Perving on the Pretty Nanny

Ass

INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER – When David and Christina, a well off couple from Adelaide South Australia respectively a doctor and a journalist hire a live-in nanny for their two young children, they choose Monica, a very pretty and professional 20-year-old brunette for the role.

Unfortunately, David soon develops a secret perverted interest in the young babysitter, and this turns to obsession as he engages in no end of voyeurism with Monica in her most private moments. Most of all he fantasizes about Monica’s sex life with her boyfriend Josh, but reasons that he will never see the things he really wants to see and they will forever remain fantasy. Or will he? Read ‘Perving on the Pretty Nanny’ to see if the deviated doctor’s dreams come true!

Please note this story contains scenes involving the voyeurism of a young woman when she is using the toilet and having her period, so if these themes offend you it may not be for you. Otherwise, please enjoy reading about the adventures of this not-so-good doctor and the object of his voyeurism, and be sure to rate and comment. All characters and events are fictional, with similarity to real persons living or dead coincidental.

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Every time I found myself perving on Monica, my conscience would reprimand me and I would promise myself that I would not do it again. But each time I made that promise I knew that the next time Monica appeared or she was in some situation where she needed her privacy, I would be right back to my old tricks and back to square one. Was there a 12 step program similar to AA for perverts to mend their ways and stop engaging in voyeurism with young girls? If there was, then I probably should be participating in it.

At the start of last year 2013, I wasn’t a pervert at all. I was a doctor — a cardiologist — married to my beautiful wife Christina, a journalist a year younger who was an anchor for the evening news in South Australia. We lived in a large beautiful house in Adelaide’s southern coastal suburbs, near the stunning beaches with the big Norfolk Island Pines, white sands and dark blue Southern Ocean, and we were parents to our daughter Ella then aged 3, and our son Tommy, then aged 18 months. I was a respectable family man and physician who would always do the right thing. So what had gone wrong for me a year later by the autumn of 2014?

I still had all of these things — I was a happily married with a beautiful famous wife and two wonderful kids, the great house, nice cars, plenty of money and I was liked and respected both as a doctor and in the community — and apart from me only my conscience knew what I was really like, and that given my behavior I didn’t deserve any of it. So what had changed? In one word, Monica.

The reason for bringing Monica into our house and lives was a professional one, it wasn’t like I had deliberately invited a young girl into our house for the sole reason of perving on her. In fact, hiring her wasn’t even my idea in the first place. With two young children, a big house and busy careers it was getting hard to manage everything. Childcare didn’t seem to agree with Ella and Tommy was fretful too, seeming to pick up on his older sister’s anxiety. Both Christina’s brother and sister and their respective spouses and my sister and her husband all had two kids each — like us a boy and a girl — but we didn’t want to impose on them by dropping our kids off to play with their cousins each day. Nor did we want to outstay our welcomes for grandparental babysitting with Christina’s parents or my parents.

So when wife came to me one Saturday and said, “David, I’ve been thinking, how about we hire a nanny for the children?” my response was, “What a great idea Christina.”

We certainly had room for a live-in nanny, and as a TV newsreader and a doctor we both earned really good money, and with neither of the kids adjusting well in child care, it seemed the ideal solution. An employment agency arranged several interviews and while Monica was the youngest and least experienced of the candidates, we thought personality-wise she was best for our household so she was hired in the position of nanny for the Atkins family.

Monica’s good looks and fine figure — such a pretty girl with her long dark brown hair and big blue eyes stood a petite five feet tall with bare feet and had the build of a willow branch — might well have biased my opinion in her favor I cannot lie, but she was easily Christina’s first choice too. And even if she had been a dumpy girl plain in looks, Monica would still have gotten the position due to personality and positive attitude in the interview.

So Monica Wilson had moved into the Atkins house to be the live-in nanny to our children and she proved to be a great addition to the family. My wife and the kids absolutely loved her, as did I. And I had turned into one of South Australia’s greatest perverts thanks to my obsessive voyeurism of the young girl.

My perving on the nanny had started off slowly, rather benignly. The skinny Monica was hardly what one would call a well-endowed Anadolu Yakası Escort young lady, her breasts struggling to fill her A-cup bras, but I would notice the slight swellings on her chest through her tee-shirt. I would glance at the shape of her cute little bum through her jeans, shorts or leggings. Always having a bit of a foot fetish, I would feel very happy seeing young Monica with bare feet. I would admire her exceptionally pretty face and her feminine beauty unblemished by tattoos or piercings aside from her ears.

It was all pretty normal. Monica was a nice looking young woman, I was a normal heterosexual man who noticed her. What guy wouldn’t in my position? I wasn’t going out of my way to perve on her, didn’t want to have an affair with her and had it stayed that way, it wouldn’t have been so bad. However, things stepped up when I developed an interest in Monica’s underwear, an interest that would quickly progress to fixation and then to obsession.

This started when we took a trip to Glenelg Beach, and I got to see Monica in a bikini. The young woman looked so hot and I thought she would look even hotter in her bra and her panties. Seeing Monica in her bikini and mental images of her in her underwear had an unfortunate effect on me, and I had to sit down on a bench near the Glenelg Pier in a big hurry.

It was the same in Colley Reserve a few hours later when a gust of sea breeze blew up Monica’s short loose skirt to show her bikini bottoms, I had to duck behind one of the large Norfolk Island Pines. And on the tram ride later I felt my erection growing both from the vibration of the tram and seeing Monica’s pristine young feet in flip-flop shoes.

My fixation with Monica’s underwear was also noticeable at home. I would perve on her bras and her panties when she pegged them on the line on washing day. When alone in the house I would sneak into the young nanny’s bedroom and open her underwear drawer, admiring her bras and panties in there waiting their turn to be worn by Monica. Lucky bras and panties.

Monica wore such pretty panties, standard cotton bikini-briefs which I found sexier than lingerie. Some of Monica’s knickers were plain white and others pastel colors — pink, blue, lemon, green, orange, purple and apricot. Others were white with pretty flowers of different colors, while some of the nanny’s knickers had patterns like stars and polka dots. Really cute were Monica’s knickers that had cartoon animals on them, like frogs, cats, rabbits, mice, birds, dolphins, teddy bears, ponies and unicorns.

I also got to enjoy up-skirting Monica on quite a few occasions. Our house had a mezzanine floor around the living room, so if I timed it right and Monica was wearing a short skirt, I could position myself where I could see Monica’s nice legs and her pretty panties as she ascended or descended. Other times an opportunity would present itself out in public. One day during a trip to Rundle Mall in the city to show the kids the pig statues, the ‘Malls Balls’ spheres and the historic arcades Tommy dropped his bottle of juice, Monica squatting down to pick it up and allowing me a glimpse up her skirt at the white floral cotton panties that covered her crotch.

Up-skirting my kids’ nanny, looking at Monica’s bras and knickers on the washing line and in the drawer where she kept her undies was bad enough, but soon I was not so much stepping over the line with her privacy but leaping right over it. At every opportunity I would go into Monica’s dirty clothes hamper, extricate her underwear and sniff her panties.

I would admire the creamy colored girly stains the nanny left on the double cotton saddles of her knickers, caused by her vagina self-cleansing or maybe her getting a little too excited. I would lift the panties to my nose and sniff them, absorbing all of young Monica’s musty feminine smells into my nostrils. I would touch and caress the cotton and think about how they covered Monica’s bum and her pussy. Not only would I sniff Monica’s pussy stains when sniffing her pants, I would then sniff the back panel, thinking about the panties going between the cheeks of Monica’s bottom and making contact with her anus.

Whenever Monica took a shower I would loiter outside her bathroom, listening to the young girl under the water and thinking about her in a state of complete nudity and washing the most private areas of her youthful body. It was the same whenever she took a bath, I would think about her in the tub completely naked under the suds and bubbles.

Obviously one thing I did not know about Monica was whether or not she shaved her pubic hair or not. So therefore in some of my fantasies she sported a full bush, in others she removed the hair from her vagina but had hair on her feminine mound, and in others she removed all her pubes and was completely bald down there.

Fantasizing about Monica undressing, showering or bathing in the bathroom was bad enough, but I went much further than that, and this was what I was doing this morning. It was very early, Christina and the kids were sound asleep and it was only Monica and I up.

Earlier, I had seen her in the kitchen getting a drink, and Monica was barefoot with a tee-shirt over panties, white panties that I had briefly seen when the young girl adjusted her nightwear, so I knew what she was wearing at this moment. And what she was doing at the moment was sitting on the toilet.

In just a year I had gone from a guy who thought that toilets were — well just toilets — to a guy who got his rocks off over a girl young enough to be his daughter whenever she went to the loo. I loitered outside Monica’s bathroom, listening as the splashing tinkling sound of Monica peeing into the toilet was audible

My erection grew as I listened to Monica having her piss, imagining the yellow liquid flowing out of her urethra and into the toilet water. The sound of her urinating drove me wild, and even when she stopped peeing and I heard her unwinding toilet paper from the roll to wipe the residual piss from her wet pussy my hard on was still throbbing.

The sound of young Monica taking a tinkle into her toilet was great, but other sounds of Monica using the loo also turned me on. The sounds of her closing and locking her bathroom door. Monica turning on the light. Of her putting down the toilet seat to sit on. Or changing the toilet roll. Monica flushing the toilet when she was done. The young girl spraying toilet freshener around after she’d had a poo to get rid of the smells from her bowels. Monica washing her hands. And of course I just loved to hear Monica poop. It had to be quiet and I had to listen intently to hear it, but sometimes I could hear the nanny taking a shit, and I hoped this would be the case this morning as Monica clearly remained sitting on the toilet after her pee.

I listened with my fingers crossed, and was rewarded when a few seconds later I heard a series of ‘plop, plop, plop’ noises in Monica’s toilet as she moved her bowels, her poo splashing into the toilet water. I heard Monica unwinding toilet paper from the roll, and imagined her sitting barefoot on the toilet, her tee-shirt hitched up and her knickers around her ankles. When the young girl had first gone into her bathroom I had imagined her pulling down her knickers before sitting down to use the loo.

Monica unwound a second length of toilet tissue and I thought about Monica’s toilet paper getting covered in her shit as she wiped her bottom, removing all the residual poo from her anus and buttocks. Soon, I heard evidence that Monica was far from finished on the toilet. I was enraptured as I heard Monica breaking wind on the toilet — again 12 months ago I never thought I would be turned on by hearing a woman farting into the toilet, even one as pretty as Monica — then came more sounds of her moving her bowels, her excrement splashing into the toilet with feces she had already passed.

Again Monica wiped her bottom twice in succession, then came a series of intermittent plopping sounds in the toilet for the next two minutes or so, before young Monica did a big fart that seemed to indicate she was finished. The young girl then advanced the toilet roll five times in a row and with a throbbing erection I imagined her wiping her bottom, her shit getting smeared all over the nice soft white super-absorbent toilet paper.

Monica flushed the toilet and as the sound of the cistern refilling was audible. I imagined her pulling up her knickers after standing up off the toilet, and adjusting her panties around her pussy and her ass. The young girl sprayed toilet freshener around liberally after her shit, and I fantasized about the way her poo smelled. One time Monica had used the main toilet and had been in a bit of a hurry to check the kids so had forgotten to spray any toilet freshener around when she finished, flushed and washed her hands. I had gone in there and despite being dismayed that I was turned on by the smell of feces, I stood there getting more and more turned on my the smell of Monica’s girl poo that had just come out of her rectum.

The sound of Monica washing her hands was audible and I retreated to my study not wanting to risk the young girl coming out of her bathroom and catching me in her bedroom after listening to her pooing on the toilet. My erection was throbbing as I sat down at my desk, pondering my perversions.

When I thought about how young Monica was, it sometimes made me feel guilty and other times even more turned on. Monica was born on Sunday 22 August 1993, and by chance I remembered what I had done that very day. I was in the first year of a long medical degree at university, and had worked the breakfast shift at a café where I had a part time job, worked on a group assignment with some other students around the middle of the day, and we had watched the football on television afterwards. I’m not sure what Christina would have done that day, she would have been in Year 12 and was probably studying or at her fast food job asking customers if she would like fries with their order.

While I perved on Monica during the most private parts of her day, there was one factor that made everything hotter. It wasn’t a factor this week, but it was last week, and this was when Monica had her period. I knew so much about Monica’s menstrual cycle it was like I was her gynecologist, or gone on a television cycle where Monica’s periods were my special subject.

Despite being dismayed about getting turned on by menstruation when I hadn’t before and guilty as Monica had period problems like menstrual cramps, I found it hotter that week when the young girl was on her period. Monica did seem to be more of a pads girl rather than tampons, but she had both types of feminine hygiene products in her underwear drawer and I would look at both when I snuck into her bedroom to perve on her knickers.

I would imagine Monica pulling down her knickers, pressing a new panty pad into her panty saddle and adhering it in place, wrapping the wings around to keep it nice and secure, then pulling up her panties and adjusting the napkin so it was comfortable around her pussy and in the right position for Monica to bleed into. I would think about Monica pulling her bloodied tampon out of her vagina by its string, then unwrapping and inserting a new tampon up her pussy to replace it.

Whenever Monica went to the toilet during her time of the month — and I noticed that she went more often, took longer and used more toilet paper when she was on her period — I thought about Monica’s bloody pad attached to her knickers down around her ankles. I got my rocks off thinking about how substances of three different colors were coming out of the three openings between Monica’s legs — yellow urine from her urethra, red menstrual blood from her vagina and brown poo from her anus — and going into the toilet. My mind’s eye took me into Monica’s bathroom, and taking a peek into the toilet after she stood up and seeing the toilet full of her menstrual blood and her other bodily functions just before she flushed it. I would listen to her advancing the toilet roll, and think about menstruating Monica’s toilet paper getting covered in her period blood when she wiped her pussy and her arse.

My voyeurism did not stop there, and when alone during Monica’s time of the month I would be emulating the Australian White Ibis doing some dumpster diving into our wheelie bin. But while ibises go through bins to look for food, I would be going through our trash to look for Monica’s used pads and tampons. With shaking hands and a throbbing erection I would extricate the sanitary bags and remove the dirty pads and tampons within.

For such a skinny girl, young Monica certainly seemed to have a heavy flow and her pads would be filled with blood and her tampons well and truly saturated to a massive size by her red menses. I would sniff Monica’s tampons and period pads, loving the scarlet stains and the feminine smells of menstruation between Monica’s legs. The way Monica’s used panty pads and tampons smelled — a combination of slightly off tuna fish and ammonia — should have turned me off, but it had the opposite effect and I would sniff her bloodstains on the white stay-dry cover of her period pads and dirty tampons more intently, the fishy, musty and feminine fragrances going up my nose.

I would get off looking at other feminine wastes, like the wet wipes Monica would use to wash her pussy for each pad or tampon change. I would even get turned on by the plastic packets that encased Monica’s period pads, and the peel back strip from the pad’s underside and the wing tabs. This was even weirder about me thinking about Monica’s uterus shedding its lining every 28 days, and the blood flowing down her birth canal out her vagina and into her napkins.

One day last week Monica had a menstrual mishap, I think she must have bled through her pad and a pair of her panties got stained with her menses. My erection grew as I looked at the bucket of cold water in which the nanny was soaking her blood-stained knickers and I wished I could photograph this, but of course I could not, what if I got caught?

That it was Monica’s cartoon bear knickers that she accidentally stained was kind of ironic, as it was said that bears were attracted to the scent of menstruating women and some unfortunate girls in America had apparently been attacked by bears when they were on their periods. Sharks apparently were attracted to girls when it was their time of the month too. I just hoped that Monica’s tampon was nice and secure if she took a swim in the Gulf of St Vincent during her ladies’ time, in case she attracted the attention of a shark that called the Southern Ocean home!

Again, I felt my conscience nagging at me as I thought about Monica’s periods. That she had menstrual cramps, had hormone imbalances and problems with her bowels during her periods made me feel guilty about perving on her but still I could not help it. One evening when Monica was menstruating she had really bad period cramps and diarrhea, plus was a bit weepy, so Christina gave her the evening off nanny duties and took care of the kids herself, allowing Monica to lie down in her room with a hot water bottle on her tummy.

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