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This happened just a few months ago, in late April. I reconstructed the dialog as best I could…
I was babysitting for the Bentons, as I did every Saturday night. Except when I was babysitting for the Greens or the Hernandezes, though the Hernandezes were mostly Friday nights.
Yeah, I did a lot of babysitting my freshman year of college. It played hell with my social life — I was almost done with my first year of college and still a virgin — but tuition doesn’t pay itself and, unlike waitressing, this allowed me to get homework done while I was getting paid.
And I only had to clean up after one sloppy eater at a time.
And at least Kimmi Benton had an excuse: she was two. And cute as a button. She called me “Zuzu” because she still couldn’t say “Susan.”
The night was uneventful: I fed her, bathed her (I wondered whether she ever didn’t need a bath after eating), and read to her until she passed out.
Then I spread out several books on the living room floor, sat down on the floor with my notebook computer on my lap, and began composing a paper on the First World War.
A bit after nine, I heard the front door being unlocked. Were the Bentons home early? Damn, just when I was getting in a writing groove.
But it was Ted, their son. Mrs. Benton’s son, actually, from her previous marriage. I’d seen him around: he was a sophomore, and lived off-campus here with his parents. He’d dated a girl from my dorm for a very brief time. I would have to describe him as… hot-nerdy. Like a blond, 19-year-old Jeff Goldblum.
“Oh, hi, Susan,” he said when he saw that the living room had been turned into my workspace. “Did a library explode?”
“My own personal war zone,” I told him. “Your parents said you wouldn’t be home until at least midnight.”
As soon as I said it, I realized I’d probably hit a sore point.
“Yeah, well, sometimes a date is going along fine, and then suddenly somebody assassinates an archduke.”
A World War One joke. Not a knee-slapper, but you have to give him credit for the attempt. “I guess I should clear up my war zone and get going, then,” I said.
“No, stay if you want. It’s not fair that you lose billable hours. Besides, I don’t think my parents trust me here alone anyway.”
Well, that was a comment I was dying to follow up on. But didn’t.
“I have my own assignments for the weekend. You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”
“Of course not.”
“Don’t worry, it’s only one book.” He disappeared into his room and came out a minute later having kicked off his shoes, exchanged his sport shirt for a t-shirt, and carrying a book. He stretched out on the couch, and opened up Proust’s A recherche de temps perdu.
Yes, in French. Like I said, a hot nerd.
I became aware that, lying there a couple of feet higher than me, he could probably look down my blouse, but I never caught him doing so. Anyway, I had to concentrate on the Zimmermann Telegram.
About 11:30, he got a call on his cell phone. What I heard was “Yeah, I just got home… Are you both okay?… Well shit, okay, I guess it could have been worse… But… She’s still here… Okay.” He handed me his phone. “Susan, I guess it’s for you.”
“Hello?”
“Susan, it’s nothing serious, but some drunk driver t-boned us when we were driving home. Mrs. Benton might have a broken leg, it’s probably no worse than that, but they want to keep her overnight. Is there any chance you can stay? The guest room is made up, and in the half-bath attached to it, we have unopened toothbrushes and other things you might need.”
I wondered why they weren’t fine with just Ted here with the baby, but I didn’t ask. I did glance over at Ted, who could hear some of what his step-father was saying, and he just shrugged.
“Sure thing, Mr. Benton,’ I told him. “Do they know when…”
“Unless there’s some sort of complication, which they don’t expect, we should be home by noon.”
“Okay, dikmen escort give Mrs. Benton my best,” I said, handing the phone back to Ted. I thought he’d have more to say to his step-father, but he just disconnected the call.
“Je suis fatigué,” he said, holding up his book (Even I knew that means “I’m tired.”) “Ready to call it a night?”
“Oui,” I said, pretty much exhausting my knowledge of French. “Do you have, um, maybe a long t-shirt I can borrow?” I really couldn’t sleep in what I was wearing and my usual summer sleep attire — just my panties — would feel awkward in somebody else’s home. Not to mention I had to be available for any Kimmi emergency. Do two-year-olds wake up in the middle of the night needing anything? I really had no idea.
I gathered up my books while Ted went to his room and found me one of his t-shirts. We said our goodnights and retired to our respective rooms.
Once I’d closed the door behind myself, I stripped down to my panties and pulled the t-shirt over my head. It barely came down to the waistband of my panties.
Well, he meant well: the t-shirt probably would have come down to mid-thigh, but… well, I’m a bit bustier than he is, and that changed the fit.
Nothing to be done about it, I thought — the next time I see him I’ll be fully dressed again anyway — so I found myself a toothbrush and toothpaste right where Mr. Benton said they’d be, washed up, and went to sleep.
Something startled me awake in the middle of the night. I looked at my phone and saw that it was 2:37.
All was quiet now; but had Kimmi woken me up?
I ran into her bedroom and found Ted standing there, cradling her in his arms. Even in the half-light, I could see he was wearing nothing but boxer-briefs. Of course I had nothing really covering my panties, so I guess we were even.
This was only a momentary thought, though. The important thing was “Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Shh,” he said. And then in a near whisper, “She woke up crying, so I came in to change her. Sometimes she needs a bottle to get her back to sleep, but my mother prefers she not have one in the middle of the night.”
This time I knew he was stealing glances at my panties — and probably my tits under his t-shirt — but I ignored it. After another couple of minutes, he carefully placed his sister back in her crib. “You’re good with her,” I whispered.
He nodded, then motioned for me to follow him out to the hall. When the door was closed behind us, he said “Do you want to sit for a minute? I can get us something to drink. Juice, water, soda, some tea?”
“Tea would be good,” I said. I went into the living room as he went into the kitchen,
I tried to yank the t-shirt down enough to cover some more of my panties. It wasn’t going to happen, and every time I tried, I just made the shirt tighter across my tits. A robe would have been nice.
I finally just gave up and made myself comfortable on the couch.
I heard the microwave beep in the kitchen, and a few seconds later Ted came out with two tea cups. I wondered whether he’d gone through a similar “Is there any way to hide how tight these briefs are?” dilemma and just gave up.
I tried not to openly look at his crotch. I knew I wasn’t giving him as good a show as he was giving me, but it’s not as if either of us had planned any of this.
He handed me one of the cups. “Weird night,” he finally said.
“I’ll go along with that.”
He was about to say something else when Kimmi made a loud noise from her bedroom. I started to get up, but Ted put his hand gently on my arm to stop me. “Let’s give it a minute,” he said.
And a minute later, she was quiet again. “In case you were wondering…” he began again.
“Yes?” Not that I would have asked.
“A few weeks ago I was on a date and came home absolutely plastered. That was the first time I’d ever done that, and I elvankent escort guarantee it’ll be the last. But my stepfather became convinced I couldn’t be trusted to stay with Kimmi alone because, I don’t know, I’d get drunk and sell her to Gypsies or something.”
I was trying to figure out how to respond when he shrugged and added “I guess that’s why Kimmi and I both have a babysitter tonight.”
“So…” I began, hoping he’d have a sense of humor about this. “… you’re saying I should charge them double?”
He hesitated for a moment, then laughed. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”
I realized my shirt had hiked up enough that my belly button was exposed. Not that that really made much difference at this point, but I tried tugging it down again — which of course only drew attention to the fact. “Sorry,” we both said at once.
“Well,” I said in response to his, “it’s not as if you deliberately gave me a shirt that was too small. Or did you?”
“I promise. I really tried to find the longest one I had.”
“That’s okay.”
“And,” he said, gesturing at his own briefs, “it’s not as if my underwear isn’t showing as well.”
“I’ve noticed,” I responded without thinking about how that would sound..
“You naughty girl!” he said with a laugh. I think I blushed for a moment, then he went on to say “Well, I see you wore your nice red panties for me tonight.”
They were nothing special, but at least they were clean and not ripped. They might start showing a wet spot soon if I wasn’t careful, though.
“So let’s say I believe you that you didn’t give me a short t-shirt on purpose,” I teased him. “Did you deliberately choose such a thin one?”
“It’s a warm night,” he said. “I wanted you to be comfortable.”
“I bet. You can probably see right through this.” Was I trying to give him an excuse to stare?
“If you don’t like it,” he said, “you can always hand it back to me.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Well sure, why wouldn’t I?”
“I’ll think about it,” I said, putting down my tea and stretching out on the couch, resting my feet on his thighs. I knew I was giving him a better view of my panties, not that that mattered much anymore, but I hadn’t realized that would hike up the bottom of the shirt, almost to my ribcage. “Now I’m comfortable,” I said. “You don’t mind, do you? You said that’s all you were concerned about.”
“That’s true.”
“You’re a good host.”
Just to show I was a good guest as well, I spread my legs just a little bit more than they already were. Just a bit, little enough that it could have been unintentional.
These panties weren’t all that wide, and I wondered how much I was really exposing. Were some public hairs poking out? Maybe a hint of vulva? I think it was more exciting not knowing.
Ted seemed interested, though: and his dick seemed to want to break out of his briefs. I got a warm feeling up and down my body, and also the vague feeling that things were moving faster than I’d expected.
“You know…” I said.
“Yes?”
“I think I’d like a different shirt after all.”
“Um… okay…” I could tell that wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “I’ll get you another one.”
“I’d rather pick it out myself,” I said, getting to my feet and walking to his room. Which was about as messy as you’d expect for a guy his age. He was as close behind me as he could get without his dick actually brushing against my back.
“Second and third drawers,” he told me, pointing to his bureau.
In the second drawer, I found what I was looking for: a tank top that looked like it would barely cover my breasts. My back still to Ted, I pulled off the shirt I was wearing and then pulled on the tank top.
I turned around. “A lot more comfortable,” I said “What do you think?”
He clearly liked it.
He came closer. “Not the best fit, though.”
“No?”
“It looks emek escort good, obviously.” He ran his fingers along the edge of one of the straps, coming within a inch of my nipple, making me gasp. “But it’s just barely covering you. And the slightest movement, and you’re –” And with that, he slipped his hand inside, brushing against my nipple.
“Speaking of an accident waiting to happen,” I said, reaching out to grasp his dick through his briefs, “this might fall out any second.”
And the next thing I knew my shirt was on the floor, and so were his briefs, and I was on my back on his bed, and one of his hands was rubbing one of my breasts, while the other was stroking my pussy through my very wet panties. His hard dick was within my reach, but I knew that if I grabbed it, he’d cum all over me. And as hot as that sounded, I didn’t know how quickly he’d recover. I already knew that I definitely wanted him to cum all over my big tits some other time, though.
For now, he was making me desperate to cum.
“Do you have condoms?” I asked him.
“Yes.”
“Get them right now.” To be honest, the way I was feeling, if he didn’t have any, it wouldn’t have been a deal-breaker and I’d worry about the consequences afterward.
He got up and grabbed them from the top drawer, while I peeled off my panties. Exposing myself like this to a guy was another first for me, but who was keeping count anymore?
“Ted,” I said, “Don’t wait. I’m so fucking ready.”
I didn’t have to tell him twice.
He ripped open the condom wrapper, pulled it on over his dick, and slid into me. He penetrated me so easily (I couldn’t believe how wet I was) that the pain I felt when he broke my virginity surprised me. But it only hurt for a moment, and it was lost in the electricity flowing through the rest of my body. And when that passed I came, and I came hard.
That only made me want more. I pushed Ted off of me, rolled him onto his back, and mounted him. His eyed widened, surprised at how aggressive I was (I’m sure he’d known I was a virgin), but he was totally into my bouncing up and down hard on his dick, desperate for my second orgasm. I’m sure he didn’t hate my tits swinging right in front of his face, either.
I came again, harder than before, and was just coming down from it when he grunted and came too. Feeling the condom fill, I wished he were filling me up with his hot cum instead, and I swore to myself it would happen soon.
Or else do it without a condom and have him cum all over my tits, make a mess of me, I still wanted that too.
The next thing I remember, I was waking up, lying naked with Ted, he also naked and spooning me, hard again, and it’s probably lucky he didn’t squirt anything into my unprotected womb while we were both asleep (at least I hope he didn’t, I thought for a frantic moment).
It was Kimmi’s fussing that had woken us. Ted told me to stay in bed, went to his bureau and pulled on a fresh pair of briefs, and went to check on his sister. When he came back a few minutes later, he was carrying my jeans, socks, bra and shirt. “I hate to say it, because I wanted to get back into bed with you, but Kimmi’s up for the day.”
We watched one another get dressed. Which definitely wasn’t as interesting as watching one another get UNdressed. I put on my jeans without my panties, though: My panties were still damp and sticky, and I figured going without them would be at least slightly less uncomfortable. It was a close call.
Since neither of us knew how to cook worth a damn, we got Kimmi dressed and into Ted’s car, and we all went over to iHop for breakfast. She didn’t mind a bit.
While we were there, Mr. Benton called to say they’d be home around 10: Mrs. Benton’s leg wasn’t broken after all, but she was told to take it easy for a few days, which of course she wouldn’t.
We got home just before they did. I got paid for the entire fifteen hours I’d been there, even though I told them it wasn’t necessary, and Mr. Benton even complimented Ted for helping to hold down the fort.
All was right with the world.
Until that night, when Mrs. Benton was doing the laundry and found a pair of women’s red panties mixed in with Ted’s dirty laundry…
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