My week of babysitting during the family vacation was a turning point in my relationship with Mr. K. At first, I played hard to get, feeling hesitant and unsure. But as the week rolled by, my reluctance melted away, replaced by an overwhelming desire for Mr. K. Night after night, Mr. K managed to sneak into my bed and take me as he pleased. I selflessly began to look forward to his nightly visits. I had come to accept my role as his sex toy and I was completely fine with that arrangement.
That week I often found myself wondering how Mrs. Kelly, could remain blissfully unaware of our secret rendezvous. By the end of that unforgettable week, I was walking with a noticeable wobble--a clear sign that should have raised her eyebrows. Though she shot me wary looks now and then, I had reached a level of confidence--or perhaps recklessness. I had become so wrapped up in my feelings for Mr. K that her scrutiny felt almost amusing. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and despite the risks, I couldn't pull away.
My teenage hormones were raging, and my emotions were a chaotic mess. I had no idea where our relationship was headed, yet one thing was certain: I craved him deeply, more than I ever thought I could.
Before Mr. K my only orgasms were self induced. Mr. K brought me to a sexual climax every time we met. This was life changing for me and I began to crave for that intense sexual pleasure. I had lost all control.
For years, I had grappled with low self esteem, largely due to the belittling words from my mother and older sister. They had planted seeds of insecurity in me, convincing me that I was unlovable and unattractive, often saying I would never find a boyfriend and labeling me as ugly. So, when Mr. K began to show genuine interest in me, showering me with kindness and affection, it sparked a new sense of self-worth within me. I felt seen and desired for the first time.
But with all the excitement came a nagging sense of conflict. I knew that eventually, this affair would end ugly; it was just a matter of when. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that finding a way to disentangle myself from this passionate mess while keeping my babysitting job intact would be nearly impossible. I loved the kids I cared for, and the thought of abandoning them broke my heart. Plus, the extra cash Mr. K had been slipping me here and there was a nice perk. I often found bills tucked away in my pockets, which felt less degrading than him handing me money directly.
If I decided to quit babysitting, both Mrs. Kelly and my Mom would undoubtedly raise an eyebrow at my sudden change in routine. My mother, who usually didn't show much interest in my life, had started asking me questions about the Kellys. If I didn't know better, she sounded a bit jealous. I couldn't shake the feeling that she might have shared a past with Mr. K. The signs were there, but I found it easier to push those unsettling thoughts aside rather than confront them.
With college approaching, I thought it could be the perfect excuse to end things with Mr. K. I could easily say that my studies were take up all my time, making it impossible for me to babysit. But the idea of actually walking away from him filled me with dread. He treated me in a way that no boy had before, making me feel cherished, desired, and alive. As much as I knew I should let go, the thrill of being his "little secret" was intoxicating. I found myself torn between the excitement of our hidden encounters and the inevitable reality that loomed ahead.
A few weeks later.
It was Mr. K's birthday and I found myself back in my familiar role of the babysitter. Mr. K and his wife were out celebrating his birthday with friends somewhere in the city, and they weren't expected to return until well past midnight. Mr. K had just turned forty-three, and the realization hit me like a tidal wave, sending ripples of doubt through my mind. "Oh my god," I thought to myself, grappling with the implications of my situation. What on earth was wrong with me? Here I was, entangled in an affair with a married man who was twenty-five years my senior. The internal voice of reason that I usually managed to silence was now screaming, demanding my attention with an intensity I could no longer ignore.
The weight of my guilt was overbearing. I felt like I was being pulled in two different directions: my religious up-bring urging me to adhere to moral boundaries, while the other side, my inner slut, was craving the thrill and intimacy that came from our encounters. My emotions were all over the fucking board.
As the night wore on and the girls were fast asleep, I found a moment of solace. I sank into the plush couch, my eyes shut, as I let my mind drift to the erotic memories of how Mr. K had taken me in the past. My uncontrollable lust for him prevailed as I slipped a hand into my black leggings, providing quick access to my freshly trimmed pussy.
As I let the vivid memories wash over me, my body began to respond in ways that quickly spiralled out of my control. I could feel the slickness between my legs, the warmth building as I squeezed my inner walls. A wave of pleasure surged through me. My fingertips parted my labia and found their way inside my soft, wet vagina, gliding back and forth against my swollen clit, each movement sending shockwaves of ecstasy throughout my body. I could hardly contain the gasps that escaped my lips.
With each thrust of my fingers, I felt my hips arching in rhythm, desperate for more, longing for that familiar fullness that only Mr. K could provide. I bit down on my lower lip, trying to stifle the sounds of my heavy breaths. In my mind, I could vividly picture him--his strong frame, the way he filled every inch of me, stretching my vagina in ways that sent me soaring with pleasure. The imagined sensations of his thick warm cock penetrating me, hitting the depths of my being, drove me wild. I could feel the way he filled my love canal, the head of his erection teasingly pounding against my cervix, and with each mental image, I was swept away, consumed by the intoxicating memories of our passionate encounters.
Suddenly, the tension in my body became unbearable, and I felt myself teetering on the edge. My hips bucked instinctively, seeking release as waves of pleasure threatened to crash over me. I spread my legs wider, draping them over the couch, giving myself over to the sensations that enveloped me. With one final thrust of my fingers, I moaned into the couch pillow, biting it to silence the cries escaping my lips. My body quaked uncontrollably as the pleasure surged through me, washing over me in a powerful orgasm that left me breathless and utterly spent. As the waves subsided, I felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion, and I must have drifted off, lost in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss.
The next thing I knew, I was being gently shaken awake.
"Hey, April," Mr. K's familiar voice said, accompanied by a warm smile. "We're back."
My heart raced at the sight of him. He looked incredibly dashing that evening, his dark hair slicked back with meticulous care and dressed in a crisp shirt and tie that accentuated his sharp features.
As I groggily sat up, I could hear Mrs. Kelly's heels clicking against the hardwood floor in the kitchen, a sound that grounded me back in reality.
"Sorry, sweetie," she said apologetically. "We stayed out a little longer than we thought we would." I glanced at the clock, realizing it was nearly one in the morning.
"That's okay," I replied, trying to sound casual as I stood up. "Did you have a good time?"
"It was wonderful," Mrs. Kelly replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "We got to catch up with a lot of friends we haven't seen in ages."
"That sounds nice," I said politely, though I felt a gnawing sense of unease in the pit of my stomach. "Well, I should probably be going then."
"You know, April," Mrs. Kelly suggested, her tone thoughtful. "You could always stay in the guest room tonight if you wanted. I know your family is out of town for the weekend, and I don't like the idea of you being home all alone."
At that moment, I felt a pang of conflict. My parents and sister had left for a church retreat, and while I was grateful for the rare opportunity to have the house to myself, I knew that Aaron, my ex-boyfriend, was planning to come over as soon as I called him. I intended to have one last rendezvous with him before I finally cut ties for good.
"Thank you for the offer," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But I'll be fine. I think I'd prefer to sleep in my own bed tonight."
"Are you sure, April?" Mr. K chimed in, "We were going to make pancakes in the morning."
Something about his tone told me that his interest in me staying over went far beyond breakfast.
"I'm sure," I insisted.
"Alright then," Mrs. Kelly replied, albeit sounding a bit uncertain. "But Rick is going to walk you home since it's so late."
"But it's just a few houses down..." I started to protest, but I was quickly cut off.
"No arguments," Mr. K said firmly, yet with a playful glint in his eye.
I sighed, resigning myself to the situation. After collecting my payment from Mrs. Kelly, I stepped outside allowing Mr. K to lead the way.
"So, aren't you going to wish me a happy birthday?" he asked as we strolled down the quiet street.
"Happy birthday!" I replied, trying to sound cheerful, but my voice came out flat, despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me.
"I sort of meant metaphorically instead of literally," he said, a playful glint in his eyes that made me smile.
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What, like a birthday blow-job?" I joked, half-serious.
To my surprise, Mr. K's face lit up at my suggestion. "That's a great idea," he replied, his voice teasing. We had reached my driveway, and the night air felt electric around us.
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "There's not enough time for that. Besides, your wife is probably waiting for you so she can give you a birthday blow-job."
His face fell slightly, a brief shadow of disappointment crossing his features. "But I want one from you," he admitted, his tone sincere enough to make my heart skip a beat.
I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Oh, well," I said, sounding indifference even though my heart was racing.
Mr. K sighed. "Goodnight, April. Don't forget to lock your door, okay?" His genuine concern was touching.
"Okay," I replied softly. As he turned to leave, an inexplicable urge surged within me to pull him back.
"Hey," I said, gently tugging on his arm to bring him closer. I leaned in, cupping his face in my hands, and pressed my lips against his--a long, deep kiss that felt full of unsaid things. "Happy birthday," I whispered.
Mr. K let out a low groan, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. "You're killing me," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
With that, he started back toward his house, and I stood frozen for a moment, watching him go, a mix of excitement and confusion swirling in my chest.
Once I was inside, I carefully locked the door. I headed upstairs, shedding my clothes and slipping into my favourite oversized t-shirt. After my long nap earlier, I found myself wide awake, so I climbed into bed and turned on the TV.
I tried reaching out to Aaron, my phone buzzing with attempts to connect, but he wasn't responding. This was typical of him, I could never rely on him. Oh well, it was his loss, as I continued to watch TV.
Just then, I heard a faint knocking at the side door. I froze, my heart pounding as I muted the TV and strained to listen. My breath quickened, fear creeping in. Suddenly, I felt acutely aware of how alone I was.
I dashed out of bed, lingering near my bedroom door, listening intently.
