It was a cool dark March night. Having caught the early train I arrived at the station a little after 7 pm. A light drizzle was falling as I began the half mile trek to the house. By the time I was half way home, the misty sprinkling had developed into a light rain which seemed to increase with each step I took. An umbrella would have been helpful. Of course, I didn’t have one. If I ran the rest of the way home, I could have avoided getting drenched. But, since I didn’t have the energy for that, I put my head down and merely trudged onward. Just as I reached the front door, the sky opened. Heavy drops came down fast and furious as I fumbled for the house key.

For the past two weeks I had been doing seven tens. That’s what they call it on the job when you work ten hours a day, seven days a week. A schedule like that will eventually take a toll on one’s body. It was definitely affecting me. I was dog-tired and travelling on autopilot.

Cold, tired, and wet, I stepped into the house zombielike and almost stumbled over the plastic fire truck that lay in my path. Peering into the living room I saw toys strewn from one end of the room to the other. I grinned and tried to remember the last time that I had seen the little ones awake. My wife, Helen, was usually pretty strict about making the kids put all their toys away before they went to bed, but this evening she must have been running late and let them slide.

I hung my wet coat on the doorknob of the hall closet, and then plodded up the stairs to shower away my weariness. Since both of the children’s doors were shut, I assumed that the littlest was already soundly asleep while Helen was reading a bedtime story to the oldest. I tip-toed quietly down the hall, knowing that if either of the kids heard me, they would be so excited to see Daddy that they’d be up the rest of the night.

After a brief but soothing shower I put on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a tee shirt and went back downstairs.

In the fridge I found a plate of roast chicken and potatoes and nuked it in the microwave. I attacked the reheated dish of leftovers ravenously like a starved animal. When I washed the last mouthful down with a swig of water, I heard the floorboards creak on the staircase and looked up expecting to see my wife. To my astonishment Elizabeth, our babysitter, descended into the foyer.

“Hi, Mr. G!” the teenage girl said cheerfully as she proceeded into the living room.

Elizabeth was a nineteen-year-old neighbor whom we often called on to babysit our children. She was completely trustworthy. An all-star basketball player and long distance runner at her school, she seemed to be more interested in sports rather than the opposite sex. We never had to worry when she babysat. There were no impromptu parties or misbehaving of any sort when we were away. She was great with the children and they loved her.

Always smiling, Elizabeth had a joyful greeting for me every time we met. Helen often teased me about how she was jealous of our sitter, telling me that it was quite obvious that she had a crush on me. I suppose women notice those things. I didn’t.

I was bewildered by the babysitter’s presence tonight. Where is Helen? I glanced at the refrigerator door where my wife usually left messages for me. Sure enough, there was a note stuck to the door with a plastic fruit magnet. Handwritten in block letters, I was able to read it without leaving my seat.

HI!

HAVE A PARENTS TEACHER CONFERENCE TONIGHT THAT I FORGOT TO TELL YOU ABOUT. MAY HAVE A GLASS OF WINE WITH THE OTHER MOTHERS AFTERWARDS. PROBABLY BE LATE. DON’T WAIT UP.

H

“Hmm,” I mused suspiciously after reading the message.

I always had doubts about my wife’s fidelity. While I supposed that it was quite possible that there might actually be a teacher’s conference this evening – even though there was one held only two weeks ago – and it was also possible that there might be other mothers out there who’d be up for a late night wine tasting in the middle of a school week, still you had to wonder. Helen’s note was such obvious bullshit. Tonight, however, I was too mentally drained to give it any more thought.

I pushed my chair away from the table and carried my dirty dinnerware to the sink. In the short time that it had taken me to read Helen’s note, Elizabeth picked up and put away all the toys that had been scattered about the living room and hung my waterlogged coat to dry in the hall bathroom. She was so efficient.

The last thing that I expected tonight was having company. If I had known that the babysitter was here I would have put trousers on after my shower rather than pajamas. In any case, I would have at least chosen to wear underwear. I became self conscious about my attire and glanced down to make sure that nothing was inappropriately hanging out as Elizabeth entered the kitchen.

“How are you, Mr. G?” my unexpected visitor said with her usual cheerfulness. I looked up quickly.

“I’m doing fine, thanks, Lizzie,” I tried to muster up some enthusiasm in my exhausted state. “How are you?”

“Great,” she replied and then added with a concerned expression, “You don’t look like yourself tonight. Do you feel alright?”

“Just tired,” I said wearily. “Been working some long hours.”

“You could use a nice massage,” Elizabeth said sympathetically.

Elizabeth was in her second year of college. She had aspirations of a career in physical therapy after graduation. Since taking a Basic Massage Therapy course last semester and Advance Massage this year, she was always looking for a guinea pig to practice her technique. More often than not Helen consented when Elizabeth offered a massage and she always enjoyed the experience, while I, on the other hand, never wanted to sit still and allow someone to pound and squeeze my back. But tonight our would-be physical therapist was persistent.

“Really, Mr. G,” Elizabeth insisted. “You’ll feel like a new man when I’m finished with you.”

“That’s OK, Lizzie. Thanks, but not tonight,” I tried to be polite as possible and not show my annoyance.

“My teacher says that the more we practice the better we’ll be,” she explained enthusiastically, ignoring my negative response.

I wanted to change the subject but was too damn tired to put a coherent thought together. I was speechless.

“Every day, I give my parents and sisters a session and I am becoming very proficient if I do say so myself.” She beamed proudly. “Please let me do you, Mr. G.”

I smiled at the implications of her last statement. Surely she couldn’t be that naïve not to know how that might be taken. Or maybe she was.

From what I saw, she didn’t have much of a social life. I had the impression that she spent most of her free time either working out or studying. As long as I knew her she was always an excellent student and competitive athlete but not exactly what you would call a social butterfly. It seemed to me that she had absolutely no interest in boys, at least judging by the way she dressed. I can’t remember in recent history seeing her in anything other than gray school-issued sweat suits – not the most flattering attire.

“C’mon, Mr. G,” the young masseuse pleaded.

“Seriously, Lizzie, I am worn out. I would probably fall asleep two minutes into your massage. I know you have good intentions. But I don’t want a massage. Not tonight.”

I grabbed the cookie jar from the shelf next to the sink and pulled from it a hand full of cash. I counted out the bills and handed them to her. “This is for watching the kids tonight plus a twenty for a cab. I’ll call for one now.”

“Wait a minute, Mr. G,” she stepped between me and the phone. “I’ll tell you what.”

God! She doesn’t give up, I cringed.

“You lie down on your bed and let me start my massage,” she said excitedly. “I’ll give you my full treatment. If you do fall asleep, I’ll call the cab myself and lock up when I leave.”

I was too pooped to quarrel and finally gave in.

“OK. Let’s get this over with,” I muttered as I lumbered out of the kitchen. Elizabeth followed close behind.

Rain struck the bedroom window like lashes from a thousand whips. Neither of us spoke. I lay along the edge of the bed, my face buried in the pillow as Elizabeth began to dig her fingers into my neck and shoulder muscles. Her thumbs pushed in firmly while her fingertips kneaded their way across my back. Immediately I felt the tension in my body begin to melt away. The touch of her hands on my weary muscles was so soothing that soon I was transported to another world – one of total serenity. I closed my eyes as a warm peaceful sensation washed over my body. If I kept my eyes shut, I would certainly drift into a deep sleep. But, I was enjoying the massage too much to allow that to happen. I never knew how utterly calming and pleasurable a massage could be.

Before tonight I didn’t ever think of Elizabeth as a woman. Even when she innocently begged to “do” me earlier, I didn’t think of her in those terms. But, now as she was working her small delicate hands into my aching muscles, I could feel a stirring in my loins. I was becoming aroused.

A rollercoaster plummeted in the pit of my stomach as a wave of panic took hold of me. I couldn’t let Elizabeth know that she was getting me hard. She was the babysitter! I knew her parents. What if she went home and told them that Mr. G had an erection when she was giving him a massage?

My anxious thoughts did nothing to slow my arousal. I was fully hard, painfully so, as the ambitious masseuse worked her caressing magic up my legs. O God, give me strength! I was in agony.

Suddenly it occurred to me that my only way out was to pretend that I had fallen asleep. Elizabeth would surely stop the massage and leave if she thought that I had nodded off. I decided that was what I would do.

I slowed my breathing to a steady rhythm to simulate a state of deep slumber and did my best to show no reaction to the babysitter’s touch. I was somewhat successful in faking sleep until I felt her hands on my butt. Reflexively I quickly raised my head and glanced over my shoulder.

“It’s OK, Mr. G,” Elizabeth smiled noticing my alarm. “Think of me as a trained professional. I’m not trying to do anything inappropriate. Trust me. I just want to work your glutes.”

Her fingers squeezed the cheeks of my ass and worked their way around, sliding into my crack and down between my legs. Without underwear the only thing that separated the babysitter’s fingertips from my skin was the thin fabric of my pajamas. Her hand felt incredibly seductive. I was spiraling out of control. I wanted to reach over and take hold of her ass and caress it just like she was caressing mine. I wanted to slide my fingers into her sex and hope that she would touch mine at the same time. I wanted to…

“OK, time to turn over now,” the young woman announced.

My fantasy was abruptly interrupted. Panic returned. If I rolled onto my back at that moment, there would be no way that I could hide my erection. I lay motionless, my mind racing. Should I stall long enough for this thing to deflate? How long will that take? Do I fake sleep again? I’m breathing so heavily right now, she’ll never believe that I’m sleeping. Should I just tell her that I had enough massage already?

Elizabeth wasn’t a big girl and there was no way that I would consider her physically strong. But, evidently she knew a little bit about leverage. Having placed the heel of one of her hands beneath my pelvic bone and the other under my shoulder, she flipped me over like a pancake on a griddle. Unnerved by that sudden change of position, I quickly covered my groin with both hands.

If the babysitter had noticed my aroused state in that brief instant before I was able to hide it, she gave no indication.

Nor did she seem to pay any mind to my hands awkwardly clasped over my crotch. She continued her comforting massage on my chest.

As she worked her way across my pecs and slid her fingers onto my abdomen, Elizabeth instructed me, “Put your arms at your sides, Mr. G. They’re in the way.”

“I’m comfortable like this, Lizzie,” I dodged. “Let me leave them as they are.”

She didn’t argue – just as she didn’t argue about me rolling over. With one swift motion, however, her hands slid down my arms and firmly pulled them sideways. Her maneuver was so sudden that I had no time to resist and in an instant she had my wrists pinned to the bed. The teepee in my pants was now in full view. I felt a flush rapidly warming my face. Elizabeth’s eyes widened and a tight smile bent the corner of her mouth as she stared at the conspicuous bulge that I had struggled to keep hidden.

“Did I do that?” she said demurely with what seemed to be feigned innocence.

“I –er,” I began to stammer, not knowing what to say.

“Don’t worry, Mr. G,” my masseuse comforted. “My teacher warned us about this. Many men have the same reaction to a massage. It’s something that I will have to get used to when I do this for a living.”

I still had no response. I didn’t know if I was more embarrassed or nervous about the situation. It was an extremely awkward moment for me.

Elizabeth let go of my wrists and began to manipulate the muscles in my legs – working her way from my ankles upward. In spite of her stated indifference to my erection, she didn’t move her eyes away from it. She seemed almost mesmerized. Staring unblinkingly at my obelisk, she moved closer and closer with her nimble fingers. Then suddenly she paused.

“Can I see it?” she said softly, almost inaudibly.

“See it?” I said nervously. “See What?” Of course I knew what she meant but I just couldn’t believe that she had asked.

“Your thing,” she said in a slightly louder voice.

“My thing?” I pretended to not to understand. I was uneasy about where this was heading and didn’t want it to appear to be my doing.

“You know…” the young woman nodded at my hard-on. “Your thing.”

“My penis?” I tried to sound shocked but I knew that I wasn’t very persuasive.

“Yes,” she whispered anxiously.

“Have you ever seen a man’s penis before, Lizzie?”

“Of course, I have, Mr. G,” she exclaimed somewhat unconvincingly.

Was this girl a virgin?

“An erect one?”

“Yes, I have,” Elizabeth insisted. “Please let me see yours.”

The ball was in my court. What should I do? If I exposed myself there would be no turning back. But who was I fooling? Things had already gotten out of hand. If I had been thinking with my head – the one on my shoulders, that is – I would have sat up and called her a cab right then. But being the horny fool that I am…

Glancing down at the object of conversation, I noticed for the first time that a wet spot of considerable size was visible where my pajamas had been stretched tightly over the head of my hard cock. Tentatively I slid my thumbs inside the elastic waistband of the pajama bottoms as the enthralled babysitter watched breathlessly. As I pushed the pants downward, my cock was pulled along with them. When the elastic band slid past the tip, my erection bounced free. I lifted my hips off the bed until I had my pajamas pushed down to mid thigh. The air in the room was cool on the newly exposed flesh. I kept my hands clenched on my pajamas, ready to pull them back up when she finished looking.

A broad smile spread across Elizabeth’s face and her eyes twinkled as she looked intently at my exposed cock. She had that look of pleasant surprise that a child has upon opening a special present on Christmas morn. The way she gazed at my boner with sheer fascination convinced me that it was the first that she had ever witnessed. My shaft throbbed as the pubescent babysitter shifted her body left and right to view it from different perspectives. She was driving me crazy.

My cock ached in eager anticipation of what I urgently hoped Elizabeth would do next. Take it in your hand and stroke me! Silently she moved her face closer. My rod twitched. As if reading my mind, the young woman placed her fingertips on my cock and then gently glided them along the surface ever so slowly, inspecting the fine contours of engorged flesh and bulging veins. My hands let go of the pajama pants.

“Mmmmm.” I hummed at the feel of her touch.

Lifting my cock carefully the babysitter studied its underside for a moment and then lightly wrapped her hand around it. She squeezed it delicately examining its rigidity.

“It’s so warm,” she commented barely above a whisper as if she were speaking to herself.

In a flash urgent pangs of guilt rushed into my head as thoughts of my wife crept in. But just as suddenly, I remembered the bogus note that she had left on the fridge and her suspicious behavior of late eased my regret. It would serve her right if she came home early and caught our babysitter giving me a rub-and-a-tug. I quickly pushed all thoughts of my cheating wife out of my mind

The young masseuse tightened her grip snuggly on my shaft and pushed gradually down toward its base. Then, just as slowly, she pulled back up to the tip. She repeated this movement again and again, her eyes locked on my erection. She seemed awestruck by the way the skin stretched tight and the tiny slit became a yawning hole on her downstroke and the skin bunched up like a turtleneck below the tip and the slit closed on her upstroke. She swiped her thumb over the tip smearing the slick juice that seeped from it.

“You’re leaking,” she observed offhandedly.

Mistaking my moans of pleasure for those of pain, the sitter immediately loosened her grip and halted her delicate strokes.

“Did I hurt you?” she exclaimed in a concerned tone.

“No,” I gasped. “It just feels so good.”

Upon hearing my approval, she closed her hand and resumed her tugs with renewed vigor, pumping slightly faster and more deliberately.

“Is this what they teach in your massage class?” I said lightheartedly as I reached over the side of the bed and placed my hand on the small of her back.

“Oh, no,” she laughed. “We’re instructed never to touch a client’s genitalia. After a brief pause, she smiled slyly and added, “But you’re special.”

As Elizabeth continued her brisk hand job, I moaned again and she smiled broadly this time. My hand found its way under her sweatshirt and I rubbed the bare skin of her back. Gradually I worked downward with my gentle caresses and soon my hand glided over the swell of her buttocks, under the stretch waistband of her sweatpants and inside her underwear. Her buns were cool, her skin soft, velvety smooth and unblemished; her muscles firm from all the sports she played.

I looked up at the teenage masseuse’s face as I began my probe, watching for her reaction. Her eyes widened and she inhaled deeply through an open mouth while my hand slid over her ass. Her fist faltered on my shaft, the steady pace of her stroking momentarily disturbed. She was obviously surprised and certainly distracted, but otherwise showed no signs of disapproval. She continued her energetic pumps on my cock.

Further down I slid my hand. My wrist and forearm forced the seat of her sweatpants and panties down, exposing her bare butt. I caressed the smooth round bottoms of her buttocks, curled my hand below them, and pushed my fingers between her legs.

Her underwear clung to her pussy. I wiggled my fingers forward. I could feel soft fine strands of hair as I glided along her taint. She was wet. I pushed forward forcing my fingers between the wet fabric of her panties and her warm vulva which was coated with silken secretions.

“You’re leaking too,” I whispered.

The sitter’s cheeks turned beet red. She then shifted her leg slightly, giving me better, unhindered access to her parts. She was embarrassed but enjoying it nonetheless.

I accepted her invitation and slid my fingers onward. With two fingertips I spread her lips apart while my middle fingers rode in her slippery crease. Settling on her clit, I began to rub tiny tender circles over it with my fingertip.

“I want to kiss you,” Elizabeth exhaled sharply.

Before I had a chance to react, she was bent over and pressing her puckered lips to my tip. She licked the cap like a lollipop for a while and then opened her mouth and slid it down on my shaft. Her tongue massaged my cock as she slowly pumped her mouth up and down on me.

I rubbed the masseuse’s clit with my fingertips, alternating quick energetic twirls with slower more deliberate ones. She squirmed on my fingers. It almost felt as though I was supporting her entire weight with palm of my hand.

She sucked me wildly, then pulled her mouth away with a wet pop, and jerked me furiously with her fist once more. I think that her jaw may have been aching and she needed a break. Shortly she had me inside her mouth again. Then in her hand yet again. Back and forth like this – suck, jerk, suck, jerk – until finally my cock erupted and propelled thick pearly white strands onto the babysitter’s face.

Elizabeth’s face bore an expression of puzzled astonishment when I came. Did she not expect the explosion of cum?! Cautiously she continued to stroke me until I placed my hand atop hers to stop her. After removing her hand from my now dwindling cock, she touched her face and began to wipe off my cum.

I took a fistful of tissues from the box on the nightstand and cleaned up the young woman’s face, gently wiping the dripping wads of semen from her eyebrow, cheeks and neck.

“Now it’s your turn,” I smiled.

“My turn?” she was baffled.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” I nodded toward her crotch where, hidden from view, my hand still caressed her pussy – ever so slowly and gently now.

“No, Mr. G,” she said mildly protesting. “I already had an orgasm just now, I think.”

I couldn’t help myself and laughed aloud.

“If you think you’ve had an orgasm, then you probably didn’t,” I grinned. “When you do have one, you will know it. Now let’s go. Sit on the bed.”

I pulled my hand from her bottom, stood up and guided her onto the mattress. I gave her no opportunity to bicker about it and in a few seconds, she was on her back with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

Quickly I slid her sweatpants off and then removed her underwear. They were plain white cotton panties. I knelt at the side of the bed and lowered my face into her lap. With a palm on the top of each thigh, I pushed her legs apart. Her slit glistened with wetness. I dove in and licked her juice.

Elizabeth yielded a symphony of sounds as I ate her. “Ohhh!” gave way to “Ooooo!” as my tongue attacked her throbbing clit. Then the loud hiss of air being sucked in through clenched teeth drifted into a staccato of coarsely exhaled “Uh! Uh! Uh!” when her orgasm took hold of her. I think I heard “Aiyeee!” at one point and other sounds which I simply don’t know how to spell. And then when her ecstasy subsided, a contented “Aaaaaaaah!” filled the room.

The babysitter lay in stunned silence – her legs still parted and hanging over the side of the bed. I quickly retrieved a towel from the bathroom and tenderly cleaned up the wet mess that coated her pussy and thighs.

“Mmmmm,” she hummed. “That was so nice, Mr. G.” Her eyes twinkled as she smiled. “Thank you so much for letting me see your penis.”

“Think nothing of it, Lizzie,” I grinned. “The pleasure was all mine.”

Later, when Elizabeth heard the taxi driver beep outside, she kissed me softly on the lips and opened the door to leave.

“I hope that you’re feeling better now, Mr. G,” she smiled in the doorway.

“Oh, you have no idea,” I laughed before she sprinted through the rain to the cab.

Needless to say, after that night, the babysitter and I have had an entirely different relationship than before.