The Continued Perks of Being a Nanny (2) [MF] [cheating]

I want to clear a few things up before I continue chatting with you guys about what was probably the most influential sexual experience of my life thus far. I flirted with Mr. Pierce for almost a year and a half before I slept with him the first time. Part 2 contains some of those details that I left out of part 1. As for the odd hours Mr. Pierce kept, He worked in international business (imports/exports I think), so it wasn’t uncommon for him to be dressed for video conference at any given time. And lastly, for those of you that asked, according to my mother, who worked for Mrs. Pierce (that’s how I started babysitting for them), Mr. and Mrs. Pierce got a divorce in 2016. Mrs. Pierce was remarried inside of 6 months, and my mother believes that she had been having an affair [too].

So, as requested, some background: I started working for the Pierce’s when I was sixteen. I watched their son from the time he was six months old. Mrs. Pierce was already pregnant with their daughter. Mrs. Pierce was an attractive woman. Long brown hair with subtle highlights, a thin frame with a pert and perky chest, and a pretty face. She was always dressed nicely, even on the weekends she looked polished and put together. She was a management consultant and a real Type A personality. Schedules and labels were her life’s passions. Despite my behavior toward her husband, I actually kind of admired her. Mr. Pierce was tall with thick, dark hair you could get a good grip on and pale green eyes. He preferred shirts with buttons even when dressed casually. He had a dry sense of humor, but he worked too much, and basically had his phone permanently attached to his body. Their kids were adorable, their family photo, idyllic—except for the tight smiles. I liked both of them. They were great parents, hard-working, always made sure their kids were provided for. It was obvious how much they both loved those kids.

My crush on Mr. Pierce was pretty much immediate. I thought he was attractive when I met him, but the more time I spent in their house, the more my crush developed. He had a laid back, easy smile and if you mentioned baseball, he could talk for hours, and I would have listened. There was one action though that really solidified my teenage fever dream of him, the image that sparked every fantasy I had about him up until we had sex—he would lean over my shoulder to look at my trigonometry homework if I had a question or appeared to be struggling. I would get a whiff of his (what I assume was) aftershave and the smell of his day… Mmmm it was like my own brand of catnip. I struggled with trig a lot that year. Occasionally, I would notice his eyes lingering a little too long while reading the name of the band on my t-shirt or stopping to listen to me sing while I put the baby to bed, but I never thought anything of it. I was seventeen, and it never occurred to me that he would find me attractive too. He had a beautiful wife and even though I sometimes heard them arguing, I thought they were solid, couples argue, and they all have their problems.

I turned eighteen in early April, that is when I started noticing Mr. Pierce talking with me more, asking questions about my life, asking how I was doing in school, If I had summer plans and inviting me to use their pool in the coming Summer; and other seemingly innocuous questions. I had always smiled a little more when talking to him and laughed easily when he told a bad dad joke, but I never took his attention as a sign of sexual interest. I had hoped that he thought I was cute or at least maybe vaguely amusing, so when he started talking to me about subjects that could not be related back to his kids, I tried to be a little more charming and articulate. I wanted him to see me as a young woman, not the girl who watched his kids. I started wearing fewer band t-shirts and more things with lower scoop or vee type necklines and standing with my shoulders pushed back, choir stance, if you will.

It was Mr. Pierce who suggested that I “live-in” for the Summer. He insisted that there was no sense in me driving halfway across town twice every day. Mrs. Pierce was skeptical, but he pushed. He thought the kids were too young to be in day-care all day for the Summer and there wasn’t a need to hire someone to watch them full-time if the regular babysitter that they knew was great with their kids was willing to do it. And like I said in part 1, it wasn’t uncommon for me to sleep over on busy weekends or when one of them was out of town, so I didn’t see the problem with the idea. And I sure as Hell wasn’t going to turn down a great summer job that paid better than any other place in town. Mrs. Pierce came around in a couple of days, so it was decided that after I would move in for the summer the week that school ended. After that is when things really started to escalate.

In the time when I was “just the babysitter,” it was a rare occasion for me to see Mr. Pierce in any kind of undressed state and it was always from a distance, in a bathing suit. So, the first time I saw him shirtless in grey pajama pants, I blushed and looked away quickly. I hadn’t moved in yet, but It was late, and I was having trouble getting the baby to sleep. I was pacing the hall rocking and swaying, undoubtedly singing—it was the best way to soothe her, she liked Nina Simone—and he came around the corner with a warm bottle, to save the day. I couldn’t help but look him over as I took the bottle. He was in shape, but a lack of definition didn’t take away from my attraction. When my eyes slid over his package, I turned away quickly, feeling very warm and keeping my gaze down on the baby. He was still standing pretty close when he asked if I needed anything else. Not uncomfortably close, but close enough for me to smell that aftershave. One Saturday it was basketball shots and a t-shirt on his way in from an evening run, something he usually did in the morning. He was sweaty, and the outline of his bulge was clearly visible as he stood in the kitchen asking if I wanted him to look over my takehome exam. God, I wanted to say yes. And to be honest, I wish now that I had. The mix of sweat and aftershave, the close proximity to his semi-ridged dick and a clear view of my cleavage… hindsight is 20/20 as they say.

On their own, any one of these things would be nothing; a girl with a violent crush on her older boss and a father just trying to live his life. I would have left it alone, but after I caught him masturbating and him subsequently hearing me do the same, things escalated more. He started spending more time at home when Mrs. Pierce wasn’t, complimenting me, standing closer to me than he should have, finding reasons to innocently touch me. I reciprocated. Leaning forward, bending over, talking about all sexy things I was doing with the guy I was seeing with my friends while he was home, I even started leaving my bedroom door open just enough that he could see me changing for bed when he walked past.

Having sex with him for the first time was exhilarating. Even though he had had a couple of drinks, I loved every second of it. As it turned out, I had no idea how good sex actually felt until I let a married man who knew what he was doing turn me into his secret lover. Every time Mrs. Pierce went out of town, he found his way into my bedroom. I never asked what went on between him and his wife, but that didn’t stop him from letting things slip here and there about the infrequency, lack of enthusiasm, and the single position she allowed. He told me I was sexy and pretty, how good I felt, but never that he thought about me, or that he cared. It was pretty clear that I was just sex. A tight pussy to bury his cock in. I didn’t care, I’m a hedonistic millennial, I was happy to wrap my lips around dick so long as I got an orgasm out of it.

A couple of days after Mr. Pierce and I have sex in his home office, I was down in the laundry room doing a load of kid’s clothes, toddlers are profoundly messy, you know? I had been avoiding him since the night before, since Mrs. Pierce returned from her business trip. I was sorting through baby clothes while the kids were down for their morning nap. I looked over my shoulder when he knocked on the doorframe. I didn’t stop working. I didn’t even look him in the face, I couldn’t. Now that his wife was in the house, I felt awful. I just wanted to focus on my task and not be bothered. It was a Saturday, so I planned to take the kids for a long walk later, only to avoid awkward small talk with both mom and dad. When he put his hands on my hips, I froze. I don’t remember what was said, but I resisted, commenting that his wife was upstairs in the shower and could be down any minute. He brushed my ponytail aside and kissed my neck while he unbuttoned my shorts. I leaned my head back against his shoulder and moaned, tacit consent to continue. “That’s my girl.” That’s what he called me all Summer, his girl; Mr. Pierce and his girl–through my rose-colored glasses I could not have seen how tawdry it all was…

One of his hands slid down my body, and into my shorts and the other pulled at the neckline of my tank top, pulling in down for easier access to my nipples. I ground my ass into his pelvis while he stroked my clit and rolled my nipple between his fingertips. It didn’t take him long to get hard, but he continued to play with my clit until I was wet enough for him. The encounter was quick. He pushed my shorts and panties down until they were around my knees. He put his hand on my lower back and told me to bend over putting pressure on my back as he said it. I put my hands on the countertop, he grabbed my hips and slid slowly inside. I still wasn’t used to the feel of him, we had only had sex twice. So, it was still a shock when he thrust into me; a great stretch that made me moan quietly in high pitched little pants.

Everything wrong about what we were doing excited me. The thrill of getting caught, the fact that he was married, and his wife was in the house, the age difference, the fact that he was my boss. It was all taboo, and I was in no hurry to let it end. At least that’s how I felt when I was with him. But in the moments in between, my morals kicked in, and I felt horrible. That is until I learned to turn them off and pretend that I was (and still am) a well adjusted human.

I pushed back against him every time he pulled on my hips. He started slowly, but his pace picked up quickly. It was a pattern I would come to know well. He didn’t like a slow pace, and if he did, it was contrasted with hard thrusts. The only time he went slowly and softly, is when I asked for it, which he taught me to do early in our physical relationship. But this time, this time was hot and fast. In and out in under ten minutes, including “foreplay.” When I came, I held my breath trying to keep my volume under control. It made me dizzy enough to lose my balance. He had to wrap his arm around my stomach to keep me from falling as he continued to pound against me, his balls slapping against my cit. When he pulled out, he continued to stroke himself until he came on my ass and thighs in several, thick, hot spurts.

My legs shook a little as I cleaned myself up with the first piece of cloth I could find. He watched my tits bounce as I pulled my shorts back up over my ass, and pushed me back up against the washer to kiss me before he left, adjusting his fly before disappearing around the doorframe. Several minutes later, the shower shut off, I started the washer and ran upstairs to check on the kids.

edited for typos.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8qq3pa/the_continued_perks_of_being_a_nanny_2_mf_cheating