My mind is running through all the questions that have piled up over the last day. Somehow, I pulled myself away from the computer long enough to accomplish my morning duties and get the kids off to school. Now, with the next few hours free, I find myself once again sitting in front of the computer. I opened the story, expecting to find more words to drive me wild, but instead find that he hasn't updated anything more. I then switch gears to decide whether or not I will write something back.
I already did a little research online to find out how his computer linking program works. There is a folder on his desktop labeled "Sync." Inside, there are multiple folders, one of which is labeled "stories." That is where the story was saved. It is the only story there, and I wonder how many he was planning on writing. My plan, if I decide to go through with it, is to write my own story, and save it to this folder so that he will see it the next time he opens it. I haven't been able to figure out what the story would entail, only that it really needs to catch his attention if I hope to get a response. I think of different ways I can write it, knowing it won't be as good of a story as he wrote. As I ponder different scenarios, I find myself getting turned on again.
My cell phone vibrates and brings me back to reality. I glance at it, and my heart skips a beat to see that it's him texting me, asking how things went last night and this morning. Now is my chance to tell him I found the story and try to get a feel for his reaction. I type "Uneventful night....until I found an interesting story on your computer. Then it was a GREAT night." I don't click send, I just sit there and stare at the words until I get too nervous and replace them with "Good...fell asleep early. Kids are good." I hit send and immediately regret not being more assertive. He sends another text thanking me again and saying he'll call tonight to touch base.
I know now that I must send him the best story I can possibly write. Quickly, my fingers fly over the keys and the words materialize on the screen before me. My heart races as the story comes together.
A Gift from the Nanny
The night is getting late and I hurry to finish my preparations for my boss before he gets home from work. The kids have long since fallen asleep. I finally finish arranging things in the bedroom and light the candles before changing into the special outfit I bought just for him. As I'm putting my other clothes away, I hear the garage door open and know that he's home. The time has come; the moment I have been waiting for ever since I made the decision to stop being with him only in my fantasies. I have been dreaming of him for years now, imagining how he would take me in his arms and ravish me. Many a night when he's working late, I end up on his bed touching myself. I masturbate almost every night I spend at his house and picture him every time I do it.
I hear the front door open and hear him take his shoes off and throw his jacket and briefcase over a chair. I am ready for him, waiting for what seems like hours for him to come upstairs and find me. I hear both doors open down the hall as he checks on the kids. My pulse quickens as I know any minute he'll walk into his room and all my cards will be on the table. I stand in the bathroom, watching through a crack in the door as he walks up and stands in the doorway, shocked. He's still trying to process the odd scene as I walk out of the bathroom and lean against the dresser. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open as he stares at me, taking it all in.
I stand before him and feel goose bumps run across my body. His eyes slowly move up my body, starting at my feet. I'm wearing black fishnet stockings that sharply contrast my light complexion. Further up my leg, he sees the bright pink garget belt and then the matching pleated mini skirt. The skirt is a lacey one that I bought after I couldn't find one short enough for this mission. I altered it to make it shorter, so short it allows my panties to be seen from the back -- If I wear them. Tonight however, I chose not to.
He doesn't seem to move at all as he continues to take me in with his eyes. My arms are covered in fishnet sleeves that match my stockings. A lacey, pink push-up bra struggles to contain my breasts as they rise and fall with my quickened breathing. Around my neck is the necklace he bought for me last Christmas, the ruby sparkling in the candle light. Finally, he brings his eyes to mine. I have on dark eye-liner and a lipstick that matches the rest of my pink ensemble. My hair is up in a slightly spikey style; a way he has told me on multiple occasions that he likes.
He tears his eyes away from me as he looks and sees the two dozen candles lit around the room and the bottle of champagne next to the chocolate dipped strawberries on the bed. I move to the bed and pour two glasses while I watch him stand frozen in the doorway. "Come over her and sit down, Mr. Wright" I say as seductively as I can manage. I feel like my voice cracked a little in my nervousness, and hope he didn't notice. He moves toward the bed and takes a glass from my hand.
"You did all this for me?" he asks.
"Of course, Mr. Wright. I wanted to show you how special I think you are." I answer. Usually he complains when I call him Mr. Wright and not John, but tonight I think it's adding to the fantasy. "And I wanted to give myself to you in ways I have envisioned for a long time." I push his glass to his lips and he tips it back to take a drink as I mimic his movements. As he lowers his glass, I take a strawberry and feed it to him. He bites tentatively at first, but then allows himself the sweet fruit. As I feed him the first one, I take a second one and lower it below my skirt.
When I raise it to his mouth, I can see a shimmering wetness on it. He hesitates this time, so I lean in and kiss him full on the lips. He doesn't fight it at all. In fact, his tongue enters my mouth before mine has a chance to enter his. I pull away after our passionate kiss and once again offer him the strawberry that was between my sweet lips moments ago. With the first taste of my juices on the strawberry, he transforms into a different man. He devours the fruit and licks his lips as I rub another one up and down the length of my very wet pussy.
He slides his hand under my skirt and takes the strawberry from my hand, continuing to rub it up and down, coaxing my lips further apart as the chocolate begins to melt against my heat. Finally, he removes the strawberry and raises it to my lips instead of his. I seductively lick it with just the tip of my tongue; then take a bite. He comes in closer, and takes a bite out of the other side, tasting my sweet pussy juice.
Watching each other eat, I can feel the heat rising between us. I remove the rest of the strawberries and the champagne from the bed, too impatient to finish either one.
