The Forbidden Babysitter: Ch. 01

The Babysitter 01

**Chapter 1**

The sound of thunder rumbled through the house, still distant but moving closer. The storm wasn't supposed to get here until later, but since when had the weatherman been right about the weather?

Michael was forty-six. His wife Alisa was standing at the sink, cleaning the rest of her dishes from dinner. The only other sounds in the house were the ticking of the clock on the wall and the hum of the refrigerator. It was 'date night' or what was left of it. The storms had canceled their plans, so they ended up eating frozen pizza and watching TV. Not exactly a good date by anyone's standards.

After twenty-two years and two kids, sometimes you had to take what you could get. Their normal routine of dinner, kids to bed, and finding something to do in separate corners of the house was not often deviated from. This night was supposed to be the exception, and with it came Olivia. She was eighteen and had been babysitting for them for four years. Their daughter Emma, six, loved her. Their son Ethan, ten, was in love with her. Olivia was currently putting the kids to bed. She didn't have to, but the children had insisted.

Alisa put the last dish away. She was clinical with her chores. She stood at the sink in her 'no sex' sweats, as Michael called them. If she had them on, there was a zero-percent chance he would get lucky. Not that he had gotten lucky in months, or had it been a year?

"Sounds like the kids have settled down," Alisa said. "At least the thirty dollars we spent on her sitting services isn't going to waste."

Michael listened to her drone on, the tired feeling of listening to her complain sinking into his bones. If this is what she said about Olivia, what was she saying behind his back? Their marriage had long ago stalled out, and they were more akin to roommates than husband and wife.

Michael had tried for years to keep the flame alive. Date nights to her favorite restaurant, where she spent more time looking at her phone than him. His advances that were brushed away with a tired sigh and 'Stop!' The sex that was always missionary with the lights off and the faithful 'Are you done yet?' Michael hadn't gotten a blowjob in over twenty years. Did marriage void that with the exchange of nuptials?

He stayed loyal, even with the constant, gnawing want in his soul that made him feel like he was slowly dying inside."How the hell did we end up like this?"Michael thought"I can't keep living this boring existence."

Right then, that pain was sharper than usual.

The glass in the front door illuminated from the flash of lightning outside. The storm was getting ready to break. Olivia was still upstairs and getting ready to leave. She'd been babysitting since six o'clock, her usual Friday-night gig for date night. Then, the storm was here and fat raindrops were just starting to fall, tapping the windows like random drum beats.

Michael could hear Olivia saying goodnight to the kids upstairs. She appeared at the banister, waving back at them through the cracked bedroom doors with that bright, easy smile that always lit up the house. She was breathtaking in the hallway light, angelic even, looking like a young Hailee Steinfeld only taller, with long, wavy chestnut-brown hair cascading over her shoulders, framing a flawless face with big, warm brown eyes that seemed to suck you in. She wore a soft white button-down shirt made from that thin, slightly stretchy cotton that left little to the imagination, tucked neatly under a light denim jacket. Her loose, flowing skirt skimmed mid-thigh, and simple white canvas shoes with no-show socks completed the girl-next-door look that hit all the right notes for Michael.

Earlier, when Michael was walking towards the kitchen, he and Olivia had passed in the hallway. She stumbled and fell into him. He instinctively grabbed her about the waist to stop her falling, while her arms went around his neck and shoulders. That split-second after the catch, she looked up into his eyes. Their faces were inches apart. Her beautiful brown eyes revealed some deep desire and hunger that Michael was drawn to. It was just a moment, but he was sure it was there. Her face blushing and that smile she had as they parted, left little doubt to Michael that something had passed between them.

Another crack of thunder shook the house; this time, closer. Michael grabbed the keys from the peg in the kitchen. "Storm's almost here. I'm going to drive Olivia home," Michael said. "No way she's going to make it walking home before the storm hits." Alisa shrugged, drying her hands on the dish towel. "I don't see why her father can't come get her." Michael reminded her, "He broke his leg last week, Alisa. He can't drive." Alisa shook her head. She had no sympathy these days. "She should have driven herself then, she griped.

Michael rolled his eyes behind her back. It was always something with her, always something to complain about, or some fault to be found in others.

As Michael approached the front door, he looked up. Olivia was just approaching the upper banister. He could see her waving goodbye to the kids through the cracked bedroom doors. He called up to her, "Hey Olivia, I'll give you a ride home. The storm's almost here. Meet me out at the Bronco." Olivia paused. The light from the upstairs hall backlit her figure, painting a halo around her head. She looked like an angel, absolutely beautiful. Michael turned to head out, but caught the smile that appeared on Olivia's face as he did so.

As he stepped outside, the wind caught him in the face, smashing down, causing him to stumble. The trees were dancing back and forth. Flashes of lightning speared the night, thunder rolling in seconds later. Michael hurried to the truck. As he climbed in, he took a moment to admire what he had restored. The 1978 Ford Bronco was his pride and joy. He and his father had started the project before he passed. Michael finished it last year. The V8 engine roared to life. Michael involuntarily smoothed the leather on the bench seat, while he waited.

Olivia stepped outside, giving a final wave before closing the door. She only made it two steps before the heavens opened up and a deluge of water dropped on her. Her voice went high-pitched as she screamed, and she ran for the Bronco. By the time she opened the door and climbed in, she was soaked head to toe. "Dammit," Michael said, "I thought we'd have more time before the rain hit." Olivia stripped off the soaking-wet jacket, dropping it onto the backseat floorboard with a---plop---. Her shirt was damn near see-through. Several buttons had come undone, revealing the black-lace bra beneath -- not that Michael couldn't see it through her shirt. The tops of her breasts peeked out from the wet shirt. Michael quickly looked away lest she catch him staring. Too late. Olivia started running her hands over each arm to drive the chill away. "I'm freezing. Do you mind if I turn up the heat?" she said. "I'm so wet right now." The double meaning hung between them. She bit her lower lip, while waiting for a response. "Uh, of course. Go ahead," Michael responded. Olivia slid over next to him on the bench seat, her thigh pressing up against his right leg. "So much better," she added. The contact had an instant reaction in Michael-- his cock began to swell. Her leg was warm and smooth, and he could feel it all through his pants.

Olivia started talking idly, in a soft casual manner, about school, graduating, and weekend plans. She changed tack and started with the questions about the kids, his day at work, summer vacation plans. Her hands were constantly moving -- fixing her wet hair, occasionally touching his thigh to drive a point home, smoothing the skirt while pulling it higher at the same time, showing more of her perfectly toned legs with every fix. Michael's eyes kept glancing down with every change in length. His body went rigid.

Olivia asked him, "You seem tense tonight. You look like you could use some serious stress relief." Her hand settled on his thigh, just above his knee, giving it a soft squeeze. "Is everything OK at home?"

Michael's voice became strained. "Everything is, uh, fine at home. Date night didn't go according to plan." Michael had been hoping for sex, tonight, and he was extremely pent up. Olivia rubbed his thigh, in understanding. Her hand was incredibly warm and supportive on his leg. She began tracing small circles on his thigh as they continued to talk. Like casting a spell on him, each circle an 'O' for Olivia, reminding him of where her hand was, and yet he was unwilling to tell her to stop. She kept inching her hand up higher each time she spoke, seeming casual at first, but it became clear it was deliberate the higher she went.

Olivia's touch was becoming unbearable, and Michael's cock was pressing hard against its confines, yearning for freedom.

Michael was suddenly pulled back to reality. A fallen tree was blocking the road. "Shit, looks like we have to go around the long way -- the back roads by the park and around the old community center." Olivia seemed to perk up at this. "Oh no, I guess that means more time in the truck with you." Her hand, by then, was, halfway up his thigh. "I'm good with that."

The detour was going to add twenty to thirty minutes onto what should have been a five-minute trip. Michael was getting so hard, it was becoming painful. His cock pressed against his pants, demanding to be set free. Olivia's hand finally made contact with his bulge, but she didn't pull away. Instead, her fingers continued their advance, tracing a path along his member. "Olivia, your hand," Michael weakly mumbled, his voice cracking. Olivia turned toward him. Her right hand took over, rubbing an outline of his hard cock. Her left arm moved up, elbow resting on the back of the seat, while her hand played with his hair. "What about it?" she replied softly. Her fingers brushed over the quickly growing bulge in his pants, then quickly ran her hand up and down its length. "You don't like me touching you?" she teased. His cock pressed even harder against the fabric. "Because it feels like you do," she said, in a sensual tone.

Michael's voice was low and barely a whisper. "Olivia..."

Her hand, fully palming his hard cock, gave it a squeeze. "Oops," she said, a small smile of enjoyment on her face.

Michael lost control of the Bronco for a second, before swerving back onto the road. His hands gripped the wheel tighter, as he struggled for control of more than just the Bronco. She pressed in tighter, her lips brushing against the skin of his ear, whispering, "This ride will go a lot smoother if you pull over." As she ran her hand through his hair, she continued, "We wouldn't want you to have an 'accident' now, would we?" gently squeezing his cock again.

He didn't argue. Her hand distracted him further. She just kept stroking him through his jeans, leaning in closer so her breath warmed his neck. "You've been staring at me for months, Michael. I feel it every time I'm in your house. Every time I brush up against you. I know your wife won't touch you like this..." as she gently squeezed his throbbing cock, "she doesn't want you like I do." Rubbing her palm over his cockhead, she added "And won't do the things I'm going to do," as she licked her lips sensually.

Michael pulled the Bronco to the side of the road under a giant oak. He started to put up a weak protest, "Olivia, we prob--" before he could finish, she pulled him into a kiss. With her hand wound through his hair, she directed his face to hers and kissed him deeply. Her mouth silenced any further protest and took charge. Her tongue searched his out and gained access without resistance.

Their kissing was passionate, deep, and hungry, as if they had both been starving and suddenly could feast. The rain began to pick up, hammering the roof, causing a roar inside the truck. Olivia worked Michael's belt with practiced ease; his button popped without effort; the zipper descending down with a smooth pull. Michael's cock was begging to be set free, and Olivia was only too eager to oblige.

She took his hard cock into her warm hand, fingers pressing into the swollen flesh, thumb running up to the underside of his cockhead and rubbing the pre-cum starting to build there. She broke their kiss to appraise Michael's nine inch cock. "Fuck! You're so big." Her eyes took in his manhood, as her hand began running up and down slowly, enjoying the feel of him under her control.

She locked eyes with him, and whispered, "Do you like it when I stroke you like this?" giving his cock a squeeze as she did so.

"Fuck... yes," Michael replied, as his head fell back into her hand and his eyes half-closed in ecstasy. "Mmm... good boy," she purred, as she lowered her head into his lap. "What about my mouth? Do you like it when I kiss you?" She pressed a soft open-mouthed kiss directly on the underside of his cockhead, her mouth running down to the bottom of his shaft and back to the tip. Michael's head was swimming, on sensory overload. Olivia continued, "Do you like it when I taste you?" as she gently licked up the pre-cum gathering on the tip of his cock.

"God, Olivia!"

She swallowed his cockhead then, her tongue working the tip in a clockwise-circular motion. She paused for a moment, making eye contact with Michael, before taking him deeper into her mouth. Her tongue guided his cock all the way to the back of her throat. She let out a soft hum that Michael could feel passing through his then-buried cock. Olivia began to work his manhood up and down with slow sensual motions; pausing at the top, only to take him fully into her mouth and throat. Michael threaded his fingers through her damp hair, feeling her head as it bobbed up and down and the pleasure came in waves. She pulled him from her mouth and looked up at him. "I want you to come in my mouth," she said, while kissing the underside of his cockhead. "I want to taste you."

She moved down the outside of his cock, kissing a trail on the way down to the base before moving on to his balls. While her hand was busy slowly working the shaft, she took one ball into her warm mouth, rolling it around with her tongue and pulling back with a littlepop, setting it free; licking her way over to the other and repeating the process. Michael was in heaven. Never had he felt anything to this level of sensation before. He was struggling to hold on. Olivia moved back up to the tip and ran her tongue down the slit before swallowing him back down. Her speed and skill increased to get her just reward. Michael felt the orgasm coming, his hand clenching closed on her hair, all the muscles in his body spasming at the same time. Olivia was ready, having felt his balls drawing up and his cock throbbing. She moved to the head and began to work the tip with her tongue. Huge jets of come flooded her mouth.

She swallowed as fast as she could, desperately trying not to waste a drop. Olivia kept working his cock through the aftershocks, gently sucking and licking until she was sure that she had gotten it all.

Michael was still recovering from the most intense orgasm he had ever felt, when Olivia climbed up into his lap, her warm mound pressing into his spent cock. He was sure he was done for the night, that he would not be able to perform again, but his cock was already getting hard. Olivia kissed him deeply, and pulled back until they were face to face. "I'm not done with you yet," she said, "and apparently neither is he," as she felt his cock start to press against her pussy.

She started to kiss him again, grinding her sex into his, her hands running through his hair. Michael was coming alive again, as well. He reached up and undid her shirt, quickly unbuttoning it and pulling it open to reveal her black-lace bra and large breasts. His hands raced behind to deftly release the catch on her bra. As Olivia's clothes fell to the Bronco's floor, she pulled back so Michael could admire her. Her large breasts hung free, nipples pointing, her flat stomach running down into her skirt. Michael took a moment to admire her beauty, her form. Olivia took his hands and placed them on her chest, letting Michael take over with expert skill, kneading and rubbing her breasts, his thumbs rubbing circles around her nipples. All the while, Olivia was grinding her pussy into his belt hardened cock.

The storm outside raged, the water coming down in torrents. The only thing more intense than the storm were the two occupants of the Bronco. The steam from their sex had fogged up all the windows. Olivia's hand sought purchase on the glass, but left a streak of condensation running down the window. Olivia pushed Michael back against the seat, unable to wait any longer. "I need you inside me," she pleaded. "Please?" She reached down and pulled her panties to the side, taking Michael's cock and guiding it to the entrance. She raised up and slowly took him inside, inch by inch, until he was buried completely in her. Her mouth hung open. A breathless cry hung on her lips. Eyes closed, she adjusted to being impaled on his cock.

Michael took stock of the situation. Here he was with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, his eighteen-year-old babysitter, his dick fully inside her, her breasts in his hands, her eyes locked on him, a look of pure desire on her face-- all for him. She felt soft and warm, and he wanted nothing more than to remain in this moment. That's was when Olivia started to ride him. There was no hurry here. She took her time rising up and slowly letting herself down, at first; getting acclimated to his length, his girth. Only after several minutes, did she increase her speed, leaning forward, their mouths joining, tongues dancing.

Michael's hands roamed her body, her ample chest, the swell of her hips, reaching around and squeezing her ass as she bounced on his dick. Their rhythm intensified. Olivia could feel Michael's breathing becoming ragged, his cock swelling inside her. She looked him in the eyes and started to ride him harder. "Cum inside me," she whispered to him, their faces pressed together. "Don't stop. I'm almost there!" Her moans began pushing Michael over the edge, his orgasm starting a moment before her own. Michael's final thrust pushed deeply inside Olivia's womb, jets of come filling her and starting to leak out. Olivia's orgasm was breaking free like a tsunami; her pussy clenching shut on Michael's cock, refusing to let go; her moans filling the cab of the Bronco, spilling out into the storm.

They remained locked together for long minutes, breathing heavily, bodies slick with the sweat of sex, gentle kisses passing between them.

Eventually, they pulled apart, gathering the hastily discarded clothing and putting themselves back together. Michael fired the Bronco up; the storm having finally moved on.

They drove the remaining few miles in silence. Olivia nestled at his side, her head resting against his shoulder, her hand on his thigh, tracing those little circles and feeling immense contentment.

Michael pulled into her driveway. Olivia slid over towards the door and stopped. She came back abruptly and kissed him deeply, her tongue flashing into his mouth, her hand holding his face. She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, a mischievous little smile playing on her lips. "I can't wait until we can be together again," she whispered. Her hand slid down and gave his dick one firm, teasing squeeze. "'Night, Michael."

Then she slipped out of the truck, and disappeared inside her house, her hips swaying just a little extra just for him.

Michael sat there alone in the dark cab, his heart still hammering, cock twitching at the memory of her mouth, her warmth, and that final squeeze. The weight of what he'd just done should have crushed him with guilt. Instead, all he could think about was how badly he already wanted more.