The Busty Babysitter

Sethp 2011 all rights reserved.

(I'd like to extend a special thanks to Pennlady, for her amazing help with editing. All mistakes in the story are mine and mine alone. There's only so much someone can do when trying to help a dumbass like me! Also, thanks to all of those busty eighteen year old babysitters out there! The rest of you, please enjoy!)

*

Rachel was just pulling her coat on when John came down the stairs. He handed Rachel her payment in cash.

"Thank you, Mr. Greene." Rachel smiled in gratitude.

"You're welcome," he replied. "You deserve every penny. Kathy and I are very happy with you. There is no one that we trust the kids with more than you."

"Thank you, that means a lot. I love them like they're my own. I would do anything for you guys."

Rachel was starting to blush and was having a hard time meeting John's gaze. For his part, John was having a hard time keeping his eyes away from Rachel's exposed cleavage. Did she realize what she was doing? It was bad enough that her breasts were over-large on her small frame, jutting out from her chest like a pair of ripe melons. Why did she have to wear such revealing clothing? John was glad that she wasn't meeting his gaze. He was embarrassed at his lack of self-control.

"Okay...I guess we'll see you on Saturday then." He cleared his throat and broke the awkward silence. How long had he been standing there trying not to look at her chest and not saying anything?

"Yes. I'll be here at six p.m," She managed to meet his eyes. "Bye, Mr. Greene." She grabbed her purse and hurried out the door.

Do all high school seniors dress that way? He wondered. He had to remind himself that she was eighteen and could dress any damn way she chose. She was an adult now, although just barely. John stood there for a long time staring at the closed door, until his wife called to him from upstairs.

"Coming, honey," he said. "Just turning out the lights and locking up down here."

John dreamed of the busty little babysitter all night long and awoke with one of the hardest, most painful erections of his life. His wife had already left for work and he resigned himself to a cold shower. Not that she would have done anything, John thought. He was running late himself and barely made it to work on time. It was a long day and it took John most of it to clear his head.

The week progressed at a snail's pace, but Saturday arrived at last. John's wife had tickets to the opera and although John couldn't think of anything he hated more, he resigned himself to his fate. It was bad enough that she always seemed to have a headache when there was a concert that John wanted to go to, but she expected him to attend all of her highbrow events.

The doorbell rang and John ran down the steps to open it. It was Rachel, and she couldn't have worn a tighter shirt if she tried. It clung to her chest like a second skin. Her giant, gravity-defying tits were straining to burst right through it.

"H...uh..." John stammered. He started to shake and cough just like the old man in that famous book by Nabokov.

Rachel giggled. "Can I come in?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed a little too loudly. "Sorry, Rachel. It was a long week and I'm exhausted." He stood to the side allowing her to saunter past him.

"It's okay, Mr. Greene." She gave him a long look before turning her attention to the children who ran in from the back yard to greet her.

John went upstairs to finish getting ready. By the time he and his wife came downstairs, Rachel was busy playing with the children in the living room. He noticed that she had put on a cardigan that made her clothes look considerably more conservative. Was that for his wife's benefit? Was she just trying to mess with him?

His wife was already out the door as John turned to give Rachel her final instructions. "We'll be back after eleven sometime. Is that okay?"

"Of course," Rachel replied, giving John a huge smile. "Um...would it be okay if you could give me a ride home? My car isn't running and my mom gave me a ride over here."

"Yes. That would be fine." John wondered if he could drive without sneaking glances over at her chest on the way to her house.

The opera was every bit as boring as John imagined it would be. He tried to put his arm around his wife a couple of times as they watched, but she brushed his hand off and gave him a look that told him how inappropriate he was being. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time she smiled at him, or laughed with him. He couldn't remember the last time they'd had a conversation that didn't entail her bitching at him for something.

He had been resigned to his fate for a while now. The marriage wasn't all bad and there had been glimmers of hope that it might get better and then of course there were the children. They had tried counseling, but his wife wouldn't do any of the actual work once they got home. She refused to talk to him about any of the issues that were raised in their sessions. She had the opinion that she was right about everything and wasn't open to the chance that she could be wrong. He found himself thinking about Rachel during the opera and cursing himself for his thoughts.

At last the show was over. "That was an excellent performance, don't you think?" his wife asked as they made their way out to the car. "Much better than that awful Foo Fighters rubbish you listen to."

John thought it better to keep his thoughts to himself, and they drove home in silence. Why did she have to throw that little barb at him? As they pulled into the driveway, he reminded Kathy that he had to give Rachel a ride home.

Kathy snorted and then told him that he better not forget to pay her and not to wake her up when he got back. She grabbed her coat and went into the house in front of him, said a quick good-night and thank you to Rachel and disappeared up the stairs.

John followed her in the door, fished some cash out of his pocket and handed it to Rachel. She was just slipping on her flip-flops and smiling at him. She wasn't wearing her cardigan.

"How were the kids?"

"They were perfect angels, just like always."

"No problems?"

"Of course not, Mr. Greene," she said. "They love me and you know that I love them."

John thought that an odd response. "Well...you know we both adore you and thank you for watching them. Kathy was exhausted or she would have told you herself."

"Oh, there's no need to apologize for her, Mr. Greene," Rachel answered.

That was another strange response. John was tired, though and didn't let his mind linger on it. "Are you ready?"

"Oh, yes. I'm totally ready." Rachel grinned at him.

John tried not to stare. Was she thrusting her chest out further on purpose? Her flat stomach was showing between the bottom of her shirt and her tight pants. John wondered if she was ever able to tuck her shirts in.

John looked away and opened the door letting Rachel exit first. They got in the car and John started the long drive to Rachel's house. She had been their babysitter for the past three years and that first year, Kathy and John took turns driving her home. It had been awhile since John had been alone in the car with her and he was having trouble finding something to say.

Rachel saved him the trouble. "How was the opera Mr. Greene?"

John could feel her gaze on him. "Oh it was fine," he lied. "Well, Kathy enjoyed it a lot more than I did."

"I bet," Rachel replied. "I'm sure you would have been much happier at a Foo Fighters or Def Tones concert."

"How...really...you like the Foo Fighters?" he asked, wondering how she had come to mention two of his favorite bands.

"Yes. I love both of them, and I know you do too. You're really funny."

"I try," John replied, feeling out of some kind of loop.

"I was looking through your CDs on the stereo," Rachel finished, laughing. "You always get nervous around me."

There, she had said it. Rachel had come out with one of those cold hard truths that most people don't talk about openly.

"Don't say that. I...I don't," John fumbled over his words. Who was the adult here?

"I'm just kidding with you. You're turning all red by the way," she replied.

John knew that he was turning red. This conversation was making it hard to concentrate on driving up the winding country road to Rachel's house. A flash of movement to one side, caught his eye and he realized he should have been paying more attention to the road.

A deer darted out from the trees and in front of John's car. He barely had time to brake and steer to avoid it. He managed to miss the deer but slid his car off of the road and into some brush on the side. Rachel screamed as the car came to a stop.

John's heart was racing. He reached across to grab Rachel's arm and accidentally brushed one of her enormous boobs.

"Oh, my fucking God!" she exclaimed, breathing hard and looking over at John.

"Are you okay?" he asked, staring into her big blue eyes.

"Yes," Rachel mouthed, without making a sound, staring back so hard at John that it almost hurt him to turn away.

John's eyes drifted down to Rachel's heaving chest as she fought to control her breathing. It was mesmerizing.

"We're okay," John said, lifting his gaze back to her eyes.

He squeezed her hand a little too hard. "We're okay," he said again.

Rachel nodded and squeezed back. Her little hand felt so warm and her skin felt electric against his.

John pulled his hands away as if they were burned.

"Let's see if I can get us out of here." He looked away from her, placing all of his concentration onto restarting the car. John was certain that if he had kept gazing into Rachel's eyes and squeezing her hands, he would have leaned over and kissed her, or more.

John got the car started and back on the road, resuming the trip. He found himself driving insanely fast even after their little mishap.

"Please, slow down," Rachel requested timidly, not looking at him this time.

His body was coursing with adrenalin, as much from Rachel as from the near accident. John took a deep breath, forcing himself to slow down. He got them both there in one piece. Rachel got out of the car and came around to the driver's side, motioning for John to lower the window. John sat there looking at her through the glass for a few seconds before finally lowering it. Rachel tilted her head forward just a little too close. John started to sweat. He couldn't move or say anything.

"Thank you," she said simply, smiling at him and then turned and ran into her house.

It was a long drive home, especially with a raging hard-on. John's house was cold and dark when he got home.

"Just like my fucking life and marriage," John muttered under his breath, as he locked up and went upstairs to bed.

The rest of the weekend was non-descript and Monday came just a little too fast. The following week was a long exercise in de-motivation.

John felt like his whole life was turning into Groundhog Day and the only thing he could think about was his barely-legal baby sitter. For God's sake, she was still in high school! Life used to be so much better and he never used to have deviant thoughts about young girls.

As the weekend approached, John decided that the problem was him. His whole attitude about life and his marriage and his career was the problem. He decided that, thinking about his babysitter was a direct result of his negativity. She was exciting and different. That was all. He would change and with his mental change he could change his life and his marriage and his job and everything else for the better. There had to be a way to break through to Kathy. She wasn't a bitch when he married her. She had changed somehow. He would figure it out and come up with a plan. He wasn't about to give up.

He made up his mind to make a concerted effort to connect with his wife again. Maybe she was cold because he was cold. If he tried hard enough and long enough she would come around again. He bought a dozen roses after work on Friday and made reservations for one of her favorite restaurants for Saturday night. When he got home, Kathy was standing in the foyer with two heavy bags and her hands on her hips.

"It's about time you got home." She glared at him.

"I...are you going somewhere?" He handed her the roses.

"How nice, but they'll be dead before I get home. You've got a black thumb," she said distractedly, throwing them down on the table in the foyer.

"What do you mean? Where are you going? You know I have to work tomorrow?"

"Yes. I know you have to work. Some of us keep calendars. I'm going to my sister's for a few days."

"Why?"

"She just had surgery this morning."

"I knew that," John lied. He had forgotten all about it. "Is she okay? I didn't think you were going down there though."

"I wasn't, but she called and really needs me. I called Rachel already and she'll be here before you go to work tomorrow. I've got to go. The kids are in doing their homework. No sugar this weekend. I should be back by Tuesday evening."

Then, without a goodbye or a parting good wish, Kathy was out the door.

"Well shit." John stared after her for a moment and then went in to see the kids.

John and the kids had a great night, playing the Wii and eating way too much sugar filled food and candy. It was the best night they had together in months. He hated to admit it, but he thought it was probably because Kathy was gone. She hardly ever seemed to have fun anymore.

The next morning John woke up late. The alarm hadn't gone off or maybe he just forgot to set it. Usually Kathy reminded him. "Damn her," John muttered as he ran into the shower. He threw on some clothes and ran down the stairs. He was immediately greeted to the scent of eggs and bacon wafting from the kitchen.

"What? How?"

"Oh there you are, sleepy head." Rachel leaned out of the kitchen doorway. "We thought we heard you coming down the stairs." She held out a cup of coffee to him.

"Uh...good morning Rachel," John said, taking the coffee. "I forgot you were coming over. I guess Kathy gave you a key?"

"No silly. I know where you guys keep the extra key outside. So I came early and decided you could use a good hot breakfast. That's yours at the table. Hurry up and eat so you aren't late."

"Wow. Thank you," John said sitting down at the table and digging in. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten a hot breakfast at home. Kathy just decided one day that she was done cooking.

The kids had already finished and were in the family room watching cartoons. John stood up and grabbed his briefcase and jacket. "I'm not sure how late I'll be Rachel," he said.

"That's no problem. Stay as late as you need to. We'll be fine."

"I'll call and order you a pizza if I'm going to be really late." John was now awake enough to really look at Rachel. She was wearing another skin tight t-shirt and he could see the outline of her nipples poking out. She wasn't wearing a bra. Shit!

Rachel laughed. Had she caught him glancing at her chest? John started to turn red.

"Don't worry about pizza, Mr. Greene. I'll cook something up. Just let me know when you'll be home. I love to cook, and I've got two really good helpers in there. Say good bye to your dad, guys," she called into the family room.

"Good bye daddy!" two little voices shot out in unison.

John felt a warmth in his chest. This was how family life should be. Then he caught himself...life is what you make it.

"Okay, then," John said. "Dinner's on you, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," Rachel said, beaming at him. "Have a great day Mr. Greene," she called after him as he walked out the front door.

John turned to her. "Call me John," he said and headed off to work.

John put in almost a full day of work finishing up his quarterly reports. He would be happy if he never saw another spreadsheet or SQL query for the rest of his life. When it was nearly six, he called Rachel and let her know that he was on his way home.

"That's great, John," Rachel said. "Dinner will be hot and ready when you get in."

"Wow. You really are good," he said. "Thanks again. You didn't really have to cook dinner."

"Yes I did silly," Rachel said, giggling, and then hung up the phone.

John found himself smiling like an idiot when he got off the phone. She had a way of making him feel like an awkward kid fresh out of high school. He had forgotten to ask her if she needed another ride home tonight.

John pulled up to his house about forty minutes later and the door opened up before he had a chance to fish his key out his pocket. "Hi, John,"Rachel smiled at him. "How was your day?" It was really nice to have someone ask about his day for once.

"It was great," he said, meaning it. It felt good to get everything done and not have to worry about someone giving him an attitude when he got home late. "I'm really glad to be home though." That was the truth.

"Well I'm glad you're home too," Rachel said. She reached out to take his briefcase and carried it into the house.

John followed her into the house and was greeted by the unmistakable smell of spaghetti and fresh garlic bread.

Rachel placed his briefcase by the stairs and motioned for John to follow her into the kitchen. She had two plates on the table and two glasses of wine as well.

"Thank you. This looks wonderful."

"You're welcome. I'm a little nervous. I'm afraid you won't like it."

The both sat down and started eating.

"Rachel, this is so good. Who taught you how to cook?" John couldn't believe how good it was.

"My mom," she replied. "Well, she started me off, but I absolutely love to cook and I've taken some classes at the community college already."

Rachel picked up her glass of wine and took a big gulp and John snapped back to reality.

"Uh...that might not be a good idea," he said. "I don't want you driving home after drinking and I don't want your parents to think that we're...partying here or something. In fact, you probably shouldn't be drinking at all"

"I already thought about that," she said, sucking an entire meatball into her mouth.

John's cock twitched in his pants. What did she mean that she'd already thought about that?

"Drink up. It's really good," Rachel said, draining her glass and then filling it up again from the bottle on the table.

John did drink up. She had definitely picked the correct wine. He should know. He was known as a wine snob by his friends. He hadn't realized she knew anything about wine or even where his wine cellar was.

"That really is good," John said. "How were you planning on getting home?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I'm not," Rachel said simply, taking another drink. "I told my parents that you wouldn't be home till really late and that it would be easier for me to stay the night and get picked up in the morning."

"Well...I mean..."

Rachel cut him off with laughter. "You are so silly," she said smiling and gazing into his eyes.

"Well, let's finish up, "John said.

When they were done, Rachel went up to check on the kids. John cleared the plates and started the dishwasher. Rachel came down a few minutes later. "Oh, I was going to do that."

"Not on your life," John said. "The cook never does his own dishes, at least not in this house."

"That's sweet, "Rachel said.

Was she tipsy already? John had only seen her drink two glasses but the bottle was empty already. "The kids are already in bed and just waiting for you to say goodnight to them."

"Thank you," John said, meaning it. He bounded up the stairs.

When he came back down a few minutes later, he noticed another open bottle of wine on the kitchen counter. He was more than a little uncomfortable having an underage drinker in the house, and even more so since it was Rachel. He went into the family room and found Rachel lounging on the couch. She had a glass for him as well.