Perving on the Pretty Nanny

During a conversation between my wife and our nanny that I had been eavesdropping upon, I learned that Monica had gotten her first period on Saturday, 10 September 2005, a few weeks after her 12th birthday. Again, I remarkably remembered exactly what Christina and I had been doing that day. We were on a holiday to the Gold Coast and Brisbane, and enjoying the warm Queensland sunshine at one of the theme parks in the region. Young Monica was presumably having much less fun back home in Adelaide. It made me feel bad about getting my rocks off over the menstrual cycle of a young woman whose menarche lay less than a decade in the past, but I could not help it.

Today was a different day. Monica had the day off, and Christina was taking the kids shopping for new clothes along with her sister and her own kids, before going to the network later in the day to read the evening news. I was going to work in the morning and had the afternoon off, but had to drop my car in for a wheel alignment. It was entirely my own fault, I had up-skirted Monica on the stairs that morning and so distracted by the young girl's pretty pink panties that I had backed into a kerb. The afternoon I had off, and was going to come back and do some things at the house.

The kids did not seem very happy about the plans for the day. Tommy, who looked like me with brown hair and brown eyes was a bit young to protest, but Ella, who looked like Christina with blonde hair and blue eyes was making her feelings known.

"I don't want to go shopping, it's boring," our daughter protested. "I want to go to the zoo with Monica, or go and watch planes like the other day."

Monica had grown up in the West Torrens area of Adelaide, between the city and the sea. Adelaide Airport was located not far away, so lots of planes flew overhead. Monica and her younger brother Corey while growing up had spent much of their spare time in the garden of their parents' house looking at planes or helicopters flying in to land or taking off, and had become quite young experts on the subject. So much so that Corey who was in Year 12 was studying hard in high school with a view to becoming a pilot.

We had met Monica's parents and brother on several occasions -- notably younger brother Corey at 6 feet towered over his 5 foot petite big sister Monica -- and they were such a nice family. It was clear where the two kids got their good work ethics and nice personalities from. It made me feel really bad about perving on the daughter/sister during her most private moments on the toilet or having her period as well as sniffing her panties, but I could not help it.

I thought about my own daughter and hoped that in over a decade's time that a teenaged Ella would also hate shopping and not want to go out spending money, but somehow I doubted this would be the case and Christina and I would be trying in vain to rein in her spending habits with her friends. For the moment though, Ella was not in favor of going for a shopping trip with her mum, brother, aunt and cousins, and was sulking about it. Tommy had picked up on his older sister's disquiet and was also sulking, clearly thinking that today would be a miserable one.

"Ella, Monica's got the day off today," Christina explained. "But we'll have lots of fun shopping, I promise."

Ella looked like she was about to have visit to the dentist and crossed her arms in a display of petulance. "I want to go out with Monica instead."

Monica was in the kitchen getting some coffee, the young nanny looking so cute in a long-sleeved pink shirt, blue denim overalls and white sneakers, her hair tied back in a pony-tail giving her a pretty tomboy look. She smiled and spoke to Ella. "Hey Ella, I'd like to have fun with you and Tommy today, but Josh and I have to study. When your Mum goes out this afternoon I'll be back, and we'll have lots of fun then. Plus I think you and your Mum and brother will have lots of fun with your aunty and cousins out shopping, better than dumb old boring study."

"That's right, we'll have lots of fun today," Christina assured our daughter.

Ella's facial expression indicated that she did not believe the assertions of either her mother or her nanny, and she picked at her cereal and mumbled and grumbled under her breath, clearly mutinous, her brother emulating her displeasure. Better my wife than I taking two recalcitrant kids shopping!

Monica finished her coffee, washed her cup then went to leave. "I'll see you later Mrs. Atkins, Doctor Atkins. If you need me to do anything, please just call me on my phone."

"Thanks Monica, have a nice day," Christina and I said in unison.

Monica bade farewell to the kids and Ella's expression indicated that she thought her nanny taking a day off was betrayal of the worst kind. Monica made her way out of the house, and I heard her reversing her small hatchback car out of the driveway and drive away. Young Monica was certainly a busy girl, as well as her full time job as a live-in nanny she was studying at university part time, but she made it work so good were her dedication and work ethics.

Christina and I left for our respective days, Christina taking our reluctant children shopping in her car, me dropping my car into the shop to have its wheel alignment fixed, the bill for which would hopefully teach me a lesson about up-skirting young girls to look at their knickers.

This meant I had to catch a train into Adelaide to work, and it was a bit of a nice change not wrangling busy traffic on the busy Southern Expressway which led to the very scary South Road, a road that challenged even South Australia's best drivers.

It was a cool autumn day in Adelaide, cloudy with rain threatening. Like most of my fellow commuters I spent the journey to the city glued to my phone. What was I looking up? Was it papers about heart conditions written by surgeons more qualified and experienced than me? Was it other medical matters befitting of a medical practitioner? Was it cat videos on Youtube? No, no and no, it was Monica's social media pages as usual.

As everything else in Monica's life, everything on her social media was nice and wholesome. There were pictures of her with her brother and parents, and extended family like grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. She had pictures with her nice friends both male and female, and of course with her boyfriend Josh.

Standing six feet tall, handsome Josh towered over the petite Monica and his red hair contrasted from his brunette girlfriend. They had been together since the middle years of high school, apparently at an interschool sports carnival Monica struck up a conversation with a girl from a high school over in Woodville, she introduced Monica to her brother Josh and it was love at first sight for these teenage sweethearts.

Josh was a nice and responsible young man, he and Monica a good match. I looked at pictures of them with their friends and at tourist spots around Adelaide and in regional places, like Glenelg, Henley Beach, Port Adelaide with Monica and Josh holding hands in front of the lighthouse, at Mount Lofty with the city skyline behind them, walking along the River Torrens at twilight, on Kangaroo Island and down at Victor Harbor on the Fleurieu Peninsula among others. Some photos were clearly selfies, others taken by a third party.

I looked at the photos and as usual my dirty and deviated mind took me into places where I shouldn't be. This was observing Monica and Josh being intimate with each other. I imagined the young couple making out, Josh enjoying some foot play with Monica's bare feet, Josh putting his hand down Monica's pants to have a good rummage around inside her knickers, Josh smelling Monica's damp panties when they came down, Monica jerking off Josh, Monica going down on Josh to give him a head job and Josh returning the favor by doing some muff-diving on Monica and eating out her pussy, Josh fucking Monica in a variety of positions including missionary, cowgirl, doggy-style and Monica bent over a bed or item or furniture, her knickers round her ankles as Josh mounted and fucked her from behind. I fantasized about them showering together after their fuck, and sometime I even imagined them doing anal, Josh sticking his dick up Monica's arse and spraying his cum up her bum.

In my mind's eye I could see, hear and smell everything our nanny was doing with her boyfriend during coitus. I was obsessed with Monica's sex life, yet other times and in something of a paradox I would get turned on by Josh and Monica not having sex. Obviously wanting to appear professional in front of us in her job as a nanny and mindful that she was working with children, I had only seen Monica and Josh hold hands, embrace lightly or kiss on the cheek.

Maybe they were waiting until they got married to consummate their relationship? Perhaps Josh had never seen Monica in her bra and panties much less naked, and the only reasons Monica let her knickers down was to get undressed or when she needed to use the toilet? It was entirely possible that the only thing to go up Monica's vagina was a tampon. I had no idea of course about our nanny's sex life -- or no sex life -- with her boyfriend but the thought of Monica's vagina being virginal was a big turn on.

One thing about my fantasies over Monica was that apart from watching I was never a part of them. I never fantasized about having sex with Monica, the only person I wanted to have sex with was my beautiful wife Christina and I would never dream of cheating on her in a million years. I was only interested in watching Monica having sex with her boyfriend.

It was like my other voyeurism with her. I never thought about Monica dropping the panties she was wearing down to her knees and allowing me to smell the saddle. I never thought about Monica letting me watch her on the toilet, or my putting my hand between her legs to touch her up while she was using the loo. I never thought of Monica allowing me to change her pad or tampon for her while she was having her period, even though her menstrual cycle turned me on.

Yet I never did any of that weird voyeurism shit with Christina, not that she would allow it. But I never smelled Christina's used pads or tampons while she was on her period, I never listened to Christina when she was peeing and pooing on the toilet or getting toilet paper to wipe her bottom, I never sniffed Christina's worn knickers in the hamper. The only thing I was interested in with my wife was normal heterosexual sex between a husband and wife.

I had spent so much time looking at Monica's social media pages and fantasizing about her that the train trip had flown by, and we were close to the city, Adelaide's tall buildings in sight the largest of which -- the distinctive brown banking center that dominated the skyline at the western end of the city -- stood out in the gloomy skies from which the first drizzle was falling for the day.

Thinking about Monica so much meant I had a problem in the front of my pants when the train pulled in at Adelaide Central Station and I had to spend two minutes sitting there as the train emptied thinking about sad movies. My problem resolved, I had about half an hour to kill and took a walk along the River Torrens parklands dodging the drizzle, looking back at Adelaide's tall buildings and the convention center with its single Norfolk Island Pine in front of it, and at Adelaide Oval on the northern bank of the Torrens. A bat flew overhead, evidently it was late back to its roost after spending its night foraging for food.

On the way to the office I by chance saw a pretty petite girl with long brown hair aged in her late teens or early 20s who looked like a certain au pair, and I became so distracted that I nearly walked across King William Street and into the path of the Glenelg tram, which rang its bell urgently, me stepping back in a big hurry.

At the office I was a number of cardiologists, there were technicians to do heart tests on patients and there was a pool of personal assistants. My PA was a pretty redhead Irish girl named Siobhan, but despite Siobhan's attractiveness and nice figure, I was 100 percent professional with her. Why couldn't I be the same with my kids' nanny at home?

It was a weird morning seeing patients. First up was a 350 pound middle aged man Kevin, whose morbid obesity was a major reason he needed a heart doctor and had been my patient for some years. I sat amazed in my chair as a 50-year-old man sat opposite with a box of tissues shamelessly blubbering -- pun fully intended -- as he recounted a litany of disaster on a recent holiday, one week each in Melbourne, Sydney and the Gold Coast and Brisbane in Queensland.

Sobs racked his fat body as he recounted how in Melbourne, he had been fat shamed on a tram by a group of schoolgirls who giggled at him, took photos of him and made jokes about how they thought that the Hindenburg had blown up in 1937. Then up in Sydney he had gone to an all you can eat buffet at a restaurant, and a group of young men and women had joked that they had better eat fast, or they wouldn't be eating at all. Finally at a Gold Coast theme park Kevin had been refused admission to a ride because he was too fat to fit, and a group of teenagers waiting in the line had laughed at and taunted him as he took the walk of shame.

Next was a much younger man Toby, who was also morbidly obese and who had come to his appointment with his gay life partner, this guy as skinny as can be. They looked like a modern day version of Laurel and Hardy. Toby had taken a stress test earlier in the week, but it was hard to get any meaningful results as he had lasted less than a minute on the treadmill before collapsing in exhaustion, alarming for a young man aged just 22. Even fat crybaby Kevin more than double his age lasted longer on his recent stress test, as had an 88-year-old man with severe asthma as well as a heart condition.

My third patient was Karen, and she was not obese in fact she was skinny as a pine needle. The 54-year-old blonde with a hard facial expression and a pixie bob hairstyle had assured me that she had cut right down on her pack a day smoking habit, and just had the odd one now and then and anticipated quitting altogether soon. I didn't believe her claims. One she stank of cigarette smoke, obviously she had had one before arriving at the office. Two, she was fidgety and on edge, clearly craving nicotine and as a doctor I knew the signs of addiction to look for in patients. Three, she was in such a hurry to leave after paying Siobhan she nearly left her credit card behind. I looked out my office window and saw Karen rummaging through her bag, extricating her cigarettes and a lighter, before taking a deep drag, inhaling the smoke like her life depended on it.

Just before I finished for the morning I received an apologetic call from the car repair shop, saying that they had experienced delays this morning when a power cut had gone on for three hours and a couple of staff members had called in sick today, and would it be okay to collect the car around 5 pm? I assured them it was fine and there were no problems, then left the office and caught the train back to the southern suburbs, walking home and again dodging showers that fell from the overcast South Australian skies.

All the way home I told myself I would be working in my study updating some notes, but I didn't even believe myself. Instead I went into the empty house and straight to Monica's bedroom. She hadn't done laundry for a few days, so that meant there were panties aplenty to find in the young girl's dirty clothes hamper.

I extricated six pairs of Monica's knickers and then went into her closet, closing the door behind myself. The walk in wardrobes in our house had slats on the doors that enabled one to see outside when inside, but you could not be seen from the outside. I often hid in Monica's closet when sniffing her dirty knickers, fantasizing about hiding in here perving on Monica when she was undressing or completely nude, not that this was going to happen.

The au pair's panties I held were of different colors and design. There was a pure white pair, a pure pink pair, a white pair with blue flowers, her white panties with cartoon cats, a light blue pair with yellow stars and an apricot colored pair. I sniffed the saddles and back panels of each pair of panties in turn, absorbing the wonderful smells left by Monica's pussy and ass. Not that Monica was ever unhygienic, she always wiped her bottom properly and I had never once seen embarrassing brown poo stains on any of her panties, but I could just detect the odor of her butt on the backs of her knickers.

My erection throbbed as I sniffed Monica's creamy feminine stains on her panty saddles, her girly smells from between her legs sending me wild. Quite appropriately, her cute cartoon cat knickers smelled the strongest of pussy. While absorbing the feminine smells of Monica's crack on her innocent white girly knickers, it felt like I was in a dream, a wonderful erotic dream. In fact, so real was the feeling of dreaming while perving on Monica's panties that I fell asleep while getting high on the smell of pussy. I didn't even feel myself drifting off, the first I knew about it was when I woke up an hour and a half later to the sound of Monica's voice as she entered her bedroom.

Fuck, she was back! And I was hiding in her closet having fallen asleep while sniffing her smelly panties stolen from her. Shit, this was bad, really bad. What if she found me lurking in here with her knickers? My heart raced, could a cardiologist die from a heart attack? It would be an ironic end, but it would be very difficult for the police to explain to my wife how her husband was found dead in the nanny's wardrobe, surrounded by the young woman's worn panties. My panic made it feel like one second I was naked in Canberra or Tasmania on a freezing midwinter night, the next second in the tropical Northern Territory capital Darwin on a hot and humid day, running a marathon in a parka and jeans.

I had to stay calm and keep my head and pray Monica didn't open her wardrobe. In my flustered state I hadn't noticed that Monica was alone, until I heard a young male voice and in stepped Josh.

"Are you sure everyone's still out?" Josh asked, looking around Monica's bedroom.

Monica nodded. "Yes, Doctor Atkins went to work and his car isn't here, so he's still out. And Mrs. Atkins has taken the kids shopping for clothes and from what she was saying they won't be back for a bit."

"That's good, I don't want you to get into trouble," said Josh.

"Well, if we don't want to risk getting caught we'd better not waste any time, had we?" Monica asked, sitting on her bed with a look of mischief on her pretty face.

Josh grinned and joined his pretty and petite girlfriend on her bed. "No, we'd better not."

Concealed in the closet I watched wide-eyed as Josh and Monica started to make out, Monica looking so cute in her overalls, Josh handsome in jeans and a jacket. They French-kissed deeply, Josh putting his tongue down his girlfriend's throat to tickle her tonsils. I could see Monica was stroking her boyfriend's groin, and the bulge in the front of his jeans was considerable.

He wasn't the only one with an erection, from my hiding spot I could feel my hard on pressing at the front of my undies and my trousers, so much I thought I might burst my zip. Even though still terrified that I might get caught hiding in here being a perve, I was so excited watching Monica and Josh making out on her bed and I was hoping the young couple would do more.

My wait wasn't a long one. The pair stopped kissing and Josh whispered something in Monica's ear, to which the young girl giggled. "Of course you can Josh, you know how much I like it -- and my vagina likes it too." Just hearing about Monica talking about her vagina nearly made me cream my underpants.