Good Girl's Confession

Briefly home from college, I babysit your kids for Christmas money. I only see you moments before you and your wife leave for dinner: pulling bills from your wallet, adjusting your tie - but during these encounters, I see how you glance at me. You scan my body, taking notes. At first I was offended - you're old enough to be my professor, if not my father. You may be well-kept, but I'm in my twenties. For a few more years, I can be with anyone. But I guess I started to look forward to your reactions, thinking: what will he think of this sweater? Will I be warm enough without tights? You like when I don't wear tights, I think - or better, when I wear stockings, adjusting them in the doorway when we both pretend you're not looking.

I stopped wearing bras to your house. I let you walk in on me in the den, wearing a tank top and panties at the end of the night, feigning sleep - I'd often fantasize about opening my eyes to find you stroking your crotch inches from my face, or gently tweaking my nipple through the fabric. Some nights I'd think about this and mute the TV and just take off my underwear, cumming on the couch minutes before you and your wife arrived.

In my favorite fantasy, your wife is elsewhere. I don't want her walking in on us; I'd rather not consider her at all. She's not the kind of woman I'd want joining in. No, she's back at the restaurant or drunk at your friends' - or maybe you two had a fight. You come home with your jacket off, your top button undone. I can tell you want - need - to relax. I get up to leave but you still me, say There's no rush.

You ask what I'm watching. I shrug. Just flipping channels. You sit beside me with your knees relaxed; one rests against mine. I tuck my legs up under me and you flip to a movie station. Suddenly we're watching something subtitled, but I'm can't pay attention. I'm focusing on my heartrate, wondering how long you'll let this go on.

When you get up abruptly, I figure our time is up, but you return just as quickly with an uncapped beer. You falter in front of the TV, ask if I want one. I shake my head. You come back to the couch and take a long sip. I wonder how much you've had already.

After what feels like a week, you ask if the kids are in bed. I nod, it's way past their standard bedtime - they tend to pass out soon after our frozen pizza/video routine. You nod back. Then, never moving your eyes from the screen, you ask if I'd like to sit in your lap. Your voice sounds strained and I realize, for the first time, something is really happening here. Something is taking place. I pause a beat, mouth open, and rather than answer, scoot up over your right trousered leg and settle in a ball between your thighs. I feel you exhale hard, then rest your left palm - so warm - on my skin. You finish your beer and we watch the film unfold in silence.

As the end credits roll, I realize I've been dozing. I jerk my head from where it's fallen against your neck, but you raise your hands, gently pulling me back. I relax, let you adjust me. Your hands loosen their grip, but begin massaging my skin, rubbing my neck, arms, and shoulders. You're slow and soft, hesitant as if expecting everything to collapse. I close my eyes, almost purring against the contact. I feel your nose nudge my ear, inhaling, and finally your palms find their way down, running lightly over my tits. I shudder at the contact, and you start - maybe surprised to feel nothing but cotton between my breasts and your hands.

I'm squirming on your lap, now, back slightly arched, when you take one arm and pin my arms to my sides. Using your other palm, you graze over my nipples, which are now pressing insistently against my large t-shirt. You carefully squeeze one between your fingers, just pinching, then harder when I don't resist, my breath labored, pushing up toward your hand. In a low voice, you ask if I'm a good girl. I nod, terrified. Thrilled. Your breath is hot in my ear: Are you my good girl? Yes. Yes. It's all the affirmation you need.

You slowly peel my shirt up over my tits, lick your fingers, and rub them in wide, wet circles around my nipples. I'm writhing now, feeling your cock tilt up in your charcoal trousers, grinding down on what I think is the head. You moan softly in response, suddenly lifting my legs so my knees rest on your knees, and pushing our legs wide open. I feel so exposed with you fully dressed. I'm wearing see-through panties and you gently bring two fingers to my clit, brushing it, feeling it harden through the fabric at your touch. You lick your fingers and repeat in a long, slow circle, getting my panties sticky. You peel the fabric off of my clit and slap it back, using the friction to get my pussy even wetter.

Now I have my hands free and squeeze my tits with them, kneading my nipples hard. You lift one hand to spank my tits gently, just making them bounce in the cool air, shuddering as you watch me writhe against your fingers. You say Touch yourself, baby. Show me what you like to do. Use both hands. That's it. You scoot your hips down and pull out your cock. It's engorged, flushed, startling in your living room. You grip it and rub my clit with your head, as I pull my underwear aside so you can feel my wet slit. We linger here - you vibrating your hard cock against my pussy while I rub and rub my little gumdrop, squirming - until you tell me to face you. Take off your panties, and get in my lap like a good girl.

I tug my underwear down and yank my shirt off, then straddle you on the couch. I feel the heat coming off your dick, I want that burn inside me, and ease myself down on you, whimpering into your neck. When you're buried inside me, pulsing, you reach down with one wet thumb and circle my clit, and your mouth is getting dirty now, telling me you want me to cum on your fat dick, calling me your wet bitch, your little pussy. Saying I'm so tight just squeezing you. You make me feed you my nipples, surrounding each with your teeth and beating them gently with the tip of your tongue. You reach up and jiggle my tits while I ride you back and forth, then grasp my hips and grind my pussy down on your cock. When I finally cum, you're pounding up in me so hard I can't breathe, and you say Go for it, baby, yes princess, soak Daddy's balls and I say Daddy, Daddy, I'm cumming all over your dick.

That one gets me everytime. Maybe someday you'll make my dreams come true.