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Husband Makes Babysitter Eat Out Wife (Part 1)
A 4.5k word short story (part 1) about a swinging couple who play with their babysitter who's always had a crush on them. It opens up a whole new world for college-aged Sophie, who's never eaten out a woman before, nor been with more than one person at once. But Mr. and Mrs. Robinson have always seemed so elevated... EXCERPTI was supposed to be babysitting the Robinson children from 7pm to 2am that fateful night, but when I arrived fifteen minutes early, the house was mysteriously dark, not a single light on in any of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows.
A bit alarmed, I strode up to the front door and knocked-Only to find the door creak open under the pressure from my knuckles. It hadn't been locked properly. I stared, wide-eyed, as the door swung open till it was ajar, and I peered into the big yawning cave of the seemingly empty house. It didn't seem like anyone was at home. I reached into my bag to call Mrs. Robinson to ask if they were out and running late to return home-When from the previous silence broke through the sound of.
I stilled, all the hairs on my arm rising. Could it. was it really.No, I hadn't imagined it. A low moan and panting traveled down the staircase, wrapping around the railing. My cheeks flushed. Were Mr. and Mrs. Robinson.I swallowed, still rooted to the ground, not knowing what I should do. Should I call them on the phone, pretend I didn't hear them and interrupt them.? That just seemed rude. But, as Mrs.
Robinson's verbalizations of pleasure continued to float around the mansion, I couldn't help entertaining the little wiggling thought that maybe I could creep over to their bedroom and see what was going on.They didn't yet know I had arrived, after all. Without thinking things through much further, I gently closed the door behind me (for whatever reason, I locked it, maybe instinctively not wanting anyone else to come in and disturb them-us) and tip-toed up the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky steps that would give away my presence.
I considered it good fortune that I knew the house inside and out, from the countless times I looked after their children. Damn, they seemed to really be going for it. As I got closer to their master bedroom, I found my breathing turning shallow and my palms sweating. There was no turning back if I found them in a compromising position. I would never be able to unsee that image. And if they caught me being a peeping tom.
that would be the end of me. They would fire me, and I'd lose my consistent pay cheque and never see their sweet, sweet children ever again. That should have been enough warning to turn right back around, exit their house and ring them from the road, pretending I hadn't heard a single thing. But curiosity killed the cat-it lured me closer and closer to the siren calls of whimpers and groans, even the slamming of furniture into the wall and across the floorboards-it sounded like the bedframe being shoved and rocked.
My heart fluttered as I realized the bedroom door had been left open, just a couple of inches. Terrified, but too compelled, I inched closer until I could see right in. Oh my god. I didn't notice I'd stepped forward unconsciously-not until I'd tripped into their room, their door slamming open in a split second. My eyes widened, mortification rattling my bones as I stared up at them from all fours on the floor.
Mr. Robinson had turned at the racket, and there was something indecipherable in his eyes.Curiously, not surprise."Sophie, " he said, and it seemed the word had emitted from his mouth without any sound traveling across the room. "Come. We've been waiting for you."
A bit alarmed, I strode up to the front door and knocked-Only to find the door creak open under the pressure from my knuckles. It hadn't been locked properly. I stared, wide-eyed, as the door swung open till it was ajar, and I peered into the big yawning cave of the seemingly empty house. It didn't seem like anyone was at home. I reached into my bag to call Mrs. Robinson to ask if they were out and running late to return home-When from the previous silence broke through the sound of.
I stilled, all the hairs on my arm rising. Could it. was it really.No, I hadn't imagined it. A low moan and panting traveled down the staircase, wrapping around the railing. My cheeks flushed. Were Mr. and Mrs. Robinson.I swallowed, still rooted to the ground, not knowing what I should do. Should I call them on the phone, pretend I didn't hear them and interrupt them.? That just seemed rude. But, as Mrs.
Robinson's verbalizations of pleasure continued to float around the mansion, I couldn't help entertaining the little wiggling thought that maybe I could creep over to their bedroom and see what was going on.They didn't yet know I had arrived, after all. Without thinking things through much further, I gently closed the door behind me (for whatever reason, I locked it, maybe instinctively not wanting anyone else to come in and disturb them-us) and tip-toed up the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky steps that would give away my presence.
I considered it good fortune that I knew the house inside and out, from the countless times I looked after their children. Damn, they seemed to really be going for it. As I got closer to their master bedroom, I found my breathing turning shallow and my palms sweating. There was no turning back if I found them in a compromising position. I would never be able to unsee that image. And if they caught me being a peeping tom.
that would be the end of me. They would fire me, and I'd lose my consistent pay cheque and never see their sweet, sweet children ever again. That should have been enough warning to turn right back around, exit their house and ring them from the road, pretending I hadn't heard a single thing. But curiosity killed the cat-it lured me closer and closer to the siren calls of whimpers and groans, even the slamming of furniture into the wall and across the floorboards-it sounded like the bedframe being shoved and rocked.
My heart fluttered as I realized the bedroom door had been left open, just a couple of inches. Terrified, but too compelled, I inched closer until I could see right in. Oh my god. I didn't notice I'd stepped forward unconsciously-not until I'd tripped into their room, their door slamming open in a split second. My eyes widened, mortification rattling my bones as I stared up at them from all fours on the floor.
Mr. Robinson had turned at the racket, and there was something indecipherable in his eyes.Curiously, not surprise."Sophie, " he said, and it seemed the word had emitted from his mouth without any sound traveling across the room. "Come. We've been waiting for you."
A 4.5k word short story (part 1) about a swinging couple who play with their babysitter who's always had a crush on them. It opens up a whole new world for college-aged Sophie, who's never eaten out a woman before, nor been with more than one person at once. But Mr. and Mrs. Robinson have always seemed so elevated... EXCERPTI was supposed to be babysitting the Robinson children from 7pm to 2am that fateful night, but when I arrived fifteen minutes early, the house was mysteriously dark, not a single light on in any of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows.
A bit alarmed, I strode up to the front door and knocked-Only to find the door creak open under the pressure from my knuckles. It hadn't been locked properly. I stared, wide-eyed, as the door swung open till it was ajar, and I peered into the big yawning cave of the seemingly empty house. It didn't seem like anyone was at home. I reached into my bag to call Mrs. Robinson to ask if they were out and running late to return home-When from the previous silence broke through the sound of.
I stilled, all the hairs on my arm rising. Could it. was it really.No, I hadn't imagined it. A low moan and panting traveled down the staircase, wrapping around the railing. My cheeks flushed. Were Mr. and Mrs. Robinson.I swallowed, still rooted to the ground, not knowing what I should do. Should I call them on the phone, pretend I didn't hear them and interrupt them.? That just seemed rude. But, as Mrs.
Robinson's verbalizations of pleasure continued to float around the mansion, I couldn't help entertaining the little wiggling thought that maybe I could creep over to their bedroom and see what was going on.They didn't yet know I had arrived, after all. Without thinking things through much further, I gently closed the door behind me (for whatever reason, I locked it, maybe instinctively not wanting anyone else to come in and disturb them-us) and tip-toed up the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky steps that would give away my presence.
I considered it good fortune that I knew the house inside and out, from the countless times I looked after their children. Damn, they seemed to really be going for it. As I got closer to their master bedroom, I found my breathing turning shallow and my palms sweating. There was no turning back if I found them in a compromising position. I would never be able to unsee that image. And if they caught me being a peeping tom.
that would be the end of me. They would fire me, and I'd lose my consistent pay cheque and never see their sweet, sweet children ever again. That should have been enough warning to turn right back around, exit their house and ring them from the road, pretending I hadn't heard a single thing. But curiosity killed the cat-it lured me closer and closer to the siren calls of whimpers and groans, even the slamming of furniture into the wall and across the floorboards-it sounded like the bedframe being shoved and rocked.
My heart fluttered as I realized the bedroom door had been left open, just a couple of inches. Terrified, but too compelled, I inched closer until I could see right in. Oh my god. I didn't notice I'd stepped forward unconsciously-not until I'd tripped into their room, their door slamming open in a split second. My eyes widened, mortification rattling my bones as I stared up at them from all fours on the floor.
Mr. Robinson had turned at the racket, and there was something indecipherable in his eyes.Curiously, not surprise."Sophie, " he said, and it seemed the word had emitted from his mouth without any sound traveling across the room. "Come. We've been waiting for you."
A bit alarmed, I strode up to the front door and knocked-Only to find the door creak open under the pressure from my knuckles. It hadn't been locked properly. I stared, wide-eyed, as the door swung open till it was ajar, and I peered into the big yawning cave of the seemingly empty house. It didn't seem like anyone was at home. I reached into my bag to call Mrs. Robinson to ask if they were out and running late to return home-When from the previous silence broke through the sound of.
I stilled, all the hairs on my arm rising. Could it. was it really.No, I hadn't imagined it. A low moan and panting traveled down the staircase, wrapping around the railing. My cheeks flushed. Were Mr. and Mrs. Robinson.I swallowed, still rooted to the ground, not knowing what I should do. Should I call them on the phone, pretend I didn't hear them and interrupt them.? That just seemed rude. But, as Mrs.
Robinson's verbalizations of pleasure continued to float around the mansion, I couldn't help entertaining the little wiggling thought that maybe I could creep over to their bedroom and see what was going on.They didn't yet know I had arrived, after all. Without thinking things through much further, I gently closed the door behind me (for whatever reason, I locked it, maybe instinctively not wanting anyone else to come in and disturb them-us) and tip-toed up the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky steps that would give away my presence.
I considered it good fortune that I knew the house inside and out, from the countless times I looked after their children. Damn, they seemed to really be going for it. As I got closer to their master bedroom, I found my breathing turning shallow and my palms sweating. There was no turning back if I found them in a compromising position. I would never be able to unsee that image. And if they caught me being a peeping tom.
that would be the end of me. They would fire me, and I'd lose my consistent pay cheque and never see their sweet, sweet children ever again. That should have been enough warning to turn right back around, exit their house and ring them from the road, pretending I hadn't heard a single thing. But curiosity killed the cat-it lured me closer and closer to the siren calls of whimpers and groans, even the slamming of furniture into the wall and across the floorboards-it sounded like the bedframe being shoved and rocked.
My heart fluttered as I realized the bedroom door had been left open, just a couple of inches. Terrified, but too compelled, I inched closer until I could see right in. Oh my god. I didn't notice I'd stepped forward unconsciously-not until I'd tripped into their room, their door slamming open in a split second. My eyes widened, mortification rattling my bones as I stared up at them from all fours on the floor.
Mr. Robinson had turned at the racket, and there was something indecipherable in his eyes.Curiously, not surprise."Sophie, " he said, and it seemed the word had emitted from his mouth without any sound traveling across the room. "Come. We've been waiting for you."
