22F Fucked by married man I babysit for

I’m Cristina, and I’ve been nannying for the Thompsons for, like, a year. It’s chill—two kids, 6 and 8, who aren’t total brats. I entertain them, tuck their asses into bed, and wait for their parents to stumble home. Usually, it’s Mr. Thompson—David—who pays me, sometimes driving me back to my crappy apartment near campus. He’s in his mid-40s, stupid hot for an older dude, all architect vibes with a sexy smirk that makes my pussy throb. I always kept it professional, but damn, those eyes.

Last Environmental Impact Statement (EIS) for the Proposed Construction and Operation of the Eland Combined Cycle Power Plant Project, Walworth County, Wisconsin

Last Friday, they were out getting smashed at some bougie gala. I had the kids fed, bathed, and knocked out by 9, so I’m just chilling on their plush couch, scrolling TikTok, waiting. Around midnight, the door swings open, and David staggers in with Mrs. Thompson. They’re fucking wasted. She’s giggling, tripping in her heels, and he’s got this sloppy, horny grin. He drags her upstairs to their bedroom, and I’m thinking, cool, he’ll pay me, and I’m gone.

He comes back down, tie half-off, shirt unbuttoned, showing off his toned chest, reeking of whiskey. “Anastasia, you’re a fucking lifesaver,” he slurs, fumbling with his wallet. I tell him it’s $60, and he tosses me the cash plus an extra $30. “For being so damn fine,” he says, eyeing my tits like he’s starving. “Shit, girl, you’re hot as fuck.”

I laugh, all nervous, my pussy already wet. “Uh, thanks?” He’s giving me that look, and I’m feeling flustered but kinda into it. He grabs a bottle of bourbon from the counter. “Shot with me, baby. You’ve earned it.”

I’m a lightweight, but I don’t wanna seem lame, so I’m like, “Fine, one.” Big fucking mistake. One shot turns into three, and I’m buzzed, giggling, my head spinning. David’s on the couch now, his thigh pressed against mine, and I’m getting wetter by the second. He leans in, all low and dirty. “You ever think about my dick, Anastasia?”

I’m drunk, my pussy’s pulsing, and I giggle. “Your dick? You’re married, dude.” My heart’s pounding—he’s so fucking hot, but this is bad news.

He smirks, all cocky. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want that tight pussy.” Then he’s kissing me, hard, his tongue shoving in, and I’m so horny I kiss him back, moaning into his mouth. He pushes me down on the couch, yanking my jeans off, exposing my dripping cunt. I mumble, “We can’t,” but it’s pathetic, and he just growls, “Fuck, you’re so sexy,” before diving between my legs. His tongue’s all over my clit, licking and sucking, and I’m losing my shit, gripping his hair as my pussy throbs. He eats me out for, like, five minutes, and I’m practically screaming.

Then he’s up, his thick dick out, and he slams into me, fucking me raw. The couch is creaking, my pussy’s stretched, and I’m cumming hard, my cunt clenching his cock. I cum again, shaking, and he grunts, pumping a hot load of cum deep in me. He collapses, kisses me all sloppy, and slips another $30 in my hand. “For the Uber, slut,” he says, calling me one. I’m dazed, pulling my jeans on, and the ride home’s a blur.

Next morning, my pussy’s sore as fuck, my head’s pounding, and I’m freaking out. I fucked a married guy. His wife’s so sweet. I’m back there tomorrow, and I’m terrified to face her—or him. What if she knows? What if he wants my pussy again? I’m mortified, but fuck, my clit’s tingling thinking about his dick. I’m so screwed.