I walked down the still busy street, my coat flung over my shoulder. It was summer, and I was on my way to a new baby-sit address.
The guy was a film producer, or so he said, and he had the cutest little toddler β I'd seen pictures. I was glad I found a new place to sit, having just turned 18, being bored and low on cash. When I reached the right street, I started counting down the numbers. 28, 30, 32... 34, there it was. The house wasn't big, but not small either. Through the living room window I could see him sitting on the sofa, smart jacket and bow-tie, ready to go. As I rang the bell, he looked up and smiled at me.
He welcomed me in, and gave me a short tour around the house. "There's plenty of food in the fridge if you're hungry, and feel free to use the computer. Joshua is upstairs, asleep. I have to go now, my phone number is on the table if anything comes up."
With that he left, reassuring me that Joshua usually slept all night, and might he wake up a hug and a story usually were enough to lull him back to sleep.
First thing I did was tiptoe up the stairs, to check on the kid. He was indeed sound asleep, and cute as a button. I swiftly took a glance in the room next to his, which held a double bed, out of which one side was made. There seemed to be only men's clothes and no make-up or whatsoever, and I thus concluded my employer lived alone.
I went back down, and turned on the TV. Zapping past game shows, bad sitcoms and documentaries on the natural habitat of octopi, I settled on a half movie. The story wasn't dashing, but I liked the pictures. It was some soppy love story, and after a while I decided to get myself a soda. When I came back, a full glass of ice tea in one hand, I walked straight in on a love scene. I settled back on the couch, slightly aroused. I sipped my coke, and one hand slid under my skirt. I had made sure the curtains were closed, and I could watch the door from where I sat. The kid was asleep, so I deemed myself relatively safe.
The lovemaking went on and on, and I became more and more slippery down there. I rubbed my pussy though my tights. The woman on tv was riding her boyfriend now, grinding her hips into him. I slid down my tights, and put my hand in my panties. The woman grinded. I rubbed. The woman orgasmed, I slid my finger between my lips. And just as I was going to orgasm myself, the door opened.
Mr Rhett stood facing me, his face gradually moving from surprise to delight.
"Ah, I see you have made yourself quite at home."
I was frozen, unable to even remove my hand from my panties. I watched him as he walked into the room, begin unbuttoning his coat.
"I had forgotten my ticket, no use showing up without it." He said, taking off his coat and slinging it over the arm of the couch.
"Please, stop staring at me as if I'm Santa Claus." He smiled.
I attempted to smile back, but miserably failed. I then took out my hand, taking care to wipe it at my panties in the process. I sat up straight, and stared at him.
He smiled again, taking a step towards me.
"Did I mention you're quite the babe? I mean it. I can't say I mind having you masturbating on my couch..."
I forced a grin.
"As a matter of fact, please, continue. I think I could enjoy this."
I was shocked. Instead of going into a rage fit about me violating his hospitality, not to mention making nasty stains on his sofa, he was asking me to masturbate for him!
I thought on this for a moment. I was still rather horny and my pussy was dying for attention, and after all, I had already damaged my image of perfect college girl, so why not?