The Adult Story Hub

DISCLAIMER: Don't read if you're under eighteen, or if the laws in your very repressive jurisdiction would suggest that you not read smutty stories such as this one.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was originally inspired by this fabulous LiveJournal entry. Thanks to my muse Aimee for her inspiration, her inspiration, and the permission to link her journal entry here.

Our lives settled into a comfortable routine. The kids adored Aimee, and she was obviously very good with them. Jake and Ethan still called her “Cookie Lady,” but eventually Beth gave up trying to figure out why. Aimee picked them up from preschool around 2:00 each day (except Fridays), and took them to the park, or one of the local playgrounds, or just went home and watched TV with them ‘til Beth or I got home.
I didn’t see Aimee very much. Beth worked as a dental hygienist at an office only ten minutes from our house. My job, on the other hand, was at a Department of Transportation office thirty minutes away. So, most days, Beth got home and Aimee headed back to Colby-Sawyer well before I arrived.
A few times, I saw her driving back down our street in her red Honda, and she’d wave enthusiastically to me as we passed.
Three weeks after Aimee started working for us, I left work early. I’d finished up a project review meeting at 2:15, and just didn’t feel like going back to my desk. It was a rainy Tuesday, and I simply wanted to go home.
And, of course, I couldn’t lie, at least not to myself. I also wanted to see Aimee.
When I got home, the rain still pouring down in sheets, I was treated to the most adorable sight in my family room. Ethan was curled up in my recliner, fast asleep. Jakie was asleep too, under an afghan on the couch, his head resting on Aimee’s lap. She was watching “Oprah” on TV and didn’t hear me come in.
I watched her, gently stroking my son’s hair, engrossed in the television program. She was wearing a black skirt which had ridden an inch or two above her knees. Her long legs were stretched out, bare ankles crossed gracefully on top of a pile of magazines on the coffee table.
“Hi Aimee,” I said softly.
She started at the sound of my voice, though not enough to wake Jake. “Hi, Jim. You’re home early.”
I nodded. “Couldn’t take any more meetings. How’re the boys today?”
“Wonderful, as always. You and Beth have done a great job with them.”
I nodded, thinking to myself, the boys were the only thing Beth and I ever did well.
Aimee eased herself off the couch, setting Jake’s head gently down onto the cushions. He stirred briefly but stayed asleep. Aimee stood and stretched, her breasts moving marvelously under her loose top. The shirt rode up just enough to show off a stretch of smooth belly marred only by her pierced navel.
She crouched down to pick up her sandals from under the coffee table, and I got a brief but entrancing view down her shirt, the upper swells of her breasts visible for just a moment. She stood back up and winked at me, my face reddening as I realized she knew just where I was looking.
“I guess I should go home,” she said quietly, squeezing past me into the hallway, her bare arm brushing against my left sleeve.
I followed her back down the hall. “Wait, Aimee. You don’t have to go home – I mean, I don’t mind if you stay for a while. We can talk,” I said, gesturing to the kitchen table.
She looked at me for a few seconds without speaking, and I nervously wondered if I’d pushed my luck too far. Finally, she spoke up. “Okay,” she said, and she swiveled and headed into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table.
I pulled my tie off and tossed it on the kitchen counter. Opening the fridge, I said to Aimee, “I sure could use a beer – how about you?”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I cursed myself. Offering a beer to my kids’ babysitter? My gorgeous yet underage, kids’ babysitter? I was playing into every older-man-seduces-younger-girl cliché in the book.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Jim...” Aimee said. Something in her tone, though, made me think she was only refusing for propriety’s sake.
“Come on,” I said, pulling two bottles of Sam Adams Octoberfest out of the refrigerator. “Beth won’t be home for another two hours,” I said, glancing at the clock. “I promise, I won’t tell her.”
I popped the tops off both icy-cold bottles and handed one to Aimee. She cocked her head and looked at me. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t tell her, now, would you? You never told her that we’d met,” she said, her last sentence clearly not a question.
I sputtered and choked, nearly spitting out the swig of beer I’d just taken. Finally, I managed to swallow it, and shook my head vehemently. “No way. In the first place, it would just seem too weird, I don’t know if she’d believe it was just a coincidence.”
“And in the second place, she’d never have hired you if she knew you were to blame for the fudgesicles.”
Aimee giggled, a musical, lilting sound that made me smile. “No, I suppose you’re right. And I figured you hadn’t told her when she kept asking me how the kids gave me my nickname.”
My smile widened, and I sat down at the table across from her. “No, I haven’t. I professed ignorance. She at first thought you were bribing them with cookies or something. But since they haven’t been hyper – at least, any more hyper than usual – she gave up on it.”
Aimee took a long draft from her beer and set it back down on the table. “So, Jim, tell me your life story.”
Over the next hour, and one more beer apiece, Aimee and I got to know each other better. I told her about growing up in Rhode Island, and a little about my years at Boston College, where I got my bachelor’s and master’s degrees in civil engineering.
She told me about her family life – she was from Maine, but came to New Hampshire for Colby-Sawyer’s art school. She'd started out as a graphic design major before shifting to child development. Her parents were still married, and she had a sister still in high school.
I told her about my disastrous first marriage to Kira. “She was basically my first serious girlfriend, the first girl I lived with, my first – well, she was my first in a lot of ways, and I didn’t really know what I wanted in a partner. We got married just after I got my undergrad, and she made my two years of graduate school a living nightmare.”
“As soon as I got my master’s, we divorced and I left Boston as quickly as possible.”
“So you ended up here?” Aimee asked.
“Yep. Took the job with NH Dot that summer and I lived in a little tiny apartment for three years, basically as a hermit. After Kira, I really didn’t want to date anyone else.”
Then, I told her about how I’d met Beth at the dentist’s office where she used to work.
“I thought she was cute right away. It’s hard to ask someone out when they’ve got metal implements jammed in your mouth,” I said, smiling at the memory. “My question probably came out as ‘Wffll eww gllout wif me?’ but Beth got the idea.”
“Anyway,” I said, continuing. “We dated for about eight months, and I was just thinking if I should ask Beth to move in with me. I wasn’t sure if I should, but then – well, then the situation changed.”
“Why? What happened?” Aimee asked. She was either really fascinated by my story, or an excellent faker.
I hesitated, not sure what to say next. My silence was broken by “Daddy!” as Ethan walked into the room, rubbing at his sleepy eyes.
“Hi, Eth. We were just talking about you,” I said, my eyes widening as I realized I’d let the cat out of the bag. I picked him up and swung him into my lap, blushing as I looked back at Aimee.
Her face was a mirror image of my own, her mouth open. “Oh....I see,” she said, softly.
Ethan rubbed his face on the soft cotton of my dress shirt, and I rubbed his back. “Did you have a nice nap, Ethan?” He was cranky, like he often was after just waking up, and he didn’t answer, continuing to rub his face on my shirt.
Aimee looked at me quietly, a sad expression on her face. “I guess I should go home,” she said quietly. She finished her beer and stood up. “Oh – one more thing. I thought I might take the kids to the park tomorrow, if this weather clears up,” she said, nodding at the rain-streaked windows.
“The park, Eth – did you hear that?” I asked him. He grunted into my shoulder.
Aimee smiled at him affectionately. “Anyway, Beth always asks me to call her if I’m not coming straight home with the boys. I always feel so bad to interrupt her if she’s with a patient. Would it be better if I called you instead?”
Now, it was my turn to stare ahead in silence. Aimee looked at me impassively, only the slightest hint of a smile quirking up the corners of her mouth.
My mind raced. Was it just an excuse to get my cell phone number? But it sounded like, and certainly could be, a legitimate request.
In the end, that’s all that mattered. I shifted the still-logy Ethan to my other shoulder, and pulled my wallet out of my back pocket. I extracted a business card from inside. Grabbing a pen off the table, I scribbled a number on the back and handed the card to Aimee.
“That’s my office line on the front, answered by the main receptionist. Obviously, if I’m in a meeting or something, and it’s an emergency, she can interrupt me. But the number on the back is my cell. You’re welcome to call that to let me know what your plans are for Jakie and Ethan each day.”
Silently, I wondered – “Did I just ask Aimee to call me every day?”
She turned the card over in her hands, reading the printed side. “Senior Transportation Engineer II – ooh, sounds important,” she said, winking at me.
“Don’t let it fool you. It just means I can be blamed for traffic jams,” I said.
Beth was thrilled to hear that I’d given my number to Aimee. The thought that I (or Aimee) might have ulterior motives never crossed her mind.
“That’s great, Jim. This way I won’t have to worry about getting calls and leaving my patients in the chair. I really appreciate that,” she said, kissing me on the lips as we washed dishes that evening.
And apparently, she really did appreciate it. We had sex later that night for the first time in a few months. It was standard, uninspired, missionary-position sex with the lights out – the same as it had always been with Beth. But, as I learned long ago, there’s no such thing as bad sex; only sex and better sex.
The next day, true to her word, Aimee called me from the park. “Jim Robinson,” I answered.
“Hello, Jim Robinson, this is the babysitter of your dreams,” Aimee said, before dissolving into peals of laughter.
“Hi, Aimee. Where are the kids?” I asked, fearful that they would have heard (and comprehended) what she just said to me.
“On the swings,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’m watching them.”
“I’m sure you are,” I said. “Listen, about yesterday. I – well, it’s just that I – “ I stammered, trying to apologize for the revelation about Beth’s premarital pregnancy.
“Don’t worry about it,” Aimee said smoothly. “I enjoyed drinking a couple of cold ones with you – maybe we can do it again sometime?”
“I’d like that,” I said sincerely.
“Me too,” she said quietly. “Okay, Jimbo, I gotta go. Ethan wants me to push him on the swing. Bye for now.”
“Bye,” I said as the phone disconnected. Glancing down at my cell phone, I saw her number still displayed on the caller ID banner, and I stored it in my phone.
“Just in case,” I told myself. “For emergencies – after all, she is my kids’ babysitter.”
The next day, she called me again, around 3:00. “Hi big Jim, how are you today?”
I grinned. Her light-hearted attitude was infectious, and it cheered me up a bit from the lousy day I was having at work. “Much better now. How’s my favorite ‘cookie lady’?” Suddenly afraid I’d been too bold, I added, “And how are my boys?”
She laughed brightly. “We’re all fine. I took the boys by the park again today, now they’re taking naps upstairs.”
“So,” she continued, her voice deepening. “What are you wearing?”
I laughed, but felt a stirring in my loins from her voice. “Well, of course I’m stark naked, like all the other engineers here.”
She laughed again, louder. “Oh god, Jim, don’t make me picture an office full of naked engineers. Unless they all look like you or – “ she said, stopping abruptly.
Even though she couldn’t see me, my blush deepened. “So, uh, what are YOU wearing?” I asked, trying to imitate her husky voice from earlier.
“Well, a pair of jeans,” she said, “and a white C-S t-shirt, and my blue Cons. Oh, and because Jake likes to play in water fountains, half of my T-shirt is pretty drenched.”
I swallowed hard, picturing Aimee in a wet, white t-shirt. “Yeah, um...he does like to play with water,” I said, my mind racing.
“Anyway,” I said, “I hate for you to sit around in a wet shirt. Why don’t you go upstairs to our room and get one of my T-shirts. Tall dresser, third drawer.”
“Oh no, Jim, I couldn’t...”
“Of course. It’s no problem. My shirts’ll be big on you, but I can’t really offer you one of Beth’s. I think she might be annoyed if I let you – or anyone else – wear something of hers.”
“Are you sure, Jim?”
“Absolutely. Help yourself.”
When I got home that afternoon, Aimee was still there. She looked adorable in one of my old grey Boston College Eagles athletic shirts, which hung down well below her waist.
“I’ll wash it and bring it back, I promise,” she said, heading down our driveway with her damp shirt in her hand.
I didn’t talk to Aimee on Thursday. She left a voicemail for me when she got the kids home, but I was in meetings ‘til after 5 and when I got home, Beth was already making dinner and Aimee was gone. Since she didn’t work for us on Friday, I assumed I wouldn’t talk to and/or see her until Monday.
I was wrong. Friday was when things got interesting.
Just when I was getting ready to leave for the day, around 4:45, my desk phone rang. “Jim Robinson,” I answered.
“Well hello there, Mr. Robinson,” came a sultry whisper over the phone. My cock throbbed. I thought – I hoped – it was Aimee, but I wasn’t 100% sure.
“Um...hello?”
“This is your favorite babysitter calling. I don’t have any babies to sit today, so I had to find other ways to entertain myself.”
I stretched the phone cord around my desk, reaching out to close my office door. “How are you today, Aimee?” I asked, sitting back down.
“I’m fine,” she said, still whispering seductively.
“Good,” I said hesitantly. I wasn’t sure why she was calling me today, or why she was using such a different tone of voice. My dick, on the other hand, thought it knew exactly why she was calling.
Turns out my dick was right.
“Why don’t you ask what I’m wearing, Mr. Robinson?”
“Okay,” I said nervously, glancing at my closed office door. “What are you wearing?”
“Your Boston College t-shirt,” Aimee said.
“And?” I asked, automatically, shifting in my seat to try and relieve some of the building pressure.
There was silence from the other end of the phone.
“And?” I repeated, a millisecond before my brain filled in the missing information. “Ohhhh...” I breathed into the phone, my dick fully erect now as I pictured Aimee wearing nothing but that grey t-shirt.
“That’s right, Jim. I’ve just taken a nice, long, hot shower and put on your shirt,” she said, giggling.
“Aimee, have you been drinking?” I asked.
“That’s not a nice question to ask a lady,” she admonished me. “But yes, I treated myself to some wine left over from last weekend. You see, I had an exam this afternoon, and I aced it....so don’t I deserve a reward?”
“I guess you do,” I said. I finally gave up trying to squirm my erection into a more comfortable position. After unbuttoning my khakis, I reached inside and straightened out my dick. I moaned softly – but apparently, not softly enough.
“Jim!” she exclaimed. “Are you – you know, touching yourself?”
“Well, I, it’s just that I –” I stammered.
“It’s okay,” Aimee whispered softly. “I’m touching myself too, Jim.”
“Oh god,” I moaned. Moving around the edge of my desk again, I locked my office door for the first time ever. Since it was nearly 5:00 on a Friday, I didn’t think anyone would hear the click of the lock.
“It feels so good, Jim,” she said. “I’m stretched out on my bed, thinking of you.”
I flopped back down in my chair and pushed my pants and boxers down my thighs. My dick slapped against my stomach, and I pulled my shirt up and out of the way. I ran my fingers lightly up and down my shaft.
“Tell me what you’re doing, Aimee,” I whispered.
“You know what I’m doing, big Jim,” she whispered back, her tone a little unsteady now.
“Tell me,” I insisted.
She paused, long enough that I didn’t think she was going to reply. Finally, in a quiet voice, she did. “I’m on my bed, Jim – the top bunk. I’ve got one leg over the edge of the bed and the other propped up on the footboard.”
I groaned, stroking my dick a little faster as I imagined Aimee, spread-eagled on her dorm bed. I imagined the view of her gorgeous pussy between those long legs.
“I’m touching myself, Jim. My fingers are sliding up and down my slit. Only in my mind, they’re not my fingers. They’re yours.”
“Oh god,” I said. “Aimee, I’ve got my pants down and I’m stroking my cock. It’s so hard for you. In my mind, it’s not my fingers sliding up and down all over my dick. It’s your hot little pussy.”
“Oh!” Aimee squealed. “That’s so hot, Jim. I’m sliding one of my fingers inside my pussy now....god I’m so wet, thinking of you. I’m finger fucking myself Jim, right now, wishing it was your cock sliding in and out of me.”
“Oh Aimee,” I said, tightening my grip on my dick. “I wish I was there, between your thighs, pumping my cock in and out of that wet pussy, making your bed shake and bang into the wall.”
We didn’t speak for a few minutes, our soft groans fueling each other’s passions. With only the sound of her excitement to go on, I had to imagine the sight, the smell, the feel, the taste. Even though it was only phone sex, it was the most excited I’d been in a long while.
“Ahh, Jim...two fingers now, Jim....so close, so good so wet,” Aimee babbled.
I could tell she was getting near orgasm, and mine was close as well. “So good, Aimee, so good....I’m about to come in your hot little pussy.”
“Yes, Jim....fuck me good, fuck me fuck me oohhhhh fuck meee,” Aimee said, gasping nonsense syllables into the phone. I knew she was coming, and that fueled my own orgasm, my balls tightening.
“Yes, Aimee, yes!” I said, thrusting my hips off my chair and my cock through my clenched fist. I moaned as my cock pulsed, splashing my hot semen onto my stomach and chest. “Oh oh oh,” I said, my cock still pulsing in my hand with aftershocks.
Over the phone I heard Aimee’s breathing start to slow down, and mine did as well. “Aimee, that was...amazing.”
“Oh my god....Jim, it was. I’ve got to – I’ve got to go clean up,” she said suddenly.
“Okay,” I said. “I should get home. But Aimee...” I hesitated, not sure what to say. “Thank you,” I said, finally, annoyed that I couldn’t think of anything better to say.
“It was my pleasure, Jim,” she said. “Holy shit was it my pleasure.”
I laughed, some of the nervous tension broken. “Mine too,” I said.
She returned my laugh. “And I really will wash and return your shirt, I promise, Jim.”
“No,” I said. “I want you to keep it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mm hmm. I like the idea of you having it.”
“But won’t Beth notice?”
“Nah. I have a million college t-shirts. Besides, I put my own laundry away. She never goes into my drawers.”
“That’s a shame, Jim. I’d love to go through your drawers,” Aimee said.
I blushed. “Talk to you next week,” I said, not sure how else to respond.
“Definitely. Bye, big Jim.”
After cleaning up in the bathroom at work, I headed for home. On the drive, I thought about what had just happened. I’d never cheated on Beth before – had I just done so? Did phone sex count as cheating?
I thought back to a line I’d heard in a movie, years ago. “If you don’t want to tell your wife about it, it’s cheating.” I frowned as I realized the wisdom of that statement.
After half an hour of alternately feeling guilty and feeling aroused over what had happened, I pulled into our driveway. I knew I wasn’t going to tell Beth about it. But I also knew that I wasn’t sorry it had happened. Aimee made me feel alive, made me feel things I hadn’t felt for years.
And, I knew if the chance for phone sex – or even something more – came up again, I’d have a hard time saying no.
I walked up to our front door, trying to keep a guilty look off my face. “Honey, I’m home,” I called out genially as I swung the door open.
I must have done a fairly good job of looking normal all weekend, because Beth never seemed to suspect anything had happened. I made it safely through a mundane weekend of chores and errands, and Monday afternoon found me sitting at my desk, reviewing the final drafts for a new bridge up in Carroll County.
Late in the day, my cell phone rang. I glanced at the Caller ID display, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw “AIMEE” printed there in block letters.
I answered the phone. “Hi Aimee.”
“Hey big Jim,” she whispered sexily. “What are you wearing?”
I laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know! Where are my boys?”
“Down for a nap. They didn’t sleep at school today, I guess.”
“Ah, okay. They can be cranky when they get overtired.”
“They weren’t too bad today.” Over the phone, I could hear Aimee take a deep breath. “Listen, Jim, I wanted to talk to you about what happened on Friday.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” I said. “I think that – ”
“Shit, Beth just pulled in the driveway,” Aimee interrupted me.
“Really? She’s early,” I said, glancing at my watch. It was only 4:00.
“I know. Listen, Jim, I gotta go. Just be sure to look in your drawers today, okay?” Aimee said, giggling nervously.
“What – why?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise,” she said. “Third drawer, under your t-shirts. Now you’ll have something of mine. Bye.”
The phone clicked off. I shut down my computer and raced for home.
Aimee was gone, of course, when I got there. Beth was in the kitchen, washing lettuce for a salad. The boys were up and watching TV in the living room.
“I’m going upstairs to change,” I said, greeting Beth with a quick peck on the cheek. I took the stairs two at a time, and hurried breathlessly into our bedroom. I opened my t-shirt drawer and pushed my hand in there.
I pushed my undershirts aside, my fingers pushing over layers and layers of cotton. Finally, like finding a needle in a haystack, my fingertips crossed over something different – something silky!
I closed my hand around the silky garment and slowly drew it out from the bottom of my drawer. I gasped when I saw what was clenched in my hand. It was a pair of black silk panties, bikinis, with a lace-trimmed panel in the front.
I was powerless to stop my hand as I brought Aimee’s underwear to my face. Breathing deeply, my cock throbbed as I inhaled the scent of her. Her musk was pungent and evident on the flimsy garment, and the fabric seemed damp.
Had she masturbated in these before leaving them in my dresser? My cock swelled to full erection as soon as the thought entered my mind. Quickly, I stripped out of my shirt and pants. Standing only in my boxers, I leaned my head out the bedroom doorway.
“Beth?” I called down the stairs. “I’m going to take a quick shower before dinner.”
“Okay,” Beth replied.
I stripped my boxers down and off my legs. Standing in front of my closet, listening for anyone to come up the stairs, I wrapped Aimee’s panties around my dick and started stroking. The slick material moved easily over my shaft, damp with a combination Aimee’s – and now my – fluids. I knew I didn’t have much time.
Faster and faster I stroked my cock, thinking of Aimee masturbating in this very house, maybe in this very room, a short time ago. Had she been wearing a skirt, and reached her hands underneath to play with herself? Or had she stripped off her jeans, chancing that the boys wouldn’t wake up and find her?
The black panties slipped up and down my cock, the silk tickling my balls with each stroke. I could smell her musk in the air now. I felt my orgasm racing up my shaft, and I clenched my teeth to suppress a groan as I climaxed. I shot four, five, six wads of sticky semen into Aimee’s panties, which I’d wrapped over the head of my cock.
I leaned heavily against the wall for a moment, my heart pounding. When I could move again, I tucked the sticky garment back into the bottom of my drawer and hurried into the shower to wash off the remaining evidence.
After showering and dressing, I picked my discarded clothes up off the floor. As I retrieved my cell phone from my pocket, I had an idea. I had no idea whether Aimee’s phone had text messaging capabilities, but I figured it did. The younger engineers and interns in our office were always “texting” each other.
Once I found the text message option buried in the menus of my phone, I composed a quick message and sent it to Aimee’s number.
“LOVED YOUR GIFT. JUST USED IT....BUSINESS TRIP NEXT WEEK. CALL ME TOMORROW @ WORK.”
Once the message was confirmed as sent, I erased it from my outgoing messages folder, and turned my phone completely off. Better safe than sorry, I thought, as I hurried downstairs to join my family for dinner.

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