Breeding the Babysitter

"Mom! I'm leaving to go babysit!"

You slip your shoes on at the front door, praying your mom doesn't see you leave. You didn't want her questioning what you were wearing. It's not like it's that crazy. But your short shorts and tank top would definitely get an eyebrow raise. Especially considering you weren't wearing a bra underneath. Whoops!

"Okay, dear," your mom calls from down the hall. "Tell Mr. Keating, I say hi."

You internally sigh with relief, grabbing your bag and locking the door behind you.

The single dad you babysit for only lives a few houses down and you always feel giddy on the way over to his house. You've always had a little crush on your older neighbour, Mr. Keating. It's only been exacerbated now that he's got a cute little boy. Seeing him pack his little toddler around, rock him to sleep in his big, beefy arms...it has your ovaries in overdrive.

He answers his door looking frazzled. His sweatpants slung low, his T-shirt wet and stuck to his skin. Your eyes track how the shirt clings to his broad chest. His dark hair is just starting to show a few grey streaks at his temples, and it looks deliciously unkempt, like he just rolled out of bed.

"I was trying to bathe him before you got here," he says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "But things got out of hand. There's more water outside the tub than in it."

You giggle and let yourself in, following the trail of water droplets down the hall, finding the crime scene, bath water all over the bathroom, and the perpetrator, with his mess of wet hair and big, innocent eyes.

Little Keating was always up to something, and your glare has him giggling as he attempts to fight off your hold as you finish bathing him.

Mr. Keating sighs, crossing his arms as he leans on the doorframe and watches you bathe his son. "You're so good with him. Thank you."

"No problem, he's such a cutie."

That day, as you watch him dote on his little boy before he leaves for some work meeting, an insane thought swirls in your dumb brain. Even though you've never been into daddy kink before, you can see the appeal now. you want to ask him: can you be my daddy, too?

--

The next time you go over to Mr. Keating's house, only the daddy's home.

"Where's little bub?" you ask, standing on his front porch, hearing silence from inside when usually you hear the chaos only a toddler can achieve.

He sighs as he hangs his head and apologises to you.

"My parents took him for the night. I'm so sorry. It completely slipped my mind."

You were used to this by now. Mr. Keating worked really hard and he came home most nights absolutely exhausted. He looks at you wearily, rumpled and no doubt tired from his hectic job.

"Would you like to come in for a drink? It's hot out there."

You eagerly accept his invitation. Any excuse to spend more time with your hot, beefy employer. He's politely ignored your advances, but you can feel his eyes on you when you're not looking.

Today's the day he cracks, you can feel it.

You're bolder than usual. Hornier, too, so you find yourself with less inhibitions. You went without a bra today, and your sensitive nipples poke through your thin tank top, turning stiff at the slightest graze or brush of your top.

He leads you inside to the living room, then shortly sits down next to you with two glasses of iced lemonade.

You arch your back as you lean over the table, tits pushed out as you grab your glass.

"You're really good with kids," he remarks offhandedly, and from the corner of your eye, you can see his eyes trained on your chest.

"I can't wait to have my own," you sigh, sipping your lemonade. "If I found the right guy," you give him a half-lidded look you hope is sultry. "I'd want him to put a baby in me right away."

He looks away, clearing his throat. 'You're nineteen, you're still young," he says. "You've got lots of time."

"Boys my age suck."

They can't find the clit. And think you can orgasm just by sucking their cock. Ugh. Boys your age fondle you up a bit and then consider that enough foreplay before sticking it in.

You thought maybe older guys would be a little better, so you set your sights on your friends' older brothers, all too easily they folded, but even their performances were lacklustre.

Finally, a cute professor at your college seemed to follow you around with his eyes, so you fucked him, too. It was a lot of whimpering in your ear, and jackrabbiting his dick into you, and asking if you were close (you were not).

All in all, very underwhelming experiences.

None of them excite your body the way Mr. Keating does. He makes something warm bloom deep in your belly. Makes something clench and beg for his cock and his cum.

He gives a low chuckle, his big hand patting you on the head.

And you just know he's good in bed. He's so relaxed in himself, in this conversation.

You try to appear as sullen as possible, subtly making your lips pouty and eyes wide and doe-like. "Can you help me? I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

"Help you...?" He looks at you in disbelief before rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Uh, I don't think that's a good idea..."

Your lip wobbles. "I think something's wrong with me. I don't like it when boys touch me there. It never feels good. I've never come before."

Which is a lie. You've been touching yourself and orgasming to thoughts of him ever since you took this babysitting job.

"You've never had an orgasm?"

You shake your head, giving him a pleading look. "It's so weird, but when I think of you," you pull his hand and rest it on your lower belly. "I feel all warm and tingly here."

Despite himself, his eyes lower to his big hand spanning across your belly and his throat bobs as he swallows.

"God, you're so young," he groans into his free hand. But his other hand doesn't move from your belly. He looks over again... And slowly starts to rub little circles on your stomach with his thumb.

You clutch onto his huge arm. "Please, Mr. Keating, I feel so achy and itchy inside. I don't know what to do."

"You feel like this right now?"

"This happens every time I'm around you. I lose my mind."

He chuckles at your petulant tone, eyes flickering back and forth from your face to where his large hand is palming your tummy. "You're so cute."

"Please." You feel your eyes prick with unshed tears. You really are desperate at this point. "I need you."

"You ask so nicely." His hand trails up your stomach, just barely brushing against the underside of your breast through your thin tank top. Maybe it's because he's tired, or relaxed, or you've finally worn him down, or you're too tempting. But he can't seem to resist you right now.

"Okay, baby girl. I'll help you out."

Sweet relief sings through your chest. Without any further preamble, you scramble into his lap, tilting your head up searchingly.

He sweeps a thumb over your jaw, the other arm coiling around your waist and dragging you into his lap. God, you're completely surrounded and cocooned by his big body. He ducks down to meet you, his firm lips grazing against your plush ones. You open up for him and he immediately sweeps in with his hot tongue, his devouring kiss leaving no room for thoughts in your head.

You squirm and moan into his kiss, and he just holds you closer, his big arms locking you in place. A big hand sweeps down your hip and caresses your bare thigh, fiddling with the hem of your shorts, before reaching around to palm and squeeze your scantily clad ass.

"Mm...you've filled out nicely, look at these hips, this ass," he groans, both hands now palming your ass and grinding you down on him. You squeak when your core meets something stiff and hard beneath his slacks.

Without acknowledging his erection, he blinks hooded eyes, his gaze trained on your heaving chest. Your puffy nipples are practically poking through the thin material of your tank top.

"Lift your shirt up, show me those pretty tits."

Warmth curls in your gut at him making you do it. You tremble in the lap of this older man as you shyly lift the hem, tugging it up until your breasts pop out and jiggle in the open air.

He rumbles his approval, both hands coming up to palm them. His hands are huge, dwarfing your tits as he cups and weighs them.

"You've been teasing me for months now, haven't you? Walking around my house with these tiny little outfits."

"Mhm. I like when you look at me, when you think I'm not paying attention."

You let out a squeak when he pinches and rolls your nipples with his rough fingers, arching into his touch.

"When I look at you, when I touch you," he murmurs, "where does it feel good?"

You lick your lips, pupils blown wide with lust. You place a hand on your lower belly. "Right here. It feels weird and achy deep inside me."

"What about lower?"

"There, too," you whimper.

"Be a good girl and show me."

He leads you to his bedroom, where it smells overwhelmingly like him. Oh god, you love his manly, musky scent. You shimmy out of your shorts and panties, and before you can think of what to do or say next, Mr. Keating is guiding you to sit on the bed and then laying you down on your back.

"Spread your legs, show me where it aches."

You pause only a moment before your body urges you to obey him, your legs spreading, exposing your bare, dripping pussy to his gaze. Having his eyes on you...you can feel a fresh gush of arousal leak from your pussy. He makes you so wet.

He kneels on the bed, brushing his hands over your legs, trailing from your ankles to your knees to your inner thighs, all the while training his focus on your bare, quivering cunt. He slides two fingers through your dripping folds before spreading them wide, baring your fleshy interior. He can see everything, and as he glides across your entrance, your sopping pussy practically suctions to his fingers, not wanting to let him go.

"Looks like this needy little pussy needs some tending to."

With no preamble, he ducks down and his mouth is hot and slick as it covers your pussy completely, enthusiastically devouring you. He's not a boy learning his way around his first woman. This is a man who knows what he's doing. He holds you down as you squirm and writhe on his tongue, as his big veiny hand paws at your clit, his big head between your thighs. He dwarfs you completely. You feel tiny underneath him. He could throw you around, manhandle you whichever way he wants. But he doesn't. Because he's a good man. A gentle, beefy giant. And from what you felt beneath his slacks, he's got a big fat dick to match.

When your thighs tighten around his head and you're trembling and arching into his face, wailing as your orgasm overtakes you, Mr. Keating's groaning his approval, lapping up your gushing slick.

"Good girl," he murmurs, gently petting your quivering inner thighs as he continues to suck and lick your pussy through your aftershocks.

Your pussy clenches on instinct as a delicious thrill runs through your body, curling in your tummy, at his words.

He sits back to shuffle out of his slacks, revealing his thick, meaty thighs, and a huge bulge beneath his black boxer briefs. He takes his time unbuttoning his shirt, letting you run your eyes over him appraisingly. Slowly, his unbuttoning reveals smooth tan skin, a smattering of hair across his chest, a firm and strong abdomen, a slightly soft stomach, and then a trail of dark hair leading down from his bellybutton into the waistband of his briefs. He shrugs his shirt off, until he's left only in his underwear. He's even bigger now that he's out of his tailored suit. Burly and thick, strong.

Your insides turn to mush at the sight of this walking wet dream in front of you. He's a powerfully built, hot older man. A certified DILF if you've ever seen one. But for some reason he looks embarrassed. He runs a hand through his tousled hair, frowning.

"I can't believe we're doing this. I don't even know what you see in me. I'm a mess, and you're so young! I'm too old for you. You should be with someone your age," he rambles.

Blah blah blah.

You tune him out as you drool over his body. He's so fucking hot. You bet he knew how to fuck you properly, give you what you need. You never had the urge to call anyone daddy before, but if he asked, you probably wouldn't say no.

"Mr. Keating," you say, running your eyes up and down his body. "Please, I need you to fuck me."

He groans at your words, swiping a hand down his face.

You can't resist leaping forward, hands going to tug at his waistband, you help him pull his boxer briefs down, ignoring his surprised noise, and your mouth parts as they slide down his thick thighs, and his stiff, engorged cock springs free.

It's fucking huge. Impossibly thick, long, with veins pulsing along the length of it, ending in a fat, blunt cockhead. A big, heavy pair of balls nestled underneath.

You watch transfixed as he palms it, his big hand giving a few cursory pumps, precum pearling at the tip. He's practically brimming with virility, and all you want to do is submit to him, submit to his fucking and filling, let this stud breed your fertile young cunt. His fat cock was made for breeding slutty little girls like you.

He shuffles up the bed on his knees, his horse cock swinging between his legs, forcing you to fall back, his hands spreading your thighs as his hips slot against your ass. His thick cock thwaps against you, laying heavy on your belly, your stomach clenches when he rubs it back and forth, a thick bead of precum drooling on your skin, pooling into your belly button. He's going to reach so deep inside you.

He slides a meaty digit against your cunt, finding you spit slick and utterly drenched with arousal. His finger came away stringy and clear, and you knew you were definitely ovulating.

You practically whine in disapproval when he rolls a condom on. You wanted his burly, raw cock.

He chuckles. "It's hot in the heat of the moment, but trust me, it's better to be safe than sorry."

He's speaking from experience. He literally has a kid to prove it. He's being responsible, you get it, really, you do. But that's not what you want. You want him to lose control, you want him to fuck you and fill you and breed you.

He rubs his length up and down your pussy, through your dripping arousal, getting nice and wet. A whimper catches in your throat every time he brushes against your engorged clit. His big cock strains in the confines of the tight condom, as if any moment he'll burst out of it. And god do you want that.

Finally, finally, he nudges his ridiculously fat cockhead at your entrance that looks tiny by comparison.

"Are you sure about this? I'm really going to fuck you."

"Please, Mr. Keating," you beg. "I want you so bad it hurts."

He brushes a gentle hand over your cheek, sweeping hair out of your face as he swoops down to kiss your mouth. "Okay, baby," he says softly, fondly, as if he can deny you nothing. "I'll make it feel all better."

He barely pushes in his tip when he meets resistance.

"Shit, you're tight."

Your eyes widen as his cockhead rocks back and forth, gently trying to loosen you up, but he's so big, bigger than any other man you've been with. He's practically having to carve out a space for himself, stretching untried walls.

His fat head finally pops through your tight ring of muscle and you both groan at the tight fit, your walls clamping down on him like a vice. He makes your other experiences with boys and men feel like a joke.

You sob as his hips push forward, his girth spearing you wide, he shuttles back and forth, sinking a little deeper each time. He hoists your legs up until your knees are up against your chest, giving him a deeper angle, and you keen in the back of your throat when he finally slams alllll the way in, his cockhead pushing and grinding against something deep inside you, his heavy balls nestled against your ass.

Both of you are lost in the sensation of him holding himself so deep like this.

"Good girl, look at you," he grunts out, "taking it so well."

Your walls clamp down on him at the praise and he groans into your neck, mouthing kisses into your skin. Sparkles light up beneath your eyelids as he drags his cock back, hitting every nerve ending inside you on the way out, before rolling back in.

"Oh fuck," you whimper, clutching onto his shoulders.

You hold onto him, just along for the ride as he finds his pace, fucking you smooth and deep. Yes, yes, yes--

But then something snaps, and you realise, shit, the condom ripped, and he tries to pull out, but you won't let him. You clamp your legs around his waist, holding him to you. He wants you so bad, you can see it in his expression, in the shaky draw of his breath. The lust in his eyes. But he's a responsible, older man.

"Are you on birth control?"

Your silence is telling. You nibble on your lip, trying to think how you can convince him to keep going.

He groans and shakes his head, drawing back. He slips his cock out, pulling off the tattered condom and throwing it somewhere out of sight.

"It's okay. I track my cycle. It's a safe day."

It isn't.

You had your period about two weeks ago, you're in your prime ovulation time. Your body is ready to get fertilised, to get bred. And you're fucking horny for it.

You pull him back down and he groans when his hips meet yours. His bare cock slides through the messy wet slickness of your folds, your pulsing, suckling hole and the wet heat of your bare pussy has his head falling back on his shoulders. You can see the moment his resolve crumbles and he starts rubbing back.

He notches his cockhead at your drooling slit, his gaze trained there as he bullies his thick head back inside you, groaning at the sight of his burly raw cock stretching your tiny entrance wide open, just a little easier than the first time.

He holds your legs up and open with his strong arms as he presses in, holding himself balls deep. Your soft pussy is practically melting around his thick and fat raw cock. Oh shit. It feels so much better without a condom.

Then he pulls back and starts shuttling into you. It's a leisurely pace, but even that's too much. He's so big and thick it's overwhelming.

"Oh fuck..hnng." Your pants and moans are punched out of you with every harsh thrust, he's splitting you open, stretching you with his raw cock. His full balls slapping against your ass with every stroke, reminding you of his virility. He better come inside you. You want all of his thick, potent cum to flood your young and fertile womb, you want this virile older man to knock you up.

"Does that feel good, hmm?"

His fingers expertly play with your clit, holding your belly firm with the other hand, holding you against him with his cock firmly lodged against your cervix.

You can't respond, you can only lay there and take this older man's fucking. Soon, his cock filling you up and his fingers relentlessly stroking your clit, are too much, and you wail as your back arches, toes curling hard as your body clamps down on him.

Barely giving you pause to catch your breath, he pushes your thighs up and outwards, practically folding you in half, your ass lifting entirely in the air, and when he slides back in it feels like he's fucking your soul. He fucks you deep and hard, his cock head hellbent on battering your cervix. Despite his earlier insistence on a condom, he's just as eager as you are about fucking raw.

"Mm, so soft, so wet, fuck," he groans, hanging his head, his hair tickling your breasts. "Your hot little pussy's sucking me in, I don't want to leave. I want to stay right here." He clamps a hand on your belly as he rocks into you, his fat cockhead thumping against the gate to your young, unprotected womb. "Deep inside, and fill you up, over and over."