Four Long Years...

Having a late Fall birthday typically means that I'm older than my peers and classmates, that I'm the oldest of my friends, and that I get to hear the occasional, but never original 'elderly' joke. Being older has its perks too, don't get me wrong. It means I got to get my driver's permit and license before most people I hang out with, I got to start dating sooner than almost all of my friends, and the latest, now that I'm 18, I can buy lottery tickets with the tips I earn every weekend at the Bakery/Coffee Shop I work at. I know a lot of people say that the lottery tickets are just a waste of money but hey, a girl can dream right?

Speaking of dreams, for the past four years I've had a steady babysitting job with the Romero family; the mother is a politician who always seems to be traveling, and the father is quite the successful computer software geek, who also happens to be kind of hot and a really great guy. Fausto, the husband, got his to-be wife pregnant when she was seventeen and they married soon after graduating. Their twins, Maxímo and Raquel, were little terrors when they were young but are absolutely great to sit for now that they're eleven.

They have a beautiful three-story home, and Mr. Romero is very giving when it comes to my regular pay, plus adding tips if I buy the kids something or take them to eat. I really enjoy the extra money, and, lately, anytime he thinks I'm not looking, I catch him checking me out. To be honest, we are sort of flirty with each other, especially since his wife is almost never home and even if she is, she doesn't seem to care about her husband in the least.

Fausto is one of those guys that's really easy to talk to and every once in a blue moon, I asked him for guy advice. Granted, he's almost a decade older than myself, but I figured he'd know the inner workings of a young male brain better than myself.

******

A few days ago, when I was there last, I asked about how to attract that one guy, the one that every girl is really nervous to even approach, especially with any topic related to dating or relationships with, but part of you is egging to know how he feels anyhow? He chuckles and says, "I really don't know what to tell you Adina. Maybe try finding what he's into or do something that makes you stand out. You're a beautiful girl with clear green eyes and chocolatey hair, a fantastic laugh, and amazingly smart on top of everything. I don't know why or how any guy could resist you,". I nervously giggle, flattered, looking down at my hands to hide my blushing cheeks, then look back up and thank him.

******

One afternoon I arrive at the house after school, the kids still at scavenger club and dance team, Fausto says he has something he wants me to check out with him in the back. We walk out to the yard by the shed. "It's right over here Adi," and I step over to where he's standing.

When I reach him, we look at each other and Mr. Romero pulls me in, his lips pressing and closing on mine. At first I do nothing, shocked, but a second later his other hand strokes my cheek and I practically melt in his arms. Our kiss breaks, our foreheads still touching, and he utters, "I'm so sorry, I can't keep it a secret anymore how attracted I am to you Adina. You're a gorgeous young woman and you're brilliant and clever and funny and--" I cut him off, a finger under his chin tilting his face back up, kissing him more.

Now I tell him, "Don't apologize. I've had a thing for you and wanted you to feel this way since the day we met,".

We dive in for another tender round of affection, Fausto Romero un-laces the corset top of my dress, freeing my C-cup boobs, my boss holding and caressing my breasts. I gasp breaking the kiss, touching my lips and mumble, "But wait, what about your wife?" and he sneers, answering,

"You mean the one who's wanted to leave me since I knocked her up in high school? Her families' religion doesn't exactly approve of divorce, so...Adi, I haven't been able to think straight since our talk the other day." I pause for a moment to take in what he's just said but he cuts my break short, backing me against the wall of the tool shed, tracing the outline off my mouth with his fingertip as my heart flutters.

Fausto launches his older and more experienced lips onto mine. His hand slips down from my shoulder, past my rib cage, down my waist, and lands on my hip. I grasp for his shoulder blades, raising my thigh to his hip and he grips my leg. We carry on for seven or eight more minutes before I breathlessly remind him, "Your boys will be home any minute..." *panting* "I should go in and get some food ready for them,". He pulls his hand from my hip and relaces my dress while I throw my hair into a semi neat pony tail, so the twins don't take notice of my disheveled look, Fausto caressing my ass, giving me a spank to signal that I'm free to go.

******

As I'd hoped, they boys throw the last twentysome pizza bagels onto a plate and race down to the den to numb their brains with video games. Cleaning off the counter, I grab the dirty platter and take it over to the sink, running water so I can soak it. Muscled, tan arms appear around my waist and in my ear, a deep voice murmurs, "Now that they're out of the way..." his hand wrapping in my hair and gently tugging, my head back, Mr. Romero's tender lips on my neck causes my breath to catch in my throat as I absentmindedly put soap on the tray. My eyes close and a quiet moan leaves my throat as he carries on.

Fausto nudges the thick straps from my shoulders, his hands sneaking under my cropped sweater. I reach up and put a hand on the back of his head as my other holds his palms to my stomach. "But you're married..." I weakly protest.

"I told you it means nothing..." he mumbles amidst kisses.

"It just seems wrong Fausto," I say.

"Let me fix it," he answers, grabbing my hips and turning me around so that we're face to face. He's changed shirts since we were by the shed, into the shadowy-grey button down that I happen to really like seeing on him. His eyes drop to my lips, my heart doing a somersault, and his head lowers, our mouths entangled almost instantly. My hands tremble with a blend of excited relief at having this amazing, smart, handsome, generous man sexually, if not romantically, interested in me, while also anxious about being caught by his wife or the boys, despite his reassurance.

Fausto picks me up onto the counter as if I weigh nothing, and for the split second that I have my eyes open, I visually remind myself of the first few buttons of his shirt being loose. I giggle, his fingers soft on my cheek, unlike the fierceness of his mouth. I cross my wrists behind his neck when he steps closer, mentioning, "I think you forgot about a couple things when you were changing clothes sir," right onto his lips.

"I didn't forget anything," he said in a micro pause, "I just thought you might need a little temptation to finish Adina," pulling me a little closer to the edge. I can feel just how turned on he is, pressing his hard-as-stone erection to my leg as we make out.

Things suddenly get much hotter in the kitchen, and it is in no way related to anyone cooking, as I feel his fingers clenching at the binds of my dress and my fingers carelessly get lost in his warm, tavern hair. I have no memory of his tongue entering my mouth but now I can't imagine it being anywhere else (except maybe at the throbbing between my legs)! I whimper as I feel the first string on my dress pulled free, my lips moving to the end of his nose when he looks down at my nimble fingers on the bottom button of his shirt.

The heat of his breath on my ear sends my mind into a thick, swampy haze I never want to find my way out of and even less as his fingers begin to stroke up and down my inner thigh, the movement hidden under my dress, just as the air is somehow hidden from my lungs.

A sudden crashing and the mangle shouts of the twins downstairs yank me back to reality, reminding me where we are and that we aren't alone! My eyes open wide and Mr. Romero steps back, holding my waist as I jump back to the floor. "Please don't leave," he whispers to me in a rush.

"What am I supposed to do here? We shouldn't be doing this! I certainly shouldn't be doing," flailing my hands around, "this! And most certainly not with my employer who happens a married man and a father!" His head tilting and face dropping in the 'but I already told you' expression. "Even if your wife doesn't care or anything, she could walk through that door any second and she'll have no reason to not tell everyone I'm a home wrecker!" I quietly wail.

Fausto scoops my face in his hands and launches his lips, and only his lips this time, onto mine, sending me stumbling back to the counter. "You're a lot more than a teenager, you're a gorgeous, intelligent, amazing young woman, and I want to be so much more than just your boss or neighbor or the weird horny older guy. Carolina is on an overnight trip for work, and I really don't want you to go," he tells me, his wonderful brown eyes soaking in my every detail as my ethical brain and hormonal/libido driven brain fight it out in my head.

I take a deep breath through my nose and ask, "But what will we tell the boys in the morning?" He rushes me with a very excited kiss, pinning me against the counter and caging me with his arms.

"That you're here to keep an eye on them while dad runs out for breakfast," he whispers, brushing my bangs from my face. I playfully smack his chest for the lame explanation before asking, "Can we at least take this into your room before you strip my clothes off?"

He answers with another bulldozing kiss, bending me back over the counter before uttering, "Anything you want," crouching and throwing an arm under my knees, carry me up the stairs and straight into his room.

******

Tossing me onto the master bed that very clearly is meant for two, Fausto bends his legs against the side to level our heights, pressing the mouth I've been dreaming of for years to mine, his finger quick to unlace the rest of my dress's top as I clutch his neck, clinging to him as if he's my life source!

I give a shallow gasp as he pulls down the top of my garment, the soft touch of his hands on my breasts but the strong need of his mouth contrasting in immaculate harmony. He proudly dives right into my cleavage, bunching and squeezing, shameless in his desire for my breasts! Bittersweetly, the chest-lust is short lived, Fausto's hand brazenly rubbing my twat and the damp crotch of my panties before he lifts the skirt, his hot AF mouth enjoying my restrained pussy in seconds.

Fausto yanks me to the edge, my legs lifting in the air, my ankles resting on his shoulders as he pulls my panties down my legs, stuffing them to his face and taking a deep breath in before sling-shotting them somewhere across the room. His lips return to mine, his hand back on my wet pussy, both in no time flat. By the movement of his lips and fingers, I sense that he's been imagining this for a while as well, our combined desire and craving for one another at long last permitted to escape its cage, dramatic and very much passionate now that it's unchecked!

He gets to his knees in a flash, the recollection of whether the floor is wood or carpeted filed as inconsequential the millisecond his breath chills my soaked lips. I feel my labia pouting for him, Mr. Romero pulling me further, his hot breath creating chills and causing bumps to rise under my skin on my entire body. My throat shuts tight the moment his tongue begins to lap up and down my lips! A tingle darts through me when he brushes my clit.

Fingertips hold my outer labia open, exposing my feeble, wet inner folds for his mouth and eyes only.

The tip of his tongue peeks in, tracing the inside of my entryway as if introducing itself in proper etiquette. I get the feeling that he's trying to be somewhat gentle, almost like when meeting an animal in the forest, because as it musters up the courage to explore a bit deeper it seem to do so cautiously.

I clutch his shoulders and launch my hips forward, plunging his tongue as deep as it can go, then moan, "Make me your naughty mistress," my declaration stunning both him and myself for a brief moment. My toes curl so tight as I listen to him drinking in and slurping up anything already down there. I run my hands through his golden bronze hair and my throat miraculously lets out a rather luscious sound somewhere between a groan and a purr. I cover my mouth, knowing a scream is about to breech and not wanting the boys to know what's happening, unsure if they're still on the bottom floor.

Whatever their father is doing to me between my legs is giving me the feeling of a gentle ocean luring me in and drowning its happiest victim. My arms and eyelids are suddenly very heavy, and I lean back on the bed, my eyes blissfully shutting as I listen to the sloppy soundtrack of my vagina being eaten out by the man of my every dirty fantasy and dream.

My mouth opens for a low moan as Fausto pushes his face in deeper still, though nothing but empty air comes out of my throat. I prop myself up on one elbow as my other fist clenches his hair while he licks and sucks my labia clean at the broken rhythm of a drum roll. "Oh, ¡semental!, yes, yes," I moan, calling him a stud in my native Hispanic tongue, tears of blissfulness filling my eyes. He sucks ever softly, tasting my semi-sweet fluids coating his lips.

He releases me again and begins to softly kiss my opening, to nibble on the guarding lips. The tip of his tongue juts in and out like the bird of a cuckoo clock, his face shaking side to side as I whimper of the exquisite torture! A combination in acceleration with his tongue and a finger strumming my clit like a string on a harp makes me lose control of myself, my head falling back and my eyes squeezing tight as waves of extreme pleasure hit me one after the other after the last, ecstasy washing throughout me as he continues kissing, sucking, and licking until I've returned to my quaking body on his bed.

Putting a hand on either side of my legs, he pushes himself upright, leaning over my having abdomen, the two of enjoying a magnificent kiss. After, he softly asks, "Just out of curiosity Adina, what positions do you know about?"

For a minute, I think, first having to truly organize and straighten my thoughts, then explore my memory before answering, "A few," then add, "I don't know them by name, but I know how to do them."

"Really?" he asks, intrigued, "Do you have a favorite Señorita?"

"Not yet," drawing out my words, "Want to help me find one?" I say, ever so invitingly, my index and middle finger walking up his chest.

He answers me with a magnificent, wonderous kiss, wrapping his tongue around mine and pulling a few times before it sadly comes to an end. "Why don't you take a breather. I should check that the twins are in bed by now. There should be a bottle of water in one of the drawers of that table," he says, pointing to the one in the corner. He pulls me in and plants a heavy kiss on my forehead then stands back up and mumbles, "Estoy en lo profundo" ('I'm in deep) running a hand through his handsome hair before heading back into the hall...