4 comments/ 45919 views/ 10 favorites Caregiver By: emap As the professor turns his back to write his next item on the board, my cell phone rings, the class laughs as the music of Bon Jovi emanates from my pocket. Sheepishly I pull the phone out, not knowing the person on the line I answer it with a meek little voice. "Hello." "Hi, this is Sarah Branson, I know we haven't had the courtesy but I saw your ad in the grocery store and we really need a sitter. My husband has to go to a get to know you party for his new job tonight we just moved into this town and can't afford to miss it. Would you be able to get here by say four PM? We would really like to talk to you before leaving if that is OK," comes the voice on the other end, soft lilting little accent marking her as coming from Alabama or maybe Georgia. I look up to find the whole class staring at me, Professor Stevens included. Turning at least four shades of red I whisper a hang on into the phone and then ask for permission to take the call outside, it being a job. "Of course Ms. Hathaway, just try not to take too long," he tells me with a smile. I guess I am lucky in having baby sat for his wife and him on numerous occasions. Quickly scampering outside I put my attention back on Sarah on the other end of my phone. "Sorry for the delay, you caught me in the middle of class. Now I would be quite happy to be there at four, my last class ends at three so should be no problem." "Oh wonderful, we shall be looking forward to your arrival, hopefully we shall strike it off well so I don't have to play the absent wife. It never goes over well." "Oh of course, I would imagine that does not go over to well, though I shall need to get your address before you hang up." "Oh gracious me you're right I suppose it's the curse of being blonde, I do hope you're not blonde. Anyway we are at 143 Daunting St., can't miss us, the house is a little beat up outside, we just moved in yesterday." "Oh I am not blonde, I am happy to say I am a redhead, and I shall try ever so hard to be there at four tonight." "Thank you so much, I can't tell you how much this means to me," she tells me almost bursting the words out at once before hanging up. Amidst a few stares, and any number of whispers I return to class and try hard to pay attention, though failing badly at it. Finally the class is over and I hurry across campus to my next. Normally I have no problem paying attention in this class, Math being one of my better subjects. Sadly even in this class I can't think of anything but this mystery woman who just moved into town, with a husband and child. The bell has me scurrying across campus yet again, this time to my dorm room to grab up my essentials, a couple books to do studying and homework with, not to mention a nice steamy romance for in between study periods. Shoved into my backpack I open my door and head for my car, except instead of getting anywhere I run straight into Rob, his arms going around me instantly. He pulls me up for a kiss and he moves us back into my room despite my sputtered attempts at dissuading him. With an outraged oomph I find myself on my bed, with him atop me, his hands roaming over me despite my attempts to say no around his persistent tongue and lips. Before I get a hand free and pull on his ear he manages to get my shirt pulled up and one breast popped free of my bra. I have to admit I am reluctant to pull him from me his lust filled kisses, not to mention his hand atop my bared breast, had me breathing a bit more heavily than the struggle would warrant. "Dangit Rob I am in a hurry, I really miss you atop me but I gotta get going now, got a job tonight. Due there in less than an hour," I scold him as I straighten my clothes. I didn't hear his answer I had already dashed out the door, my clothes mostly fixed, backpack held in one hand. Faces pass by in a blur, there is Susan my roommate, she admonishes me to have fun and not neglect my boyfriend as I dash past her. Just outside the door to the dorm I almost bowl Steven over, we had dated last year, my freshman year in college. We were going great until I caught him boning Susannah on our last day of classes that year. I yell over my shoulder how I'll get him next time. I turn my head back to face forward a goofy grin on my lips when suddenly there is a massive wall right in front of me painted in the college colors. I have enough time, barely, to get an eek past my lips when I find myself sitting down. I look upwards at the wall, eventually seeing a smiling face. I had run dead square into Jonathon, this most impressive hunk of muscle is our star linebacker. Laughing he reaches down for me and pulls me upright, my feet not actually touching the ground again until I start hitting him with my free hand. He feigns puzzlement as my hand beats on his chest before setting me down on the ground again. "Gotta watch where you are going there Beth, one of these days I may think you're coming on to me," he laughingly tells me as his hands reach down and tug my shirt back into a semblance of place. "You wish now get outta me way, I got a job to get to," I tell him as I poke him in the stomach, his muscles evident even through his jacket. He moves out of my way and watches me struggle to get through the crowd of people intent on getting to the dorm I just left. I can hear his laughter behind me for a moment before his voice booms out. "Hey turkeys get outta B.A.'s way, she is in a hurry." Everyone scoots to one side of the sidewalk or the other, grins on their faces. I stop moving, face turning at least seven shades of red before I turn back to eye him with what I hope is an evil eye. "I am so going to get you later, it will be worse than the incident with the jock straps I swear to you," I tell him with half a snarl before turning and dashing for my car. He's just too darn sweet to stay mad at but dang I hate when he calls me B.A. My full name being Beth Ann or not, admitting to having a childhood crush on Dirk Benedict otherwise known as 'Face' on The A-Team had to be the second lowest moment of my life in college so far. My lowest was finding my then boyfriend naked on top of Susannah. Of course I find myself regretting admitting my crush more than dating Steven he at least was good in bed and fun to be around. I've never met Dirk, so I have no idea if he is good in bed or fun to be around, not that I would say no if he appeared and asked me to sleep with him. It's hard to lose certain crushes I guess. Reaching my car I shove my backpack in and plop down on the seat. I take a moment to sigh as some guy I have never seen before walking by says something before calling me B.A. again. Repressing the urge to pound my forehead into the steering wheel I start my car up and head off to my job. It is amazing how much traffic there is for a Thursday, I wish I could say there wasn't. I spent the next twenty minutes bumper to bumper with I don't know how many other cars all trying to go the same way I am. Some lanes went faster than mine then slower so I find myself having a duel of sorts with all sorts of guys all fixated on listening to rap as loud as possible, Rolling my windows up doesn't help, they are that loud. About ten seconds before I just shut the car off and walk, traffic actually starts moving and I manage to make it to the home of my future employers with a scant five minutes to spare. I get out of the car intent on straightening my clothes finally and dashing for the doorbell. It's all going according to plan my clothes are straightened somewhat into a normal fashion when I look up. Looking up was a bad idea, I was struck with the house all at once. Scant I could do except stare up at the house it is not a big house by any stretch mind. It is a two storey, maybe fifty feet from corner to corner. That's not what stops you dead in your tracks it is the look of the house. The upstairs has two widows, just like most every house on the block, nothing unusual there. The wood on the other hand, is bleached bone white, with here and there specks of black from cracks in the wood or something else. Under each window it is darker, I know in the back of my mind it is simply water stain, perhaps mildew, but I am not listening to the back of my mind, the front is saying the house is crying. There is a grand porch leading up to the door, it is also bleached a bony white, not much in black spots though it has grayish streaks, making the support beams look like bones left out in the sun to dry up. The roof over the porch is one of those raised up in the middle to make a sort of triangle. The wood in the middle part just over the doorway is bleached white like the rest of the house, except on the middle is a sort of arrow pointing straight at the front door. Almost as if the house is sad and wants you to come right on in. The second storey windows are lit up from within though the glass is tinted so it looks like they are great big old black eyeballs with a faint reddish light coming through them. I can't help but get a case of the willies looking at this house, I can't even put into words to fit the scene before my eyes, except to say the house is evil looking. I am all fit to turn and leave when the left window shuts off making it look like the house is winking at me. That freezes me in place again, so there I am standing there staring up in fear at an old bleached house when a shadow appears in the right window. It pauses for a second, seeming to get a little shorter and wider at the top, then I can hear a voice coming from the house. I don't get long to wonder what the voice said scant moments after I hear the voice the front door opens and a tall man comes out, striding toward me with a confident stretch. He looks to be about the same height as Jonathon, though not nearly as wide. His brown hair is tussled into a sort of sweep across his head that waves about as he walks toward me. His lean body is encased in a slate grey business suit, with a white shirt, red vest and fittingly enough, a gold pocket watch, well the chain dangling from one pocket of the vest to the next. Before I know what is what, his hands are holding one of mine and he is talking a million miles a minute about how great it is that I could come, how excited he is to meet someone not from his work. On and on he prattles, about what I haven't the slightest, though his incessant fountain of words ceases as we reach the front door. There standing in all her resplendent glory is a petite little blonde woman. Her hair cascading down about her shoulders in the classic southern belle style. Her lithe body, shown off to great detail by her dress, is reclined against the doorway. I can't help but gawk at the incredible dress she is poured into. It is a deep resplendent purple, svelte and clingy in all the right places. The dress starts at her shoulders, leaving them mostly bare, except for a teensy bit about her neck from there it sweeps down across her chest to cover her breasts before plunging down into the folds of the skirt. The skirt starts in folds, though quickly turns into just one layer that hugs her curvaceous hips before dropping down towards her knees. There is a slit cut into one side to allow her normal movement and still reveal a bit more of her hip than necessary though not quite showing off all there is to be seen. "Jameson, darling, please stop and let our guest catch her breathe. I told you that would happen," she breathes out as we reach the doorway, her supple fingers prying my hand from his before she turns and draws me after her into the house. As we enter the house my eyes are drawn to the stairs ahead, a simple red runner carpet running down the steps stained a deep brown with white support. The riser, an intricate carved example of early American handcrafting, dyed an equally dark brown. The floor in the entryway is also dark stained wood that creaks as we walk over it to the left. There is a sitting room, the far wall mostly bare besides a single painting and an impressive cabinet/TV stand. Huge speakers lay to each side of the cabinet, though the TV itself is stuck in sideways, a few cables dangling out of the space created by the diagonal TV. In the middle of the room is a long coffee table, one of those elongated oval ones, though this one catches my eye carved into the top is a very intricate flower and vines ornamentations. It starts at one end then extends following the shape of the top coming shy of the actual edge by a few inches. Here and there are offshoots of leaves and flowers. One end of the table is run over with leaves and flowers, making for a very attention grabbing mess of flowers and leaves. The whole table is beautifully browned the carved recesses are a darker brown, almost reddish in color. Two piles lay atop the table in the middle, one composed of two magazines, the other a larger pile of manuals, the top one of course is for the TV, slightly offset from the rest. As we near the sofa she looks to the left at the TV then looks over her shoulder past me. "Jameson dear, do please hurry right on up and get that TV working for us would you." She releases my hand from her feathery touch before waving toward the sofa. Moving on toward the chair sitting at the end of the coffee table she turns towards me again, not sitting yet, she waits for me to sit. Daintily reaching a hand for the arm of the sofa I lower myself towards the plump cushion, only to end up falling back against the rear support. The cushions are not just plump, they are plush as well. It feels like I sank at least a foot into this deceptively soft sofa. She laughs at my sudden relaxed position on the sofa, after a moment I can't help but join her. Our mirthful laughter is interrupted by Jameson who utters a curse before somehow wedging himself in between the TV and the opening in the cabinet the two of them are now occupying. We both eye him and his new predicament for a moment before she turns to me and begin to grill me on my past experience in babysitting and qualifications. After a few moments she seems satisfied and then stares at me for a moment, saying she wants to get a look at me. As her eyes are boring into me, I cannot help but look right back at her. I find myself lost in her amazingly blue eyes. So close are we that I can even see a faint hint of myself reflected back in them. I get lost in the swirl and eddy of the blue and black underlay of these eyes. We sit and stare for an indeterminate time before she looks downwards at the rest of me. I can't help but do the same, gazing longingly at her lithe body. Seeing as if for the first time the swell of her breasts, not large, but not small either. The way her breasts expand and contract with her breath is almost mesmerizing. With an effort I look lower, seeing the skin stretched taut across the bit of her torso revealed by the dress. Lower still is hidden by the voluminous folds of the skirt. I cannot help but imagine what lies underneath this skirt. With a longing foreign to me I imagine pulling her dress free of her, laying her back on the chair with her legs spread wide, dropping my head down to sniff at the folds of skin hiding what I am sure is a most delicious flavor. For whatever reason I see and want to experience the folds of her secret sensuous opening as it opens to my tongue and fingers. I want to taste her tangy juices as I finger and lick away at her. I want to listen to her moans of lust as I explore her depths before reaching up and taking both breasts in my hands. Feeling those precious orbs under my fingers, I am sure, would be the height of enjoyment for her and me. So salacious is my thinking that I have gotten us to the point of staring back into each other's eyes before we move in for a kiss, our tongues intertwining hungrily for the longest moments before she pulls free, her eyes clouded in lust as she kisses her way down my body. With each hot little kiss planted to me I groan and squirm under her, my legs parting ever wider to allow her access to every little bit of me. She reaches the junction of my legs, pulls back a little and stares at me, as if begging permission to lick. My attention is returned to us sitting there as she puts a hand to my shoulder and shakes me gently. Her mouth is asking if I am alright, though her eyes are alight with mirth. I turn a few shades of red and apologize for not listening. Whatever she was going to say dies on her lips as Jameson appears at her elbow. "Sarah dearest, you really must stop tormenting our babysitter, it is time for us to be leaving. I am sorry but the TV is being reluctant. We have a small radio in the kitchen if you wish and on the fridge is a list of numbers to call in an emergency. Feel free to order out or have your pick at what we have in the fridge," he says to her then me as he helps her stand. "Oh Beth I am sorry, our baby Michael is upstairs asleep. He is quick to trust so should be no problem, though if he starts when you walk up to his crib, simply call him booba and he will be happy as a clam. We have a baby monitor upstairs in our room and another receiver in the kitchen, I must apologize for the lack of cookies and crackers I've not had time to do a proper shopping," Susan tells me at the door as her husband drags her to their car. I watch them leave, waving back as the car backs out of the driveway and off they go. Shutting the door behind me I go up the stairs finding first their bedroom. A number of boxes are stacked neatly against the wall besides the door, their bed made up perfectly. I am sure a quarter would bounce if I happened to have one to drop, though I could simply gaze at the plush looking king size bed in jealousy. The single beds that are little more than cots in the dorms are barely above the comfort of a sleeping bag on the concrete. Tucked into a corner is an impressive ornate dresser, the handles seemingly carved right into the drawer. Along the wall on the opposite wall is a closet door, one of those extra wide hinged fold up numbers, seemingly painted white though yellowed with age. At either side of the headboard are small corner dressers, one drawer apiece, the tops partly covered in identical alarm clocks. The left dresser also has a receiver for the baby monitor that Sarah said was up here. Luckily there is nothing more than the sleeping baby noises coming from the receiver. Still needing to get the lay of the house down, dealing with a screaming baby would be a little much. Picking up the receiver I check the back, no batteries. The drawer on the corner dresser however has an unopened package of batteries, opening the package I fish out two batteries and stick them into the receiver as I head back downstairs to peruse the kitchen. Turning right at the bottom of the steps I find myself in the dining room. There I stop dead in my tracks. In the middle of the room is an impressive table, not the rickety new ones mind, this is an old table. There is one incredibly thick single post with several arms sticking out at the base. The arms end in a claw clutching at an orb, while the top is egg shaped extending maybe six feet across. Running across is an ornate white lace runner, held in place by a silvery bowl of flowers. Placed just so around the table are six chairs, each one beautifully carven wood. Placed in the seat of each chair is a deep red cushion tied to the runners of the back. The runners are spiraling twirls of wood, while the side posts are round columns carved with the intricate rose and vines pattern of the coffee table. The roses spill out onto the head rest of the chairs, while the legs are simple columns that thin at the top near the seat. In the middle of the thinned section is another orb. On the far side of the table from me is a china cabinet, the dark wood carved with the same rose and vines design yet again. The vines trailing up the pieces of wood in an eccentric twisting way, here and there broken up by a rose, the glass shelves inside are festooned with glass globes, one filled with a number of small yellow roses, another with red roses, the largest one has a small little sailing ship in it. The ship looks to be floating in a roiling sea, the sails drawn up and tied besides one up in the front. It looks for all the world like there before me is an old freighter battened down for a heavy storm. Caregiver It was my eighteenth birthday with no good reason to celebrate because my life had become nothing more than a twenty four seven caregiver to my father who had been stricken with cancer. My life still wasn't that great even before that. My mom died when I was twelve. I raised my little brother because my father was always at work. Then he couldn't work at all, he was so sick. It's the medicine they were pumping into his body. He was not handling it very well and it had made him very weak. He hadn't taken a shower in three days because he said the feeling of water on his skin was very uncomfortable. Almost like it burned. But I couldn't stand it anymore, so I helped him to the bathroom. "No!" he whined, then almost cried leaning his back on the wall to hold himself up. He was frightened such that I felt bad for him. "Dad, you need a shower!" I pleaded. I swear, the Chemo has had an effect on his brain too. He's emotional as hell all of the time. "Please, Dad." "No, you get in the shower." I would have if I thought it would coax him in there too. My father is forty years old. He is very successful and is every bit as handsome as George Cluny. He even looks a little bit like him. My girlfriends melt around Bob, my dad, whenever they're near him. Then they stopped coming around completely. Even Johnny didn't want to hang out anymore. It figures. I give Johnny my heart, soul and virginity and he dumps me. I'm glad we only had sex once if you want to call it that. I can't blame my friends though. It's very awkward around here now and I can't leave the house very often. Little Bobby Junior is self absorbed as any twelve year old should be. I did my best to keep him from the messy disease my dad was suffering. I love BJ with all my heart. He's a good kid, too. "Daddy," I said with a sweet voice, walked up close and unbuttoned the top button of the shirt that he had been wearing to match his pair of boxers. And the slippers that kept his feet warm, were all too much for me to bare. I wanted my dad back. My sexy dad. My healthy dad. "Kimmy, you don't understand how it feels." "Is it the heat, Dad, cuz I can make the water cool so it feels nice," I tried to sound convincing as I ran my fingertips upsidedown on his chest. He squirmed like he got the heebie-geebies. "No. Don't, baby. I need to sit down," he cried. "Let's get your clothes off and sit you on the side of the tub. I'll put a towel down." "I'm embarrassed, Kimmy. I don't want you to see me naked," he complained, stressing on the word naked. He leaned past me for the toilet, managing to seat himself while I assisted. "Seriously? That's your problem?" I asked. "Dad, I don't care about that. It's silly. I want to help you." "I have to pee," he said and scrunched his cheek up to his eye like he was a burden. "Can you get your shorts down?" "Yeah, but you have to get out." "I don't think so. I'll turn around." "Then turn around." "Fine!" I retorted. I rolled my eyes and did as he said with my hands on my hips. I heard him struggle and squeak his butt on the toilet seat then it was silent. Finally, a trickle echoed the bathroom. I peeked over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't going to fall. I got a glimpse of his crotch but his hand was covering his penis. Not sure if I was being queer or what but I wanted to see it. He's got a great body at forty and I've become infatuated with him as I've grown. I imagined the disease was going to destroy this gorgeous man eventually. I shivered. Since my mom died, I've had to take her place. Deep down I want to. I want to be there for my dad. Mostly out of love as a daughter but part of me, a little secret part of me for the past few of years, has wanted to satisfy him like my mother use to. Sometimes, I know Dad is needy but he has nobody. I've caught him on the computer a few times looking at porn. I played it off like I didn't see anything. It took him a while just to get over Mom and he's gone out with a couple of women but I don't think he's had sex since Mom. I remember even when I was little, I would jump and play on the sofa with him. I'd be so curious about his privates, accidently pressing on it or resting my head there. He never, ever tried anything inappropriate. Though as I got older and started to get boobs and a figure, I caught him checking me out. More so, after Mom died. I didn't mind at all. Our relationship is well balanced. We get along, fight, use sarcasm, joke and share problems. The only difference between me and Mom is that I'm not his lover. I've thought about it lots of times. I've masturbated to visions of my dad. I remember thinking, this poor man is in for the fight of his life. He's a winner though. He'll beat this, I prayed. Dad leaned to pull his shorts up and lost his balance falling forward. I caught him just as I broke the weird trance I was in. His head almost hit the marble floor. It took all my might but I pulled him back up. He hurried to cover his crotch but I got a clear shot of my dad's slung penis. It's darker down there but he keeps his pubic hair trimmed nicely below his tan lines. His dong is light brown in color and lightens near the tip. I don't know why, but I was so anxious and thrilled to get a look at it. I leaned to make sure he was okay, rubbing the top of his head and tousling his hair. "You're so good to me, Kimmy," he said with gratitude. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me close. His face sideways on my belly. A small rush went down to my pelvis. "Because I love you, Daddy," I said sweetly. "Now, will you please let me wash you with a cloth at least. You don't have to move. Don't be embarrassed. I'll wipe up the water after I get you back to the couch." "You don't have to do this." "I want to. I want you to feel clean and fresh. Look. I'll use the little jug." I reached under the vanity and grabbed it. It's a little watering jug with a spout that we keep there to clean ourselves after we pee or poop. Most people don't do this and it's why they smell. My parents taught us to do this as children. I ran the sink to lukewarm while keeping my right leg close to balance Dad. I soaked a clean washcloth and rubbed a bar of soap a few times on it then set it and the jug on the vanity for him to see. Dad's shorts were still bunched at his ankles. I leaned down to sneak them out from under his feet hoping he wouldn't put up a fight and he didn't. His eyes were closed for the most part. I stood in front of him and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. I had to help him sneak his arms out then tossed it on the floor. I squatted so we were eye to eye. He looked at me. "Get over it. Okay?" I said huskily. "Fine. Have your way with me," he chuckled as did I. Alas, I was going to explore the curiosities I've always had for my dad and make him all nice and clean, too. "Now just close your eyes and relax," I said softly. I picked up the spout and poured little bits of water onto his head and rubbed it into his hair. Too much of the water was spilling on the floor. "Dad, if you move your hands, most of the water will flow right into the toilet," I proved to be right as he rested his hands on his thighs, reluctantly. His privates unveiled and water ran over his penis and dripped from its tip. "This isn't so bad, Kimmy." "I told you. If you would just learn to trust me sometimes." "I do sweetheart." If he had his strength, I'm sure he could have washed himself in the tub but he was very weak that day. He just couldn't go another day without bathing. I put a small dollop of shampoo in the palm of my hand and ran it through his hair. He wobbled as I scrubbed gently. "Hold onto my waist, Daddy," I told him. Just as his hands wrapped my waist I felt a tingle travel around my hips. It did help balance him. "Hold your head down and put your elbows in." He did so and surprisingly, most to the water ran into the toilet as I rinsed his hair. I also noticed his dick was just a little perkier than before. The topside was pushed up against the edge of the seat wanting to escape upward. I continued pouring just a couple of trickles on his shoulders and traced his arms a bit too. I grabbed the washcloth and softly ran it over his shoulders and arms. Then I ran it down his back. I lifted his arms and washed his armpits, then his ribs. I squatted and looked at his sudsy body. "You have a beautiful body, Father." He just looked at me and said, "Are you trying to embarrass me?" I just smiled and ran the cloth over his slightly hairy chest. My dad is pretty well fit. He worked out regularly until he got sick. Sometimes I would go with him if BJ didn't need looking after. "You're a beautiful girl, Kimberly." This was a surprise only because his voice had a lot more sincerity in it than it usually did when he said that. "Thank you, Father." He smiled with sarcasm because I rarely call him that. I worked the cloth down to his stomach, stopped and asked, "Why don't you have a girl?" "Pffft," he expressed and I noticed his wanker was a bit thicker. I stood up and used the jug to rinse his body. I pretended like I didn't see his cock stiffen. Small trickles of water ran down his tan skin. Puddles formed on the marble. I kicked my flip-flops off. The bottoms of my jeans were getting wet. I was enjoying it. I wore hip huggers and an orange spaghetti strap shirt that didn't quite cover my tummy which bulged slightly over my tight jeans. Suddenly I felt a weakness. One that was making me feel sympathetic and wanting. Thinking about and wanting to give him pleasure. Wondering how long it would be before he couldn't get a girl, go on a date or have sex if he wanted to. "You are my girl, sweetheart." I had to gulp at that but I knew what he meant. His little baby-girl. What would it matter if we shared a moment right then? It sure felt right. I was glad to be giving my dad a little bird bath but nervous as hell to let him know what I was thinking. My bad. With that thought, I knelt down and lifted his hands on my shoulders. The puddles drenched the front of my jeans. I switched the jug with the cloth. I placed it right on his navel and washed it. The rag slung and plopped over his cock while suds formed and oozed down around his scrotum. I didn't look at him but I didn't look right at his manhood either. I looked straight ahead like I was doing a job. It was now or never, I thought. I looked up at him and gave my dad a slight grin then reached down and smothered his package with the rag. He gasped a bit, "Do you have to..." "It will just take a sec; No, I mean a girl you can have sex with. Don't you get lonely; horny?" I inquired, wedging his rod from under the seat to free it. "I do, Kimberly." "Lift up a little," I ordered. Dad raised his right butt cheek and then the other while I cleaned real good behind his balls and his asshole with my right hand and held his cock with my left hand just to keep it out of the way. Dad's cock stiffened more. "Dad, are you getting aroused?" I asked him with a smile and a crooked jaw. "This is what I was afraid of," he barked. "Now you're afraid? A few minutes ago you were embarrassed," I remarked, jokingly. "A few minutes ago it was smaller; Are you going to rinse it?" "It's a normal reaction for a man to grow an erection when being fondled... Bathed, I mean." I poured water over Dad's privates and used my other hand to help rinse the soap from his undersides. I finished with my hand sliding along his taint over his balls and took hold of his erection from underneath. "Are we finished?" I asked sweetly, looking him straight in the eyes, taunting my father to cross a line while I gently stroked it once. After all, I certainly had dropped enough clues indicating a willingness. I just wanted to help him. Would Daddy succumb to a little bad behavior? He certainly deserved it. "Kimberly, you're my daughter." He said with regret. "And I'm your cook and your maid and your caregiver. I want to be these things, Dad, and I want to take care of you. For you and for me." It was quiet for a spell. I must have stroked him five times. "Haven't you ever thought about it?" I asked, squinting my eyes. "I try not to." "You can let it go, Father. It's just us here. Nobody else," I reminded him. He ran his fingers through my light brown hair. "Kimmy." "Shhhh." I grinned and glided my hand up and down it a couple more times. "Ahh, Kimmy!" He gasped. I looked down at it. It was bigger than I had imagined in my hand as it stretched to its full length. My saliva drew quickly and drool spilled from my mouth. I felt it drip down my chin and onto his shaft. It made his shaft more slippery. Dad ran his other hand through my hair and held my head respectfully. Then he grabbed handfuls of my hair and moaned such that I thought he was going to guide my mouth to his hard cock, but he didn't. I was so turned on, I could feel my panties moisten as I slowly stroked him back and forth. It was amazing to watch the loose skin push and pull. I must have stroked him like fifteen times by then. He hardened even more and then he pulled back with a groan. Deep red became his soaking wet shaft. I assisted with my other hand watching and anticipating his tension build. I kept my face down focusing on his manly piece, waiting. Dad's was far nicer than Johnny's boyish penis. It was full and manly, thick and thriving. I know he wanted me to stop but I didn't. "Oh Shit, Kimmy!" he cried out bending his head back with pleasure. And it happened. That fast. A spurt went right in my open awestruck mouth. I pulled his throbbing cock closer and held it to my tightening lips. Dad squirted up my nose then on my cheek. His hips jerked slightly, freeing my father from years of absence. I took it in my mouth and he flexed every time I twirled my tongue around his nicely shaped head. It was salty and throbbing then it softened to tender. "Oh God!" he huffed, "We shouldn't." I used my hand to plunge his cock in my mouth a few times and I moaned to let him know I was enjoying it. I scraped my face with the side of my finger to rid his cum just before I looked up at him. I didn't want him to feel bad or guilty and I'm sure his jizz all over my face wouldn't paint a pretty picture of his little baby-girl. "You needed that," I whispered. "It isn't right, Kimmy," he said catching his breath. "I don't feel bad." Then he pulled me up by the armpits and hugged me. He kissed me on my neck, desperately. Finally, he released me. His hands grazed the sides of my perky tits when I leaned back with the intention to rinse him off. I reached for the spout. Dad snatched it from me. "I'll do it," he voiced. It made me feel a little ashamed. "How about getting supper started? Bobby will be home soon." I lowered my gaze, stood, rinsed my hands at the sink and walked out. "Walk back to the couch by yourself then," I mumbled, not sure if he understood me. I had stew slow cooking all day so there was nothing to do except warm the oven for rolls. I heard Dad struggle across the family room. I looked over just in time to see him fall. "Daddy!" I yelled out and ran to his aid. He was wearing the white robe I had left for him. "I'm okay. I tripped on the damn tie strap." "Let me help you." I got him to sit up. The robe was wide open. He was back to his normal size already and regretting what had happened between us, obviously. I helped to lift him up by his one arm. I walked him and sat him on the couch where all he needed was there for him. He'd been living on that couch for almost a month. At first, the Chemo wasn't that bad but that latest dose had hit him so hard, he threw up that morning. I think that was what made him unary and discouraged about the whole treatment he was getting three times a week at the hospital. He wrapped his robe tight and tied it like he was irritated. He wouldn't even look at me. He stared at the TV as he sat there. "It will never happen again. Okay?" I assured him. "I love you, Kimmy. Let's just forget about it," he said, sounding exhausted, fluffing his pillow. He rolled to his side and made himself comfortable. I covered him with a quilt. "I love you too, Daddy," and I kissed him on his forehead. * Later that night, after dinner, Bobby Junior went for a sleep over at his friend's house down the street. Maggie, my should be best friend stopped by but didn't stay long because it's hard to bear witness to such a beautiful man in such a poor condition. Bob, my father, was moaning slightly most of the time she was there. I checked on him several times. He reassured me he was alright. After Maggie left, I was making the TV room tidy, thinking Dad was asleep. I had my brother's Bart Simpson pajamas on because my laundry was in the washer. "Baby?" I turned to see my dad with his arm across his face as though he was uncomfortable. I shoved the old newspapers in the fireplace to burn, walked over and sat my little butt in the tiny space available on the couch between his curled up knees and his head. I combed my fingers through his hair. "What do you need, Daddy?" "Those pills aren't working," he grunted. "Which ones?" I asked to be sure but he wouldn't say. "The nausea pills?" And he shook his head, no. "The Tylenol?" And he shook his head, no. Well, that only left the stool softeners. "You can't poop?" I asked. He shook his head, no once more. "It's been a few days and my stomach is hurting bad," he pouted. The doctor said this might happen and instructed me what to do if it did. Well, seeing as how my dad was so weak and the experience we shared in the bathroom earlier, I thought it would be impossible to get him in there again. "I'll be right back, Dad." I grabbed the Vaseline, some rubber gloves and filled that same jug with hot water. I set the items on the coffee table as I nudged the ottoman with my foot between the table and couch. Dad's eyes were closed and I wondered how difficult he would be about this. I reached under the couch and retrieved a bedpan we had stashed there incase of emergency. I set it on the ottoman which seemed as though it was going to line up perfectly for the procedure I was about to put my dad through. I lit a scented candle, grabbed an old crib liner from the hallway closet and placed it under the covers, on the couch cushion just behind my dad's butt. I thought he'd fallen asleep. Trying not to disturb him, I slipped the quilt off of him and out of the way. I remember thinking, I wish there was a way to do this while he slept, as I sat on the coffee table. "Sit up, Dad," I said, waking him and pulling at his elbow while sneaking his robe out of the way, scrunching it behind his back. The plastic made a crinkling noise and a look of wonder became his groggy face. "Mister Cline? Imagine you're the patient and I am the nurse and please do not fight me." "Kimmy, I'll do anything," he surprised me. He must really be suffering because I know, he knew what was about to happen. He covered his shrunken penis with the corner of the quilt. I reached forward and palmed each side of his slightly hairy butt cheeks and scooted him close to the edge of the couch where his butt hole lined up nicely with the bedpan as I thought it would. His privates were fully exposed to me. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to watch while I propped his feet up on the table with me between them and the little ottoman between mine. "Now, you have to relax, Daddy, this might feel a little uncomfortable." I warned as I snapped on the gloves and dipped two fingers into the jar of Vaseline. Caregiver "I'm sorry, Kimmy, to put you through this." "Dad, stop!" I pulled out a large glob, held his one knee and smudged the jelly around his opening. I gently worked my index finger in his anus and I could feel a lump right at the opening. It felt round and hard like a rock. I carefully forced my finger around it lubricating and stretching his opening slowly. His penis began to enlarge. It went from lying on its side to pointing at his navel. The thrill of it exploding earlier that day replayed through my mind and now I was sticking a finger in my Dad's asshole. I had to remove my snickering smile. I circled my finger deeper and deeper until he squirmed a bit. "Try pushing a little bit." I could see his muscles flex and his hole widen slightly. I decided right then and there that I wanted to be a nurse. I've never actually seen a bowel movement before but then again there's a lot of things I have never seen. I guess my gross curiosities get the best of me. I grabbed the jug and trickled hot water at the base of his cock. He squealed a bit. It ran down around his scrotum. I used my other hand to dam it up so his anus would feel the heat. Hot water always made my bowels move. He moaned a little more but sure enough I could see his muscles flex even more and his opening began to dilate. "Push, Dad," I told him, "Push." As he did a large tennis ball shaped poop plopped out and I won't say what followed. The important thing is that he was relieved instantly, it seemed like, as he moaned and groaned and awed. "I'm so sorry, Kimmy, I know this is embarrassing for you. Me too." "Better?" "Oh, my God. Much better," he exclaimed. I used the remaining water to clean his butt hole then removed everything. It actually wasn't that bad. I made him lie there for a few minutes to dry off, covered him with the quilt and left him there to wash my hands. I went back to check on him. He looked anew and refreshed. He was so grateful, he even smiled, "Thank you, baby." "It was my pleasure," I replied with a naughty grin and raised eyebrows. "You're such a retard," He chuckled as did I. He rolled to his side with his back to the backrest, straightened up, stretched and patted the cushion for me to lie next to him as he adjusted the quilt. I know he expected me to turn my back to him but I had a different notion. I lied down facing him, kissed him on his forehead and asked, "Do you feel better?" "Yes, you are such a dear." "Good," I replied. "I'm here for you, Bob." He actually laughed, "You better stop." "Stop what, handsome?" I instigated. "Your shenanigans." I smiled, grabbed hold of his hand from under the quilt and kissed his knuckles. Then I said, "Let's get some sleep." I methodically snuck his hand back under the covers, placed it on my inner thigh and held it there. He closed his eyes with a comfortable look and gently squeezed my thigh. A huge ping went right to my vagina. I so wanted him to go for it. I closed my eyes for what seemed like a minute. I heard his voice, "I have thought about it, Kimmy." I opened my eyes and I was sure, just a short time went by except The Late Night Show was ending. Dad was staring at me. "I can't sleep," he said. He looked jubilant, well, attractive; like Dad. His hand was still between my legs as was mine. It seemed unlikely that he had it there the whole time. Did he move it and put it back there? I entangled my fingers in his and did a sleepy arch with my body making sure my pelvis pressed against his wrist. "I have too," I muttered. "You have? Like what?" he asked nervously. "I've always been curious. You're gorgeous, Dad. I think it's only natural to be curious. Not to mention you walk around here half naked all the time." "Well, it's not easy for me either. Some of those outfits you wear and your skimpy pajamas." "Auh!" I teased. "You're turning out to me a beautiful woman, Kimberly." "I get it from you." "Your mother was very beautiful." "Do you miss her?" "Not as much as I use to." "Do you miss sex?" I asked, searching his eyes for the truth. "Wasn't it obvious?" I giggled. We were quiet for a spell. "Mostly, rubbing my hands on your body," I said out of nowhere. "What?" he squinted. "When I think about it... you." "Oh," and he looked up at the ceiling puckering his lips to the side. "My mind mostly just envisions your body. I mean, on its own. It's not like..." I put my finger over his lips to hush him, saying, "I know what you mean." We really had broken through some unchartered territory. I found it exhilarating. "I've thought about sneaking in your room," I elaborated. "I know it's weird but I've thought about spanking your naked butt when you made me mad but when I do, it's very gentle. We laughed. Our quiet voices and the subject matter made for an exciting conversation. I could tell it was escalating into something. I felt no shame and hoped his was disappearing. He tried sinking his butt deep into the crook of the couch. I thought he might be getting a hard-on, trying to hide it. "I need to give you your birthday present before it's too late," he surprised me. "Awe, Dad! I thought you forgot," I chirped. "Are you kidding? You have been so incredible through all of this. So helpful. I'd buy you the world if I could." "Well what is it? Where is it?" I prodded with a huge smile. "Right behind you, under the table." I slapped him on the shoulder playfully. I threw the quilt at our feet, sat up on the couch and reached for it. The box was wrapped and everything. I tore right into it, looked over my shoulder to smile at my dad, excited. I flipped the lid open to reveal a beautiful black dress. "Your Aunt Susie picked it up." "Dad, it's gorgeous!" I exclaimed, picking it up high so that it hung. Just then the perfect thought occurred to me. I stood to face my dad holding it up to fashion it for him, pressing it tight against myself. His smile was gleaming. I hung it over my forearm, reached for the top button on my pajamas. "Don't look," I said temptingly. Dad put his hand over his eyes and then peeked through his fingers. I laughed. The room was dimly lit only by the fireplace and the TV. "Thank you for the dress, Daddy. You're peeking," I smiled. "You're welcome, sweetheart." "It's okay. I want you to see. Make your visions come true." He removed his hand from his eyes and propped his head up with his hand and elbow. A somewhat serious look became his handsome face as I unbuttoned the last of my top. I swung it open, unveiling by breasts with a small bounce to them. "My God, Kimmy. Those are spectacular." I giggled and set the dress on the table. Then I ran my thumb along the inside of my pajama bottoms to tease his imagination, exposing my hipbones and my lower tummy. His eyes glistened. His smile was tight. I turned to the side a bit so he wouldn't be able to see my tiny triangle straight on and pulled my bottoms down as I bent at my knees. "Wow! You are a sexy little creature." I smiled big and curtsied my shoulders cute like. My bottoms dropped to my feet while I turned to face him and managed my feet from the pajamas. "Is this what you had in mind?" I asked. "It's far better," he replied. I spun around for him to see the entire me then reached for the dress. I scrunched it up, snuck my hands in the shoulder straps and wiggle it over my head. It fit perfectly as I pulled it down and straightened it out. "How's it look?" "Magnificent! Happy Birthday." "I love it! Thank you," I said and spun around again for him to see. "It's awesome, Kimmy." "So are you, Daddy." I scurried to my knees next to the couch and gave him a gracious but quick little kiss right on the lips. He actually kissed me back. I was so happy he was feeling better. I stood and hiked up the dress just a couple feet from his face. I turned my back to him and reached over my head to remove it completely. I tossed it on the table. I turned once more to face him. He had sat up. His robe was wide open. His cock, hard and long. His look was desperate. He grabbed my waist, pulled me close and started kissing me on my belly. Blood rushed through me and to my crotch. I turned wet instantly. He was working his way up to my breasts so I started to squat, slowly, so he wouldn't have to get up. Dad lipped, tongued and caressed my tits with passion, pressing, pulling and twisting them. I ran my fingers through his hair and kissed the top of his head while he had his way with me. My pussy was burning with desire. My butt perched on the coffee table. His shame was nowhere to be found. "It's okay, Daddy. I've thought about this too," I confessed. "So have I, Kimmy. I'm sorry," he confessed, kissing and pecking at me. I ran my hands down his sexy back, his V shaped muscles, his dark skin appeared as I worked the robe down his back. He snuck his arms out without pausing his molestation. "Oh, Daddy!" I cried out. "Tell me you want me. I want you to want me." "I do want you, Kimmy. Please!" he groaned. I pushed his shoulders back until his head reached the backrest. I kneeled between his legs and wrapped my hands on his thighs. His beautiful cock just inches from my mouth. I took him in with a satisfied moan. A couple of inches and then a couple more and then all of his nice cock was jammed into my mouth. I didn't even gag. He was rock hard and he was delicious. He withdrew and then he pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled. My first real blow job. This gift was even better than the dress. I twirled my tongue and drooled down his shaft, wet and sloppy. I grabbed hold with my hand to assist as I stroked and sucked him. I looked at my dad. He was in ecstacy and then he breathed, "Oh Kimmy, I want you now." I pulled him towards me so that he had to kneel on the floor with just his head resting on the cushion. I knelt on the couch for him to prime my pussy because I knew it would be difficult for him to enter me. I shoved my cunt in his face and pounced. He licked and poked his tongue up my vagina. He kneaded at my clitoris and flicked it with his tongue. My body shook as my orgasm built. I grabbed his hair with both hands and greedily, but respectfully, banged his face on my mound until it all hit me at once. I moaned and awed, "Oh god, Daddy, I never... had... an orgasm... like this." I panted and screamed out loud. My hips bucked in his face. The sensation was filling me. My clit became sensitive and I wanted him in me immediately. My pussy had swelled. I stood on the floor, grabbed him by the armpits and pulled him up onto the couch, with his help of course. I knelt over his raging hard-on, took hold of it and lowered myself onto him with hope that it would slip into me easy enough. His cock head probed at my opening. Dad spit on his fingers, reached down and lubricated the tip of his dick. He took charge and directed it at my hole. He pushed it, pressing in a little. I gasped. He pressed in some more and it pinched so good. He pushed harder. My pussy stretched to meet his needs. My juices came into play lubricating his cock even more as he pulled back and pushed in. I ratted his hair with my fingers hugging his head wanting him to pound my pussy and we were almost there. I pressed down and up and down until his cock was gliding smoothly. "Now Daddy. Fuck me hard. Harder. Oh God!" I cried. To this day, I know in my mind, it was Johnny that took my virginity but my dad was my first real fuck. I pounced on his cock. He grabbed my hips to assist. I buried his face in my tits and rode him. Another orgasm was building in me. It surged and surged until I shook uncontrollably. Dad started pumping me faster and faster. Another feeling occurred. I didn't know what it was. Pressure at my opening was building quickly. I lifted myself off of my dad and liquid sprayed from my vagina all over him. "Oh my God!" I cried out. For a second I was embarrassed but realized immediately that this turned him on even more. He tossed me to the side like nothing and got on top of me. He thrust himself back into my pussy, pressed his weight on me and kissed me with an open mouth. Our tongues twirled randomly. I was breathing so heavy I had to release and could only gnaw at his lips with pleasure. He fucked me harder and harder and harder. We were sweating and wetness was everywhere. He pulled out and worked his way towards my head that lied on the armrest. With his one foot on the floor and one knee on the couch he straddled my head. He urged me to take his cock in my mouth and I did with enthusiasm wanting to taste myself. It was excitingly delicious. He forced his cock down my throat and held it there and pulled back and shoved it in again, repeating this over and over. I was totally getting laid by my dad and I thought soon I would want this to be over, wanting him to cum already. He stopped and I thought he was going to cum but he didn't. He flipped me around so my face was on top of the backrest and my ass facing him. I clawed at the cushion for dear life. He jammed his cock in me again from behind and it hurt somewhat but good sensations soon took over. I yelped and panted as he pumped me full with his cock. Harder and faster. He spun me around as I sat on the couch. Then Daddy shoved his dirty cock in my mouth and ejaculated down my throat. He held it there as his cum filled my mouth. It spewed from the sides. He throbbed and bucked his hips. I held his balls gently and sucked him. He moaned with pleasure which was making me feel satisfied. Satisfied that I was able to please him. I felt not shame, but useful, loving and intimate. I could only hope that he felt as comfortable with this awesome experience as I did. I pulled him deeper into my mouth while his cock softened and I moaned with sheer pleasure. I swallowed most of his salty cum. I thought, If only he could get healthy, we could continue our shenanigans. At least until he could find someone. My dad deserves to be happy. I love my dad. He has always taken care of me and now I'm caring for him. His breathing settled as did mine. It was over and I knew the next minute or so would say a lot about all of this. Would he accept this as justifiable somehow or think we crossed a line and be ashamed and or furious? I let his sensitive dick flop from my mouth. It hung below my chin when I hugged him at the waist not wanting to look at him, afraid to learn the truth. He ran his fingers through my hair once, turned away from me and found the couch to lie on while swinging the quilt over himself covering his head and everything without a word. My heart sank. Tears filled my eyes. I rubbed his calf once and said, "Good night, Daddy." He didn't even respond. I was mortified. The shame that hit me at that moment felt like the world on my shoulders compared to what happened earlier in the bathroom. I was okay with all of it but he obviously was not. I left him and went to bed. I lied in bed not being able to sleep realizing it wasn't shame I was feeling but simply that my feelings were hurt. I didn't have regret at all but he certainly did. I mean, it's not like I wanted to fall in love with my dad and I know what we've done is considered taboo to the masses but I didn't care about that. It made me wonder if I was just this evil temptress leading him away from his beliefs or morals right into the gates of hell. We've never been very religious. Was he feeling fear of being exposed? Did he genuinely feel it to be wrong? Was it the cancer? I was very confused. I finally felt sleepy after replaying what we had done through my head. It was fucking awesome. It gave me purpose and totally fulfilled my sexual wants and needs. Mmmm, my dad. Caregiver I see the face for a split second, until I blink and then it's gone, there was no warmth from his breath, there was no noise of him slipping away in the millisecond it took for me to blink. He wasn't there to begin with, but there had been the voice. A burning knowledge there had been a person fills me. Not wishing to let him get away I leap to my feet, pulling my panties partly up my legs in the process and hobble into the kitchen, hands getting my panties the rest of the way up. I peer left and right as I go into the kitchen, nobody is standing besides the grungy pink fridge, the rickety looking wooden cart in the middle of the kitchen not hiding anyone behind it and the once white now grey stove isn't large enough to fit in. The back door is shut I check to be sure it's locked just in case, then move toward the swinging door for the dining room. Peeking around the door I see nobody in there then I hear timid little footsteps above me. Not wishing to brave the dining room again I head back through the kitchen, eyes scanning the room again as I go, nobody behind the sawhorses with a couple planks on them in the middle and the door is still shut, the faded yellow fridge still not having anyone crouched next to it. I hurry through the doorway into the living room, the timid little footsteps now on the stairs. I can hear the distinct crinkling made by little kids in footed jammies now and I relax with an audible whoosh of my breath it's only Michael. With the breathless eagerness of youth he whisks down the steps before grabbing onto the last post for a leaning turn to crash into me. His arms wrapped around my waist he leans back and stares up at me, his mouth open breathing hard a lopsided grin on his face. "Bessy can I have a glass of wa-wa?" "Of course you can booba come on let's get you a glass," I say grabbing him up in my arms. Putting him down on the black granite center island I fetch a glass and fill it in the sink. A sudden hiss makes me freeze, hand reaching for the faucet to turn it off. I don't know how long I stand there frozen in place but the glass is overflowing by the time I even dare to turn. Still not having enough bravery to look up though, my eyes sweep the floor of the kitchen. Seeing nothing besides the center island my eyes look higher, there is nothing there but Michael perched atop the black granite, hands stretched toward me impatiently waiting for his glass of water. Dumping out half the glass, as I do it the water turns off with a gurgle freeing me up to turn and give Michael his glass, my mind frantically trying to puzzle out what hissed. Gulping for water, then air, he finishes the glass in three gulps, gives it back to me, leaps from the island, and dashes back upstairs. Glass safely stowed in the sink I walk back into the living room, desperate for a nice orgasm. Oh heck who am I kidding? I'm just desperate for an orgasm if Michael had an older brother I'd be busy seducing him. Damp panties pulled off this time, book again in hand with fingers already entering moist territory, I lose myself in the saucy naughty story of a widowed ranch gal and her hunky stable hand, going about the daily affairs of a ranch woman in the old west and dreaming lustily about the events of last night. At least that is what I am supposed to be doing instead I am thinking lustily of the schooner I entered in the dining room, the black pit eyed man that was going to take me, against my will, yet so very much not against my will. Again I can feel the hands and tentacles and claws of his crew on me, holding me open for him, my pussy leaking for him. At some point I stopped reading the book instead one hand between my legs, the other caressing my breast eyes half closed thinking, picturing, feeling that moment just before he would have invaded me. My hands are a blur of motion I am so close I am going to go over and have that orgasm finally. I can feel it rushing toward me, barreling over everything on its rushed journey to the center of me. My breath is coming fast in gasps I'm almost there, just one moment more then a feeling, like something just brushed across my chest, pushing the orgasm back a little, but with my eyes half open I can tell there is nothing there. Nothing flitted across my chest, so my hands never slowed, if anything they increased tempo. I'm to close now, I'm not stopping for anything, that bug can brush up against my legs all it wants, I will have my orgasm. I'm so low in the chair now, the only thing keeping me up are my quaking knees. My fingers hitting every single have to be touched point, my orgasm so incredibly close. I just know it's going to wash over me any moment now. I'm moaning and gasping and breathing fast and holding it, somehow I am doing all of that with my fingers going it seems like a million miles a second, my orgasm is just there, it's going to crest I'm going to scream. I can feel it beginning to wash all over me, and then what the heck was that? There is something out the window, must be a person but I can't quite make them out. Everything comes crashing to a halt with the realization that there is someone watching. Yet it's not outrage that I'm being spied upon, and it's not embarrassment that someone has caught me playing with myself. It's not even fury that they just had to be seen right before I had that most wanted and anticipated orgasm it's elation that there is someone to have sex with. I know I should have been mad, or upset at least that someone was watching, I should be thinking that at least it had better not be an underage child, it is just an excitement that there is a person I can grab pull inside and strip us both naked for hot sex. I get up, not bothering to fix my clothing, signaling for the stranger to head for the door or inside, smiling the whole time as I move to the door and pull it wide open. There is no one there at the door, stepping out still not bothering to at least cover myself a little I look over the porch, there is no one. Walking off the porch I check in the bushes, not a soul, no footsteps, at least not big obvious ones. I give up and head for the door when I hear something that makes me freeze, then dash for the bushes again. A door shut in the house followed by footsteps on the stairway. I don't how I managed it but somehow I did. By the time that sixteen year old hunky boy almost a man but not quite reached the door my clothes are fixed at least enough to cover what I shouldn't be showing to him. "Beth what are you doing outside in the bushes?" His face curled up into a puzzled question mark making him much cuter than he was already. "I thought I saw someone out on the porch, now somebody had best get inside and back in bed before his parents come home. It's my butt on the line after all, and you are not old enough to get in trouble over," I tell him as I walk up the steps, my hips moving a little extra. Unable to help myself my hand caresses his cheek before grabbing him gently by the chin and making him look at me. "Now go on get back in bed before your folks get back." "Yes'm," he says after taking a deep breath before turning swiftly and dashing back upstairs. Thoughts of him and the shape seen through the window are quickly forgotten as I again sit in the chair. My body fervently wishing to continue my play, my mind fighting back and finally wins, I just can't seem to get any peace of enough length to orgasm in this house. Somehow managing to chase thoughts of the black eyed man from my thoughts, I pick up my math book and try to puzzle out the equations. I can't get very far into solving the first equation before my thoughts are rushing back to sex. In all of those symbols and numbers I see different positions, there is a missionary, there is a doggy, that one looks like a standing doggy. I don't know when but I become aware that one hand is between my legs rubbing up and down my lips. Sliding one finger in, palm resting atop my mound I lean back in the chair, other hand coming to rest on my breast. Pulling my shirt up as I slide a second finger in, I'm really getting into this now. I know I gotta hurry they will be coming home soon, maybe half an hour. With a moan I have a pre orgasmic tremor, I'm so close, so eager, so in need of this orgasm. I can feel it, coming closer and closer I'm not stopping this time, I'm going to have one major orgasm. Finally it's here, it's washing over me, my back is arching, I'm going to have to scream my joy any moment now, I can hear little Michael rolling over in his sleep. Then I gotta sit bolt upright, I hear a window, and footsteps. My orgasm forgotten with a sudden crushing fear for the babe in my care, grabbing up the maglight forgotten so long ago I rush for the steps, trying hard to be quiet. Halfway up the steps I realize I should be loud and start stomping and yelling out about how I'm calling the cops. Hoping whoever is up here will run because dangit my cell phone is in my purse. Maglight clutched to me as a club I reach the top of the stairs turning right because that's where the footsteps had come from. I move down the hall the short distance to the master bedroom, I pause to check the tiny bathroom across from the bedroom before turning to face it. Heart pounding as my hand reaches for the door then with a quick turn I push, the door swings wide revealing an empty bedroom. Darting my head in to look besides the door I reach out and flip the light switch, no light. Cursing silently I turn the maglight on and inspect the room, nobody in sight, the window is shut. I would run madly for Michael's room except I can hear him moving about a little and making little baby noises just like he's been most of the night. I stand there flashing the light about, puzzled for a second looking over the still immaculately made bed when I realize, this is a tall bed perhaps there is an intruder under the bed. Swiftly I get down and flash the light under the bed well, not immediately, I have to scoot forward to pull the bed skirt up before under the bed is awash in light. Nobody there, nobody scooted out from under while I was pulling up the skirt. Even more puzzled than before, no way somebody had managed to be elsewhere up here I get up on my knees leaning over the foot of the bed. Right about the time I realize that somebody could be in the closet, there are hands on me. Caught totally off guard while standing up, my head is shoved into the bed, the maglight rolls off the bed and skitters to the wall before stopping, the stranger's hands are all over me, at least the one not holding my head to the bed. There I am bent over a bed, my butt up in the air, no panties and a person I don't know holding me down, one hand exploring my body. The wandering hand reaches my skirt, rubbing over my thigh before ducking under the fabric and slowly moving up my bare thigh. All of my frantic attempts to dislodge this person cease as his hand moves up my bare thigh, at first on the outside then sliding around behind then between. I can't explain it, but my body is on fire with hot burning passionate lust for sex. As the hand reaches my hips there is a grunted, "Nice," from above and behind me, I swear it sounded just like Rob. "Rob is that you? Darnit get off me the parents are coming home in like a half hour, you can come back to my dorm and we can get all hot and heavy." I try to sound all sexy though I'm sure I sound like a scared woman. He doesn't let me up though instead the hand between my legs withdraws for a brief time before pulling my skirt over my butt. It doesn't hit me for a second what is going on, not until the hand moves to the small of my back and a cock is pressing at me. As the fleshy spear starts entering me I try to move enough to dislodge him, but with his hand pressed to the small of my back all I manage is to rotate my hips on his length as he slides it in, which makes me moan in pleasure. Despite my predicament of having a strange man entering me, the feel of cock inside of me is sending sparks of pleasure to my core. I can feel each bump and ridge on this intruder, each one sending even more pleasure into me. By the time he enters me fully, my thighs are awash with my juices and I can do nothing but bury my face into the comforter and moan my pleasure. When he starts thrusting, my hands reach out grabbing up big handfuls of comforter and sheet beneath. Each thrust sending shivers up and down my spine, more juices seeping out around his length, I cry my pleasure out into the comforter hoping Michael doesn't hear me before turning my head to the side, breath coming in gasps. The maglight apparently has rolled to the wall facing across the bed and I see on the wall the man behind me, or rather his shadow enlarged by the distance from him to the wall. I can't tell for sure, but I just know it is Rob. He has come out to the house to get some of me. Though why he took so long to come in, or why he hadn't come to the door is beyond me. The friction of his magnificent tool sending me closer and closer to one massive orgasm, I just have to turn my head a little farther and try to reason with him. "Rob stop hun, you need to wear a condom I'm fertile," I manage to get out in between my gasps at his every pump. "Good," is all he says though I can't turn my head far enough to look back and see him. I'm sure it's his voice, though for the life of me I don't understand it but my heart swells with love for Rob. I have told him he is maybe going to make me pregnant and all he says is, "Good," so I guess he's ready to settle down. I notice I can move more now, and move I am doing, my hips are raising and lowering with his thrusts to let him deeper into me. I hear a car pull up outside and I panic, half whispering to Rob to cum in me to hurry up the parents are home and they are going to be pissed. I guess he hears them or me because he thrusts faster and faster. As the parents get out of their car, talking to each other, I think even kissing as they move toward the porch he's fucking me so fast and hard it sounds more like someone clapping then sex. As they reach the front door hands are again on my hips, holding me tight as the cock gets bigger then spasms. Burying my head into the comforter again I scream out my pleasure as the hot fluid enters me. I can feel the warmth spreading out, filling up every little nook and cranny inside of me. I have smaller tremors as he pumps slowly at me, every shove shooting a little more of his seed into me. I hear voices downstairs, calling out my name. Before I say anything I am emptied of softening cock. I reach for my panties at my knees so there isn't a telltale stream down one leg, except they aren't there. Cursing to myself I call out downstairs before going into the bathroom and putting a bit of toilet paper in to hold off the stream until I can put my panties on. Downstairs I run into Sarah and Jameson where they grill me on my night. I simply report that Michael was a wonderful babe who slept most of the evening except for one bottle. Sarah is eyeing me the entire time, as if she knows what happened to me. Though how could she know about the schooner, or that my boyfriend has snuck in and taken me? After I finish my report and take the wad of bills from Jameson, Sarah walks me to my car. As I unlock my car she grabs my shoulder, her eyes excited. "Beth I know what happened, the same thing happened to me. That schooner captain is very good at fucking, though you had better go home, get your boyfriend to come over and screw him so he thinks it's his kid in you. You won't get any parenting help off the captain." The only thing that keeps me from kissing concrete is her hands around me pulling me close. Feeling her breasts pressing into mine sends my stomach into flip flops before settling down with a nice warm feeling between my legs. "If you want I can find excuses to hire you for babysitting again. The captain does visit from time to time," she whispers into my ear before kissing me hungrily. I can't do anything but kiss her back, our tongues fighting in my mouth, our hands both heading lower to take hold of the other's butt and pull them closer. At the end our hips are rotating in excited frustration. Flustered, excited beyond belief and wobbly kneed as I sink into my car I look up at her with my hunger in my eyes. She simply smiles and asks if next Friday is too early. I watch her gorgeous little butt walk back up onto her porch before she turns and waves, a smile on her face as I put the car in drive and go. I only get maybe three houses before my hand is grabbing up my cell phone; I gotta call Rob and get him to my dorm room or go to his.