The Babysitter's Obsession

Transcript

It's your day off, I'm not expecting you. The kid is at daycare, my wife is at work, you're not even sure if I'm working from home today. You tell yourself you should have asked or hinted or just told me your plan, but it came on you all of a sudden, that terrible urge to be bad.

You were alone in your bed last night and you just started thinking about my cock. It's not a pretty thing by itself, a penis. You and your girlfriends have been sent enough dick pics to know they come in all shapes and sizes and none of them are particularly appetizing by themselves, but you've discovered there is a world of difference between an unsolicited penis and a dick you know intimately.

Last night you told yourself to stop, that dwelling on this will just get you in trouble, that you'll end up ruining a good night's sleep staring at the ceiling and wondering what I'm doing with it, my cock. If I'm washing it, ignoring it, manhandling it, thinking about you, if I'm sliding it into my wife. And then you were locking your door, curling up in bed, trying to move your fingers like my fingers the last time I had you to myself, and imagining how scared you were the first time I forced my manhood into your damp little hole.

We were fooling around in my bedroom. You just put my son down for a nap and we'd crossed paths on the stairs. My fingers slid through yours and I tugged you back upstairs.

No, you said, you had to wash dishes. But I'm the boss, I said. So you let me lead you back up the stairs.

Because I am the boss, and ever since I started touching you, you haven't been able to help yourself. A good girl would know better. A good girl would call me coercive, adulterous, reprehensible.

But you know you're not a good girl because when I call you that, all you can think about is doing very bad things. That's my good girl, I whispered to you as I shut the door behind us and pulled you into a tight embrace. It started off familiar.

I've been deprived for many years, so most days it was enough to kiss you, whisper dirty things to you and touch your younger forbidden body. My big hands clasped your trembling ass. My hungry lips nibbled on yours, but you could feel that afternoon a more urgent desire.

I need you, I growled in your ear. And the raw passion in my voice, the strength of my fingers fanned that hot, guilty fire in your stomach. Anything you want, Daddy, you heard yourself say.

Had you meant that? Or had you said it only to see what it would do? You'd never indulged the attention of an older man like this before.

Flirting, a kiss, a steamy chain of emails to a professor, yes. But this was on my bedroom floor. It happened so fast.

From standing on your tiptoes, sucking on my tongue, to lying on the carpet letting my big hands peel your shorts down. My cock was in your hand. My fingers were in your pussy.

And you broke the kiss to look at it. My cock, so big, so thick, so alive. It's not a pretty thing by itself, a penis, but the way the head was bulging, slit, dripping, the way I was moaning for you made your mouth water.

This was the bedroom I shared with my wife, the mother of your charge, and this was so wrong. But there is that part of you that makes you such a good caregiver that can't help wanting to prove why you're worth this sordid behavior. To give daddy a reason to touch you again.

And there is that slutty part of you that just wanted daddy in your mouth. Oh, it had been a long, lustful road to here. From days spent laughing, to hugs that lingered too long, to the feel of my eyelashes against your cheek, to kisses, exploring, pictures, and afternoons like this that began tame and ended with your lips glistening with a married man's semen.

Your phone had slipped from your pocket and there were two notifications waiting to be answered on the floor. One from my wife, asking if you could work an extra hour tomorrow. One from the boy who felt you up at Emily's party last weekend.

You let out a moan of anguish when my cock hit the back of your throat, but it had very little to do with physical pain. And then it was like we were wrestling, me pulling away from you, pulling your panties down, your legs hugging me tight, even as your palms pushed against my chest. We shouldn't, you said, and then a hard, unyielding pressure against your sopping wet pussy.

I'm going to, I growled in your ear. You were scared, scared to take it this far, scared by the size of me, the ferocity of me, scared to tell me no. But just before I took the choice away from you, I stopped.

My teeth bit down on your bottom lip to bring us both back to the moment at hand. Oh, fuck me. I need you so bad, baby, but I'm asking too much.

I'm sorry. And I swung my hips away. All at once that weight dissolved off your heart.

You tightened your ankles behind my naked hips, stopped me from getting up. You wrapped your arms around my head. I was so lonely and so hard, and you wanted to know what it would feel like to give me everything I needed.

Use me, use me, daddy, you whispered. That's what I'm here for. You've never been fucked that hard before, it might as well have been rape.

There is a full-length mirror in my bedroom, and you remember gazing at yourself upside down as daddy fucked you into the floor. You watched your feet bounce in the air with every thrust, watched your own eyes go vacant, daddy, in the babysitter, inside you. My cock is so big that you had a vivid, sonar-like sense of its shape as it stretched you open.

The geometry of the head, the texture of its veins and shaft, the crush of my big, loaded balls. Oh, I was going to empty them inside you, wasn't I? Wasn't I? God bless the pill you thought as you realized this was going to happen again.

By the sounds I was making, I was unleashing years of pent-up lust into your poor, rug-burned body, but one furtive ejaculation would not compensate that creamy ledger. Now that the door was opened, which of us would have the strength to close it again? Not me.

You? My fingers sifted up into your hair and made your scalp burn. Oh, you beautiful little bitch, I growled as I bit into your throat.

Why do you make daddy feel so good? All your life you've been warned about men, older men who should know better, employers who take things too far. No one ever warned you how much you might like it.

All your life you've been told to be strong and independent and tell men no. No one warned you how good it feels to submit, to be fucked stupid like a dumb little doll. No one told you how proud you'd be when I thanked you for letting me cum in your mouth.

No one told you how powerful you'd feel watching daddy jerk off to your tits. Watching daddy jerk off to your topless pictures. No one told you a man could be so big that he'd change what you knew about your own vagina, the shape of it, the way I force it to mold over every inch of me, and how it electrifies your inner walls when I push them apart.

No one, but your best friend, told you how crazy it feels to be flipped over and fucked on all fours like a dog. Your fingernails dug into the carpet as I entered you from behind. You looked up at the dresser and saw photos of my family and my wife, and my wife.

And just beside it, the full-length mirror and our frantic bodies colliding within. Sweat dripping down my wide chest, your ass flattening against my pumping hairy pelvis. That's my girl, I purred to you as your pussy clenched around me.

Your nipples were chafing against your bra. You were staring at yourself, getting fucked, guilty, and so close to cumming. And my big hand squeezed that ass of yours like I owned it, and I told you what a good little whore you are.

Daddy's sperm inside you, gushing out. Not even your boyfriend got to use you like that. The sound you made wasn't one of pleasure or pain, but shock.

God, it was so much, you thought. Wet and hot, coating your inner walls and once more forcing your eyes up, up to the photos. This was how I'd impregnated my wife.

Maybe right here, in this bedroom, pumping her full of the same warm spunk. Your legs started shaking and you let out a high-pitched, guilty wail. You came on my cock with a heat, a vibration that thrilled you with its novelty.

You'd never been so afraid and excited at the same time. Not since your first rollercoaster ride. But now you were the ride.

Daddy's hands on your hips, still thrusting inside you. You were the ride. And Daddy's cock was wrapped up tight in your young, cheating pussy.

You can use me whenever you want me, Daddy, you heard yourself say. Again, you didn't know if that was true, but when you felt me bulge inside you and ejaculate again, your second orgasm left you blind. Your head swims with the memory and you try to keep your body still in the backseat of your Uber.

Under your short skirt, your pussy lips are so engorged that you can feel them rubbing against each other and every squirm threatens to pry a moan from your trembling throat. You're actually afraid to get up. You didn't wear panties, but you didn't think you'd be this aroused.

You didn't think you'd be this aroused already. A mixture of juice and sweat is oozing down your thighs. Your phone clutched in your hands, your hands pressed tight between your knees.

You shake like an addict without her medicine. You know this isn't healthy. It might even be, it is toxic, but you are haunted by images of my cock.

Not just how it feels and tastes, but how it must appear when it is buried in your folds, thrusting away in your warm insides. When you've gazed at my face, the pain and pleasure are so stark. Why is the act of lovemaking so violent? A constant thrusting needed to rid the male of the poison that churns inside him.

You see that clearly on my face, how badly I need it to thrust, to come, to penetrate you. And you delight in being that outlet. No, crave it.

This isn't love, it can't be, but passion. Oh yes, that passion poured into you, centered on you. How daddy dotes on you, knowing you contain the answer to all my anxious yearning.

That's why you're texting me just a mile from my house. Are you home? Are you alone? Why your feet are bouncing on the Uber's floor, wedges, you wore wedges, easy to slip off, because of what I told you.

Just a block away from the house I finally text back. Yes, I write. Busy? You ask.

Always, I write. But I got distracted by Instagram. Do you know my babysitter hasn't set her profile to private? She must want the attention, you write.

She deserves it, I say. You're a dirty old man, you tell me. Did you just wake up to tease me, I ask.

No, you say. I mailed you something. It should be at your door.

No. You hear me thunder down the stairs. I'm so big and so heavy.

No hesitation. No, maybe I'll get to it later. I'm like a kid at Christmas, hands shaking to unwrap my present.

Your own hands clutched your skirt, heart racing, the wind buffeting your face. Your own hands clutched your skirt, heart racing, the wind buffeting you when I swing open the door. My eyes are trained on the ground, searching for your package.

Instead they find your toes, your bare legs, and follow them up to where your hands grasp the hem of your skirt and pull it up to show me what's underneath. It's not fair how I kiss you. Your phone drops to the porch and one of your wedges slips free as I pull you up into my arms and moan into your mouth.

If only you could find a boy your age who massages your tongue, teases your lips, and matches your rhythm rather than imposes one of his own. Who tastes like I do. Who smells like I do, that earthy green cologne.

Who slides his hands down to cup your ass underneath the skirt and hold you to his body, devouring your soul and all the flavor of your lip balm. I kick the door closed behind me, leaving your phone and shoe outside. Oh, let the neighbors find it, you think.

Let them scroll through your videos of you touching yourself and posing for me. Post them all over the internet so when this whole sordid affair is revealed, at least the world will know why I couldn't resist. A year ago you would have never thought such a thing.

But I make you feel sensual. I make you feel capable of seduction. Not just with my words that even now whisper and growl in your ear how delicious you are, how lucky I am, how bad you are, and how good you are at it.

It is with every touch and glance, every crackle of energy that passes between us, you don't just feel desirable, you feel necessary. That is necessary evil. Your mouth is already wet from my hungry kisses.

Your nipples try to cut their way out of your top. Of course you didn't wear a bra, and I can feel it. Your other wedge flies off and I reach down to squeeze your toes.

I don't have a thing about feet, per se, but I do have a thing about you in my house. In my house, in bare feet and bare legs. I told you once the idea that you're naked from the waist down, with only a fashionable little skirt to hide it, is arousing to the point of intoxication.

That's my baby I purr as I pull you with me onto the couch. That's my filthy little princess I growl as I rip down my slacks and roll your thighs onto my lap. There is no foreplay.

I am as stiff as a board. You are as wet as a spring morning in Washington. You get only a glimpse of my big beloved penis before I seize your hips and force you down on it, under your skirt, through your bare pussy, and we moan at each other like it is the last breath of our lives.

This first time will be rough, you know it. Brutal, because the need is overwhelming. The second time will be soft.

The second time will be so sweet. Maybe even in the bed, my lips in your ear, sucking on your earlobe, or the sweet garden between your legs, getting you ready. But not this time.

Right now, in this breathless, heated moment, you grasp the back of the couch with fingers like talons, struggling to take my full length. Not even your copious juices can ignore our disparate anatomy. You are just so much smaller than me.

But I coax you through it. Please, baby. I beg between kisses.

I need you to take it. Take all of my big daddy cock. And you slide.

Daddy raises your skirt to watch you swallow him. And you slide. I fling back my head and crack my skull against the wall.

The pain is nothing to the sensation of you forcing yourself down on me. Baby girl, I moan as my enormous hands massage your ass. I am so proud of you.

So in love with your pussy. A cunt half my age, gripping me tight. You slide down to my hilt and you feel it under your ribs.

A cock twice your age, threatening to split you open. And then I gather your ass into my hands and lift you back up. You feel every vein, every inch of daddy roll through your stretched opening.

And you scream at my ceiling. The same scream you unloaded into your pillow last night when you were fucking yourself and picturing this very moment. Except now daddy is lifting your shirt, pulling your tits into his mouth, and pushing his thickness up into your drooling cunt.

You wanted to spend your day off with me, I groan.