Bonus For The Nanny Ch 02

Ch. 2: "Not exactly" a date

Not bad, I thought, turning sideways to survey my profile in the bedroom mirror.

A week had passed since my last babysitting appointment with Will – and since that wonderful, wonderful night – and I had barely been able to concentrate on college, life or anything else but the coming adventure. I had, however, shopped: a thin, strappy summer dress with a brown floral print, short but not slutty, new shoes to match, and lingerie too – a pretty balconette bra with a delicate lacy trim, and matching, silky panties. I had been working on my make-up, and on the night itself I put my hair up into a style that I hoped would look elegant and mature. I so, so wanted to please him. Because I so, so wanted him again.

Oh my God, if my parents only knew, I thought, smiling at my reflection and our secret. But if they noticed my more extravagant than normal get up for a babysitting gig – please don't look up, please don't look up, I chanted in my mind like a magic spell as I scurried through the living room and to the front door – well, they didn't mention it. And I didn't care. Seven days had flown by and now Will's 'not exactly' a date with me had arrived. I tried and failed not to run across the road to his house.

***

'Katie. You look... you look just adorable.'

Will roamed all over me with his eyes as I stood in the door, and so I dropped a little curtsey.

'You like? Really?'

He took my hand – the hand, and the fingertip, that last week had led to so much more – lifted it to his lips and gently kissed it.

'I like, and very, very much. Do come in.'

I did so, biting my bottom lip and smiling to myself behind his back, giddy with the moment. Will was dressed in a jacket and open necked shirt, black jeans and – I was surprised to note – no shoes. He saw me looking at his feet as he led me into the dining room and blushed a little. Sweetly. I slipped off my shawl, revealing bare arms and shoulders, and my dress's provocative neckline.

'Yeahhhh, sorry, haven't quite had time to finish dressing tonight.' That boyish little smile. 'The kids needed extra bedtime stories, and so it was just a quick shower, throw some things on, and then into the kitchen. I didn't quite get round to socks and shoes.'

I resisted the urge to say he needn't have bothered getting dressed at all, let alone provided food. Food? Hang on, is that what we are here for? Is this actually a date? 'You look nice, anyway', I managed to say, as he led me by the hand to the dining room table and passed me a glass full of dark red wine.

'To this evening', he toasted, clinking glasses with me. 'Let's get to know each other better.' That smile again, only not so boyish now.

I took a single deep breath in, held it, and smiled back at him. Then I leant up, sighed, and kissed him on the lips.

'So darling', I said, 'what's for dinner?'

***

Thai food, it turned out. Really tasty too, and we sat opposite each other, in the candlelight, trying to make conversation. The wine helped, a bit. We talked about my uni applications; he said he would help if I needed some coaching, with a glimmer of a smile. I told him this was my very first candlelit dinner, and he said he was honoured to be sharing it with me. 'It's the most fun one I've had in a while', he smiled, regaling me with further tales of disastrous dating past.

But the conversation was stop and start... my tummy, for one thing, was too full of butterflies to concentrate on what I was saying... and other bits of my body, too, were distracting me from the lovely food.

Do you feel the same? I wondered. When will he make his move, when can we kiss again, when can we fuck like last week... I've been thinking of nothing else since, after all, and now I have to wait?

It was making me, I realised, devastatingly wet. Perhaps he knew what he was doing after all.

'Will?'

'Katie.'

'I was wondering...' – oh what to say, what to say? 'What's... for dessert?'

'I thought you'd never ask.'

He went into the kitchen and returned with a gorgeous looking pudding: layers of sponge, cream, strawberries, meringue, calories and joy. He sat down opposite me smiling. I noticed he didn't have a bowl or a spoon.

'What are you having?' I asked, suddenly worried he was going to throw me out early, that he had changed his mind completely, and that he was buying me off like the kid I almost was with a bowl of ice cream.

He smiled and looked me in the eye. I quivered inside.

'You.'

I smiled back at him, trying to hide my relief, and then I decided, well, two can play at this game. So I slowly, extravagantly, licked the drips of cream off my spoon, my fingers, and my lips.

'Well, that's a relief', I said, squirming a little on my seat, spooning up more cream, and then putting it all into my wet, open mouth at once as I held his gaze. 'Because I have a feeling you're very hungry indeed...'

He winked, then slid under the table.

For a moment, I just ate some more of my dessert, and took a sip of wine. Then I felt his fingertips on the hem of my dress, gently pushing the fabric up a little and, at the same time, parting my faintly shaking legs. I let out a little purring moan at his touch, melting like the cream inside my mouth, and gripping the cool of the spoon even tighter in my lips, as he began gently to kiss the inside of my knees, and then my inner thighs, his hands slipping up under the dress. I opened my legs wider and slumped down in the chair a little more so my panties could move closer to his warm face. I bit hard on the cold metal of the spoon.

'Enjoying dessert so far?', came a voice from below the table.

I sniggered. 'It's nice, but not very satisfying', I teased, biting my bottom lip in anticipation and closing my eyes. Then I felt his lips press against the cloth of my sopping wet knickers, kissing the outline of my lips. I gripped the tablecloth, then took a sip of wine to control myself while he backed away, his fingers pulling the panties away from me and down, slipping off my shoes as he guided them over my feet. He then started kissing me from my ankles and calves up my legs, tracing a long, lingering journey...

I couldn't bear to wait, so I reached a hand under the table, into his hair, and pulled him up quicker.

'Don't stop', I begged, as I felt his warm breath against my oozing lips once more.

'I couldn't if I tried', he murmured, and then he kissed me fully below, his tongue exploring me as if we were French kissing and the folds of my flesh could respond like my mouth's lips, my clit like a tongue against his. His fingers, meanwhile, travelled up the inside of my legs and, effortlessly, slid over my wet outer lips and up into my mound. I pushed my butt off the chair, gasping, and gripping its edges with my hands on either side, to raise myself up from the seat and give him fuller access to my body...

At which point, the chair slid out from under me and I fell, landing half on him, half in a heap on the floor, beneath the dinner table.

'Oh my God! Katie, are you OK?' he asked, trying hard not to laugh, and failing dismally. The site of him corpsing did it for me too, and suddenly the absurdity of the situation – the whole situation, but most of all this epic seduction – hit us both. I cracked up with laughter, burying my head in his shoulder to stop myself from waking up his kids, and he did the same, our bodies rocking together.

After a little, he held my face in both hands, tears escaping down our cheeks as we began to control ourselves. He didn't need to say that this was the most fun he'd had for years: I could see that was the case. Something about him was lifting. He'd been trying so hard with his dating to recapture something he had lost with Elly when she died, my Mum had said, and now it seemed, to me, that something was lifting from his shoulders. He seemed happy to be living again. And all because of me!

I kissed his smiling mouth, my tongue rubbing past his and tasting my own juices, which made me wetter still. My hands were in his hair, then pulling off his jacket, kissing his neck, and then his lithe, hairy chest as I undid the buttons on his shirt. He pulled down my dress straps, but left my bra on, as I rolled on top of him, banging my head slightly on the underside of the table, which made us both giggle again.

But not so much this time.

My cute, curvy breasts hung temptingly in front of him, their cleavage impressive in the silky padded bra, and I let them press into his face as my hands pushed down to his jeans, unbuttoned them, and discovered that socks weren't the only underwear he'd not quite had time to put on.

'Naughty Professor Will', I tutted, taking his large, eager, and very stiff cock in my hand as the other one pushed back his jeans and then slipped up to fondle his balls. I slowly rubbed the skin of his cock up and then down the hard shaft, leaning in to kiss him as I did so, his hands in my hair again, and then running all over my back and my breasts as I stroked him slowly, at first, and then stroked him slightly more vigorously.

'Do you like me, really?' I asked mischievously, trying to sound all innocent and pious, and failing in the process. He laughed at this too.

'No more teasing, Katie, please, oh please...' he murmured as one of his hands joined mine to increase the pace of my wanking. Meanwhile, his other fingers slid down my belly, making me take a sharp breath as they traipsed through my trimmed pubes then into my wetness again, gliding to my clit, encircling it, then dipping down below and deeply into me, caressing me inside, and then returning back up to the top of my mound slowly, agonizingly pausing, then beginning the circuit all over again. Only this time, so ever so slightly faster.

At the same time, my right breast slipped free of its hanging bra cup, the strap dangling off of my shoulder along with my dress strap, and he pressed into my body to kiss my tit greedily, kissing at the taut skin of my shoulder and neck, and then the softness below, before finding the tip of the stiff little nipple and sucking it into his mouth.

'Oh fuck, yes', I murmured into his hair, kissing the top of his head, my hands now working harder on his shaft, spreading the beads of gooey precum all around his swollen tip, which I exposed in full by pulling back his foreskin each time before pushing it back up, the cum lubricating it as it passed over the stiff ridge, but faster each time and more roughly, feeling his breathing growing as hard as his cock, as my own breaths started to shorten.

'Katie, damn, I'm going to cum... all over... your nice dress', he gasped against my now slippery breast, his fingers working furiously inside me, pressing me closer and closer to my orgasm too. I slid my left hand down to join his, to rub against my clit in just the right way, while my right hand tugged him harder still. 'Make me cum too', I begged him, pushing my pussy onto the trio of fingers exploring its entrance and much deeper into me, finding my innermost walls and, somewhere inside me, that place that makes time stand still when it's touched. 'Right there, right there', I panted, humping his hand as I pulled him off furiously, and then kissing him again as I felt the first preparatory spasms of his cock and my own pussy walls.

And then I felt his other fingertips, playing at the edge of the tight little hole of my arse, and that – well, that was that.

I pressed my lips against his face, gasping his name as my body convulsed, coming much harder than I'd ever thought possible just from being touched, with wave upon wave of aching joy breaking up and down my glowing body.

'Elly... oh Katie... oh Katie' murmured Will, 'I can't.. I can't...' and then his cock exploded in my hand, jets of spunk arcing up between us and landing on his chest, my bra, my dress, my belly and the underside of my tingly, dangling breasts.

And then he did something quite wonderful.

With our orgasms still beating beneath our fingertips, he slid down beneath me and then entered me, at which point his ejaculation strengthened briefly one last time before finally dying away. Still hard, he slid in and out of me, gently, given our sensitive states, but also hard enough to push me back over the top for one last set of spasms. 'Oh my God, oh my darling', I cried as I lay there upon him, shuddering, whispering his name over and over, his creamy wet cum glueing our torsos together, my beautifully prepared hair now undone and trailing all over his face. As the orgasm slipped away, I found myself loving him for the way he'd just taken me so completely, and yet so unexpectedly, and so lost in the moment that, as far as I could tell, he had no idea of what he'd just said about Elly. Or did he know? If so, what does it mean?

***

We lay together for the longest time, occasionally kissing. Then I asked him, hoping for seconds: 'What's for coffee?'

'Just coffee', he smiled, looking at me kindly, as always, and now also as if he wanted to ask me a question. But he didn't. He just pulled his jeans up and went to make the coffee.

As I adjusted my clothes, using a napkin to clean up the cum and feeling glad I had brought along my shawl, which would hide the wetter patches when I made my way back home, I battled with my confusion. Looking for answers, I browsed along the pictures on the dining room mantelpiece. There she was: so beautiful and, in these shots, so young. Just after they'd met in their first year at university, I guessed. 19, or maybe 20. Not so much older than me.

And then it hit me. I was just about to go to university too. And, looking at these pictures, I could see that the Young Elly – curvy, smiling, longish brown hair, pretty if not devastating, happy, so very full of life – had more in common with me than I'd ever imagined.

'Here you are', he said, suddenly behind me, handing me my coffee, slipping a hand around my waist to turn me to him.

Where is this going, I wanted to ask him, but couldn't: what do you want from me? Instead I just kissed him again, then sipped the dark and bitter drink.

I only know one thing for sure, right now, I thought. I don't want this to end.

What to say, what to...

'So, this coaching for university?' I murmured, looking up at him with my big brown eyes, and holding his look as I theatrically licked the final, carefully saved drop of cum from the tip of my favourite finger:

'Will it be... thorough?'

I hope so. Oh God, I do hope so, I thought, as I licked and I swallowed and waited.

He smiled. It certainly would.

(To be continued.)