The Babysitter and the Widower

She whispered, "I'll tell you later when the kids aren't around. I won't leaving you hanging all day."

There is no way this girl could read my mind that well.

"How..." I started to question. I knew she was a psychology major, but this level of clairvoyance was downright scary.

Before I could get the rest of the sentence out, she put her hand up and nodded her head back at the kids. She was right; I didn't want her to say anything they could hear. How does this 21-year-old girl stay so composed?

The rest of the morning went by rather quickly. The rain kept everyone inside for most of the day, so Lizzie never got a chance to put her skates back on, and my cock never had the opportunity to approve of it. Lizzie made lunch for all of us, and after we finished eating, she sent the kids downstairs to the play room. I sensed that she wanted to talk, and I wasn't wrong.

There was something sexy about her feet. I don't remember having paid attention to them before this morning, but her toes were aligned perfectly, and the green toenails looked great. I didn't think of myself as a foot person, but Lizzie's feet were perfect. She stood motionless in the front room.

"Do you like my toenails, Paul?" She flashed a smirk at me as she asked me this. She had caught me.

"Lizzie, let's talk about this morning. What the hell is going on?" Why did you ask if I have had sex since Heather got sick? What do you think you know?"

She chuckled. "What order do you want me to answer those questions in?"

I was embarrassed that I blurted out all these questions, but I rambled on.

"Your family has been so good to me over the years. I hope you never got the wrong impression of me. I loved Heather with all of my heart and I never cheated on her. She felt so awful for me when she got sick. She hated being a burden. She just wanted a normal life." I couldn't stop. I had no idea where this was coming from, but I was equal parts scared, intrigued, and upset.

"Slow down, Paul. I get it. I know." Her attempt at empathy drove me into deeper confusion.

"There it is again. You know. You know WHAT?" I was talking loud enough now that Sarah could vaguely hear me from the basement. She yelled up because she thought I was talking to her.

"Paul, relax. Seriously. Let me grab a couple beers from the fridge."

Holy shit. I couldn't wait much longer. I was going to burst if I didn't crack this girl's code very soon.

Lizzie came back with two cans of Coors Light and handed me one. She sat down right next to me on the front room couch, and I didn't know how to feel about it.

"Heather and I talked a lot, Paul. She told me everything. When my mom was going through her problems, Heather was there. She helped me when I had my first period. She gave me advice about boyfriends. She taught me how to accept my flaws." She gazed off into space, the first sign of vulnerability I had seen of her.

"I didn't know your mom had issues. What happened?" Although I wanted to pull more information about Heather from her, I had to know what was wrong with Kathy.

"She had major drug and alcohol addictions. She almost died from an overdose when I was 14. When she came back from rehab, she was mean and sometimes violent. Heather was always there to calm me down if things got shitty while my dad was at work."

"Honey, I had no idea. I'm so sorry." I don't think I had ever called anyone "honey" other than my wife. I knew Heather walked down the street quite a bit to help the girls with their homework, but maybe there was more to that story. Lizzie obviously didn't want to elaborate. After a few seconds of awkward silence, I asked, "What else did you talk about?"

Lizzie shifted her position so that she was looking right at me. Her eyes welled. "She felt awful that she couldn't please you after she got really sick. She was so thankful that you rearranged your entire life to take care of her. She was mortified that she couldn't repay you."

I was sweating as Lizzie continued to tell me things I already knew about my wife. She shared info about our finances, our miscarriage, and our marriage counseling from years ago. I started to relax. Bad idea.

"Paul, she told me about your fetish."

I almost threw up. Not only did my wife apparently know my deepest, darkest secret, but she shared it with the girl down the street! Again, the dam burst and the questions came roaring out.

"How did she know about it? When did she tell you? What did she tell you? Who else knows?"

She grabbed my hand and began to cry. Lizzie the psychologist could tell that she had touched the ultimate nerve. She found my emotional G-spot.

She leaned over and kissed my cheek.

Now, we were both crying, and neither one of us knew exactly why. "It's ok, Paul. I'm here for you." I have no idea why I needed to hear that or what it meant, but I looked her in her ocean blue eyes and started to kiss her. She engaged for a few seconds, then pulled away.

"Paul, we need to finish talking about this."

She still had small streams of tears running down her face.

"The spandex shorts. The nail polish. The roller skates. The couples skate. I think I get it now." I couldn't believe what was happening. My wife had asked Lizzie to take care of me.

"She knew you liked me, Paul, even though I look nothing like Heather. She was a goddess." Lizzie was spot on.

"So, who else knows?" I said the world's fastest prayer, hoping that my secret was now just our secret.

"The only person I told was Jen. We don't keep anything from each other."

"Oh shit, Lizzie. Did you have to share this with her?" I managed to smile at my own rhetorical question. I knew the sisters were best friends from the moment I first met them. "So where do we go from here?"

She leaned back over to kiss me. I didn't resist. Her tongue sent a feeling through my body that had been foreign for several years. She pulled back and looked at me.

"I don't want you to think I'm a slut, but I just want to please you. I want to cook for you. I want to help you with the kids. I want to suck your dick every once in a while."

We both laughed aloud. Heather never talked dirty, so to hear that coming from Lizzie's mouth was a new experience.

"Lizzie, please don't feel like you owe me anything or that you have to fulfill Heather's wishes. I know she meant the world to you, but you are your own person and you can make your own decisions."

She mockingly cracked back at me. "Thanks, Dad. I'll keep that in mind."

"Don't you ever call me that again, young lady!" We smiled and she looked hard at my face. I had aged quite a bit under the stress of taking care of a dying wife. Lizzie knew that, and her eyes told me she wanted to make my life easier.

While I was contemplating kissing her again, she reached over and began unzipping my shorts.

"Lizzie, what are you doing? We can't do this now. The kids are downstairs."

"They can't hear shit. They are playing video games. Just keep quiet."

Holy shit. This was really about to happen. I wasn't sure how comfortable I was with all of this, but we weren't turning back now. Naturally, she picked up on my anxiousness.

"Just let me know if you don't feel comfortable with this."

If mind-reading was her specialty, sucking a dick wasn't far behind. She pulled my shorts down to my ankles as I laid back on the couch. My cock was well on its way to its seven-inch capacity when I noticed Lizzie looking at me funny.

"Do you always wear two pairs of boxers?"

I laughed hard. "No. I doubled up this morning thinking it would help keep my friend down there from making a scene."

"Seriously? It didn't work." Lizzie shot me a sarcastic roll of her eyes.

She removed the last two barriers between her and the Anderson magic, and took my cock in her mouth. I squirmed so violently that I almost bashed her in the face with my knee. She pulled back quickly and stared at me with a grin.

"Do I need a fucking helmet to suck your dick?"

Again, the foul-mouthed babysitter made me laugh. "Shut up and keep going," I ordered. This time, she rested her elbows on my thighs and began working. As her head bobbed up and down, I moaned my approval, apparently a bit too loud for her liking.

She spit me out again. "Will you shut the fuck up? The kids will hear you!"

"You said they can't hear shit. You're just teasing me now."

She reengaged and I knew I wasn't long for this game. As her head jerked faster and her elbows dug deeper into my legs, I started panting like a dog between long groans. In the middle of a breath, I was able to get out the word "soon" so she could decide how to finish me.

There was no interruption, and the thrusting of her face intensified. I grabbed her hair and convulsed quickly, shooting load after load down her throat. She finally came up for air and I tried to take a deep breath with lung capacity I hadn't recovered yet. Still fully clothed, she ran into the bathroom to grab something to clean me off.

"Holy fuck, Liz. That was incredible." I thought for a few seconds about what I would say to her when she came back out, but that was all I could muster.

"How long will it take you to reload that thing?" Her bluntness was refreshing, but I had no idea how to answer her.

"I think we have gone far enough today," I told her unconvincingly. "The kids can't stay down there alone all afternoon."

"That wasn't my question. Do you think you could go again?"

I gambled, something I was never good at.

"No guarantees. What did you have in mind?"

Lizzie didn't answer. She walked out of sight, and I heard the front door open and close. Did she just walk out on me? Was she going home to tell Jen? Did the kids hear the door?

I sat up on the couch and took a deep breath. Less than three hours ago, I was prepared for a normal day of work in a quiet house as our babysitter took my kids out for some fun. Now, I was contemplating the decisions that led to falling onto the hardwood floor of a roller rink, having my deepest secret exposed, talking about my wife, and watching my cock sag against my inner thigh after having been sucked dry by that same babysitter. Life moves quickly.

After what seemed like 15 minutes passed, but was likely only two, I heard the front door open and close again. I called out for Lizzie but nobody answered. Just as I was scrambling to pull both pairs of boxers back on, I heard Lizzie before I saw her. The unmistakable sound of wheels on the floor brought a wry smile to my face.

Lizzie skated into the front room wearing just a sports bra and her spandex shorts. Her breasts were peeking over the top of the bra, and they danced a bit when she braked to a stop right in front of me.

"I don't know if this is a good idea." I was trying to persuade myself as much as her.

"He thinks otherwise." Lizzie motioned toward my swelling reinterested cock.

I didn't put up a fight. Lizzie skated closer to me, turned around, and grabbed the edges of her shorts. She teased me for a few seconds by wiggling her ass before she finally removed the spandex that was keeping me from a view of perfection.

"Do you like what you see?" I was speechless. It was as wonderful as I had imagined, having ogled her backside for the last few years.

"What are you going to do to me?" My question was more an invitation for her to get creative rather than a hard inquiry.

She turned and looked at me but didn't answer. As she looked down and took my fully primed cock in her hand, it became evident that one of my many fantasies was about to be realized.

Lizzie Johnson, my 21-year-old hot blonde babysitter from down the street, sat on my cock while wearing roller skates. The implausibility of the moment almost distracted me from the sensation that went through my body. Lizzie propped herself up on the front stoppers of her skates and bounced up and down on my Anderson magic.

I ripped off her sports bra and reached around to grab two handfuls of her glorious breasts. Her nipples could have cut diamonds, and she squealed when I pinched both of them at the same time. This caused her right skate to fly from under her and pushed my cock even farther into her as she struggled to regain her balance on her brakes. There was something beyond sexy about having a girl on skates slipping over and over again from her intense recoil.

After about a half dozen times of losing her balance, she threw her legs up in the air and spun 180 degrees while I was still inside her. She swung her left leg over my head and straddled me with her skates. I finally got to look at her while she was making my dreams come true. She was a sweaty mess, but perfectly gorgeous at the same time. Her breasts bounced up and down as she rode me like a horse, with every vault of her pelvis seemingly more forceful. I grabbed her hair and pulled her to my mouth, with our tongues dancing a tango.

Her muffled moans turned into suppressed screams, as she climaxed before me. She threw her head back and screamed like an Irish banshee. I covered her mouth as her orgasm ended, and she laughed hard enough to nearly give herself a black eye from her bounding boobs.

Lizzie jumped off of me and spun around in a circle on her skates. She kneeled down between my legs and grabbed my aching cock with both of her hands. As she jerked up and down, I thought I heard one of the kids come up the stairs. I yelled out, "Stay downstairs. Daddy and Lizzie are talking."

All of a sudden, we heard someone say, "That doesn't look like talking. What in the absolute fuck are you doing, Elizabeth Ann Johnson?"