Claiming the Babysitter

Transcript

The room is dark when you open your eyes and for a moment your mind swims, blank of details, blank of memory. Wet. You're so wet.

You shudder, the muscles in your stomach rippling as the place between your legs radiates an almost unbearable heat. Moisture pools beneath your naked buttocks. Something slides between the soft flesh of your vulva and your quivering thigh.

Wet. Too wet, you think. But you're still half asleep.

Are you dreaming? Outside a street lamp illuminates an unfamiliar ceiling and the shadow of a tree swaying in the relentless rain. It is still raining.

You can hear cars outside and the ghost of a memory returns to you. It was raining when you closed your eyes and went to sleep. This isn't your bedroom.

You didn't want to drive in the rain. The rain from that bleary nothingness comes a sharp, stabbing panic. Is there a crack in the ceiling? Is that why your thighs are so wet? No, no, no.

It's not just your thighs that are wet. Another wave of panic seizes you as you fear you've wet yourself in your sleep, but no, that couldn't be it. Oh, but it's so warm.

And then my tongue sweeps over your clitoris, and you know exactly where you are. Your breath catches in your throat and makes your breasts shiver. Your shirt has been pushed up to your neck, and your nipples harden in the cool evening air.

Your thighs clench around my wicked stubble, and your fingers dig into my scalp. Yes, you know it's me. You know my scent.

You know whose house you dared to sleep inside. I growl into your pussy, and you clamp your fingers over your own mouth, with the last vestiges of sleep still clinging to your foggy brain. You don't know if you scream.

You don't know if you'll wake the whole house. Wake the boy. Wake his mother.

I should not be here between your legs. I suck your clitoris between my lips, and you arch your back. Anger mixing with lust, mixing with fear, mixing with an aching, throbbing emptiness that must be filled.

You have never been so wet. You don't know where your panties are. I've taken them, or thrown them into some dark corner of the room.

With your shirt bunched up around your neck, you are naked from the breasts down. My fingers are clamped onto your wiggling buttocks. My nails sunk deep into plump skin.

You can already feel the bruises forming. You won't be wearing a bikini for a long time. Lying crosswise on the bed, your legs are splayed open, and my mouth devours your helpless pussy.

Both your hands are now pulling at hanks of my hair. You need to tell me to stop, that this is dangerous, wrong, wrong, dangerous, dirty, naughty, bad, bad, bad. One of my fingers slips beneath my chin and rolls firmly through the lips of your vagina.

It spins. Your hand returns to your mouth, your teeth biting into the soft flesh of your palm. Outside, the rain pours but cannot mask the obscene sound of your employer, the boy's father, feasting on your naked pussy.

How long I've been at it, you do not know, but the saliva runs like a river beneath you. There will be a damp spot here for hours, and the scent of sex will linger. My wife will surely know.

You struggle to form the word without crying aloud. No, no, I can't do this. No, you can't let me.

No, the risk is too, too high. But no is not the first word that slips between your lips. Daddy, you whisper.

Oh, daddy. Maybe you're still disoriented. Maybe my tongue and finger inside you have confused your reeling senses.

But daddy, not no, is the first word. And at the sound of that daddy, I groan like a beast and rise from your sopping mound. You don't call me daddy to my face.

It's always an aside while you're caring for my son. Daddy's going to work. Say bye bye.

Daddy had a long day, huh? What's daddy up to? As I rise from the bed, the street lamp outside paints my skin in amber light.

You see that I, too, am naked below the waist. My penis throbs thick and angry, and your eyes widen. I am larger than your boyfriend, but that is not what sets your knees to shaking and your stomach rippling like a pond beneath a fearsome wind.

I am so hard that you know I can't be satisfied by anything less than your wet, defenseless pussy. Defenseless is the word that screams in your mind. I have stripped you of your clothing, pulled out your breasts, and dragged your body across this bed, the guest bed, my bed.

Your pussy is already creamy, your skin sparkling with my saliva, my bed, my babysitter. Your teeth bite deeper into your palm. For months, there was nothing between us but the day-to-day interaction of me going to work and leaving you with the boy.

Good morning, good evening, goodbye. But something changed. I began to notice you in the way I should not.

Conversations grew longer. Small jokes became inside jokes. Small glances became inappropriate, lingering looks.

Nothing was ever said out loud, but my hunger for you became too obvious to ignore. But what of it? I am not the first father you caught staring at your ass.

I am the first to seize it. I am the first to kiss it, bite it, and swing my big dick over your naked thighs. Daddy, no, you whisper as my lips find yours and my penis slaps against your belly.

But the no is teasing, taunting, honest but sensual, reluctant, pleading, moaning. I am heavy on top of you, and you can't help tasting yourself on my tongue. Can't help my tongue from invading your mouth as it invaded your pussy.

Can't help digging your ankles into my thighs and pressing your burning vulva against my hairy scrotum. The no should seem so clear, but you whimper daddy like it fills your whole world. I am at least fifteen years older than you, nearly two decades, married, with a mortgage, a child.

You are fresh from college, with a boyfriend who says he loves you. You try not to think of any of that, and yet the guilt twists your heart, makes you twinge, makes you throb. This is all so wrong, and yet the heat inside you only builds.

You can feel how madly I want you. I am less a man now than a ravenous animal. I am claiming you, ravishing you, must have you because my cock is too hard, too insistent to ignore.

You've never felt a man so hard, never heard a man growl your name in your ear, never felt his muscles bunch from the exertion of restraint. Will I fuck you or tear you apart? They'll hear you whisper, and my answer does not surprise you.

It is the only answer you could expect. I don't care. I need you.

It is a confession, guilty, and so relieved to finally speak the words out loud. I confess to you. I need you.

I need you. You reach between my thighs and grasp my swollen cock. I can't take this, you tell me.

It's too big. Maybe that's true. Maybe it's a tease.

Would you know as well as I that I've gotten you so wet you could take me if I was twice as large? Tell me no and mean it. I grunt into your neck.

My teeth almost puncture your skin and you wince. She will see. He will see.

The world will know. So there's no use in holding back. Your fingernails claw down the rippling muscles in my back.

You dirty old man, you moan. It's true. You squeeze me again, your nipples painfully erect.

I am hot in your hand. No condom. Your boyfriend always wears a condom.

Always. You can't remember if you took your pill today. You gazed at me and then my wife and asked if you could stay the night.

You don't like driving in the rain. And when her back was turned, you looked at me again. I will spend the night in your house, in your guest bedroom.

What are you going to do about it, daddy? I am going to fuck you and I search your eyes for dissent. You don't say no.

You don't say yes. You can't, you whisper. I can't stop kissing you.

My teeth tease playfully at your full trembling lips. You'll hurt me, you warn. I might.

This hurts everyone. Everyone who knows. And you want it to hurt some.

You want to know that I've been. You want to feel me force my way inside you. You do.

You don't. You kiss me. You don't.

You can't. I can't. But you're so wet.

Your nails claw at my scalp. I've done this to you. I've opened you.

And yet for all my bestial desire, I covent you like a precious jewel. Hurt you? I don't want to hurt you.

I don't want to hurt anyone. But my cock hurts. It pains me.

It strains against the skin, throbbing against your belly button. My balls pulsing against your pussy to the beat of my heart. And your heart, deep beneath your breasts, I feel it beating, slamming.

And you moan. I don't really want to hurt anyone. But you hurt me every time you wear those shorts, those yoga pants.

You hurt me every time you traipse barefoot through my home like a spring nymph taunting my age and the ring around my finger. I suck on your tongue. And when I finish, you rub your little tits against my nipples.

Do you think you own me, you whisper? Because you pay me by the hour? Because I'm sleeping in your bed? In your house? Because I care for your child? And because I do not shame you for looking, fantasizing, craving? I own you, I growl.

Tonight, I own you. Oh daddy, why do you make me misbehave? Because you like knowing how much you turn me on.

But you're irresistible. You know that I laid awake for hours tonight, raging inside myself, eyes staring at the ceiling, wife asleep beside me, commanding myself to resist. To not do what every masculine hormone in my body is hardwired to do.

To stalk down the stairs like a hunter in the night, pull your sheet aside, and lap at your ripe womanhood, a tiger claiming his prey. Every muscle in my body tenses and your eyes roll back. I'll scream, you warn me.

Again, I growl. I don't care. Then give it to me, daddy.

Your eyes tell me. Ruin me. Take me.

Take it now, you hiss. Now, daddy. Now.

I cover your mouth to keep your moan from waking the entire neighborhood. As my cock first penetrates your dripping slit, you stretch, your back arches, and the sound vibrates through your stomach and rattles every limb. The rain drums on the ceiling as I feed my angry cock into your soft, aching heat.

You clench around me, young and wet. There is no turning back now. I am inside you and still pushing.

I am inside you because I need you, because my penis must be buried to the very hilt. My balls crush against your soaked buttocks and your toes dig, dig, dig into my calves. Dirty old man, you whisper.

I grab your hair and thrust again. This time my hand does not clamp over your mouth and your grunt flees into the silent house too loud, but I am too far gone to care. The muscles in my forearm bulge against your back as I sweep you up and suck your nipple into my mouth.

I bite down and thrust again and you can feel years of sexual frustration, married desolation being pumped inside your defenseless body, defenseless and yearning. Fuck me, you beg me. I pull your hair harder and my balls slap your thighs.

Give it to me, daddy. Let it all out. Use me.

Use me like you've always wanted. You tell me. With a savage grunt, I pull out.

Your pussy clings to me, ropes of your cum following my withdrawal and still shivering between us as I flip you onto your stomach and sink my talons into your ass. You bite the mattress as I peel you open, lining the head of my cock up with your pussy and once more plunging home. I grip your hips and spank you as loudly as I dare as I force you deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper into the mattress.

I take your hair again, taut around my knuckles. I cup your small breast in my big palm and claim you all over again, again and again. You convulse around me, your guilt melting into a pleasure beyond justification.

You've been horny before, your boyfriend's horny before, but the lust I pour inside you is another devil entirely. This is an exorcism, a release of pent-up frustration months, years in the making. Your body is the crucible and I purr like a man possessed.

I cannot fuck my wife like this, you know. Your boyfriend is too young to know this fevered desperation, never so big or so hard. Your boyfriend knows that you are beautiful and he likes fucking his beautiful girlfriend, but to daddy you are heaven sent, an oasis in an arid wasteland, wet and inviting, tight and needy, greedy for more.

The slap of flesh against flesh is all you hear, not the rain, not the creak of the mattress or the shaking of the comforter, the pounding of my hips, my heavy balls and your nipples zipping against the damp sheet. The air is also damp, a swamp of arousal and perspiration and my fingers glide over the beads of it leading into the prominent swell of your ass. So this is what it feels like to be fucked by a real man, you think, but are.