It was a hot and mucky day and I was feeling hot and mucky and irritable. I was also babysitting and I can assure you that chasing around after a couple of little imps does in no way alleviate your hotness or muckiness. It just adds tiredness to the mess that is you.
Sleepiness finally hit the little devils and they transformed into little angels, dead to the world, and hopefully they would remain that way.
With them out of the way I flopped back on the couch and cursed the fact that the Wilson's AC had broken down on a Friday. No-one was coming to repair it until Monday which was highly unfortunate. It wasn't that I was worried about the Wilsons having to sweat it out until then but the fact that I had to sweat it out right now that bothered me.
I was tempted to go and take a cold shower but Mrs Wilson would be home soon. Not Mr Wilson, though, as he was interstate, or so I was led to believe.
Mrs Wilson finally rolled up, walked in the house and started complaining.
"My god, it's like a sauna in here. How can you stand it? We have a fan. Why don't you have it turned on?"
"It is on," I told her. "In the kid's room. I thought it would be better in there and would help keep them asleep."
"Good thinking, Number Ninety Nine," she said, "but still. I'm sweltering here and you look as if you're going to ooze out under the door and flow down the drive to your car."
"That's how I feel," I admitted. "And my car doesn't have air conditioning. Just a heater which I don't think I'll require tonight."
Mrs Wilson laughed.
"I know what you mean. Hey, I have an idea. We have a hot-tub out on the back veranda. Why don't we just strip off and soak in the bubbles for a while?"
"A hot tub?" I asked. In this heat. She had to be kidding.
"Just because it's called that doesn't mean the water has to be hot," Mrs Wilson said with a laugh. "It'll be cool right now and whether you do or not, I'm going in. Coming?"
"Ah," I dithered. The thought of getting cool and un-mucky was wonderful, but. . . "I don't have my bathers," I demurred.
"I do, but stuffed if I'll be wearing them," said Mrs Wilson. She pointedly looked all around. "Just us chickens here," she said with a grin. "Not a rooster in sight."
"OK, I'm in," I said, capitulating with minimal resistance.
We stripped off in the kitchen and headed out to the tub. Mrs Wilson activated the jets and the water started bubbling like crazy. We both climbed in and relaxed, the cool rushing water washing all my troubles away. At least, it cooled me down and washed off the accumulated stickiness.
We sat and relaxed and chatted mainly about the children. Mrs Wilson maintained that they were fiends sent from hell to personally torment her. I was maintaining they were a pair of angels in disguise.
"A damned fine disguise," was Mrs Wilson's reply. "At time I think I should chain them to a wall and just throw food in their general direction."
I didn't comment to that as I'd been thinking something similar earlier. We switched topics, just talking to hear ourselves talk, probably.
After about half an hour I started making noises about having to go. Mrs Wilson gave a sigh as that meant she had to get out of the hot-tub as well, seeing I hadn't yet got paid. We climbed out and went padding back into the kitchen. I wasn't even going to bother about drying myself. The heat would do that all by itself.
We walked into the kitchen at the same time as Mr Wilson, who apparently was no longer interstate. He looked first at his wife and then at me, taking everything in, and we were certainly showing everything. Mr Wilson had a huge smirk on his face, matched by the one on his wife's. I had a totally crimson blush on, and froze like a deer in some headlights.
Possible it was my imagination but I was prepared to swear that Mr Wilson was paying more attention to me than to his wife. What wasn't my imagination was the way my nipples puckered and my breasts felt heavier, both things that I'm damned sure he noticed. Thankfully he couldn't see the unfortunate heat that pooled low down in my groin.
Maybe it wasn't my imagination that he was watching me too much because Mrs Wilson took a step towards him and swatted him on the chest.
"Don't go getting any ideas," she told him, making me blush even harder.
"I don't need to go and get any," Mr Wilson pointed out. "They were offered to me as soon as I walked in here."
"Maybe, but I suspect those ideas are breaking a couple of rules," said Mrs Wilson with a giggle. "Underage and virgins not permitted."
I just wanted to sink through the floor in embarrassment. I also wanted to grab my clothes and start putting them on, fast, but I couldn't help feeling that if I did that it would highlight the fact that I was standing there naked. So I stood and blushed and did nothing. Also, was he really saying that he wanted to fuck me? With Mrs Wilson standing right there? Not objecting to the fucking, I noticed, but to the legality of it.
"I hate to point it out but you did buy Janine a present for her eighteenth birthday," Mr Wilson said. "As to her virginity I'm willing to take the chance."
"You might, but Janine might not."
Actually I wasn't one, not that it was any of their business. I just gave the pair of them what I hoped was a repressive look. They totally ignored it.
"Excuse me," I said, loudly enough for them to actually look at me. Well, loudly enough for Mrs Wilson to turn and look. Mr Wilson had never stopped looking.
"As the person being discussed I'd think that I might have something to say," I stated firmly.
"Ah, why would you think that?" asked Mr Wilson, sounding genuinely curious. "Unless your views agree with ours they'll be ignored anyway."
Consider my mind boggled. He didn't say that, did he? I looked over at Mrs Wilson and she just smiled.
"Don't worry, dear," she said. "We wouldn't make you do anything you don't want to do. It's just that we may have to show you what you really want to do."
And just what did that mean?
"What I want to do is get dressed and go home," I said quickly.
"Ah, no, love, I don't think you do," Mrs Wilson gently told me. "If you really wanted to get dressed you've had ample opportunity to do so. Instead you've stood there, openly flaunting yourself before my husband. Is it any wonder that he's interested? I really think that you'd be unfair to him to change your mind at this stage."
Change my mind? I hadn't made up my mind one way or the other and surely they could have guessed that I'd say no to getting screwed? Now they were blaming me and saying I was offering?
"You've got to be kidding me. I never agreed to anything in the first place. In any case, you're also naked. He's your husband. You go and take care of his frustrations."
"Oh, I will, love, I will. Don't you worry about that. But I see no reason why he can't work off some of his excess energy showing you a good time. It's still too hot to be doing it all night long so you can help out."
I flicked a glance at Mr Wilson and promptly blushed again. While I'd been arguing with Mrs Wilson he'd been busy stripping and now he'd joined us in the nudity stakes. Gods above, but he was twice the size of my boyfriend. Um, I'm talking general physique here. Mr Wilson was the older by at least five years and he'd been putting on muscle and meat all during those years.