At the end of second year of college, I got a job as an in-home therapist for kids with developmental issues. It was perfect for my child psychology major. One of my clients was a small family with the cutest boy you could imagine. Part of my job was to play with him and teach him life's basics.
During my first week working with him, his dad came home during therapy. It was difficult to hide my attraction, but this being my job, I was able to stay professional. I found out he's only a few years older than me because he started a family before going back to get his college degree. He's got brown hair, green eyes, not overly muscular, tall, trim and very handsome. He also has a goatee with streaks of prematurely white hair in it. Let's just say I was a bit damp between the legs -- very awkward when working with children. He was always a gentleman, even the few times I accidentally flashed my panties by bending over a little too far.
One time his son accidentally hooked my top as he was climbing me. I was bent over and I'm almost positive dad saw all the way down my shirt to my pierced navel. Lots of girls have pierced belly buttons nowadays, but my mind went wild thinking dad had slutty thoughts about me, wondering where else I might have body art. I was scared he might get me fired for indecency, but at the same time I came hard that night dreaming he was thinking of me while drilling his wife.
It was a shame I could never act on my feelings. I loved my job too much. I also respected the wife too much. After all, the last thing she needed after raising a special needs child was a two-timing bitch wrecking her marriage. So, I was resigned to petting the kitty until I got a boyfriend to distract me. Nonetheless, I held a special place in my fantasies for "sweetheart daddy" as I secretly called him. I dreamt about his facial hair tickling my sun-kissed thighs, tongue buried deep in my snatch. I rubbed myself raw to this naughty image more than a few times in those days.
After a while, the boy aged out of the program, so I lost contact with that family for a few years. I had gotten my first serious boyfriend, but had to move on because he was getting a roving eye if you know what I mean. Good riddance to that bastard anyway. His package wasn't all that big, but he had confidence. That made all the difference in the bedroom. He said he loved me then turned around and started screwing this bimbo a few units over. I did all kinds of nasty things in the bedroom I otherwise wouldn't dream of to show my love. We even did it with the windows open a few times. Like I said, his confidence got me to comply and after a while I realized I craved the degrading acts just to please him.
Now that was over, I had my life to figure out and hadn't been with enough guys to know other forms of love.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, so I'd gone to the park and was catching up on my reading when I got a text.
It was from the wife and read,
___________
"Hey Kimberly. It's Mrs Downing. Well Ms Lancaster now. Anyway David and I broke up. He's got no one else. Can you check on him?"
___________
I was stunned to say the least. Come to find out, they divorced because of differences in how to handle their son. She was worried because he had taken it pretty hard. He hadn't shown up to work in a few days and very few people thought to check up on him. She thought of me because I was a familiar face, but removed enough from the situation to feel like a genuine friend to him.
I responded with my acceptance of the mission. I hurried home, freshened up and was on my way in just over an hour.
He kept the house after the divorce, so finding him was no problem. Instead of the family car, I pulled up to find a sports car in the driveway. 'That's different,' I thought.
I smoothed my peach-colored floral summer dress around me as I stepped out onto the pavement. My red hair, in a single braid as it had been for years, draped across one freckled shoulder and down my chest. At 5' 8", I'm pretty tall for a girl. My long legs are quite distracting, so I generally wear long skirts when working. I love how silky skirts feel on my silky legs. I'm not particularly fond of how small my B-cup breasts are, but they fit my slender frame. As a busty girlfriend once told me, "At least they won't sag so much when we're old!" They are quite perky and capped with long, round nipples, which were hardening at the thought of the handsome older gentleman waiting through these doors.
My nose is rather prominent, more than I would like, but at least it helps me breathe when giving oral. So maybe I can't do much with my tits, but I can make up for it with a deep blow- or rimjob. Yet another thing my boyfriend made me do. After I got used to the taste, I could make him blow his wad with just my tongue.
There was a nostalgic dampness building between my thighs that I dismissed as sweat from the ride over. But, honestly, being alone with this stud was getting me excited. Good thing my dress allowed my fiery bush-covered pussy to air out a bit!
'Kimmie,' I reminded myself, 'you're here to help this man, who's possibly depressed, possibly suicidal. Don't make this about you!'
I rapped on the door, probably too meekly to be heard. Nerves were getting the better of me.
No answer.
I knocked a bit louder.
Silence.
Now, normally I wouldn't do this, but this man could be a danger to himself in his unstable state, so I attempted the doorknob. It popped right open and its own weight creaked it halfway open.
"Hello?" I called out as I slipped past and rested my 110-pound frame against the latching oak door. Still nothing.
'Maybe he's not home,' I thought.
Considering my options, to venture further into someone else's home or give up and leave, I couldn't bear the thought of being this close to helping this poor man but leaving him to wallow or worse.
With renewed determination, I puffed my chest and pushed on. I felt a jolt in my nipples when they rubbed the padding of my bra which made me realize they were noticeably rock hard. Guess it had been a while since I had a man. I pushed my horniness down to focus on the task at hand.
As I rounded the corner into the next room, all was quiet and dark. Calling his name, I came to the master bedroom. What I saw was shocking, but given the circumstances, I had to play it cool.
"Sweetheart Daddy" was lying naked on the bed. He was passed out in a landscape littered with beer bottles. He had not shaved for at least a week. One arm rested on his belly with one leg tucked underneath in a figure-four. There he was in all his circumcised glory. His man-meat hanging and curving left over his heaving ballsack. He wasn't particularly hairy for a guy. I dreamed of seeing him naked, but seeing him this way also broke my heart.
I turned to leave the room to consider how to handle the situation when I heard him call out. Without turning, I responded, "Hi. I came to check on you..."
He was groggy and apologized for his condition, but also didn't cover up. I spun and looked him dead in the eyes. "You have nothing to apologize for."
He chuckled. "Oh, Kimmy. That's what I love about you. Always positive and encouraging. Even when you find a man alone with nothing left to lose."
He seemed to remember his modesty when he recapped the situation aloud. He looked around for anything to cover himself.
Before he could, I placed my hands on either side of him at the foot of the bed. His eyes darted to my cleavage. "Don't bother. I've already seen it. Besides, this is your house. I should be apologizing for intruding."
"I should get dressed," he stammered.
"You know what?" I asked.
He looked at me dumbfounded.
"Let me cheer you up."
"Just go. I'm not worth the time. My wife, er, ex-wife doesn't like how I raise my children. My job is going nowhere. I'm going to shit. I'm a failure and I don't want to do this anymore," he confessed. "Thank you, but I'm right where I deserve."