Gender: Male Age: 33 Location: USA
|Introduction: Roger's unexpected night off pays big dividends.|
It was a Thursday night and I was sitting at the ball park scoring the latest game. And I have to admit, I hadn’t been that off my game in a really long time.
To score baseball effectively and in an official sense, you need to be extremely focused. There is so much nuance, that if you miss even the slightest thing, you’re screwing up the stats, which is the most important thing in the world to these guys.
Not paying attention to decide whether it was a passed ball or a wild pitch? Well that could have effect earned run totals and impact the pitcher’s ERA.
Or the cardinal sin: Was it a hit or was it an error? I rarely made one of those mistakes, but today, there was a hard hit ball to second base and it was bobbled. He threw it to first and the guy was safe. But was it a 50/50 ball? Was it a play where the runner would have beat it out even if it was fielded cleanly? That was my call. It impacts guys’ batting average. It impacts guys’ ERA.
And I had no clue.
I was too busy thinking of what awaited me when I got home. Seeing cute Kami sitting on my couch waiting for my arrival from work.
“Roger, whatd’ya think?”
“Um, um…” The guy that got on base was from our team, so I figured I’d hometown him a hit. “Hit. Give him a hit.”
A big “H” went on the scoreboard.
“What? You gave them a hit?” Steve Smyth, the mouthy reporter from the paper, took offense. “That was an obvious error.”
“Yeah, but I think he would have beat it out even if it was fielded cleanly,” I said without an ounce of confidence in my voice.
“Whatever, man. You missed that one.”
I NEVER miss those plays. But I was too distracted. I kept thinking of seeing Kami when I got home. Brandon would already be in bed, so she’d be sitting on the couch, watching some dirty movies on late night Skinimax, her hand buried down her shorts, just as I walked in the door.
“Roger, whatd’ya think?” Fuck, I missed that one completely. The runner had advanced to second. That’s all I knew.
“Uh, wild pitch.” I waited and waited for anybody to argue. Nobody did. Thank God. I had to get re-focused.
When I was on my way home after the game let out, which was close to 9:30 p.m., Trisha was still working. She wasn’t due to get back until 10 or 10:30 p.m. I was driving home and I kept thinking about Kami sitting on my couch. Not even doing anything, just sitting on my couch. Probably bouncing a little in that tennie-bopper way she has, smiling widely when I walk through the door.
And just that thought, I started feeling my cock snake down my leg.
Jesus, I haven’t sprouted a random hard-on like this in a looong time. In fact, I think the last time I got this obnoxiously hard from just a few thoughts, I was 20. I was walking into a Wal-Mart with my girlfriend at the time, who was this 16-year-old sex-crazed punk rock girl, and she just suddenly says to me “I hope we’re not here at the store long. I have designs to shove your cock down my throat when we get done.” I nearly came right there.
And now, nearly 15 years later, I was sprouting a random hard-on at just the thought of a teenage girl on my couch.
Wow, I am a sick fuck. Apparently teenage girls just do it for me.
I get home, and I see a strange Chevy Malibu in the driveway. That’s odd. Then it hit me – Kami’s mom said she’d be here with her the first night.
I got home and there they were, both of them on the couch, Kami perched against her Mom dead asleep beneath the glow of the television.
I suddenly felt so much anger. I was denied the sight of seeing her get all bouncety as I walked through the door.
“How’d she do?” I asked Joan, Kami’s mom.
“She did great. She’s a natural with kids and her and Brandon really seem to love each other.”
She crooked her eye a little.
“And I think Brandon has a little crush.”
Chip off the old block. The boy has good taste.
“I think all boys are supposed to have a crush on their babysitters, right? It’s downright un-American if they don’t,” I said.
“Baby, wake up,” Joan said to Kami, tapping her awake. She lightly opened her eyes, making scrunchy face and stretching as she woke up.
“Was Brandon good?” I asked.
Kami nodded mid-yawn. “Yeah, we played board games for an hour, then I made him dinner.”
Really, I only cared about one thing.
“Is she ready to be on her own?”
“I think so,” Joan said. “What do you say, Kam? You ready to be on your own tomorrow night.”
Still half asleep, she nodded.
With that, Joan and Kami left with little fanfare. I tried to drink up as much of Kami as I could before she left, saving some for the spank bank. She was wearing a tight orange top that clung perfectly to her C-cup rack, covered by an unbuttoned black and plain short-sleeved shirt that didn’t really match, but you could tell she was just going for comfortability. Her upper arms were largely exposed and you could still make out her muscles, even in the low light of the television. She wore a very tight pair of jeans and even though I was looking at her head on and not from the back, I imagined her ass shone through as the tight apple specimen it was.
As I was looking her over, Kami moved in for a hug goodbye and I returned the favor with a chaste embrace. As they left, I practically ran up the stairs to the bathroom, sat on the toilet and dropped my pants and began rubbing my hardening cock. I’ve always had what ex-girlfriends called a “huge cock” – my nickname in high school was “Roger Ramjet” – and I always got proud and horny when I whipped it out and stared down at my over 9 inches of throbbing, wrist-thick manhood.
I imagined sticking my thick cock inside Kami’s little tiny teen pussy, her untouched body trembling in anticipation. I’d force my way through her sheath and bring her the sins of pleasure after pings of pain. And then I would tickle her deepest depths with my mushroom head, sending her over the edge.
Just as I myself was about to leap over the edge, I heard the front door open. Trisha was home.
I rushed to put my cock away, but it was so fucking rock hard, it was no use. I eventually managed to stuff it in, my hard cock inverting my left pant pocket and poking out obscenely.
By the time I exited the bathroom, Trish was in Brandon’s room checking on him. I simply waited for her to exit, stared her down with “fuck me” eyes, grabbed her and threw her into the bedroom.
She kissed me back but protested. “I need to get outside and water the flowers,” she said. She tried to squirm away. “Then I have to shower, and…”
“And all that shit could fucking wait.”
My wife was getting older and was starting to get severe features, but she still looked good. When we got together, she had that perfect body I loved, which was the very busty, slightly chubby look. Back in college, my brown haired, brown eyed beauty was about 5’6”, was a size 12 or so and really boasted a gargantuan pair of tits for her frame. I was always strange – I loved the “muffin top” look, and she certainly obliged with tight T-shirts that periodically showed her bulging midsection and hugged her tits. They were a 36F and just fucking dwarfed her body. I was so amazed that I snagged a girl of her quality – and her titular mass.
Today, with weight from a baby as well as the years, she’s filled out considerably. I’d say she gained 80 pounds since college. Granted, a lot of it is in her tits as they continue to be gigantic – and they ballooned while she was breast-feeding Brandon and never really went down after that. She gets her bras specially ordered, boasting a 40J, which is just fucking crazy. But I love them and I love to bury my head in there and titty fuck the hell out of them.
So I was staring down at her lying down on our bed, and I pulled her blazer off of her to reveal a white button-downed blouse stretched to limit by her heaving tits. She lied back down and as her tits slid to each side of her midsection, it looked like I had over two solid feet of boobs staring back at me, stretching the material of her blouse, creating numerous peek-a-boo holes as her tits spread apart the fabric around her buttons.
I laid my hands on those tits and squeezed before unbuttoning her shirt to release those massive mammaries. I was so rock hard.
“Rog, please. Not now,” she said, ending the fun. “I am so tired and I have so much to do. Maybe save it for me after I get out of the shower?” She patted the top of my cock head poking through my pant pocket.
Defeated, I just let her go. This was how most of our would-be sexual contact ended. One of us starting things, and the other claiming to be tired or feeling sick or something. It really explains why, if I had to estimate, we’d probably had sex maybe 10 times in the past 6 months.
As she got into more comfortable clothes, I kept thinking of Kami and I stayed rock hard. I was just silent, periodically tugging at my cock, until Trisha had left the room and I was left alone. I whipped my hard fucking cock out and within 60 seconds, I sprayed out a geyser that landed on my stomach and chest.
By the time Friday rolled around, I was so excited that Kami was returning – without her mother.
And imagine my excitement when a rain storm rolled in and first postponed the game, then cancelled it outright.
I was due to be sent home. About 2 hours before I was supposed to. And about 4 hours before Trish was due home.
I excitedly drove home, tugging at my semi-hard dick on the way, ready to see Kami.
When I got home, Brandon was just getting put to sleep. She was up in his room reading a book to him. As she was reading, I stood in the doorway of his room, announcing my presence wordlessly and watching them together. They both looked at me and smiled, acknowledging my presence. Then, right as he acknowledged me, Brandon re-positioned himself and laid his head on her, resting it right on her tit.
The kid’s a fucking stud.
She kissed him on the forehead and I came in and did the same as we put him to bed.
“What are you doing home so early?” she asked, walking away from his bedroom.
“Rain out,” I said. “So that means I’m here. I know it’s Friday night so if you want to leave and do something…”
“That’s okay,” she said, smiling. “How long before your wife gets home?”
Hehe, I liked that line of questioning. “About three hours or so.”
“Okay. I’ll just hang out here… if that’s okay with you.”
Of fucking course it was okay with me. I knew I had trouble hiding my excitement.
“I don’t much feel like going home yet anyway. My mom expected me to be home by 9 or 10 anyway.”
“Well, we’ll hang out then,” I said. “Just you and me,” I continued, trying hard to not sound like a creeper.
I used that moment to look her up and down and drink in her beauty. She was dressed decidedly more “emo” or “scene” or something, wearing a black and white striped top with a red rose dropping blood located just between her left strap and left breast. The top clung tightly to her curves, scooping low to show a good inch of luscious cleavage, and ended just above the pant line, showing off about three inches of her navel which I was seeing for the first time exposed, and her abs were RIPPED.
The top also came down with a single strap in the back, showing off a muscular back and of course, her extremely strong arms were on full display.
She was wearing these pants that I could only describe through my frame of reference as somewhere between stone-washed and tie-dyed black and white. Among the marble pattern look of her pants were strategically-placed, pre-torn holes, each about three inches wide, running all the way from her thighs to her shins.
She pulled it all together with plenty of accessories, including black bracelets with little skulls on them and a beady sort of necklace that hung near her cleavage and beckoned you to look at her tits.
In short, she looked like she walked out of a “Hot Topic” catalog – if such a thing existed.
“Sounds like fun. What do you want to do?”
I had no clue. What do I suggest to a 14-year-old to do with me? You know, besides the obvious.
But I did have at least once decent, if not harmless, idea.
“We could play some Wii Sports?” I suggested.
“Oh yes, that sounds like fun!”
We fired it up and of course, we picked baseball. I was up to bat first.
“So I guess I get to face the myth, the legend, huh? Wonder if I’ll be good enough to get a foul ball?”
“Oh shutup! I’m shitty at video games.”
I have to admit, I was kind of shocked that she cussed. But she did say “bitch” to me in an interview. She probably cussed like a sailor, in fact.
She threw the first pitch, and it was of course, a strike. The Wii radar gun said 107 mph.
“Wow, real life really does translate to the game!”
We played for a bit longer and she smoked my ass. She won 9-0, adding a few home runs to her performance.
“You got beat by a girl! You got beat by a girl!”
“Be quiet, you Wii Sports shark.”
“You’re just sad that you lost.”
“Damn right!” I announced. I was awesome at Wii Sports and to be honest, though I was just playing around, I was kind of sad that she beat me. “I’m going to take a rest and get a drink.”
I walked into the dining room and got into the liquor cabinet. I poured a bit of bourbon on the rocks.
“You want anything?” I asked, clearly implying a soda or something.
Or so I thought.
“You have tequila?”
“No no, I meant like a pop.”
“I know what you meant,” she defiantly announced, walking over toward me with all the confidence in the world. “And I asked you for a tequila.”
“I’m not giving you tequila.”
“Why not?” she pouted, flashing me sad eyes.
“Because you’re 14 years old!”
“Will you maybe do it if I give you a kiss?” With that question, I felt my heart beat out of my chest and a surge of instant adrenaline fire up my spine. Did I just hear her right? Before I could process it, she bounced over to me, giggled and smiled widely in that intoxicatingly cute way she has, and kissed me on the cheek.
“Pleeeeaseeee?” she begged, batting her big baby blue eyes at me.
I couldn’t resist.
“Okay!” I relented as she bounced up and down. “But you get one half of one shot. And that’s it.”
She thought it over, then crooked her eyebrow slightly before extending her hand to shake mine. “You have yourself a deal,” she said, looking like she was cooking up something.
I poured her a half-shot, got her a lemon wedge and handed her the salt.
“First you lick your hand, and…”
“…I know, you pour the salt, lick your hand, blah blah blah. I’ve done this before.”
I raised my eyebrow at her. “You’ve taken a shot before?”
“Of course,” she announced. “I lead a whole double life that you don’t even know about.”
My cock twitched at that statement and as she readied herself by licking the salt from her hand, she lifted the shot glass to her mouth and proceeded to dump it all down the front of her shirt. Almost as if on purpose.
“Oh my,” she said with mock indignation. “I seem to have had an accident.”
I rolled my eyes, but as I did, she lowered her fingers down to her cleavage, now covered in tequila, and turned on the bedroom eyes as she sensuously and dramatically licked tequila from her fingers. One by one she tried to scoop every drop into her mouth.
“Mmmm, this is good tequila,” she announced as I was just fucking dumbfounded. She stuck her finger down into her cleavage valley, inside her now moist top, and pulled her finger back out glazed with tequila.
“You know, if I didn’t know better,” she said, “I’d think you want a taste.”
“No, I don’t…” Before I could finish my sentence, she stuck her digit in my mouth. And I sucked the sweet tequila off of her fingers.
“Kami…” I tried to stop her, but she just kept pushing. She grabbed the bottle of tequila from the table and opened it up and took a swig.
“Aw, that’s better…” she announced before taking another swig. But this time, she again “spilled” it on her top, making a much bigger mess than before.
“Oh, I’m such a clutz!” she said. “Now I’m just covered.” I was just too shocked to interfere, and I just stared at her slackjawed as she put on this display.
But the shock was just beginning as, without even an announcement, she just lifted her wet top over head. And there she was, looking back at me, 14-year-old Kami topless in just a bra, her generous C-cup tits jutting out proudly, huge and full in a black bra, and that perfect six-pack on display.
“I can’t go home smelling like tequila,” she said. “Can I throw some clothes in the laundry?”
“Uhhhhhh…. Sure…” I just didn’t know what else to say. And for some reason, my good judgment was not on display because I was so paralyzed in shock.
She ran back to the laundry room topless, and I just stood there. What the fuck do I do? I looked down, and without realizing it, my semi hard cock was tenting my pants pretty obviously, its size prominently on display.
“Roger! Could you come back and help me?” she yelled from the laundry room. I got back there --- and I couldn’t believe my eyes.
She was casually unhooking her bra. “Could you show me how to start the washing machine?” she asked, revealing her perfect teen tits in the process.
Sweet baby Jesus, her breasts were absolute perfection. They were wide and full, boasting possibly the best nipples on the planet. The areola were large and pink, nearly three inches in diameter, but they were puffy as fuck, raised obscenely from her tits. At the peak, she had a huge nub that stuck out over half an inch, and the goddamn things pointed upward.
“Jesus Christ, Kam, what are you doing?!”
“Oh, my bra smelled like tequila too.” She said, like it was nothing. She grabbed the detergent, and poured too fast, overflowing the cup and dribbling some onto the floor. And the piece de resistance: she made it seem like it “overflowed” on my pants.
This fucking minx was just cruising…
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” she said, staring at my tented pants stained with laundry detergent. “We need to get that out!” Using her bra, she began rubbing at the stains, inadvertently stroking my cock through my pants like it was nothing.
“Oh my,” she said in mock fear. “That won’t come out either. Luckily it’s just soap so you could wash those too.”
She got on her knees, and as she did, my cock grew to its apex, jutting out proudly. She looked up at me with those big blue eyes, and dammit, I had a decision to make.
I knew what she was doing, so did I just let her keep doing it? Or did I stop all this right now?
Before I could even decide, she took the liberty of unbuttoning my pants and yanking them down, my rock hard nine incher springing up and slapping her in the face.
“H-h-h-holy fuck!” she said upon laying eyes on it. “I knew it was huge, but Jesus Christ!”
She grabbed it with both hands and began expertly stroking it. She had definitely done this before.
“You know, Roger,” she said. “I wanted you to know that I planned all this,” she said as if making a big reveal. “I just decided, as soon as I met you, that someday, I was going to FUCK you.”
I nearly came right there. My cock flexed when she said “fuck.”
“Oohhh, he likes that, huh? He likes it when I say ‘fuck’?” I flexed it again.
She giggled. “I also want you to know that for the past two years, I’d been fucking my club softball coach,” she said, all while still stroking my cock with both hands. “But he got fired. Turns out he was fucking our second baseman too. And she didn’t know how to stay quiet.”
She looked up at me with those big, piercing blue eyes, closing her eyelids slightly.
“But I do.”
Just then, she shoved my cock into her mouth. It was so big, she couldn’t get much more than the head in, but she licked and sucked the fuck out of it. She definitely knew what she was doing.
“Oh my god, there is no way you’re just 14.”
She raised her head from my cock. “But I am,” she said. “But I know I pitch better than other girls my age, I look better than other girls my age, I have bigger tits than other girls my age… and I suck better cock than other girls my age.”
Just then, she pushed extra hard down on my cock and got the head to pop past the opening in her throat. With her mouth stretched wide by my cock, she pushed down about as far as she could – about six inches – before she practically puked me back up as she gagged me out.
She grabbed my cock again with both hands, and the sight was enough to send me over the edge. I felt my cock flex as torrent after torrent of cum spit out of my cock, dousing her in my generous fluid. My Peter North-esque cumming ability soaked her in a healthy white glaze as I shot all over face and hair.
“Oh my god,” she said, half laughing. “I can’t wait until you fuck me with that thing.”
And that’s the kind of statement to ensure I won’t lose my hard-on.
She took off the rest of her cum-drenched clothes and threw them in the washer. She then motioned to take off my shirt.
“I think we both need a shower before the Mrs. gets home,” she said.
She took my shirt and started a load – definitely showing that she knew how to operate a washer – before taking my hand and leading me to the bathroom.
Still hard as a rock, she led me into the shower and started the water. She immediately washed the cum off of her face, and once she was done, moved in for a long, passionate kiss.
Goddamn, she tasted just like a peach. I kissed her back and humped my cock up against her belly. She responded in kind with a tug on my cock, then, she turned around and wiggled her ass at me, telling me she was ready for me to penetrate her from behind.
“I want you to stick that fucking monster in me,” she ordered. And I quickly obliged. I crossed that line into full-blown statutory rape by sticking my fat cock inside her little pussy, pushing it to the hilt up her slick passage way, and causing a blood-curdling moan that almost sounded like pain.
“Oh my fucking god, you’re so huge!”
I showed her I was in charge by plowing away at her, slamming my cock into her repeatedly while grabbing her brunette hair and pulling back. The hair pulling was what did it, as she came almost right thereafter, sending a warm splash of girlcum down my shaft as she screamed in pleasure.
A short time later, I worked up my second cum load of the night, this time spraying it all over her back and up into her hair after I pulled out.
We then cleaned up our messes. Hid the alcohol. Dried the load of laundry. Put our clothes back on. And we even had time to spare before Trish came home.
And she had no idea her husband had fucked the babysitter.
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