“Don’t you want to fuck me too?”
The 18-year-old babysitter’s words echoed in my mind in the next few days at my soulless office, which was lit in a permanent florescent noonday glow. The night after she gave me the blowjob, I paid Kristine for her time babysitting, and told her to go home. As much as I wanted to take her up to my bedroom and have my way with her, I simply couldn’t risk the fact that my son might hear us.
After his mother’s passing Luke had had trouble at school. Not acting out, really, more like the opposite. He withdrew and stayed alone on the playground. A teacher found him sitting in the sandbox where the younger children play, quietly sifting the sand through his hands, staring into the dust it stirred up when it hit the ground.
“It’s like he’s having an existential crisis, and he’s only ten,” Mrs. Lehmann, the school counselor, told me. She didn’t know if this was normal behavior for children who had lost parents. She didn’t have any recommendations, except that I keep an eye on him and try to get him to talk about his feelings, which I did anyway. Her eyes were visibly moist, and when she talked about the teacher finding Luke alone with the sand she even seemed to suppress a sob.
I didn’t know if it was normal for counselors to be unable to control their emotions, and I decided it didn’t matter. I had a hard time myself sometimes.
For this reason and many others, I decided I could not see Kristine again. The moments of lust that we had shared for time that she was stretched across my lap and while she sucked my cock had been a welcome change from the constant drudgery of my life after my wife’s death, which consisted of the gym, office and home. I loved my son and I loved every moment that I was able to spend with him, but I sorely missed my wife’s touch. For the first few months after her passing, I couldn’t be aroused by anything.
I even tried sleeping with a friend of my wife’s who had more or less thrown herself at me during the funeral. She was a quite attractive 40-year-old mother of two who was in great shape from her job teaching bikram yoga. We fucked for almost an hour in a variety of positions until I had to admit to her that I couldn’t feel anything and was never going to cum. She never called me back afterwards, even though she assured me that she understood. I went months without even thinking about sex. Kristine had been the first to change this.
After my decision not to see Kristine anymore, I had to hire a new babysitter. I really disliked the process. Mike, my poker buddy, had recommended Kristine to me because his oldest daughter was a classmate of hers. I couldn’t ask him for another recommendation without telling him about our encounter. I went through the process of placing ads. I knew that I was going to have to explain to Luke at some point why Kristine wasn’t coming back, so I stayed around the house for the next several weeks and did without seeing my friends or any kind of adult contact outside of work.
In the meantime, several calls came from local girls who wanted to babysit. I interviewed three of them, but they all seemed immature. I considered hiring a 19-year-old college student named Katie who seemed responsible enough, but when she mentioned her boyfriend I couldn’t help but flash back to the night I saw Kristine giving head to her friend from school, and so I told her I’d think it over, but I never called her back. I couldn’t risk hiring a slutty sitter for a second time.
Finally, I ran into an older woman from the church we used to go to who offered to sit for Luke anytime that I wanted to go out. She told me that her daughter, recently divorced, was ready to date again. Thinking I should take my mind off of Kristine, I decided to take the woman up on her offer, and to give her daughter a call as well.
Her daughter’s name was Mara, she was 28 years old, and she worked in human resources for a local company but was passionate about writing. I had no idea what this particular combination of qualities would add up to in person.
She was obviously expecting my call, so we moved past the formalities quickly and arranged to meet at a local TGI Fridays. I was afraid my choice of restaurant would insult her writerly pretensions but we both lived nearby and the closest non-chain restaurant was an hour in every direction.
As Friday approached, I was nervous about the date, but not for the normal reasons. I was afraid of disappointing Mara because of my general apathy; I was afraid she would feel like I was using her as a foothold on my way out of my pit of despair.
She was already at the bar when I arrived. I recognized her from the pictures we had exchanged via e-mail. She had dirty blonde hair, brown eyes, and a sympathetic face. Thankfully she was slim, which was by no means something that goes without saying the in Midwestern united states. I was relieved to see her drinking beer, and a Samuel Adams at that, which spoke volumes for our potential future compatibility.
We sat at a booth and ordered an appetizer, an assortment of small bits of food, each of which had lost its individual particularities of appearance and flavor during its trip through the deep fryer. I was relieved to discover that Mara was not a vegan.
After the appetizer, our beers were almost empty. Now was the time to decide whether or not we would have a second drink. Mara had proven herself to be an engaging conversationalist. She had worked for newspapers, had lived abroad, and had taken the job in the HR firm as a way to save money before launching a career as a freelancer. I was pleasantly surprised.
As we asked the waitress for another round, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. Thinking it might be from Mara’s mom who was sitting for Luke, I excused myself quickly and took it out to read it. I was completely unprepared for what it said:
“Hi Mr Richards. So you decided to come see me at my new job? I’ll meet you in the men’s room in 5 min. â Kristine.”
“Everything ok?” asked Mara as I stared at the screen.
“Yeah. Yeah everything’s fine. It’s the phone company telling me they’re going to deduct my bill for this month,” I said.
I tried to smile as if nothing had happened. On the one had I was angry that Kristine was trying to ruin my date with Mara, but on the other hand, I couldn’t forget the image of my spunk coating her beautiful teen face and her licking it up with gusto. In the end, my cock made the decision for me.
“Could you excuse me for a second?” I asked, “I have to go to the restroom.”
The men’s room was handicapped-accessible, that is, it was a large room with no stalls and a lock on the door. A few seconds after I went in, I heard a faint knock. My heart pounded as I turned the knob and Kristine bounded in, her perky breasts poking out from under her unflattering TGI Friday’s uniform. She turned quickly to lock the door behind her then jumped up to give me a peck on the cheek.
“Happy to see me Mr Richards?” she asked.
“Surprised is more like it.”
“But you’re a little happy?”
“Part of me is happy.”
“What part is that Mr Richards?”
“Why don’t you find out?”
She dropped to her knees and slowly unbuttoned her shirt to expose her ample cleavage. This time, her bra was black. She looked up at me playfully as she unzipped my pants.
“Are you sure your girlfriend won’t mind?”
“Are you sure your boyfriend won’t mind?”
“We broke up.”
I gasped as she took my cock in her mouth.
“What happened?”
She bobbed up and down for a moment before coming up for air.
“He caught me sucking his friend’s cock in the school parking lot.”
“Imagine that,” I said, watching my cock disappear between her thick, full lips.
“I guess my secret’s out,” she said, taking my rock hard cock out of her mouth, standing up and pulling down her uniform pants.
“Oh?” I asked, stroking my cock as she pulled down her black thong panties and leaned forward to support herself against the wall.
“I’m a total slut,” she said, taking my cock in one hand and guiding it into her moist pussy.
“Mmm,” I said, savoring the first thrust inside her, “you certainly are, aren’t you?”
I began to fuck her like I hadn’t fucked anyone before but my wife. I started out slow, then sped up, then slowed down again. I twisted my hips and Kristine moaned as my cock stroked unknown pleasure points inside her pussy. I reached around and teased her clit with my fingers. I slapped her ass so hard I left a big red handprint on it. I was so lost in the moment I almost forgot I was on a date and that Mara was waiting for me at the table.
“Cum for me you little slut,” I said as I sped up.
“Oh yes,” she cried, “Your cock feels so good.”
“Tell me you want it.”
“Oh yes Mr Richards. I want your cock.”
“Yell it. Scream it so they can hear you outside.”
“GIVE ME YOUR COCK MR RICHARDS,” she screamed.
“Yes, take it you little whore,” I said, fucking her harder and slapping her ass.
“OH PLEASE FUCK ME. PLEASE.”
She came hard on my cock, her inner muscles trembling in pleasure.
“I’m going to cum inside you,” I announced, speeding up.
“Oh yes,” she moaned, coming down from her orgasm, “fill up my pussy with your cum.”
I came in a hard burst, shooting stream after stream of hot cum into her tight 18-year-old pussy. After I had loosed the last volley, I pulled out and caught my breath. To my surprise, Kristine turned around, got on her knees, and sucked the last few drops of cum from my cock. Then she smiled up at me and said “You can go back to your girlfriend now. I hope she doesn’t smell my pussy on you when you fuck her later tonight.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I said, zipping up my pants and inspecting my clothing for traces of our encounter.
“Whatever,” said Kristine, “you’ve got my number. We should do this again sometime.”
She gave me a peck on the cheek, zipped up her pants and disappeared out the door. As I washed my hands I got another text message on my phone:
“I can feel your cum dripping down my leg ;-).” It said.
God, I thought, how am I going to deal with this woman?
