I am a nanny, twenty-eight and quite English. I moved to the States a few years ago. I am tall, big boned, with a good, full figure. I’m freckled and have long, wavy auburn hair, the traditional English Fergie look.
I went to work with a new family this last summer. Rose and Charlie, a nice couple, that have a nine month old boy, Jason. My room was on the lower floor, below the first floor. The house is on a hillside, so I have my own entrance, and my room has a nice, cheery, view, and I have my very own bath.
I worked there from August through October without any trouble. They give me a lot of free time, but I am on call, sort to speak, every day. Well one day in early November, I went out to a movie. When I got back, I saw a light coming out my bedroom window. I had left while it was still day, so I knew I hadn’t left it on. You don’t have to be a nanny long to learn that things can go terribly wrong with the job, and if someone must take the blame, it’s always us.
As quietly as I could, I sneaked down onto the lower floor where my bedroom was. I crept into my room, and peeked through the open door. Who to my amazement was there… It was Charlie! He was standing with his back to the door, in front of my dresser. As I watched, I saw him going through my drawer. “I don’t take things, if that’s what you’re looking for.” I stepped angrily into my room, and by habit closed the door behind me. “Since you don’t trust me, I’ll be leave in the morning sir! I exclaimed.”
Charlie jumped. For a moment he stood, frozen. “It’s not what you think,” he said, without facing me. “What should I think then, you’re going through my things. Damn you!” No… I … uh. “You’re going to deny this, aren’t you? Shit! That’s how it goes, doesn’t it? I’m out of a job, probably get a bad report, and I’ll–”
“You don’t understand.” He pressed himself harder into the dresser, as if trying to move further away from me. “You can’t even face me,” I said, and I pulled my suitcase out from under the bed. “Chicken shit, ass–” “No,” Charlie turned around while holding a pair of my panties, pink, silk and lace, thongs. “Please don’t think that.” His face was flushed. “I … it’s…”Tears welled in his blue eyes, he was thoroughly humiliated.
My anger didn’t abate; I felt violated. “I know this isn’t my house. But as long as I’m here, this is my room, and those are my things!” Tears ran freely down his face. “I know… “he whispered. He put my panties to his face, while closing his eyes, he breathed in through them. “… they’re yours.”
I looked at him. He was a little taller than me, wiry, and his strong features were enhanced by his receding hair line, handsome, I thought. He was a successful executive with a large advertising company. And he stood in front of me with his face buried in my
panties. I was confused. My feelings of rage prevented me from seeing what he was about. I collected my things from the night-stand and put them in suitcase.
Next was the dresser, which he blocked. I started to ask him to move away when I noticed a small, wet stain, growing on the front of his trousers. Wet! Then I understood.
I put my suitcase down and walked over next to him. “You like my undies,” I whispered.
Charlie opened his eyes and looked at me. It was a look I had seen before–like a little boy caught doing something he knew was wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. “Don’t tell mom.” They all begged. “Please??” I smiled with that recognition. “Do they turn you on?”
The world is a funny place, especially about sex. In a way, this was why I had left England. Usually, it was an older brother, home from school, who sneaked through my drawers and who expected me to introduce them to the mysteries of sex…and, the boy’s father who would rub my bum when he thought no one would see.
Most of the boys were just that, boys, and the father’s were usually unattractive and cowardly: the kind that would climb all over you but if caught, they’d make all sorts of dreadful accusations of seduction, of teasing, almost of rape.
If it weren’t the sex, it was the nanny who stole the Grand mama’s silver or snitched the family’s four hundred year old letter of promotion from Elizabeth I to their great great great great grandfather Joseph.
I knew too many nannies who found themselves jailed for all sorts of things that weren’t their faults. It’s the culture, I told myself. But I was feeling as if I had merely been lucky. Worse, every time Fergie got on a magazine cover, I’d get groped. So, the States sounded like a great opportunity, and with no family there to keep me, I left.
I stared at Charlie and the telltale stain. “Do they turn you on?” Charlie nodded.
I sat on the bed. I was beginning to enjoy myself. “You’ve wet yourself a little.” He looked down and saw the dark stain on his khaki pants. His hands dropped to hide it from me.
“Too late” I laughed. “You’ve been a very naughty lad.” Charlie looked pitiful. “You won’t tell Rose?” He said while he fumbled with my panties. “I mean, it’s not like we..”
He stopped, unable to say it, because although true, we hadn’t done anything. It was obvious that he had fantasized about it. The silence was painful for him, and I did nothing to make him feel comfortable. He dropped the panties, and fell to his knees in front of me. “Please, you can’t tell, you can’t.”
Ignoring him I pulled at the hem of my dress, making sure I raised it up a couple of inches above my knees, letting him see the dark tops of my stockings. “This material,” I rubbed my hands along my thighs, “wrinkles so easily.” Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off my legs. The front of his pants bulged as he knelt in front of me. “Don’t he said.” I took great pleasure in that.
I was getting excited teasing him. I let my legs open, knowing that even in this light, he couldn’t see between them. “Don’t please?” I pulled my dress up another inch, showing off the maroon, satin straps of my garter belt. “Don’t what?” I stared at his crotch.
Charlie saw where I was looking. He put his hands over himself. “Don’t do this.” He looked at the dark shadow under my dress. “I can’t get you out of my mind. I … ” he stopped while I carelessly recrossed my legs, letting him see a flash of my maroon lace panties. “… Yes!” He whispered.
I put my legs back together. “I don’t want to upset you.” I pulled my dress down.
Charlie looked sheepishly at the floor. “Don’t tease me.” He stood up. “Women always tease me, just because… I–” “You have a little fetish.” I loved his discomfort. “I think it’s sexy.” He looked at me. “Sexy? And you’d tease me?” “Perhaps it’s me who’s been wrong.” I was curious where this was going.
“You have been.” He looked down at me, vindicated by my acknowledgment. I recognized his need to be shamed followed like now by his need to feel control. “I’ve been bad,” I suggested; wearing naughty underwear, and leaving it around for anyone to see.”
I feigned contrition. “I’ve been insensitive, worse yet, I’ve put you in a difficult position.” Charlie smiled. I’m glad you understand what you’ve been doing to me–that you know how bad you’ve been. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.” I put my hands in my lap. “I won’t do it again.” I’m not sure I can trust you. “But you can, if you were to punish me…”
I have no idea where the thought came from. Of course I’ve enjoyed teasing, but my sex life has been basically normal. I think I was as shocked as he was, but I had to keep going; I couldn’t stop. “I’d never, ever, tell or do it again.”
“Punish?” He repeated the word quietly. The thought of it seemed to arouse him more. “Yes …that might work.” “Please.” I looked up at Charlie, my voice dropped. “I could never tell… not if you spanked me would I tell.” Charlie sat on the bed next to me. He stared at me, waiting as if he weren’t sure of what I had said, and wanting confirmation.
“I deserve it,” I whispered.” You do,” he said, reaching for my shoulder, and pulling me down, across his lap. I could feel his little man pressing into my tummy. Suddenly, it was I who felt humiliation. A grown woman, lying across someone’s lap to be spanked, what was I thinking.
Memories of being punished as a little girl flooded my mind … sometimes in public … the shame of being exposed and made helpless … the pain … the crying … Now, nearly thirty, I was again that little girl.
His hand came down on my fanny. Not hard, but it startled me. “Oh!” I screamed. ” You’ve been a tease.” He slapped me again,harder. I wiggled a little, rubbing his hardening tool. And, I was surprised to realize, I was getting turned on.”Make me sorry,” I said. “Slap” Make me know how bad I’ve been. “Slap” Wait! … Please, don’t wrinkle my dress. He pulled my dress up over my waist. He slapped me. This time it stung. Tears came to my eyes, and I wasn’t sure if I had made a mistake or not. “Stop!” I won’t do it again. “Slap!” Somewhere, within the pain I was getting unbelievably excited.
“Whore!” He yelled. “Slap!” I tried not to scream, but I struggled against his arm that held me firmly over his lap. I’ll do anything. “Bitch!” “Slap!” I couldn’t take any more.
“Please! I’ll–” “Slap!” “Slut!” “Slap!””Cunt!”
Charlie stopped suddenly. He pushed his hips up, his body stiffened, and I felt his shaft throb and pump his cum. “Ohhhh!” His hands gripped into my flesh. “Oh! God!”
I have always loved making a man squirt, and my excitement was only seconds from his. He kept pumping. I reached down between my legs and pressed my fingers into my sticky, wet crotch. I rubbed myself.
“Yes!.” I screamed, feeling my climax swell. How I love to play with myself, but like this, I was overcome instantly. “Yes!.” For a few moments we stayed like that. Charlie
sitting, flushed with excitement, catching his breath, and me lying across his lap with my hand still inside my panties.
When his breath slowed, he let his finger tips slip between my cheeks–they found the hard, firm, ring of my asshole. “Mmm,” I moaned. I loved having a man play
with my bum like that. He suddenly stopped. He pulled his hand away.”I’m sorry. Oh, Jesus, I’m sorry.”
I got off him and knelt next to him. I grinned at the large wet spot on his pants, and I touched his stickiness. “Don’t be.” I looked up at him. “That was good… . But I’ll be sore for a while.”
“Let me see,” he whispered. I stood, and holding up my dress, I turned around and pulled my panties down for him. I don’t know how red it was, but I know it felt puffy, hot, and stinging.
Charlie dropped to his knees. He put his arms around me and gently kissed my fanny. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… . I didn’t mean to … . I mean… ”
I turned in his arms, and pulled up my panties. I pressed his head softly against my mound. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Charlie closed his eyes. I could tell he enjoyed having his head against me like that. His nostrils flared as he breathed in my scent. I stroked my fingers through his hair. I climaxed too, and … I won’t tell, I said to him. I thought it was just a little game,” he whispered.
It was. I pulled him to his feet. I’ve got a long day tomorrow. I kissed him, his lips pressed tight against mine. I pushed my tongue between them and hungrily probed his mouth. Charlie opened himself to me. I broke from the kiss. You’ve got to leave and let me sleep.
Do you forgive me? He asked. As long as I cum like that, I bit his ear, of course. I pushed him away. Now go, you can’t stay here.
Charlie walked to the door. He turned to say goodnight. I stepped out of my panties. Here, I tossed them to him, these have my juices. Charlie felt them, and held them to his lips.
I pulled my nightgown out from under my pillow. After all we had just done, I gave him something to sleep on. I pulled off my dress and bra and let him see my dark red bush. I fussed with the gown before I slipped it on. I’ll keep your secret, I said climbing into bed and turning off the light. Charlie walked out, and started to close the door.
But remember, I added, it’s a game, and now it’s my turn. For the next few weeks, I was polite but cool to Charlie. I didn’t know where things stood–husbands can get funny when things happen–and I enjoyed the subtle teasing.
The next time anything happened, Rose had taken Jason to visit her mother over a weekend. It was a Saturday morning. I showered, dressed and fixed a light breakfast. The house was dead still, and I wondered if Charlie was home. I sneaked upstairs. My heart pounded as I stood in front of the open door to Charlie’s and Rose’s bedroom. There were noises, rustling and moaning, and I knew Charlie was there. I stepped in.
Charlie was naked, kneeling by the bed. Holding my panties around his swollen shaft, his hand pumped slowly up and down. What a sight, I said. Charlie stopped. Oh, God!
He looked at me. I’ve wanted you. I can see, but I’m sorry that you would soil them with your spunk. I sat on the bed in front of him. And such a waste.
Under her long skirt, I spread her legs. “Of course I do have another, fresh pair. He looked at me with such longing. But I smiled, Remember what I said, it’s my turn.
Charlie nodded. You’ve been naughty–doing this here. Let’s go to my room. I stood up. Well? Charlie reached for his robe. No! I grabbed it and tossed it across the room. My eye caught the lacy edge of one of Rose’s sheer peignoirs in the closet. I took it out and handed it to Charlie. “Wear this.”
His face burned as he took it from her, I can’t!!! I started to leave. “Such a waste! I exclaimed.” Charlie slipped it over his shoulders and held it closed in front of him, hiding his excitement from me. “Wait!” I had him! Come on, where? Downstairs.
In my room I turned to him and pushed him back, down on the bed. “You’ve been naughty!” I lifted my dress, flashing my red, curly mound at him for a second, and straddled his chest. I leaned forward, putting my knees on his shoulders, and sat up.
“Don’t you want to kiss me?” I teased him. “My private place needs you.” Charlie put his hands on my ass, trying to pull me down to his hungry mouth. “This, I want this.” I lifted her dress, and pulled it off. You want my box? Oh, please! Let me kiss it. What? I asked.
I knew I must be dripping. I was so excited. I kept my pussy an inch out of reach. He stretched his neck, and tried to touch me with his tongue. I laughed. I let him touch me–a taste, a brief flick, so quick that it was more an accident.
“Please?” Charlie begged.
I liked feeling him struggle to kiss me there. For several minutes, I teased him: giving him my mound, then a little of my crack, pulling my lips apart, I’d let him suck on my love button. He moaned when he had me, and he screamed for me when I was off of him.
Finally, I lowered myself slowly, fully, onto his mouth. “Mmm,” he moaned as he was engulfed by my sex. He breathed through my pussy hair as he tongued my deep, moist hole. I grabbed his hair and pulled him up into me. I wiggled my hips, as I did myself on his face. I screamed as I felt myself climax. Charlie opened his eyes, he looked up over my stomach, at my jiggling breasts and at my face. My legs clamped tight against his head, and he gave in to the power of my excitement. I collapsed forward, leaning into the headboard.
After a moment I sat up and got off Charlie. He smiled
at the curly wet hair of my swollen sex. “My turn,” he whispered. “No,” I said, playfully. “You were beating off when I found you. If that’s how you want to do it, then
beat off now.” “Let me … fuck you.” “No.” Charlie kissed my nipple. “Then suck me off. Please?” “No.” “But I–” “I don’t care. It’s time women used men the way men always use women.”
Charlie started humping my thigh. “Please? I need to. Do you want me to kiss you again? Is that it?” He started towards my crotch. I held him off. “No,” I lied, but I knew we had all day and all night. “Dammit!” I kissed his chest, and flicked my tongue over one of his nipples. “I like that,” he moaned. I bit it. “Ow!” He screamed. It was thick and hard, and I sucked on it, while I fondled his balls. Then I worked one finger down to his ass and flicked it over his asshole. “God!” Charlie pumped his hips. I pushed it into his tight hole. “Yes!” Charlie gasped. “Yes!”
I moved my mouth to his other nipple. Gently I played with it between my teeth. But I kept my finger still. Charlie moved his hips trying to get me to start doing his hole. “Sarah? Please?” “What?” “Don’t tease me.” He pumped his hips. “That feels great!”
“I don’t want to… . Did I tell you how good you look in Rose’s peignoir.” I pulled my finger out. Charlie sat up. “Please?” He pleaded. “You like lady’s clothes don’t you?”
“Yes.” “I know you like my panties.” Charlie looked down at the floor. He pulled the
peignoir tighter around his shoulders. “Why are you doing this?” he whispered. “I hit a sore point didn’t I? You were in my panties last week again.” Charlie’s face burned red. “Stop.” “You’re just a pervert.” I taunted him. “I … ” he looked up at me, his eyes full of tears. “I … ”
This was my game and my turn. I put my hand behind his head and pulled him towards me, but not for a kiss. I pushed him down over my lap. “You’ve been a naughty, naughty, lad.” I reached over for my hair brush on the nightstand, and pulled the edge of the peignoir up, out of the way. He had a nice bum, small, tight, and firm. I felt him stiffening against my leg. I slapped him hard with the back of the brush. And again. He didn’t make a sound, but his hands clenched the bedcover.
“You’ve been a bad boy!”
“Can’t even get a hard-on without smelling my cunt.”
“It hurts!” He screamed, large red welts puffed up on his ass.
I felt him stiffen, like he was about to cum, so I stopped.
“Sarah! Oh God!” He looked up at me. I knew he was close. I felt him lift off of me, trying to stop his impending climax. “Sar–”
He flinched, and wetted on me, a disappointing and embarrassing cum. “I–” I laid back and when he sat up, I rolled over on my tummy. “Forgive me,” he said. “Sometimes I cum–”
“You wasted that.” I looked over my shoulder at him. “You are bad.” “Forgive me.” I put my hands on my bum and rubbed it. He looked at me there. Then up at my face. “Maybe,” I whispered. He leaned forward and gently kissed my bum. “Forgive me.” I couldn’t believe how turned on I was as I spread my cheeks.
Later Charlie told me that he had never seen a woman’s asshole–never as a sexual thing. He wanted it. His lips puckered and he kissed my tight hole. Then his tongue just touch it. “Yes.” I screamed. “Yes!” Charlie pushed his tongue into my asshole, his lips clamped around it, and tried to suck on it. I humped and screamed, while I rubbed myself.
“Do me!” Charlie fucked my ass with his tongue. I lost control. I thrashed about. I screamed. And I climaxed. For a few minutes, I lay there savoring the afterglow of a wonderful explosion and the tickly, sexy feeling of his cool spittle running down from my pulsing hole into my crotch.
When I rolled back over and I saw that he was hard again. “Beat off for me.” He looked longingly at my sex. “Charlie?” I whispered. “Okay.” Resigned, he knelt over me and grabbed his tool. “Watch me. Watch me cum for you!” He yanked on it. Harder and faster, while he stared at my slit. His tool flared … purple velvet … his balls slapped about … his hand blurred. “I’m cumming!” He screamed. “Shoot it!” I yelled. “Pump it on me!” I moved closer. “Make me messy.”
Charlie couldn’t hold back. He let his jism squirt on me. Globs of hot jism, burning, jism hit me. His beautiful tool flipped around as he unloaded on me. His man-stuff landed on my tits, my neck, my face, a little landed on my eye and stung.
When he finished he smiled sheepishly. “Thank you,” he confessed in that little boy look I had seen that first time. Did that look mean he saw me as an older woman, an aunt? his mother? And his fetish? Did he want to be dressed? Did he want to be a girl? I wondered what discoveries we were going to make.
“Look what you’ve done.” I smiled. “Wash it off.” Charlie knew what I meant. He leaned forward and slurped up a glob of his cum. “That’s better,” I said. I knew it was going to be a great weekend. “Wash me off–all of me.”
THE END for now!