Not The Babysitter

Walking casually to the front door, his phone in his hand, he pulled the door open, expecting to see his usually sitter, Amber standing there with her mousy brown hair and thick horn rimmed glasses. His wife was out of town and as he looked up he was glad for that fact. Standing there on his doorstep stood a tall, blond clad in a cheerleading uniform, her short red and white skirt barely grazing half of her thighs. “Hi, Mr. Roberts. My name is Heather. I’m a friend of Amber’s. She had a family emergency and said it would be ok if I filled in.”

He stared at her stupidly, blinking rapidly, his only thought how his dream just came true. Walking passed him slowly, she set her book-bag down by the door, bending over slightly. He swallowed loudly when her skirt rose to the bottom of her ass cheek almost. Turning around to look at him innocently, she stared at him waiting patiently for him to respond. “Um, yes, that’s fine. I hope everything is okay with Amber.” He paused taking a step closer to her, “So, you two are friends?”

“Yes,” she stood next to him smiling. “Where are the children?” she swung her long blond ponytail as she looked toward the living room.

“They’re upstairs doing their homework. I have a dinner I have to go to for work. I should be back at 12. If you need my cell number is on the fridge as is my wife’s. She’s in Kansas City on a business trip so you probably won’t need to call her,” he paused his jacket on, “are you sure, you’re okay,” he asked, “they can be a handful.”

“I’m sure I can handle it, Mr. R. Go have fun. Well as much fun as possible at work, anyway. You’re kids are in good hands,” she stepped up behind him and helped him into his jacket, her hands resting for a split second too long on his shoulders.

He paused, noticing the slight before picking up his briefcase by the door and heading out. Looking back he saw the blond cheerleader standing there in her way to sexy outfit and rubbed his cock through his slacks. He was walking away from every man’s fantasy, the irony, not lost on him as he got in his car and pulled out of the driveway. He must remember to send Amber some sort of a thank you gift for that, he smiled on the way to the restaurant.

It was almost a quarter to one when he pulled back into the driveway. The thought of Pat, his coworker, challenging him to keep taking another drink on his brain, “the ass”, he whispered as he stumbled up the driveway. He was a little drunk, he thought as he took a deep breath of the cool night air to collect himself before trying to get his key in the lock. He dropped his briefcase by the door and then remembered the cheerleader. Walking, well, stumbling into the living room he saw her there sprawled on toe couch passed out.

Walking over to her he stared down at her, her legs slightly spread, her skirt raised. Her hands were resting on her chest as her breathing became even. He knelt down on the floor beside her, this hot teenage girl and trailed his finger up her smooth long leg. She stirred slightly shifting as his fingers went up her skirt. Watching her face he slid those same fingers under her panties and inside her. She was all ready wet, probably from having a naughty dream, he supposed as his fingers became slick with her cum.

Her legs opened wider inviting him in as she arched her back against his hand. Her hand covered his pushing his deeper inside her as he eyes flew open. “That feels good, Mr. Roberts. Don’t stop,” she whispered. He licked his lips and felt his cock get harder as she gyrated against his hand. “Oh, god, you make me cum, Mr. Roberts. Yes, yes, make me cum,” she breathed. He felt her cum, warm and sticky on his fingers as she stared up at him innocently.

His cock practically throbbed in his pants as he stood up over her. Unzipping his slacks he pulled his dick out and watched as this teenage girl swallowed it whole. He pulled her ponytail hard as she gagged on his hard cock. “Oh God,” he moaned as her hand worked the base of his dick, her saliva coating his cock, her tongue working around the head and then down the side. “God, where did you learn to suck dick, little girl?” he asked the blond hair from her ponytail wrapped wound his hand.

“My step dad taught me,” she replied, tears running down her face from gagging too much.

She swallowed his cock again and he felt like he was about to cum, the tip of his cock pushing the back of her throat. “Oh, is that right? You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?” he pulled his cock out of her mouth and lifted her off the couch, lifting her into the air like she weight nothing. He carried her for the few feet it took to put her on the dining room table and bent her over the edge there, her ass hanging out of her short skirt. “I want you to take my cock, you dirty girl,” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes, give me your cock. Please give me your cock, Mr. Roberts.” She felt him pull her white panties down around her knees and enter her wet pussy forcefully, her hips striking against the solid wood table harshly.

With one hand on each side of her hips he pounded her tight, wet teenage pussy, her hand covering her screams so as not to wake the children The thought of fucking the young cheerleader in her uniform made it better as he her tight pussy harder, it gripping his cock as she came harder and harder with every thrust. “I’m a bad girl, Mr. Roberts. Give me your cock. Oh God, yes, please, just like that. Come inside my dirty pussy, Mr. Roberts. Please give me your cum. Please,” She tensed as he emptied inside her.

He fell onto her back completely spent. “Did you like that, Heather,” he asked still inside her. He pulled out of her, stepped back and adjust his pants, smacking her bare ass loudly.

She looked back at him and said, “Yes, Mr. Roberts, I did,” with his cum dripping down her leg warmly.

He shivered uncontrollably, still incredibly turned on as she bent over and pulled her panties up. “If you would pay me, I’ll go on home. It’s getting late,” she held her hand out. At his quizzical look she continued, “for the babysitting. The fuck was free.”

“Oh, right, right. Here’s sixty.” He handed her the money, which she promptly put in her bra.

“What, no pockets. Here,” she picked up a pen off the table behind her and grabbed his hand writing her number down. “Give me a call if you need me again, for anything.”

“It looks like your uniform got dirty,” he said touching her skirt where it got stained.

“It’s ok, I’m not really a cheerleader,” and with that she sauntered out his front door, her hips swinging in that short cheerleading skirt, a smug smile plastered on her face.