Interrupting the babysitter

That Friday morning, it was like ticking off a list of clichés from the night before. The babysitter. The 19-year-old babysitter. Polite, a little clumsy, and curvy. Like it had been pulled from my clumsiest fantasies. But there she had been. On the sofa. One hand down her panties. My shirt in the other. Holding it to her face. Breathing me in and making the sexiest fucking sounds I'd ever heard. Our polite babysitter. Our clumsy babysitter always tripping over her own feet. Our curvy, 19-year-old babysitter.

And running back through it all now, the adrenaline returned. The excitement and the guilt, as I masturbated in the shower. And my memories came tumbling out. Straight to her on the sofa, and then to me sneaking in the kitchen, and just staring at her breasts in that top, and chatting with her before I went out for the evening, and her stumbling out of the living room to apologise, and creeping down the hallway and just watching her. And driving to work I was getting hard and praying that tonight the same thing might happen.

If I finished work early. Not that I was likely to. Tonight I was due to be working until 3am. Tonight was the night Annie would have to stay over. Three nights in a row I had to work late. Midnight last night and tomorrow. 3am tonight. While my wife's in Sweden. Business trip. Luckily she'd been available. The plan was for me to rush home each night, collect the little one from nursery, get him to bed, have a quick shower and be out again by 7pm. Thursday and Saturday Annie would be collected by her parents. Tonight she'd stay in our guestroom. Her parents were close with my wife and we were paying Annie generously so everyone was happy.

I got home not long after 10pm last night, as it happened. My friend dropped me off behind the house. I came in through the garden and slipped quietly through the backdoor into the kitchen. The latch on the front door always sticks and the amount of times I've woken up my son or wife coming in late. Thinking Annie would be happy to be sent home early. I'd still pay her for the whole evening.

I was met by the smell of pizza. Despite the dark, I immediately saw Annie had tidied. All the washing-up was stacked neatly and all the surfaces cleaned down. A glass had been broken. On the side. Broken shards stacked neatly inside what was left of the base. A handwritten note next to it apologising and saying she'd buy us a new one. I shook my head and smiled to myself. I'd liked her from the moment I'd met her. Just before Christmas. Taking a year out before heading off to University in September. Loughborough, I think. Or maybe Leicester. One of the Ls in that neck of the woods.

She's polite and funny, swinging between being too quiet and too loud. She's come out of her shell over the months she's worked for us - slower with me - but sometimes when I drop her home we chat about things. Her hobbies (reading and playing the piano), her careers aspirations (I forget, but related to her Uni course), and - once or twice - boys.

I took my shoes off, and it was then I noticed the noise coming from down the hall.

Fuck, the way her breasts bounced in that tight top. As she was picking up pace. Moaning so sexy. She was always wearing such thick jumpers. A cable knit sweater tonight despite the building heatwave. Always hiding the curves beneath. It sounds like I'm a perve, spending all my time wondering what's beneath. It's not like that. But of course I've noticed her.

And then last night her jumper was off and she was wearing a tight top beneath and any other night that would have been more than enough to send me to bed happy, but here she was, on the sofa, holding one of my worn shirts up to her nose, masturbating. Her skirt risen up and her pink panties visible.

Had I even noticed she was wearing a skirt when she'd arrived? It was such a rush. I was running late. I spoke at her rather than to her.

"Sorry, I'm in a bit of a rush, Annie. Little man is asleep, pizza in the fridge, money on the table. I'm on my mobile if you need me. I'll be home by midnight. Is that all okay?"

"Of course," she replied with a smile. Glasses a little wonky. One frame taped together. She was always dropping them and misplacing them.

She looked around the kitchen. It was in a state since my wife had left. The sink was full of plates and plans, and the traces of the last several days' breakfasts and dinners were still on the table.

"Do you need me to clear up while you're out?"

"Oh, Annie, that's so kind but don't be so silly. I'll get to it when I get a moment. But please, go relax and stick a movie on. Hopefully he sleeps through."

And I went out to my friend's car who was starting to get impatient.

And the same friend dropped me off again at 10pm. When I snuck in through the kitchen. When I saw she'd tidied. When I heard her.

I took my shoes off, and it was then I noticed the noise comes from down the hall. At first I thought it was crying. Annie? I crept down the hall, no desire to give Annie a surprise if she was very upset about something. As I neared I realised it wasn't crying. It was moaning. Moans of pleasure. Not loud, but loud enough.

She must have someone with her. I saw no signs. No bag or pairs of shoes by the door. I didn't know how to react. Whenever we'd discussed boys, she'd blushed. It was something she was seemingly wanting to discuss, but very shy about. Probably because I'm almost double her age.

I guess I should have been angry. That she'd brought someone over when she was working. I was a bit I suppose. I didn't want to be. I liked her. She was a good babysitter and she'd saved us this week. But this was a bit beyond the line.

I approached the living room quietly, drawn by her moans. They were sexy. Really fucking sexy. My arousal starting to fight my anger. I got to a point where I could see into the living room. Just the edge of the sofa and Annie's feet. I edged closer.

She was alone. She was lying on the sofa, skirt risen up, hand down inside her pink panties. She was masturbating. I couldn't believe it. Here was the girl I thought of as polite and clumsy Annie making the sexiest fucking moans as she masturbated on our sofa. Any anger left. It was just arousal.

Her eyes were closed. Her jumper was on the floor and she was in a tight vest top. Her breasts jiggled as she touched herself. They were large. I felt myself harden. A further thrill of excitement at seeing what had been under all those thick jumpers.

And there was something else. Took me a moment to work out what it was. Something she was holding to her face. It was one of my shirts. The one I'd worn to work earlier. She must have fished it out of the laundry hamper. I heard her inhale deeply and exhale with another moan.

I needed to retreat. Sneak back out. Maybe send her a text. Let her know I was going to be home early, then take a walk around the block and make a real fuss with the latch on the front door.

But I didn't. I stayed and I watched. I was hard. It took all my willpower not to start stroking my dick. I just watched.

Annie started picking up the pace. She was starting to squirm. Her moans getting louder. Her breasts looked amazing. She was getting closer.

I realised my hand was on the bulge in my trousers. Not stroking. Not yet. Just feeling my own hardness.

I wanted to watch her cum so much but I had to leave. If she opened her eyes just for a moment she'd catch me watching her like some pervert from a dark corner.

Ten more seconds I told myself. She released a little whimper. Enough to make me slide my hand down my erection, outside of my trousers, just once. Enough to make me stay and watch another ten seconds.

Cum, Annie, I pleaded. Cum in front of me.

It really took a lot of willpower to leave, but I slinked back into the shadows. Took in the sight and the sounds and the smells one more time. I started making my way back towards the kitchen, being followed out by Annie's moans. I wasn't looking, head spinning, and I smacked my foot against the dresser. Hot pain shot through my toes. It was a loud thud and the vase on top teetered back and forth loudly. I muffled a 'fuck'. Bit my lip. Screwed my eyes shut in pain and anger at myself.

"Hello?" It was Annie. Startled.

Shit. I stayed perfectly still. No idea what to do but realising doing nothing wasn't option. I spoke, quieter, hoping I could disguise how close I was to the living room.

"Hi Annie, I'm home early." A pause. "Is everything okay?"

I heard a thud. The sound of her falling over perhaps. Scrambling back to her feet.

"Yeah, Mr Harrison." Her voice was breathless, panicked.

"I'm just going to check upstairs and I'll be back in a moment."

I needed to get away. I wanted to find a hole and crawl into and die. The embarrassment and the guilt instantly caused my erection to subside.

I cursed myself as I walked up the stairs. She must know I'd heard and seen something. I'd embarrassed her and revealed myself as a pervert. I just stood at the top of the stairs getting up the courage to go back down for several minutes. Didn't check on my son. Just stared at myself in the mirror. Not yet letting myself get carried away with worries about what she was going to say, what she was going to tell my wife, what she was going to say, what she was going to tell her parents, what they were going to say.

Finally, I came downstairs. Annie was on the sofa. The TV was now on. So was her jumper. Her hair was a little wild and she was a little flushed.

"Sorry, I should have text," I said. "I didn't want to wake him."

"No, of course. Yeah." She was flustered. "Have you been home long?"

"Only a few minutes." A pause. "I should have turned the light on in the kitchen. Stubbed my toe on the door."

She clearly wasn't incensed. She was scared. She wasn't worried I'd been watching. She was worried I'd caught her. She must have known what I said was a lie but she was probably scared of what I might say next. As scared as I was.

"Any issues this evening?"

"No. He's been an angel, as ever."

"Did you want to call your parents?" I asked.

"Oh yeah. Sure."

I went to the kitchen. Made myself a drink and could hear Annie on the phone to her parents. A few moments later she came into the kitchen.

"Mr Harrison, I need to apologise..."

I put my hand up to stop her. "I need to thank you. The kitchen is spotless. You really didn't need to."

"Mr Harrison..."

"Please, call me Chris. There weren't any issues, were there? Then everything's good."

She had a look on her face. Like she couldn't quite believe I was sweeping it all under the rug. She grabbed her bag and pulled out the envelope of cash I'd paid her.

"I need to repay you. I wasn't here until 12."

I forced the envelope back into her hand. "We paid you for the night." I put my hand on her shoulder. "You're a good babysitter, Annie."

After that we engaged in idle small talk until her parents arrived. Idle, awkward small talk.

The moment I closed the door to her, I let out the deepest sigh. Cursed myself for being so stupid, so perverted. And collapsed on the sofa, bursting out into quiet hysterics.

The room smelled of her. Deeply. I saw the edge of something emerging from between the cushions. The sleeve of my shirt. Hurriedly shoved down here and forgotten. I pulled it out. My erection returned. Not just hearing her. Not just watching her. But seeing her with my shirt, breathing me in. I couldn't believe it was likely that she had been thinking about me, but what other conclusion was there?

I opened my jeans and pulled out my dick. And holding the shirt she had been holding, where Annie had been on the edge of orgasm, I jerked off, thinking of her, thinking of her breasts, thinking of those incredible sexy moans she was making, thinking of her holding my shirt. And I came. Really fucking hard.

*

The next night I opened the door to Annie. She was wearing a thinner jumper. It was hotter today and the curve of her breasts was just visible. I could only think of last night and I stared at her like a pervert for a second, then ushered her in. She had her overnight bag.

I was surprised she was here. Was expecting a text from her all day to cancel. Maybe she needed the money. Maybe she didn't want to let us down. Maybe she wasn't as embarrassed, not anymore.

"Hi, Mr Harrison." It didn't matter how many times I'd told her to call me Chris.

"Hi, Annie. How are you?"

"I'm good." She was extra shy tonight. Obviously mortified about last night. "About last night..."

I cut her off with an open hand. "Nothing to say, Annie. I'll show you to the guest room."

Annie followed me upstairs as I showed her to the room I'd set up for her. Giving her the usual details.

"The door squeaks a little bit. Open it slowly if you can in the night. There's some food in the fridge. Money on the table. I won't be home until earliest 3am, maybe later."

"But, Mr Harrison..."

"Obviously no need to stay up," I said over the top of her protest. "If I'm going to be home early, I'll text. But I doubt it."

She went a little red at that. I wasn't meaning to embarrass her, just avoid another incident like last night.

We went round in a circles a bit as clearly Annie wanted to continue apologising and I was trying to let her know the details before I rushed out.

My friend was beeping his horn and Annie was still trying to apologise as I finally escaped out the door.

In the end it was just gone 3am when I got home again. I came in through the kitchen again. Not because I was hoping to catch her. Because I had no desire to wake my son with the noisy front door and now be up for another hour trying to get him back to sleep. But of course everything I did was in the shadow of last night. The hope and fear of a repeat.

The house was quiet and dark. Completely quiet. I was wired from work and I took a beer from the fridge. I hadn't eaten much but couldn't be bothered to prepare anything. I took the beer to the living room. My heart sinking a little to see it empty and I released a sigh of relief. I sat in the dark, just relaxing. The beer went down too easily and I had another.

My head was spinning nicely. Just enough. I should have eaten something but I was quite happy passing out with a little buzz. But as I sat on the sofa remembering last night, I could feel myself getting aroused. I tried to push the thoughts of Annie touching herself away. But eventually I ran with them.

I remembered those moans. I pictured those breasts. Her inhaling my shirt. And by the time I went upstairs I was fully erect and desperate to jerk off. The thrill of knowing she was here was all the more temptation. That she was one room down the hall as I thought about her.

The beer had hit me a little harder than I'd thought and I was feeling bolder than I should, forgetting to shut my door. I stripped down to my boxers and climbed onto the bed. Too hot to climb under the sheets. I then noticed the open door. I couldn't be bothered to get up and close it. I was too comfortable. And there was that thrill of leaving it open.

It was so inappropriate to leave it open, but I was a little drunk, and desperately horny and I was imagining Annie in the room next door and I slipped my hand down my boxers. I closed my eyes and stroked my dick. I thought about Annie.

I tried to run through last night exactly as it happened. Frame by frame. Savouring it. And I couldn't help myself fantasise about how it could have ended differently. Stripping down and climbing onto the sofa. Kissing those huge breasts. Going down on her and making her moan louder still. Letting her ride me. And with every stroke she was in the house, in the room next to mine.

A noise down the hall caused me to stop. The creak of a door. The door to the guest room. A light came on. The automatic nightlight in the hallway. I had about five seconds to get under the sheets or leap across the bed and close the door.

I did neither.

I closed my eyes and I kept jerking my dick. Stupid beer. Footsteps along the hallway stopping. I'm sure I heard a little intake of breath. Maybe I imagined it. This was so fucking stupid but I was so fucking turned on. Desperate to return the favour for last night perhaps or just completely caught up in the thrill of being watched.

I opened my eyes as little as I could. There was the blurry shape of her in the doorway. Just standing there watching me. Watching me like I watched her.

A new temptation came over me. To pull my dick completely out of her boxers. So she could see it. So fucking stupid but the thought was there and the more I jerked myself the more it became inevitable.

I opened my eyes a little more, but still couldn't see much more of her than a blur. I went for it.

I slid down my boxers and felt my dick spring out. I started pumping myself harder. There was definitely a little gasp then. I heard it.

I closed my eyes and pictured her. On the sofa. In the hallway. Watching her watching me. Fuck, I'd never been this turned on in my life. All reason and restraint had gone.

I opened my eyes again. She was no longer standing still. She was touching herself. I was sure of it. I could just make out her arm moving. Thought I heard her moan. I let out a little one and I completely lost control. I came. She watched me cum. Even fucking harder than last night.

I almost passed out. Just lay there panting and sweating. When I eventually opened my eyes she was gone. A few minutes later, I heard the toilet flush. I heard her footsteps back down the hallway. Was sure she stopped at my door and then heard her door close.

We said nothing about it in the morning. I was sure a couple times I caught a wry smile from Annie. That was it. Paused. Until tonight.

*

Saturday night, Annie arrived for the first time not wearing a jumper. It was hot, the heatwave now in full swing. Her breasts looked incredible in a tight top. A little bit of cleavage. Fuck. Was this in response to last night? I couldn't help but think it was. I tried to catch her eye. See if there was a twinkle in it. But nothing.

We went through the usual details and I tried my best not to keep stealing glances at her cleavage. Tried to think of my wife. Guilt myself into ignoring her.

"Will you text if you're going to be home early?" asked Annie. I'm sure there was a slight smile, there was that twinkle in the eye. A joke between us.

"Of course," I said.

Annie followed me to the front door. As I went to leave she tripped over the shoes in the hallway. Always tripping over. She stumbled forward and I caught her in my arms. Her breasts pushed against my chest. I held her there a second longer than I should have. Instantly starting to get hard and I pushed her away. Couldn't look at her then. And I closed the door and went out to my friend's car and as much as I didn't want to, hoped I'd be home at midnight. No earlier.

Of course I was done early. Excited about it. Freaking out about it. I thought about going for a walk. Keeping away from it all until midnight. But I didn't of course. I compromised. I text Annie on the way home. Would be back by 11pm. Of course part of me disappointed by the fact there was no chance of me walking in on her again, but also hugely relieved that the last couple of night's madness couldn't continue.

I came in through the kitchen. Made less effort to keep silent. Loud footsteps and clearing my throat.

"Annie, I'm back." Said it loud enough, but conscious of my son upstairs.

I walked, not crept, to the living room. And then I heard her.

Those moans. Again. Starting as I was almost on her. I paused mid-step. Fuck. She'd replied to my text. She'd acknowledged it. This wasn't an accident.

And of course instead of turning round I was edging closer and I was standing in the doorway of the living room. And there she was. Skirt risen up again. Hand down inside her panties. Writhing and moaning. My shirt wasn't in her hand. Not this time. But I was only there a moment when her eyes opened. She looked right at me.