knapsack, and went back to the mirror. I broke out the cosmetics case and started... dolling up. I mean, fuck. Most of the time when I look in a mirror, all I see are the imperfections. They are still there now, but this is the first time I've ever looked at myself when I was totally turned on. Dolling myself up in this state is just irresistible fun. I shouldn't overdo it because if I do, when they get back they'll think I had a guy over. But fuck, a little blush, a little lip gloss, let's play with the hair... I tell myself I'm not doing this for Dr K, this is just me being a woman, I'm just... enjoying what I have.
But once the lip gloss is on, what looks back from the mirror is openly fuckbait. The fantasies are back, intense, vivid, and in every one of them I'm a girl in one of his porn collection videos, seduced or pushed into giving it up, reluctantly at first, but only at first. Or just... made to, which shouldn't be hot but oh, fuck, this carefully arranged hair getting grabbed by him, his just-open-the-legs-or-I'll-slap-you-again attitude, my clothing torn and my body bent roughly over his desk, and fuck what if he forced me to look at videos of girls just like me getting fucked, as he took me...
I'm petting my breasts, stroking my belly. One side of hot hooters, coming up, would you like extra slut sauce on that, because I've got plenty... I cup my breasts, picturing Dr K just sitting there, expecting me to flaunt it for him, maybe dance for him, maybe... fuck, right at this second Megan was probably masturbating for her boyfriend. Dr K could make me do that. He could make me show it off for him, as he just sat there, coldly, the exact opposite of every boy I knew. He'd tell me to pinch my nipples, like this, if I wanted any cock tonight... would he think I looked good while I masturbated? Are there ways to do it that guys like better or worse? I'd never even thought about that before. Maybe if I posed myself like this, and caressed my breast like this...
I pull myself away from the mirror. I want to come so bad... and it was stupid because I wasn't getting any cock tonight, and definitely not from some older guy with a wife in tow. Not even if his huge, hard, thick package ripped out of his dress pants...
I strapped myself into the exercise machine, cursed, unstrapped, and set the weights. He worked with weights three times my limit. I put music on, strapped back in and did leg lifts, fucking pushing myself hard, because I wanted my body perfect for Dr K. I wanted him to need me, bent, over the desk, taut and hot and better than what he saw online. When the legs were tired I switched to abdominal crunches. I crunched and sweated, holding a small medicine ball to make sure I burned. And the fucked up thing was, exercise usually calms my sexual needs, but tonight it didn't. I could see myself in the mirror and I was such a fuck toy, all hot and panting like this, there was no off switch tonight, and I could smell his cologne all around me, on the machine and from my wrist and-
"Slow down. Working out isn't about speed."
My blood turned to ice.
He was right there. Looking at me. I hadn't heard him come in. I was sweaty and panting and dressed in slut lycra and he was looking at me.
"Dr K" I yelped! "I thought- I mean-"
"Ms K is going to stay with her mom."
"Is... is she going to be ok? The mom? I mean-"
"She's not well, but there's no immediate danger, and Carla will be there for a few days."
He walked over and examined the weight stack I'd started with. "Hm. I always figured you just sort of played at working out, but this is a real set of weights. You were crunching too fast, though. Let's add five pounds and have you try it slower."
"Wait, no... I'm done." Yeah, I was more than done. I was doing decline sit ups, and it made my boobs look absurd.
"Funny, you didn't look done. You looked like you wanted to crunch all night. Trying to offset an extra ice cream sundae, maybe?" He took the medicine ball and handed me a heaver one. "Slow. Count of three up, count of five down."
Shit. The gorgeous doctor wanted to play at being my personal trainer! This could have been really hot -- if he hadn't just stepped my exercise routine up from energetic to brutal. But he fucking had me. Only a child would have been all "no, I can't with you watching me."
I pulled myself slowly through the sit up. Fuck. Lifting a ten pound ball was actually much harder than the five pound ball. And doing anything slow is brutal. I wasn't sure I could do ten of these.
On the seventh I started shaking on the decline, which is bad. He plucked the medicine ball out of my hands, and then got his hand under my back, and lowered me down. That put him leaning over me... fuck. Fuck! I smelled like hot pussy. I blushed red in a heartbeat.
"I... should go," I said.
"You sound disappointed," he smiled. "Let me guess-"
Oh please fuck no, don't guess-
"-you were hoping for the extra hours. I did promise you at least four... so let's do it this way. Sometimes Bella is up at around 4am and wants her mother. If you could stay for that, you'd get your hours. The guest room is right next to Bella's."
He wanted me to stay the night! For a second I couldn't breathe. Fuck this is so messed up, shit I have to get out of here I can't be alone with this man fuck fuck fuck-
I nodded yes, unsteadily. Wait, who told my head to do that?
"So that's settled, then. Let's get you off this bench -- I want a turn."
"Oh... um... sure. I'll just go, um, check on Bella-"
"No. She's out cold. Stay and spot for me. It's never really a great idea to exercise alone. I'll just be a minute getting changed.
He walked into the little adjoining shower area. I sat perfectly still for a full second, and then dived for my backpack. Towel for the face, hairbrush, shit shit shit why did he have to come in at that exact moment my hair had been all pretty an hour ago- fuck I needed to get OUT of these panties but I couldn't change here, not with that open doorway to the shower area, he was just around the corner and oh fuck fuck fuck he was changing he was naked in there, fuck there's my perfume but my hands are shaking, I mustn't spill any-
He walked out. And fucking hell.
Shorts. That was it. They looked like silk or satin or something, and they clung to ... oh gods. I can't look there, I'll die or something-
The rest of him was just as intense. He was a freaking statue, perfectly carved, and the worst of it he was completely un-self-conscious. Guys fucking have that down. He calmly put his achingly hot body on the bench three free away from me, wrapped those perfect legs around the bars and started working it. You know those music videos where they show some hot guy working out, and it's like a half second clip, but your whole body lights up anyway? Now put that clip on autorepeat and masturbate to it. Without coming. That's what this was like. Fuck, I'd just sneak upstairs and masturbate, I'd come in about two seconds and then I'd be sane again, fuck his huge package was stiffening as he work-
"Come here and set the weights where they should be."
That meant reaching across him, practically putting my boobs in his face.
One word. One tiny little word, and it completely redefined the evening. Up until now I'd been able to believe that it was all coincidence and wishful thinking, that chance had put us together this nigh. But with this one word he'd made it clear that he has expectations and nothing was chance. He wasn't asking. He was telling. I shivered. Once a guy knows he can tell you to do things, it never stops.