"Mom, where is my laundry? I thought you put it in the dryer."
"No, honey, I had to throw in a load of your father's undershirts. I didn't wash your laundry yet."
Fuck! I'm home from college on break, so I didn't bring my entire wardrobe with me. I'm a chronic overpacker, but for once I packed light and this is my punishment. Now I need a clean pair of underwear and I can't find one.
I shuddered at the horror of what I was going to have to do: borrow a pair of underwear from... my mother. Fuck my life. But it was either that or go pantyless, which I knew damn well would be asking for trouble.
I was babysitting for the Stoddards tonight.
I resigned myself to my fate and opened my mother's underwear drawer. I hate to admit it, but the contents were actually impressive. Contrary to what I expected, mom doesn't simply rotate through a selection of identical granny panties -- her undewear collection was sexy and even a little adventurous while still remaining tasteful. But only one pair of underwear still had the tags on, so by default, those became mine for the night. Unfortunately, it was a scanty lace thong with a sheer panel in front, designed to showcase the pussy, not to conceal it. Ok, not all of mom's underwear was tasteful -- this little number was downright pornographic.
When I finished dressing, I double checked my look in the mirror. I wanted to make sure the thong wasn't visible through my skirt. Mr. Stoddard doesn't need any encouragement and I was hoping to keep him off me tonight. Ever since he fucked me, I have spent more time fantasizing about his big cock than I care to admit. But things have been moving too fast and I just want to slow down and have a nice, quiet night with the girls, then come back to my parents' house and chill.
As I finished getting ready, I made the mistake of checking my phone. There was a text from Jesse. Predictably, he wants to get back together. Of course he does. He had a situation that almost any man would envy: he had a hot, nineteen year-old girlfriend who was a virgin until he started fucking her. Too bad, so sad, bro. You fumbled the bag. I feel bad for the guy, but that's not a reason to get back together. In fact, his text gives me the ick because he sounds so desperate. Mr. Stoddard would never lower himself to such juvenilia. He has too much pride as a man.
I quickly banished any more thoughts about Mr. Stoddard. I don't want to soak my mother's thong. Then I deleted Jesse's text and blocked his number. If he has something to say to me, let him say it to my face. That's how grown ups handle their business. It's time he learned how to act like one.
When I got to the Stoddards' house, I was confused; the Mercedes SUV was gone, but the Jaguar was in the driveway. Maybe they are taking two cars and Mrs. Stoddard left early?
Maybe not.
When Mr. Stoddard met me at the door, he explained that Elizabeth was staying overnight with one of her old sorority sisters. He had a mile-wide smile as he said, "Sadly, she won't be joining us for the rest of the evening."
"You seem all broken up about it," I said drily. I tentatively stepped inside, wondering why I was there. "But if you're not going with your wife," I asked, placing emphasis on that word, "then why do you need a babysitter?"
Just then, little Vivian and Emma scampered over to give me a big hug. "Katy!" they squealed with delight.
"I have to take an important meeting by videoconference, so I need you to get them dinner and off to bed. Please," he added belatedly. "I'll be holed up in my office."
"Mmmm, okay, I guess." I was skeptical.
"Come on, Katy, let's make friendship bracelets!" Vivian begged. "We have a whole kit, come see!"
As I waddled off to make homemade jewelry with the girls, I had Vivian clinging to one leg and Emma clinging to the other. "Why are you girls holding onto me like a pair of spider monkeys?" I laughed.
Mr. Stoddard laughed, too. "Don't worry," he called after me before disappearing into his upstairs office. "Daddy will take care of his little girl later tonight."
I was keenly aware that he said "girl," not "girls." I felt that flutter in my stomach, in that place that I knew his big dick could reach.
The girls and I spent an hour trying to make bracelets, but I think they got more beads on the floor than on the string. Then I made them their favorite dinner -- macaroni and cheese -- and we ate it while watching an episode of Unicorn Academy. After that, I gave them the usual bedtime ritual: a bath, fresh pajamas, and round after round of bedtime stories. I didn't have to be reminded that Daddy always reads four, so I did the same. In fact, we read five.
When I finally got them both asleep, I tiptoed out of the room, nervous about what their father had in store for me. After having the girls climbing all over me and giving them non-stop attention all evening, I just wanted to unwind and relax.
But I knew Mr. Stoddard had other ideas. As usual, he had made his intentions plainly apparent. I would need to set firm boundaries and stick to them.
Mr. Stoddard was seated at the dining room table, drinking a glass of scotch. He motioned for me to sit down.
"Did the girls give you any trouble?" he asked. By the way he looked at me, however, I knew he had other things on his mind.
"No," I said quietly, "but they have a lot of energy, so I'm pretty wiped."
Mr. Stoddard didn't say anything right away. He just swished the scotch in his glass and took a sip. "Why don't you lie down in the guest room?"
"Um, thanks anyway, but I think I'm ready to go home," I replied, absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair around my fingers.
Mr. Stoddard tilted his glass to his lips again, taking another belt of scotch, and then got up from the table and walked towards me. My eyes went wide and my legs felt leaden as Mr. Stoddard approached, maintaining eye contact the entire time.
I backed up slowly, never looking away, until I was standing in the doorframe of the spare bedroom where he told me to lie down. The same bedroom where we fucked last time.
When he reached me, Mr. Stoddard took both my hands in his and held them gently while staring into my soul. "I need to taste that pussy," he said as he released my hands, reached down and, in one smooth motion, pulled my skirt down, leaving it puddled on the floor. The moment he did, I remembered what panties I was wearing and I wanted to die.
"Well, well, well," he chuckled. His fingers danced across the lace of my thong, and he reached around to cop a feel of my exposed ass. "Pretty sexy underwear for babysitting."
I squirmed uncomfortably from his touch. Mr. Stoddard hovered over me and gently stroked my face.
