[Note: All teens are 18+]
“See you guys tonight!” I call after my friends, unlocking my vintage mint-colored Schwinn from the rack by the school parking lot. This bike just might be my favorite possession. It was thirty dollars, which is steep for a yard sale, but an exceptional deal considering what the elderly couple could’ve gotten for it elsewhere. Pushing off the pavement, I begin the familiar trek to Jacob’s school. I keep to sidewalks mostly, as a way to compensate for my lack of safety in other areas. I don’t think of myself as shallow, but I just can’t bring myself to wear a helmet. *Sorry, Mom. Style over safety*, I think, my long auburn hair whipping freely behind me in the breeze.
It’s not a long bike ride from the public high school to the gated private school where Jacob attends second grade, though I certainly pass a few levels of escalating wealth during the ten minute ride. I’m used to picking him up twice a week, and I walk my bike beside him as he cheerfully gabs about what happened that day. We mosey through the tree-lined neighborhood, passing beautiful brick homes adorned with carefully tended gardens, until we reach his house on the private cul-de-sac. If I were a kid, I would bike endless laps around the circle, and spend leisurely summer days laying back on the neatly trimmed grass in the middle. *Maybe I’d have run a lemonade stand*, I smile to myself. *I probably could’ve charged five bucks per Dixie cup.*
After the usual snack and iPad time, Jacob always picks what we do together. I rinse his empty milk glass, and he announces today’s choice: “Hide and seek!”. He wants to find me first, flopping face down to count into the soft leather sectional in the family room. I tiptoe upstairs and consider my options. *Should I try a new place?* I wonder. *He’ll never think I’d hide in here.* I smile as I stealthily slip into the large empty master bedroom and into the smaller of its two closets.
It is a massive house, the best kind to play this game in, and little Jacob has even twice as many options for hiding spots than I do. I am pleased to finally leave behind my skinny, childish body, and catch up with other girls my age. I’d be embarrassed if anyone knew how often I stand in front of the full length mirror in my bedroom, admiring myself in the various pretty bras and panties I secretly spent a small amount of my babysitting money on. At last I can fill out the soft lacy cups. Looking over my shoulder, I’ll admire the curve of my back leading down to the upside down heart shape of my backside.
Washing my own laundry is my newest chore at home. *”I don’t want you going off to college without any life skills!”* Mom has said more than once. But I don’t mind, because it means my stash is kept secret. What would Mom think if she found the skimpy pink sheer panties, or, God forbid, the completely see-through black lace bra? She’d assume I am doing a lot more than just kissing Ethan. We’ve only gone as far as making out in his basement, with a new addition as of last Friday: fumbling to grope each other over our clothes, me astride his lap as he sits back on the couch. *No worries though, Mom. I’m not getting pregnant through four layers of clothing.* I might have a more womanly body, but there is so much I’ve yet to experience.
Today after babysitting, I’m going to my best friend Elle’s house. Because of the night’s plans, I had planned ahead, dressing cute for school: a lavender cotton mini skater skirt and a cropped white sweater, just barely revealing a thin band of skin above my belly button. My white Nikes and bare legs keep it casual. Ethan had stuck a note in my locker after lunch: *”You’re the cutest girl in school. Can’t wait until later. That skirt is driving me crazy.”* Little does he know, I’m wearing my latest underwear purchase: a pretty white matching set. The panties are held up by single thin straps at the hips and very little coverage in both front and back. *I’ve got to remember I’ve got more of an ass now*, I thought when I slipped these on this morning, noticing the way my backside curves beyond the limits of the lace, and making a mental note to next time buy a medium size instead of small. The piece of fabric in front is tiny, but covers what I have there plenty enough. Everything is smooth under the delicate cloth. Sometimes I’ll leave the smallest little groomed patch of ginger fuzz, but not today. The bra is the same delicate white, but comprised entirely of sheer lace, lightening the hue of my already pale pink nipples. The skimpy material isn’t thick enough to hide their outline if they harden, the way bras usually do. So, as I dressed this morning, I had hoped the chunky stitches of my sweater would camouflage any mishaps. And lastly, my undergarments have tiny pink bows: one where the bra cups meet in the center of my chest, and the other above the little patch of fabric in the front of my panties. *Like gift bows on presents*, I think, with a sly smile.
Elle knows I am preparing for a special night. After her house, we’ll be hanging out with the boys at Ethan’s. Elle already told me she’d leave with Trevor as soon as possible, so Ethan and I can take advantage of a rare night his parents are going to be out past midnight. Even Elle is still technically a virgin, and I’m positive by the end of the night I’ll still be too, but I fully expect Ethan to at least see my pretty bra on the bedroom floor, and his boxer briefs too. I’m planning to keep my panties on, though I suppose anything is possible. No matter what, I trust him to respect my limits; we’re both new to this, and we don’t want to rush what’s a really big moment.
But I’m still ready to take things to the next level. Last night I watched a YouTube video about hand and blow job techniques to supplement the anecdotal info Elle already gave me. *How did people learn this stuff before they could hide out in their bedrooms with the internet on their phones?* I hope the choice of white underthings for my first sexual experience won’t be too cringey. *Though I seriously doubt that’ll be Ethan’s first thought*, I consider with a smile. *I look pretty hot.*
I have plenty of time to reflect on all of this as I wait for Jacob to finish counting to 30 and find me. The large bedroom closet where I’m hiding has dark wood folding doors that I’ve left open an inch to let a little late afternoon light in, as well as a bit of the cool breeze from the nearby open window. The plush carpet is comfy enough on my bare legs, I notice as I sit cross-legged on the floor. I’ve never hidden in his parents’ bedroom before, even though they’re never around. Jacob’s mom is an ER nurse who works all afternoon and late into the night on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which is why I come babysit. And his dad is always sequestered in his home office down the upstairs hall when I’m here. I’ve never known what his job is, other than the kind that requires him to bark stern orders on the phone and hold Zoom meetings where he seems to do the majority of the talking. He must be the boss of wherever he works, or certainly some other prestigious role; this house required serious bucks from two incomes to purchase. I’d had to resist running my hand along the luxurious fur throw blanket at the foot of the king-size bed on my way to the closet. I hadn’t wanted to leave a hand streak, as everything is perfectly in place.
Glancing above me as I sit in the cozy space, I take in the rack of crisp button down shirts, mostly pale blues. There is a built-in storage area next to me. Snooping a bit, I crack open the top drawer, revealing several rolls of coiled silky ties. The next one is all fabric; I touch it curiously and enjoy the softness, until I realize it’s underwear. I yank my hand back quickly and flush. *Apparently dads like boxer briefs too*, I think to myself. *I hope Ethan’s feel like this.* I’m just thankful Jacob’s dad never leaves his office when I’m here. Based on the aroma, he has a coffee maker in his office. There’s also access to an attached bathroom, so he’s basically set for hours. I’ve only interacted with him the occasional times I’ve come to babysit Jacob on a weekend date night. He and his wife usually dress elegantly when they go out to who knows where. *I seriously doubt they bump into Ethan’s parents at their bowling league. Ha.*
*I wish I could hide in her closet instead*, I think, trying to picture the assortment of beautiful garments the much larger walk-in closet on the other side of the room surely contains. I’ll never go in there though, as I know her precious jewelry must be inside, and I’m not going to get caught looking like I’m trying to steal from them. God knows they Venmo me an absurdly high wage, and I’m keeping this job as long as I can. *At this rate, there’ll be no college loans for me.*
I’ve been in the closet for a few minutes, hearing Jacob thump around the house in search of me, his faint voice downstairs calling out “I’m going to find you!” *He’s a fun kid.* I smile and think of how good I have it. Most of the kids in this part of town are spoiled and run wild with too-little parent interaction. Jacob’s mom works late twice a week, but the rest of the time she’s the one to pick him up from school, help with homework, and play with him. And after his dad finishes work upstairs, they’ll all have dinner and spend the evening together. Of course, my only source of information about these events is a seven year old, but it seems believable enough, and surprisingly well adjusted and traditional behavior from such an upper class family. I can’t hear Jacob at the moment; he must be two floors below in the basement, searching through the vast, fully stocked play area.
It’s quiet upstairs while I wait for Jacob to work his way up here. I catch the familiar muffled businesslike voice from beyond the closed door down the hall, until suddenly there’s sharp “Goddammit!” Next thing I know, I make out the sound of the office door swinging open, and Jacob’s dad swiftly striding down the hall toward the master bedroom. *Oh shit oh shit*, I think, eyes wide in panic. *He’s coming in here. He’s totally coming in here, and now we’re going to have our first one-on-one interaction in his bedroom, of all places!*
I have two choices: reveal myself now and explain, or stay hidden and hope he doesn’t find me. Without further thought, I slide the closet door completely closed, with only a crack to peek through. I find this man intimidating under regular circumstances, so a bedroom encounter is not on my list of tasks today. *Please please don’t see me.* I try to mentally will Jacob to keep looking downstairs until his dad does whatever he needs to do and goes back to the office.
He enters the room, muttering curses. His suit jacket is already off, and he loosens his tie and removes it, tossing it on top of the jacket he’s just discarded on the massive bed. When he turns, I get a better view of what caused the outburst: a wet coffee stain streaking the front of his shirt. I realize he’s not done after the tie; next he unbuttons his well-cut dress shirt. He peels it back, revealing a white tee. It seems the coffee didn’t soak through, based on his pause to glance down, and his decision to keep it on.
*Oh…* My breath catches. I suddenly realize I’ve never seen this man in short sleeves, or this much of his golden-toned skin. His white t-shirt is a snug fit, revealing the torso of a former athlete. His arms look strong, with clearly intentionally toned muscle there. *I suppose they actually do use the gym*, I think, reflecting on the room solely designated for a variety of exercise equipment and a rack of weights. His shoulders are broad, and trim waist completes the picture. I glance up to his face, his dark brow furrowed in irritation as he next tosses his dress shirt next to the jacket and tie. I’ve never really considered how… handsome he is. He’s a dad, and a grown up, so “attractive” isn’t supposed to fit with those two words.
But it certainly describes him. *James.* That’s his first name, and how he introduced himself to me last fall. *”I’m James, this is Vivian, and of course you know Jacob. He couldn’t stop going on about how he wanted his favorite camp counselor to babysit him.”* I’ve never addressed him that way, or called any adult by their first name, so I find the idea pretty awkward. Thankfully, in James and Vivian’s case, I can easily avoid saying names since we rarely converse.
“Shit.” James’ muttered curse interrupts my train of thought. He’s looking down, and I see what he’s just noticed: a small coffee splatter on the waist of his dress pants. He runs video meetings, so I understand the jacket, shirt, and tie, but I wonder why he goes full suit at home. *I guess he’s not “the business on top, sweatpants on the bottom” type*, I think with a smirk. But then my eyes widen when I realize what he’s about to do. He uncinches the black leather belt, and unbuttons and unzips his pants. He steps out of them and adds them to the pile on the bed. As he finishes undressing, he turns away from me, providing me with a front row seat to this man’s ass in tight boxer briefs. *Holy shit. I had no idea all of… this… was hiding under those fancy suits.* I lazily drink in the sight of him, until he abruptly turns to face exactly where I’m hiding.
At this point, I can practically hear my heart hammering as two statements tumble around in my head: *He is about to open the closet door to retrieve clean clothes! And, Jesus Christ… I want this man to ravish me.*
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ysv1bw/turning_the_babysitter_into_a_good_girl_chapter_1
I like where this is going.
!updateme
updateme
!subscribeme
!updateme
!updateme
!subscribeme