The sound of the lawn mower woke me up, and the sunlight illuminating my blinds. I stretched and ran my fingers through my hair. It was a Saturday and I was waking up in my own bed, in my own apartment, on my own schedule. I was twenty years old and this was really my first taste of freedom.
Since graduating high school two years ago I'd been living at home while I took classes at the local community college. I was trying to save some money and figure out what I wanted to do with my life, I guess. Some people just know, but for me it had taken a little while to figure out.
What I was doing now, though, was my first big step. I had enrolled for the fall at the state university (as a sophomore thanks to the classes I'd taken). I was going to major in early childhood development. I had a job as a part-time nanny that provided me with a studio apartment attached to a rambling old Victorian house in exchange for two nights and of childcare and some afterschool hours each week. I was going to be taking care of a couple of great kids and have plenty of time and space to do my own things, as well. I couldn't have been happier.
I had kind of fallen into the job. One of my C.C. teachers had encouraged me to go to university and had hooked me up with her friend, Bill, my new boss and landlord. She said Bill needed a hand with his kids and I could consider it as a sort of experiment or internship in child development.
I had been nervous about meeting Bill and the kids, but I shouldn't have worried. The boys were great, five and seven, energetic, bright and funny. Bill couldn't have been more welcoming. He was a bit shy discussing his situation, but basically he and his wife were separated and divorcing. He was a writer and taught a few classes, she was some sort of minor corporate VP. I guess she had bigger plans than having a house in the suburbs and a moderately successful spouse taking care of her home and kids. She left, Bill stayed and I got a job as a nanny.
I got up and walked barefoot to the little kitchenette. It was warm so my running shorts and cami were comfortable. I made coffee and caught a glimpse at myself in the full-length mirror on the hallway wall. My tan was coming along nicely, I thought. I've always had great skin and the sun had lightened by brown hair a bit, too. I pouted at myself and stood up as tall as my 5'4" frame would allow. Without make-up, a bra or heels I think most guys would describe me as "naturally pretty". I'd been told I was cute in a girl-next-door way. If I was being honest, my best assets were my breasts and hips. C-cups boobs on my frame looked pretty darn impressive and my nipples always seemed ready to poke out, whether it was chilly or not. My hips were a little wider than I liked, but my ex-boyfriend said they were a perfect fit for him. In the mirror I cupped my breasts and ran my hands over my boobs. Hard nipples instantly; they were hard-wired to my belly and I immediately felt warm and fluttery.
I thought for a second about going back to bed and pulling up a video on my laptop, but I had too much to do. While the coffee brewed I showered, trimmed my bikini line because I was going to the lake with Bill and the boys today, and got dressed. I wasn't sure what to expect so I wore a pair of khaki cut-offs and a t-shirt, with a simple cotton bra and panty set. I packed a bag with my suit and towel and headed downstairs to meet the men of the house.
The lake was about a 30-minute drive from the house, so I chatted with Bill and the boys a bit. Bill was nice. He was about 40 years old, fit in the way of an ex-athlete (he told me he'd been a high school wrestler, but hadn't competed in college) and funny. He'd already mowed the lawn that morning and he had that kind of outdoorsy tan that comes from actually working in the sun. Between his sense of humor, obvious love of his boys and his startling blue eyes I was enchanted. I'd always had a thing for older guys and, not that I'd doing anything to jeopardize my job, Bill could easily make his way into my nightly fantasy sessions.
