Babysitter Callbacks

I let go of one of Kylie's tits and started rubbing her big clit. "Cum for me, minx," I growled in her ear. "Surrender to me . . . surrender to the fuck . . . let me feel you cum hard on my cock." Then I bit her neck—I didn't think it was probably hard enough to leave a mark, but it was definitely hard enough to feel. She screamed, and her body detonated on my prick in a cataclysmic orgasm. I wrapped my arms tight around her and held myself deep in her body as she writhed and trembled; her inner walls pulsed and roiled furiously around my shaft.

"Oh fuck that was good," Kylie groaned after some long moments.

"For me too," Michele breathed. "You ate me like a madwoman."

"Here," I said, rotating my hips to draw my sword from Kylie's sheath. "Both of you kiss me, I want to taste you both." Kylie spun around and Michele scrambled up, and we spent several lovely long moments in another three-way kiss; the blend of flavors of their pussies was marvelous. Each of them wrapped a hand around my steel-hard erection and they slowly wanked me together as we kissed.

Then Kylie broke off and said, "Our turn." She whispered something in Michele's ear to which Michele responded eagerly. "On the edge of the bed," Kylie commanded me. I did as I was told. They dropped to their knees in front of me, facing each other and holding their fat, creamy melons, which they proceeded to mash together around my cock. They gave me a vigorous titfight titfuck, pumping my rod with their massed tits; each time on the downstroke, one or both of them would lick or kiss my knob. It wasn't as much friction as a typical titjob, but the image of that much breast meat wrapped around my dick was incredible. It wasn't long before I told them I was going to cum.

"Yeah, baby, cum hard for us. Cum all over our big titties," Kylie purred.

"Let me see it. Let me feel it," Michele pleaded.

With a groan, I let go. My cum geysered into the air and spattered across both their chests; by the time I was done, each of them had a respectable pearl necklace.

*****

I followed up with the other three candidates as well. Melody told me she would need to know very soon if I was going to hire her or else she would need to accept a different position; she also didn't respond to my probing about possible threesomes with another woman. Autumn and Nia were both hanging in with me, clearly willing to wait on my decision as long as they could.

Nia was open to the idea of threesomes with another girl. "It's not something I've ever done," she told me, "but some of the stories from our writers' group have had me thinking about it; some of them have been really hot. I've never had any desire to eat another girl's pussy, but in that context . . . well, I think it would be worth trying. And I get along with people, and I make friends easily, so I wouldn't be worried about that. —And hey, if I decided I didn't like threesomes, we could each fuck you separately, and that would be good, too."

Autumn, to my surprise, was downright enthusiastic about the idea. "My boyfriend and I hooked up with another girl a few times, and they were the best sex we ever had," she said happily. "The first one, he had to drag me into—it was all about him, and I knew it—but it was incredible, and so were the next two. Before I met you, those were the only times I'd ever had my pussy eaten well, or eaten during sex. And literally during sex—having a tongue on my clit while my boyfriend was fucking my pussy was mind-blowingly good.

"And the thing is, only the second time was with a friend. The first time, she was a stranger to me, and the third time it was someone we picked up at a party. I'm sure anyone you're seriously considering is someone I could respect and trust and would be happy to have as a friend, so I'm sure it would be good. So, yeah, if you want to hire two of us, I'm on board with that."

It appeared, then, that I could hire Melody by herself, or I could hire any two of the other seven. All that remained was to decide whom I wanted. All eight candidates had strong rèsumés; all had good references who had spoken highly of them; all their background checks had come back clear; and all had connected well with the girls—except Megan, who hadn't had the opportunity yet, an omission I needed to rectify. Any of them would be an excellent hire. Hiring two, then, it seemed to me, was about figuring out which combination would be best—not only in bed, no matter what my libido might say, but first of all for the girls.

*****

I introduced Megan to Hope and Joy by inviting her over to spend time with them the next evening; she hit it off with them just as the others had. It probably helped that Hope was quite taken with Megan's braces—especially the bright pink rubber bands. When Megan arrived, the girls were playing with Legos, and not all that peaceably; once all the preliminaries were completed, Hope asked, "Miss Megan, will you read to us?" I'd offered to read to them after dinner, but the girls had decided to go back to their Legos instead. I guess I just can't compete with a 21-year-old blonde, I grinned to myself. No surprise there.

When I told the girls it was time to get ready for bed, they complied amiably, then demanded in unison that Miss Megan tuck them in. See previous observation. She took Joy with her into Hope's room; I wandered along behind and leaned against the doorframe. Megan tucked Hope into bed, then sat on the bed with Joy in her lap and sang to them—"Danny Boy," if you can believe it. She had the range for it, and a beautiful voice. Then she led Joy to her own room and put her to bed. After she closed Joy's door behind us, she turned to me and asked in a low, hungry voice, "Do you have time for a quickie?"

"I was just about to ask you the same question," I replied with a grin. "Go into the guest suite and strip. I'll be there in a minute—I have a couple things to do first." I had a bit of a surprise planned for Miss Megan; I'd been looking forward to it all day.

*****

I walked into the guest suite to find Megan lying naked on her back on the fitted sheet, the covers pulled down and neatly arranged off the end of the bed, her feet pulled up and spread wide. I set down the small bag I was carrying and pulled out scarves, tying her feet to the corners of the bed and her hands to the headboard. I left some slack, as I was planning to need it later. "Ooooh, you liked playing that way, huh, Mr. Andrews?" she cooed. Then I blindfolded her. "Mmmm," she responded, "this is new."

I pulled a bottle of lavender-infused oil out of the bag and drizzled the oil over one of Megan's nipples. There was a sharp intake of breath. "Did that feel cold?" I asked, feigning innocence.

"Yes . . ." she moaned.

"Let me warm it up for you, then," I replied. I bent down and extended my tongue, swirling it through the oil. I spread it over her nipple and areola, oiling the barbell along the way. I followed the oil down the slopes of Megan's springy mound, then licked back up to feather my tongue over its pierced tawny peaks.

"Fuck me stupid, that's good," Megan breathed. I sat up and drizzled the other nipple, drawing another hiss at the coolness of the oil, before giving it the same treatment with my tongue. I added oil and spent a few minutes playing with her tits, first caressing them, then squeezing them and feeling them pop out of my grasp; then I grabbed the bottle again, spread her slit with one hand, and let a trickle of oil fall on it as well. Her hiss was louder this time. I trailed two fingers up and down her well-lubricated snatch. "Fuck me sideways," she moaned, "you're fucking cruel, Mr. Andrews . . ." I pushed my fingers into her cunt to pleasure her G-spot and bent down to suck all the oil off her pearl. When I started humming the bass riff to "Under Pressure," she erupted with a feral howl.

I pulled off to look at the doorway; Autumn was standing there completely naked and hugely turned on. She had managed to stay completely quiet as per my instructions, but she had been masturbating as she watched me play with Megan. I had planned this with Autumn earlier in the day, telling her a bit about what Megan liked, and summoned her when Megan went upstairs to tuck the girls in; when I went back downstairs briefly, it had been to let Autumn in as well as to grab the bag. "Please fuck me, Mr. Andrews," Megan begged. "I need your dick inside me . . . fuck me stupid, I need you so fucking bad . . ."

I waved Autumn to the bed; I'd told her what I wanted her to do. As she climbed aboard on her knees, I said, "If you want this cock, little fucktoy, you need to earn it." Autumn straddled Megan's face backwards and dropped down onto her hands. "Lick that clit."

Autumn immediately started groaning, "That's right—right there—right there—just like that . . ." She bent her head and went to work returning the favor. I got up behind Autumn, grabbed her hips, and thrust home. I gave her the business hard and steady, enjoying the squelching sounds of my shaft pumping her flooded well. Autumn braced herself against my pummeling to be sure to keep Megan's pearl in her mouth; given the way she kept moaning, I would have wondered if she was still eating, except that Megan was moaning just as much.

Once I had a comfortable rhythm, I leaned forward and grabbed one of each tit. I pinched Megan's pierced nipple and wiggled it, and I cupped and squeezed Autumn's fat hanging melon. Their vocalizations got louder, and it wasn't long before Autumn came screaming into Megan's wet orchid. That set Megan off with a banshee wail of her own. I kept fucking Autumn until her spasming cunt began to ease, then pulled out and went around to her head. I raised her face with my chin and kissed her hard and deep, then told her, "Sit up so Megan can suck out the cream. She needs to keep eating you if she wants to get fucked." A muffled groan from between Autumn's legs told me Megan liked the sound of that.

I knelt between Megan's legs and shuffled forward, getting her ass up on my thighs; I pushed my cock into her pussy and thrust deep. Her ragged moan was clear even through a faceful of Autumn. I fucked Megan hard and fast. I reached out a hand to pull Autumn in for a kiss. We made out furiously, our tongues dueling and wrestling. I lowered my hand to her heavy melon, groping and fondling it. Her breathing grew heavier and heavier as the sounds coming from Megan grew more and more frantic, and I could tell I was getting close as well. I broke off the kiss and said, "I'm close. What do you think Autumn—should I cum inside her?"

"Do it," Autumn hissed lustfully. "Fill her up. Knock her up. Make her your baby mama."

"She's on the pill," I noted.

"Who cares?" Autumn shot back. "Fill her so full, the pill can't stop all of it."

From below, I heard Megan's muffled voice say, "Fuck me crazy, that's hot . . ." Then she made a sudden movement and Autumn screamed, her spine arching and her head pulling back. That set me off; I buried my cock balls-deep in Megan's hot body and unloaded, flooding her little creampot. Megan shrieked as her own climax trucked her like a runaway semi.

*****

By the time we got everything cleaned up, both Megan and Autumn had to leave. Autumn was ready first; she kissed me long and hard before opening the door to head out. Megan was a few minutes behind her. She too gave me a lover's kiss, then said, "You still owe me slow and sensual and romantic. No matter what you decide, I am going to collect."

I was in a langorous mood as I got ready for bed, until the phone rang. "Mr. Andrews?"

"Michele?" I replied, startled. "Why are you calling—and why this late at night?"

"Is anyone else around?" she asked.

Weirder and weirder. "No, Hope and Joy are asleep. Is something wrong?"

"My father found out that I'm hoping to be your nanny—sorry—and called to warn me not to take the job," Michele answered, sounding forlorn.

"What the fuck—why? Did he give a reason?" I asked, feeling wrathful and bewildered.

"Mr. Andrews—he said—" Michele now sounded like she was on the verge of tears. "Mr. Andrews, did you really have an affair with my mom?"

"What?" I exploded. "No! For crying out loud, the thought never crossed my mind! And even if she'd been interested, I wouldn't have been. If you had come on to me, I would have had to fight not to give in, but I never gave your mom a second look."

"Really?" Michele asked, a small bubble of delight leavening her mood.

"Yeah, really, kitten," I said. "I told you as much. But where would he get the idea—"

"He said he had evidence," Michele told me. "He said he'd been suspicious—that Mom had been after you for a while—and then he got evidence, and that's why he left Mom."

"Your mother?—I don't believe it," I insisted, feeling poleaxed. "And whatever evidence he had must have been fabricated, because I never saw the woman in anything smaller than a bikini, and wasn't really looking then."

"Really?" Michele asked in disbelief. "My mom's hot."

"Don't ever repeat this to her, OK?" I replied. Without waiting for Michele to say anything, I continued, "She wore too much makeup, she was tanning herself to shoe leather, and her tits were fake. I mean, they were good fake tits, they weren't those jobs that look bolted on, but they were still fake. Yeah, I'm sure a lot of guys thought she was hot and probably still do, because she's attractive for her type—but it's not my type. And I have no reason to think I was hers, either."

"Mr. Andrews, you're wrong there," Michele corrected me timidly. "She was after you. I knew it at the time—it's one of the reasons we fought so often the last few years before we moved: I was jealous, and I couldn't possibly admit it. And she said so later where I could hear her, though she didn't know I could hear her. That's why I was afraid Dad might have been right. Mom said she never managed to land you, but . . . she could have been lying."

Mirelle Peters was after me? I thought, reeling. Did Lori think . . . was that why she started growing so cold toward me? I'd assumed that's when she started fucking her boss, but—maybe that actually started later?

"I guess you were just oblivious, then," Michele commented softly.

"I was in love with my wife," I responded equally softly. "You were a temptation because you were a fantasy—the hot, innocent, naïve young babysitter, too young even to be legal—but there was no way I was going to let myself give in; and other than that, I didn't really think of other women that way. I've never been any good at flirting, either doing it or picking it up. Plus, like I said, she wasn't one who could have sparked my interest anyway."

"I'm so glad to hear that . . ." Michele quavered, sounding immensely relieved and rather fragile.

"Michele, would you like to come over for the night?" I ask. "I don't mean for sex—I don't think that would be a good idea—but just to fall asleep with me holding you. You'd have to be sure to be up before the girls, but . . ."

"I'll be OK, Rob," Michele answered, her voice a little stronger and happier. "But—thank you."

"Good night, kitten."

"Good night."

I hung up and lay back on the pillow, mind spinning. I thought I knew the story. I knew Lori was having an affair with me, I knew when she changed toward me, 1+1=2, right? But maybe she changed because she thought I was cheating? —But with Mirelle? When I had Lori? The woman would have to have had serious issues to have thought Mirelle could ever have competed with her—issues she never let on to me about.

Then another thought hit me. Someone sent J.P. faked evidence that I was sleeping with his wife. Maybe that same someone sent it to Lori? Maybe it was only then that she started fucking her boss. Was it just a revenge affair?

But if that were the case, why wouldn't she have confronted me? With or without divorce papers, she might have done it either way, but I would have expected her to take me head-on.

Something's seriously fishy here. There's something important I'm missing.

But does it matter, in the end? I know my reflex—there's a reason Mike calls me "Dalek Holmes": IN-VES-TI-GATE! IN-VES-TI-GATE! But is there really any point? Would it change anything? It won't bring my marriage back from the dead—nothing short of the Second Coming would do that—and given that, what is it but a useless venal curiosity?

I wrestled my thoughts away from that seeming dead end, recognizing that it had upset me enough that I wouldn't be falling asleep for a while. Best put the time to good use and finally settle on hiring a young woman, or two.

*****

The next morning, I contacted all the candidates to let them know what I had decided. I had an eager coed settling herself into the guest suite by lunchtime—not fully moved in yet, but she didn't much care. Next step: have Lori served with divorce papers. Preferably while she's fucking that bastard. Once that's done, we don't have to be so careful.

Get through one weekend, serve her on Monday, and get on with life.

I hope.