Watching as the Years Pass

Does anyone really ever understand what they're signing up for when they decide to have kids? You might think you do, you've heard the jokes and seen the movies, but really, it's quite a life changer. After my wife and I first had our daughter, it was sometimes difficult to get away for a quiet evening, what with night classes and taking care of our little girl. We needed that time, though, to get away from stress, to let our spirits grow. But who to trust, grandma lived too far, and most of our friends had little ones of their own. As the years went on, the list of numbers we were able to call for help grew, but never seemed big enough.

One day we had noticed moving trucks parked at a house across the street; as one might imagine, we were pleased to see a teenage girl helping the new family unpack.

Instantly, we were thinking of that mythical creature all parents desperately seek: a reliable babysitter.

Quickly, we made a batch of cookies and hastened over to introduce ourselves, offering our help in unpacking. The new family was very nice, and new not only to our block, but to the city as well.

The girl, Cristina, was very polite, and respectful, but very quiet. She was a tiny thing, with long wavy hair blowing in the breeze. We kept a keen eye on her, trying to detect any hint of typical surly teenage attitude, any possible sneers she might direct towards her parents. None was seen. Cristina was just barely a teenager, only 13, but very mature for her age, and she was 5 years older than our daughter, Sam, who at 8 still needed a watchful eye keeping guard.

Cristina and her family were immigrants, though they'd been in the US for a while, and it seemed like many immigrants, they had a better grasp of our country's history and traditions than most of the natives.

It was easy to become friends with our new neighbors; they were all very helpful and often offered to look after Sam when our busy careers conflicted with family duties. My wife Renee and I were both attorneys; she's worked as counsel for a big multinational corporation for years. I'm a public defender, and at that time was just starting out in a law office as well as attending night school. I got a late start after staying home to take care of Sam while Renee established her career.

Sam and Cristina bonded immediately; we could tell Cristina wasn't merely putting up with Sam's attentions, but that she genuinely liked her. At any rate, they acted more like sisters, and I noticed that Sam would often mimic Cristina's dress and activities. Cris was a good influence, she was an excellent student, and her parents were strict, no dating allowed. They were very well educated, and always stressed the importance of a good education as well as proper behavior. It made it easy for us to impose similar constraints on Sam's life.

I was often busy with classes and Renee traveled frequently, so Cristina became a fixture in our home, eating dinners with Mr. and Mrs. B, as she liked to call us. She'd make sure Sam had a start on homework, then get settled in on her own. If Renee was on a trip, Cristina would stay until I got home from class and I'd relieve her just in time to give my daughter a kiss goodnight. Cristina would sometimes spend the night as well, hovering over Sam almost like a mini mother, making sure her teeth were brushed and everything set out for the next day. Sometimes they'd camp out in front of the fire, making a tent with blankets, lots of pillows strewn about. They loved to grab old t-shirts of mine, Daddy shirts they called them, and put them on as they settled in for the night, insisting on a bedtime story, as if they were little girls. My stories must not have been too exciting, as they'd both quickly fall asleep while my voice droned on.

Those years flew by so fast, and both girls seemed to grow up even more quickly. It wasn't long before Cristina graduated high school and went off to college, surely bound for success. She came back for visits often that first year, and the stories she told impressed Sam, whose grades improved as she realized what it takes to succeed.

Although they acted like sisters, it was obvious from their looks that they weren't related. Sam looked like her mother, blonde hair, blue eyes, and very tall, even as a teenager. Crissy, on the other hand, had dark, wavy hair and curious eyes as green as a glimpse into the shallow sea, eyes that had a habit of looking deep in my soul. She wasn't very tall, but had grown into some very pretty curves; no doubt she had broken some hearts at school. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed her growth, but she'd become almost part of our family, so I was able to keep that notice in check.

One night late that summer after her first year of college, though, my resolve was strongly tested.

Crissy was over at our house, hanging out with Sam, who by that time was old enough to stay on her own but loved to hear Crissy's tales of college and visit with her whenever possible. Renee was away on a trip, she'd been gone for two weeks, and I had worked late. I'd called to check on Sam, she mentioned that Crissy was there for pizza and a movie, and would just stay the night. That worked out well, it meant I could stay at work late and not worry.

I got home around 10, most of the house was dark, and the tv was blaring in the living room, music videos playing. No one was there. I went upstairs and saw the door to Sam's room open, I could see her sleeping on the bed, blankets kicked off and a huge Long sleeve thermal keeping her warm. As I walked further down the hallway, I could hear a man's voice coming from my room. Alarmed, I stopped at the doorway and peeked in. Crissy was there, leaning against the post of the bed, her back to me, dressed in a red Daddy shirt with a tiny, tight pair of black shorts peeking out from under, watching a video on our tv. It was a video Renee and I had made a few years earlier, one that I had been watching the previous night. In it, Renee's hands and feet were lashed to the bedposts, including the one against which Crissy was leaning, or really, grinding. On the video, Renee was on her tummy, with her ass perched high in the air, her legs spread wide. I was in between those legs, with my cock in my hand, pressing it against her lubed up pucker.

Renee's voice on the television was hoarse as she begged me to fuck her, her sweet ass wiggling provocatively while the muscles in her arms and legs flexed as she strained against her bindings. And I was teasing her, asking her if she really wanted it, asking her where she wanted it. I had watched that video so many times, I knew how she was going to ask, I knew just how her cries sounded when I finally slipped it inside. Normally whenever that video played, my eyes were glued to her ass. This time, however, I couldn't stop watching Crissy, or more accurately, Crissy's ass. It, too, was wiggling as she pressed against that post, her shorts showing just a hint of smooth cheek.

I coughed, but she didn't hear me.

I walked closer, and I could hear her mumbling, repeating along with the video of my wife, groaning "Just fuck me, dammit"

I put my arms on her shoulders just as the video me pressed inside the video Renee's ass. At that same moment, Crissy's ass pushed back into my crotch and she started to moan. I wanted to push back, wanted to grind into her like I was grinding on the video, but something stopped me.

"Cristina! What are you doing?! Mrs. B wouldn't be happy to find you in our room like this."

My voice must have been loud in her ear; she turned around and looked at me wide-eyed, a flush on her cheeks. She pushed me away, stared at me for a moment, then started out the door, quickly, almost a run, with an apology on her lips, as if to escape before I'd noticed.

But I noticed.

I noticed the video she was watching. I noticed the bumps on her chest where her nipples were sticking out from the t shirt. I noticed the very damp spot on the front of her shorts. And finally, I noticed just how fucking hard I had become. I turned back around, glancing at the tv, on the screen I had my hand on the hips of my wife and was driving hard into her tight pucker. In real life my hand was on the corner post of the bed, rubbing the warm, damp spot where Crissy had been moments ago. I pressed my body against that post, grinding hard, and in what seemed only mere seconds began spurting in my pants, urged on by the cries of my wife from the television. After I caught my breath, I shut off the tv and went to the shower to clean up.

Cristina left for school the next day while I was at work; though she said goodbye to Sam, I never had a chance to see her, never had an opportunity to discuss what had happened. Truthfully, though, I was glad, as I wasn't really sure how to approach the whole subject.

As is often the case in life, one event that seems momentous at the time quickly dissolves and is replaced by much more pressing issues. The next few years were really a blur, with lots of change wreaking havoc into our lives. Cristina suffered the worst kind of loss, a family member taken suddenly and much too soon. Thankfully, her family grew even stronger through their loss, and she continued with her success at school.

There was loss in our family as well, but loss of a different kind. Renee and I split up, and Sam took it hard. We had always been the picture of a perfect marriage, but really is there such a thing? The reasons don't matter, I think we both had grown up as time went on, and neither of us was the same person we had married. But it was not easy making sense out of any of that, not easy explaining to Sam what was going on. We tried our best so that she'd not hate us both, and at least that part worked out okay.

I ended up moving out for several years, to a small apartment not too far away. Renee's work travels continued, though, and then actually starting increasing; we decided that it'd be better if I moved back with Sam. So we swapped, she took the apartment, and I went back to the family home, back to the place of so many memories.

Sam seemed well adjusted, her grades had taken a slight dip, but she quickly recovered. Though I wasn't always around to see, I've heard that Cristina played a big role, often making a weekend trip from school to spend time with Sam. Perhaps they both leaned on each other. I do know that Sam still looked up to Crissy, and even decided to attend the same college. Cris had graduated by then, of course, but was still able to show Sam around and introduce her to some good people.

The adjustment continued; the house seemed so empty with Sam away at college, but at least it came alive during the summer. I didn't see much of Crissy, but I was always impressed when I did. She had grown into quite an attractive young woman, but even better, a pleasant person. She had a promising career, and a place of her own. Enough time had passed since that night in the bedroom that sometimes I thought perhaps it hadn't really happened, maybe it was only a dream. She'd even become engaged; at least someone might be enjoying that dream.

I don't know, though, sometimes Crissy's eyes seemed to have an extra bit of sparkle, sometimes her smile seemed aimed just at me. Of course, then I came back down to earth, I'd see some of her friends, and the young men that they hung around with, and I wished I could be so young again.

Sam had grown up as well, looking just like her mother had at that age; I swear sometimes when I saw her from behind, I'd get confused, with Renee's name on my lips, and the same lustful thoughts filling my mind. And then Sam would turn around, my cheeks would flush and I'd try to hide my erection. I don't think she ever noticed that, at least, though surely she heard my stutter. Maybe she figured her pops was just growing old, after all, I certainly had the grey to prove it.

One summer night, Sam came up to my office, telling me of the plans for her 21st birthday the following night. We were never a family of drinkers, though I'm sure she had experienced a party or two off at college. She mentioned that her best friend Beth would be taking her out for her first legal drink. And then she said that Cristina would be there as well, filling her old role as caretaker, probably for the last time, her wedding was set for the next month. I was glad about that, I knew Crissy would keep Sam relatively well-behaved.

Then next night was a warm one, muggy too. Sam was dressed for the heat, short raggedy denim shorts and a pretty tank top. I had figured she'd be getting dressed up to go to some fancy club, but the girls had decided instead to hang out with some boys they knew at a sports bar close to home. Beth was dressed much the same way, her shorts had even more holes, showing much more skin. I wanted to protest, wanted to tell them both to cover up, but I knew I'd just come off as an out-of-the-times old man. I figured they were adults now, they'd have to live with the choices they made. And I knew that Cristina would be there, keeping a watchful eye over the whole thing.

Not too much later Crissy showed up, apparently the girls hadn't told her they weren't going somewhere fancy. She was in heels, a short skirt and a top that hugged her figure and opened up to show lots of it off. Her hair was wavy, down around her shoulders, and I had to stop from whistling when she walked in. As she turned around in the kitchen to say something to Sam, I got a glimpse of her ass.

Holy fuck, the skirt was so short I swear I could see the bottom edge of her panties, and definitely would if she'd bend down. For some reason my mind flashed back to that night so long ago, her tiny black shorts clinging tightly to her cheeks and the damp spot in front. I quickly moved to the kitchen island, leaning against it as we talked so no one would notice the tent in my jeans.

The girls were in a hurry to go, they promised me they'd be safe, and told me Cristina could report back to me any misbehavior they got into. Sam came over to kiss my cheek, Beth waved goodbye as they walked out the door. Crissy though, lingered just a moment. She walked over to me with her arms open; we'd hugged a lot when the girls were younger, but it had been a while, and never when she looked as hot as she looked that night. Still, it would have been awkward to refuse, so I opened my arms and welcomed her. She pressed against me, her body so small in my embrace. She had to feel my arousal, but she merely whispered in my ear that she'd make sure nothing too terrible happened to the girls, and that she'd tell me all the stories when they got back.

As she pulled away, she smiled, glanced down at my jeans, then turned and walked away.

Fuuuuuuck. What had just happened?

Maybe I was losing my mind, maybe I needed to take some time off, 'cause obviously I was hallucinating.

Instead, I decided that maybe I'd just have a drink, since it seemed to be a night for that.

After taking a long, cold shower and changing into some comfy flannels, I caught up on some reading that night, built a fire with no regard for the mugginess outside, then dimmed the lights and settled in on the couch, watching sparks fly as the logs collapsed into ash. It's possible I had another drink, or maybe I was just exhausted; whatever the reason, I drifted off to a restless sleep, with visions of dancing, faceless girls flashing in my mind.

I woke after hearing the front door slam, then the sound of giggling. Crissy and Beth had their arms around Sam as they stumbled down the hallway. I don't think they noticed me while they continued past the living room and made their way slowly up the stairs. At least they made it home safe; I contemplated going upstairs and quizzing them about their night, but decided against it, I could still hear their laughter, no reason to intrude. I closed my eyes to drift off once again, the fire warm against my face.

My eyes popped open when I felt a draft, something blocking the heat from the fire. There was a silhouette, an outline of a girl, and as my eyes adjusted I realized it was Crissy. She must have changed out of her skirt, though. She saw the look of confusion on my face, laughed and told me as long as stories were going to be told, she might as well throw on a Daddy shirt and tell me in front of the fire, just like old times.

I noticed then the shirt, the same red Concert shirt from all those years ago. Fuck she looked good, the shirt came down past her hips, but didn't cover completely...my breath stopped as I saw the black boy shorts, hugging her body, showing off her curves.

Crissy smiled as she sat down on the couch next to me. She reached for my hand, took the drink I had and sipped. She said not to worry, that she had nothing but water to drink all night, that she kept Sam and Beth safe. She mentioned though that the girls would probably be sleeping late, and might have headaches in the morning.

It was tough to sit and listen to her, my eyes kept glancing down, the hem of the shirt seemed to be creeping up, revealing more and more of her silky thighs.

She spoke of the bar they had visited, described two boys that had attracted the attention of the girls. Don't worry, Mr. B, she said, I recognized them from college, they were good guys. The bar had gotten too crowded though, too loud, and the boys had invited them all to their place, only a two-minute walk from the bar.

Crissy said that as soon as they arrived, Beth and one of the boys disappeared; she mentioned being a little worried, but that her primary objective was keeping an eye on Sam.

Crissy reached for my drink again, and when she returned it, her hand stayed on mine; I noticed too that she had scooted a little closer.

"Are you sure you want to hear this story, Mr. B?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. She went on, "In the old days, it was you telling the stories."

I just laughed, told her to continue, I was afraid of what foolish thoughts I'd reveal if I spoke.

Crissy moved even closer, her lips were practically touching my ear. Her rasp sent shivers down my spine and had my heart pounding. She described how Sam and the boy ignored her, how they sat on a couch just like the one on which we were sitting. She said there was no fire, though, just a tv blaring videos. Crissy's eyebrows arched, a smirk appeared on her face as she asked if I'd rather put a video on, that she knew just the perfect one to watch.

Shocked, I guess I was rather short with my reply, telling her to "just get on with the story, Cristina."

She giggled, then slowly dragged her cheek against mine, twisting her head until our lips met. I didn't move, couldn't move, afraid I was dreaming and there was no way in hell I wanted to wake up.

But I wasn't dreaming, Cristina was kissing me, and it didn't take but a moment for me to respond. Her tongue slipped inside my mouth, I moaned, my arms wrapped around her small frame, pulling her even closer.

Crissy broke off the kiss, her hand on my chest, pushing off me, her other hand rising to my mouth, her finger pressed against my lips, shushing me.

"Don't say anything, Mr. B, I'm just showing you what happened. Sam and the boy were making out on the couch, and it was kinda hot to watch them. Have you ever seen your daughter's ass wiggling in someone's lap?"

She laughed again, then moved from the couch to the floor, sliding down to her knees in one quick sensuous motion. Crissy spoke again, so softly I had to strain to hear, her gorgeous eyes locked onto mine, "Did you ever wonder if your little girl was a good girl? Ever worry that perhaps she had a naughty streak? Guess it would make sense, right, seems like naughty runs in the family."

Crissy laughed again, her hair shaking, her eyes sparkling. Her hands were on my thighs, moving higher, towards the tent that had formed in my pjs. "Sammie was sooooo dirty, Mr. B, but I don't think the boy minded at all. Can you blame him though, you've seen her lips, you noticed them tonight, didn't you, all red and shiny, so pretty before we went out. But did you notice how smeared the red was when we got back?"