She Was Just the Babysitter

The kids were already in full meltdown mode when the doorbell rang. Three under-eight tornadoes bouncing off the walls, screaming about juice boxes and who got the last cookie, while my wife Shelley stood in the kitchen doorway with that familiar look of pure exhaustion and quiet resentment etched into her face. She was forty-three, once the sharp-tongued beauty who used to ride me in the back of my truck after parties, now soft in the middle and harder than concrete around the edges. The spark between us had guttered out years ago under the weight of soccer practices, mortgage payments, and her endless cigarettes on the back porch.

I opened the door and forgot how to breathe.

Tess stood there in a tight white tank top that strained across the most outrageous pair of tits I had ever seen on a girl her size. Five-foot-nothing of compact, athletic curves, blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail that bounced when she moved, bright blue eyes, and a smile that was pure innocent sunshine with a dirty secret underneath. She was eighteen, fresh out of high school, and the Craigslist ad had simply said “experienced babysitter, great with kids, flexible hours.” Nothing prepared me for the way those heavy, high-set DDs jiggled when she stepped inside and the kids swarmed her like she was made of candy.

“Hi, Mr. Wilson,” she said, voice soft and sweet. “I’m Tess.”

My cock twitched hard in my jeans before I even closed the door. I was forty-five, still in good shape from the gym, six-two, salt-and-pepper hair, but standing next to this little package of pure teenage sex made me feel like a starving man staring at a feast. Shelley barely glanced at her, muttered something about being late for the charity dinner, and went to finish her makeup. I gave Tess the usual instructions—bed by nine, numbers on the fridge, we’d be back around eleven—while trying not to stare at the way her shorts rode up the backs of her creamy thighs when she knelt to greet the kids.

That night Shelley and I had the best sex we’d managed in years. I closed my eyes and pictured Tess’s soft mouth wrapping around my thick nine-inch cock, those massive tits spilling out of her tank top, and I came harder than I had in a decade. Guilt sat in my stomach like a stone, but the memory of that bouncing blonde body stayed hard in my blood.

Two weeks later I ran into her at the gym. She was on the hip-abductor machine, legs spread wide, those enormous tits bouncing with every controlled squeeze. Her sports bra was fighting a losing battle. When she saw me she hopped off, wiped the machine down with slow, deliberate strokes that made her chest sway, and sucked on her water bottle while looking straight into my eyes.

“Need me to watch the kids again soon, Mr. Wilson?” she asked, voice dripping honey.

I told her about the cabin weekend. She agreed instantly, then winked. My cock stayed half-hard the entire drive home.

The flash drive showed up in my desk drawer the Monday after we got back. Pink, covered in little white hearts. I plugged it in while Shelley was downstairs and nearly came in my pants. Tess in a barely-there bikini, nipples hard under tiny triangles. Tess in a soaked white T-shirt, dark areolas clearly visible. Tess naked on a bed, on all fours, looking back over her shoulder with that same sweet smile while her perfect round ass was presented like an invitation. Close-ups of her smooth, bald pussy lips, slightly parted, glistening. Selfies of her squeezing those huge soft tits together, tongue out, eyes half-lidded.

I jacked off three times that afternoon. When she came over the next Friday I drove her home after the kids were down. In the dark driveway I finally confronted her.

“Those pictures, Tess. That was completely inappropriate.”

She bit her plump lower lip and looked up at me with those big blue eyes. “I thought you liked looking at me, Mr. Wilson. Don’t you think I have a pretty body?”

My resistance cracked like thin ice. “You’re beautiful. But I have a wife.”

“What if nobody finds out?” she whispered, leaning closer so her soft breasts brushed my arm. “I can tell you want it. Your cock gets hard every time you look at me.”

I should have pushed her away. Instead I let her unzip my pants right there in the front seat. Her small hands wrapped around my thick shaft and she moaned at the size of it. Then those massive soft tits spilled free from her tank top and she pressed them around my cock, creating a tight, warm, silky tunnel. She worked them up and down while licking the swollen head every time it peeked out of her cleavage. Dirty talk poured out of her sweet mouth.

“You like fucking my big babysitter tits, don’t you, Daddy? They’re so soft for your big hard cock. I think about you when I touch myself. I want you to come all over them.”

I exploded with a groan that shook the car, thick ropes of cum striping her chin, her neck, the deep valley between those heavy breasts. She rubbed it in like lotion, smiling the whole time, then sucked the last drops off the tip of my cock with wet, filthy sounds.

After that the texts never stopped. She sent pictures of her pussy stretched around two of her own fingers, of her nipples pinched hard and red, of her ass bent over the bathroom sink. She told me her boyfriend had a tiny dick and no idea what to do with a real pair of tits. She told me she wanted to get pregnant someday, that she wanted a big belly and even bigger milk-heavy breasts. I came in my hand at work more times than I could count.

When her mother disappeared and her father turned violent, she showed up on our doorstep in the rain with a suitcase. Shelley, in a rare moment of maternal softness, invited her to stay in the basement guest room. Tess became our live-in nanny. She cooked, cleaned, played with the kids, and walked around the house in short shorts and tight tops that made my cock ache every single day. Shelley and I had a brief thaw—better sex, longer walks—but the cold returned. And Tess was always there, soft and warm and willing.

One Saturday Shelley took the kids to her sister’s for the afternoon. Tess came upstairs in a tiny red tube dress that barely covered her nipples and ended halfway down her firm little ass. She crawled around the living room picking up toys, back arched, black thong peeking out, heavy tits swinging free inside the stretchy fabric. I tried to keep a blanket over my lap. She sat beside me, put her hand on my chest, and asked if I was warm.

I lasted maybe ten minutes before I pulled her into my lap. Her soft ass settled against my hard cock and she ground down with a little moan. I yanked the top of the dress down and those magnificent tits spilled out into my hands—heavy, soft, firm enough to bounce, nipples already tight and dark pink. I sucked one into my mouth while she whispered, “I knew you’d come around, Daddy.”

I carried her downstairs to the basement bedroom before I lost the last of my control. She stripped completely, lying back on the bed with her legs spread, fingers already circling her slick clit. Her pussy was completely bare, pink and puffy and already shiny with arousal. I buried my face between her thighs and licked her open, tasting sweet and salty, while she gasped that her boyfriend had never done this. My tongue worked her clit in tight circles until her thighs shook and she came with a high, broken cry, flooding my mouth.

Then I stood and shoved my jeans down. My cock sprang free, thick and veined and dripping. Tess’s eyes went wide.

“Fuck, it’s even bigger up close,” she whispered. “Please put it in me, Mr. Wilson. Please fuck your little babysitter’s tight pussy.”

I climbed over her and rubbed the fat head up and down her slit, coating myself in her juices. Then I pushed in slow. She was incredibly tight, the kind of grip that made my vision blur. Inch by inch I sank into her until my balls pressed against her ass. She whimpered and clawed at my back.

“So full… oh God, Daddy, you’re stretching me so good.”

I started thrusting, deep and steady at first, watching those huge tits bounce with every impact. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room. I hooked her legs over my shoulders and drove deeper, hitting that soft spot inside her that made her cry out and gush around my cock. She came again, cunt clamping down so hard I almost followed her, but I held back, flipped her onto all fours, and fucked her from behind while I reached around to play with her swinging tits and swollen clit.

“Harder,” she begged. “Use me. Fuck your babysitter like a dirty little slut. Fill me up.”

I pounded her until the bed frame slammed against the wall. When I finally came it was with a roar, flooding her pussy with thick pulses of cum while she pushed back against me and milked every drop. We stayed locked together, panting, my cock still twitching inside her.

That was only the beginning.

Over the next weeks we fucked every chance we got. In the laundry room while the kids napped upstairs—her bent over the dryer, dress flipped up, my cock slamming into her from behind while the machine vibrated under her tits. In the shower after Shelley left for work, her soapy hands stroking me while I sucked her nipples under the spray. Late at night in the basement after everyone else was asleep, her riding me reverse-cowgirl so I could watch her perfect ass bounce and her pussy lips stretch around my thick shaft. She loved being called Daddy. She loved talking about getting bred even though she was on the pill. She loved taking my load on her face and then licking it off her own tits while looking me in the eye.

One afternoon she texted that she was bringing a friend over. Daisy. Nineteen, a little taller, softer body, and the biggest pair of natural G-cups I had ever seen. When they walked in together while Shelley was still at work, my cock went from soft to steel in seconds. Daisy was shy, blushing, but her dress was so tight the soft flesh of her breasts threatened to spill out with every breath. Tess kissed her neck right in front of me, whispering things that made Daisy’s cheeks burn brighter.