Mrs. Green lived at the end of our road with her two kids, a girl of about 8 and a boy of about 10. I think I remember there was a Mr. Green too, a long time ago. My older sister would babysit for Mrs. Green twice a week while she went out, midweek and Saturday evenings. Three months ago, my sister was going to a friend’s party on Saturday and asked Mrs. Green if I could stand in for her. I was sixteen and a half, a quiet, sensible, but quite shy lad back then. My sister would have been almost eighteen at the time. Mrs. Green gave me a chance. Little did I know then how she would change my life forever.
It was a warm spring evening when I walked along carrying some revision and my tatty Lord of the Rings book to read. Mrs. Green let me in, introduced me to her kids, and gave me a list of instructions. She also wrote down the number of where she was going; this was way before mobile phones. She told the kids to behave and said they went to bed on their own. She gave me a can of drink and a bag of crisps and said she would be home at around eleven.
It was money for old rope; the kids watched TV while I revised until they went to bed. I read a couple of chapters, watched an episode of MASH, and wandered around the lounge. Mrs. Green had shelves full of books, a mix of references and stories. There were also some small trophies, medals, and framed certificates. I saw the name Margaret Green on them and guessed that was her first name. They were all for dancing and teaching dancing. There were a couple of pictures of Mrs. Green in a long dress dancing with someone; it looked very old-fashioned.
Mrs. Green got back on that first night at nearly half past eleven. I heard a car drive away as she came in. She looked around the lounge, checked that the kids were asleep, gave me a fiver, and let me out. A week later I found myself standing in for my sister again, which turned into me always doing the Saturday evening. It was a quiet place to revise and read my books. It took a couple of weeks before I plucked up the courage to ask Mrs. Green about the medals and trophies. She told me she had been a dancer and now taught at a school; she did a twirl, and her long skirt rose up, flashing her legs.
I’d not paid much attention up until that moment, but seeing bare legs up to mid-thigh made me stare. Mrs. Green acted as if nothing had happened, as if flashing her legs was completely normal. I hate to admit it, but up until that point I had never had a girlfriend. I pictured those legs all evening. I kept getting erections and took myself in hand in the bathroom to get myself under control. I’d just released my cock to begin my well-practiced stroking when I noticed the laundry basket. At the top of a jumble of clothes, I saw a bra and picked it up with a hand that was suddenly shaking. Moments later, my cock erupted; it went all over the tiled floor. I dropped the bra back into the basket and used paper to clean up the floor very carefully.
The following week I half expected to be told off, worrying I had not cleaned up properly or left some other clue. Everything was as normal, and I ventured to ask about the dancing. Mrs. Green seemed very pleased to talk about it and told me to call her Maggie. She said she would teach me some steps. I felt awkward when she held my hands and guided me through some basic forward, sideways, and backward steps. Maggie was wearing the same sort of long silky dress as last week and a short sort of cardigan over what looked like a leotard. She did the same steps in front of me, except her slim body wiggled and swayed with each step. She looked sexy, and I totally lost concentration. Maggie laughed as she grabbed her coat and headed out.
After struggling to control my wayward erections again, I locked myself in the family bathroom. I pictured Maggie’s body as it writhed in an imaginary dance, remembered her legs, and stroked my cock slowly. There was nothing at the top of the laundry, so I concentrated on the pictures in my memory. My cock was so hard and slippery with precum, I did not last long before I jetted rope after rope of cum into the toilet bowl and flushed away the evidence. I was already becoming obsessed with Maggie.
Maggie arrived earlier than usual, just before eleven. She checked in on the kids and then asked if I could remember the steps from earlier. I was embarrassed to make a total hash of it. Maggie stood barefoot in front of me and took the little cardigan off, saying she was hot. I struggled not to stare at her body; the leotard clung tight like a second skin. Her hands were warm as she held mine and refreshed my memory. She was shorter than me, and I was intoxicated by her perfume. We went through the steps for a few repetitions before she said I was doing well, and we stopped. Minutes later I was walking home with another fiver in my pocket and another erection in my pants.
The following week, I arrived early at Maggie’s house. I could not wait to be there; I was becoming quite infatuated with her. I had tried to practice and remember those steps and was dismayed when she didn’t mention them. I had thought of a way to get another flash of her legs and asked if she got dizzy when spinning around. As I asked, I realised she was wearing jeans and a jumper. She did a twirl in the kitchen three times around. I nodded and said wow and hid my disappointment. Maggie dashed upstairs and reappeared a few minutes later in another silky skirt and leotard, pulling on the cardigan as she appeared. I cursed my impatience; I could hardly ask again.
As soon as she left, I went to the family bathroom to be greeted by the sight of a bra and jeans in the top of the laundry. With trembling hands, I felt the bra was warm to my touch. I moved the jeans and saw panties tucked inside; they too were warm. I brushed the bra across my cheek, thrilled by the lace and perfume. I did the same with the panties, there was a different, altogether more enthralling scent. I smothered my face with the gossamer material, inhaling deeply; my head was swimming. I used one free hand to open my jeans and release my aching cock. I had barely started to stroke when I came; my cock was so sensitive. I had to wash my hands before carefully putting everything back as I had found it and cleaning up; there was a lot of cum.
I felt deeply guilty all evening and couldn’t wait to get away. Maggie arrived at almost a quarter to twelve; a car dropped her home. She checked the kids and handed over another fiver; she seemed very happy but looked quite dishevelled. I relived the time in the bathroom so many times in the following week. My cock rose every time I thought of it, followed by self-loathing and a resolve to never repeat it. I was subdued on Saturday, but Maggie seemed remarkably happy when I arrived. It was a hot evening, and she was wearing her usual long silky skirt and leotard but without the cardigan.
“Has your sister told you anything about me?”
I was surprised by the question and wondered what she should or should not have told me. I got on OK with my sister; we were not best friends but rubbed along without problems for the most part.
“No, she has never talked about you. Is there a problem?”
Maggie pulled a sort of face, raising her eyebrows, smiled, and shook her head. I could not tell what she was thinking.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
I was not sure where this was going, but it felt uncomfortable.
“No, I’ve not got one. I do like girls but am not very confident.”
I hoped the conversation would end soon, as I felt embarrassed.
“You should come along to the dance school; there are lots of girls around your age there.”
I couldn’t picture myself doing that old-fashioned ballroom dancing; I might even have shuddered thinking about it. I didn’t want to upset or offend Maggie, but it was not for me.
“I don’t think that I’d be into that sort of dancing, I’m sorry.”
Maggie laughed, “Disco dancing; they do lessons on Saturday afternoons. You would like it; there are always more girls than boys, and they are a friendly bunch. You should come along and try it one week.”
I was still not convinced; discos were not my thing, and my musical taste was different.
“I’m not sure; can I think about it?”
Maggie leaned in close to me. I caught a whiff of perfume before she almost whispered, “When the kids have gone to bed, there is a photo album from the dance school on top of the bookcase. It has some of the classes and people; you can have a look, but please be careful with it.”
I breathed in her scent as she stepped back. I’m probably six inches taller than Maggie, so I hoped she did not notice.
“You could learn how to spin without getting dizzy.”
Maggie reminded me of the question I had asked last week. Maggie began to spin around on one foot, round and round without a wobble. Her dress floated up into a disc around her. I was staring at her bare legs, her bare legs, and her bum covered only by the leotard. She stopped and did a little curtsey before waving goodbye and leaving. I held my books in front of my crotch, hiding my obvious erection. I was torn between the overwhelming desire to lock myself in the family bathroom and enjoy some ‘me time’ and the promise I had made myself to not repeat last week’s performance.
I studied and revised, barely able to concentrate for a long time. I read the same sentences over and over. After the kids had gone up, I remembered the photo album and stood on a chair to retrieve it. I’m not sure what I expected to find; the first few pages were pictures of groups of people who I guessed were dancers. I had almost given up when I turned a page and saw a group of teenagers holding a cup. It was just like a football team; they even had matching outfits, except mostly girls. I flipped through a few more pages; some were individuals, and some were small groups. I realised these must all be medal presentations.
In one of the later pictures, I recognised Sue and Rachel, two girls from my year at school. They were from the popular group, pretty and aloof from the likes of me. Seeing them in skimpy dance wear was quite a thrill. I started to think disco dancing might be worth a try. I put the album back on top of the bookcase and settled to watch some TV and distract myself from so many erotic thoughts.
Watching TV, images of Maggie danced through my head, and I kept getting erections. I gave up and locked myself in the bathroom; there was nothing exciting at the top of the laundry basket. I pulled my cock out and was surprised at how wet with precum it was. I stroked slowly, remembering the spinning and her legs. I tried to make myself last but rushed to an inevitable orgasm far too quickly. I caught all of my cum in crumpled tissues and flushed everything away. Maggie got home quite late again, which gave me time to get myself under control. Her hair was loose, and she seemed quite flustered but happy when she paid and sent me home.
The week went by quite slowly. I wanted to speak to Rachel about the dancing school but bottled it before even approaching her. I had trouble with so many wayward erections every time I thought about Maggie. I wanked a lot on my own. On Saturday, I arrived a little early to find Maggie looking quite glum and not changed. I asked if she was OK, desperately hoping I’d not screwed up last week in some way. Maggie said she was fine and not to worry before she headed upstairs; she was soon back in the kitchen in her usual dance wear.
She offered to go over those basic steps again, holding my hands as before. I kept looking down at my feet, which would not behave. My attention was drawn to her body and flashes of leg; my mind kept going completely blank.
“Close your eyes. You keep looking at your feet, close your eyes, and let yourself go.”
Maggie couldn’t have known what was distracting me; it certainly wasn’t my feet. I closed my eyes and allowed Maggie to lead me. A couple of sets of steps later, Maggie pulled my arms forward and placed my hands on her waist. I could feel her flexing as she moved with the steps. I could feel my cock coming to life in my jeans. I felt Maggie’s hands on my waist, pushing and pulling me. Without looking down, I knew my cock would be bulging in my jeans, and I tried to arch my back and pull my crotch backwards.
“Don’t stick your bum out.”
Maggie had no idea what trouble I was in. I was about to step backwards when I felt her hands slide around my waist. I guessed we must be very close, and then her hands slid down, and she pulled my bum towards her. Moments later, I felt her body brush against me. I was perfectly lost in the moment and hardly noticed our steps had virtually stopped. I was scared she could feel my cock straining in my jeans as her body swivelled to and fro against me. Our steps had completely stopped when I felt the briefest fleeting kiss on my lips. It was so faint that I thought I had imagined it until it was repeated seconds later, and a little firmer.
We had stopped moving; my hands were still holding her waist, while Maggie's hands were pulling my bum forward. My eyes were still closed; I did not want to move and break the spell. I felt another kiss, firmer and longer than the others, and wished I knew how to respond in a manly way. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest and my hands trembling slightly. The spell was broken by one of the kids calling out from the lounge and asking if I had brought Peter Pan with me. Maggie stepped back, and I slowly opened my eyes. I thought I could see the soft outline of nipples and tried not to stare.
“Peter Pan?” Maggie asked.
“Yes, I was reading it to them on the sofa before they go up; we are nearly at the end. It was a favourite of mine at that age.” I sort of stammered.
Maggie went through, and I heard her telling the kids not to make a nuisance of themselves and not to tire me out—which seemed like an odd thing to say. As she came back into the kitchen, I assured her that I had offered to read. She grabbed her coat and headed for the door. As she went past, she raised up and kissed me on the cheek, and at the same time, I’m sure she brushed her hand against my throbbing erection on purpose.
“We can continue your lesson when I get back.” She said over her shoulder as she pulled the door closed.
Reading to the kids had become a regular thing and a welcome distraction by having to concentrate on doing the voices and reading. We finished the book, and they left me alone in the lounge. I desperately wanted to visit the bathroom and delve into the laundry to inhale Maggie’s erotic secret scent again. I’d been fantasising about her for the last couple of weeks. Tonight had only served to increase my craving for her. What did she mean about the lesson? Why had she kissed me? Did she mean to brush my erection on the way out? I struggled with my thoughts, doubts, and feelings.
Maggie arrived home just a little after ten thirty, the earliest since I had been babysitting. She went through her usual checks before returning to the lounge. I was still sitting on the sofa when she spoke.
“You said you don’t have a girlfriend?”
“No.” I went to say more, but Maggie raised one hand.
“And your sister has not told you anything about me?”
“No.” I left it at that.
“Can you keep a secret as well as your sister does?”
“Yes, yes, I can keep a secret.”
“Have you ever had a proper girlfriend?”
I shook my head, feeling ashamed at my complete lack of experience.
Maggie stood before me, and I found myself staring at her body wrapped so tightly in a black leotard. She put out a hand to stop me from standing up and knelt on the sofa facing me, straddling my legs. Her skirt covered her legs and mine as she shuffled closer and placed my trembling hands on her waist. She leaned forward and kissed me differently than before; I parted my lips when I felt her tongue pressing. I was on a crash course in kissing and loving every second of it. I hoped my lack of practice was not too obvious. I also hoped my cock, rock hard in my jeans, was not going to give me away and spoil things.
To be continued. All his questions are about to be answered - his life is going to change forever...
