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It was a Saturday afternoon when you first saw Aimee at the dog park. You were there with your two dogs, Mango and Maui, throwing a ball for them to fetch. The park was fairly busy, but she caught your attention. Sporting a pink bikini top that was two sizes too small paired with an incredibly playful pair of denim shorts. It was enough to make you forget about the dogs. But the remainder of the park users, being oldsters and grannies, took no notice. You however, did. It turns out it was the first hot day of the season, so she dressed appropriately... or inappropriately, depending on your viewpoint. She didn’t have a dog of her own, but she was standing by the shrubs, admiring all of the dogs, watching them run around with an adoring smile on her face. She seemed genuinely interested in them, and when Mango trotted up to her for a quick pat, Aimee squatted down to pet him with her arms outstretched. Maui was one not to be left out. Both of your dogs ended up in her arms. And doggy kisses ensued. They too were smitten with Aimee. You noticed how naturally she interacted with them, how she seemed to know just how to make them beg for more.
You casually walked over in that direction, mainly to make sure they both didn't lick her bikini off. Admiring her from above, with Aimee squatting while wrangling dogs directly in front of you, was almost more than you could comfortably handle. You weren’t expecting much more than a casual exchange, but Aimee struck up a conversation. “Your dogs are really sweet,” she said with a warm smile. “I love how they’re so energetic," she exclaimed and stood. And with that, you froze for a moment, seeing that her shorts were unbuttoned with no bikini bottom underneath. No panties either. Her most intimate muff was conspicuously peeking out the front. She was innocent and oblivious to your blushing. She showed no sign of embarrassment. You delighted in the comfort she had with her body, in her inhibitions, and in the willingness to expose herself without fear of judgement.
Without skipping a beat, she asked, "What are their names?" You coughed and cleared your throat so that your voice could utter a sound, and shakily told her their names. "You must bring them out here often. They seem to love it!” Her voice was light, playful, and her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she asked about their personalities. There was an ease to the way she talked to you, a comfort. The conversation flowed effortlessly. She was naive to your lustful thoughts and desires. You found yourself laughing together, watching the dogs, surprised by how quickly you were drawn in. She was truly comfortable with the dogs. But the way she tilted her head, touched her hair, and made eye contact, it seemed as though she felt comfortable with you as well.
You shooed the dogs away and asked, "Do you want to join me over there while I watch them?" You pointed to your bench and graciously let her lead the way. Neither did Aimee's back side disappoint. She glanced back and caught you checking her out, but smiled and kept walking. She sat, looked down, adjusted her bikini, and then moved in just a little closer, a subtle sign of interest that you couldn’t ignore. There was something about her that was so sexy and so innocent, something you couldn’t quite articulate. She was beautiful, of course—her bright, light brown hair, her perfectly freckeled, sun-reddened skin, the curve of her perky lips when she smiled. You were equally amazed with her energetic, toned body and full-handed breasts. But it turned out to be more than just her looks. It was the way she made you feel, and the sparks of seduction she threw off. You couldn’t help but notice how she repeatedly turned her attention away from the dogs, glancing at you, her eyes lingering just a second longer than necessary. She laughed, adjusted herself, and scooted closer again. Was she flirting with you? You weren’t sure, but the more you both talked, the more you found yourself wondering if she was. She genuinely seemed interested in you, not just your dogs.
At some point during the conversation, you mentioned that you travel out of town for your job during the week and were in need someone to look after Mango and Maui, maybe even stay with them at the house. You lamented that your online ad has so far only generated bogus responses, unsurprisingly. You had been thinking this girl might be perfect... for being your dog-sitter. Indeed, she seemed perfect in all other regards too. Aimee’s eyes lit up. “Omigosh... I’d love to! I’ve never had a dog of my own, but I’ve always wanted to. It would be perfect! I could take care of them, make sure they get their walks, and keep them company while you’re gone,” she was rambling. She was so enthusiastic, so eager, so naive, that it made you smile. “You’d really do that?,” you asked, still surprised by how excited she seemed, "I'd pay you." “Absolutely! It sounds like a dream job,” she replied energetically, her tone full of confidence. Something about her excitement made you feel reassured, like she could handle it. She seemed so genuine, so capable.
As the time passed, you learned more about each other, but the dogs grew restless. You knew that you needed to take them home. You thought a moment. Now seemed like as good a time as any. "Hey, I need to take these two home. I don't live far. Would you want to see the place? I could show you how to feed and water them, give you the tour, you know." "Yeah, of course!," she said ardently, "I live nearby too. Let's do it. We can walk." "Here," you offered her a leash and winked, "You might as well start now." You directed her out of the park but let her lead the way. You needed some more time to admire her back side, being that it was as beautiful as her front. You were looking forward to Aimee visiting. As you walked with the dogs and made small talk, you realized you were looking forward to having her there even more than you’d expected. She was caring and attentive to the dogs. You watched as she played with them, and laughed and screamed when they tried to lick her legs. She was a natural with animals, and you couldn’t help but admire her.
"Here we are," you noted and led Aimee up to your condo. You showed her how she would be able to enter. You brought her into the living room and turned to her. "You can come and go as you like when I'm gone. Hell, you can even stay here if you want." Her eyes lit up and she nodded. "They'll just need to be fed and let outside morning and evening. This way." You led her to the kitchen and pointed out the dog food and other necessities. "Can I have a pen and paper, you know, to take notes?," she asked smartly. She snapped to a quick understanding and asked all the right questions, both about the dogs and the condo, jotting on her pad. You exchanged each others information. You put her into your phone. She let you take her photo to accompany her contact info. She was adorable. You liked her. But it wasn’t just the way she treated your dogs or the seriousness with which she regarded your place and the job that made you adore her—it was her—all of her. You both sat on the couch as you reiterated the basics, clarified the details, and reviewed what was expected.
You showed her the spare bedroom, a guest bathroom she could use, and your bedroom. "Feel free to make yourself at home whenever you're here," you offered, "Use the kitchen, watch TV, one here or in my bedroom, whatever." There was something about the way she looked at you a little longer than necessary, the way her smile seemed to linger, that made your heart beat a little faster. She seemed enthralled by your bedroom. She even flopped down on your bed, rolling around on it. "This is so nice," she blurted out. Eventually ending up on her knees, she made you want to take her right there. But you couldn't. Not yet. She found intrigue with your bathroom, particularly the bathtub, and your closet. She perused your toiletries in wonder. She touched your clothes before leaving, savoring their texture and smell. It seemed she was into you. You realized, somewhat unexpectedly, that you had developed an intense desire for her. Before her inevitable departure, you offered, "Come back tomorrow. We can do a trial run. I will be gone for about a half hour. You can ask me any questions afterward." She touched your arm and came in for a hug. She gave you a small peck on the neck before leaving. "Great, I'll see you then!," she smiled, "I'm looking forward to it."
You found yourself thinking about her even when she wasn’t around. There were little things you missed—her hug of course, the way her laughter filled the air, the way she smelled, sweaty yet sweet, the way she would glance at you with a playful look in her eyes. Aimee had this warm energy about her, a kind of sensuality that you couldn’t resist. Quickly, you had realized that you had developed feelings for her, and though you tried to reason them away—she was, after all, your dog-sitter—you couldn’t help but feel drawn to her.
That evening, while sharing the bed with your dogs, you gathered your thoughts, sifted through your feelings, and put them down to paper. It was your nightly habit, journalling about each day. And today, you definitely did not want to forget! You filled pages about Aimee. You gushed about how she looked. You noted every detail about her, what she wore, how she moved, how her body looked... and felt. And how you wanted her. You didn't hold back. You had to get it all out. You had to clear your mind. You needed to make sense of it all if there was any hope of getting any sleep. Finally, it was done. The dogs barely lifted an eye as you pet each one before turning out the light. You slogged through a fitful night's sleep, frequently awakened by your arousal, fuzzy thoughts of her bubbling up, fresh from your subconscious. With each sporadic waking, you would discover your aching hard-on, then rehash the day's events and imagine all of the ways you would like to have her.
The next day was still hot. At the designated time, Aimee arrived. "It's great to see you!" She hugged you again, smelling fresh but still wearing the same tantalizing outfit, and turned her attention to the dogs. "I'll take them outside and let them burn off some energy," she said hastily but with intent. You didn't want to leave, but the trial run needed to take place anyway. Then later that evening, you returned. You found the dogs were exhausted, sleeping in the cool spot on the floor. But having returned home a bit later than planned, you found something that took you by surprise. You walked into your bedroom to find Aimee laying on your bed, wearing one of your shirts, completely at ease, reading your journal. She hadn’t heard you come in, and for a moment, you stood frozen in the doorway. There she was, holding something so personal, so revealing, her eyes enthralled by the pages as if she were reading an old love letter. It took you a moment to process what you were seeing. Was she really in your room, in your bed, reading your most private thoughts? Your heart pounded as you watched her, trying to figure out how to react.
When Aimee finally noticed you standing there, she quickly closed the diary, set it down and looked up, her face flushing a deep red. “I—I’m so sorry,” she said, clearly caught off guard. “I—I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. Your bed felt so good, and I saw it was just lying around. I got curious. Please, don’t be mad.” Her voice was soft, her eyes wide with embarrassment and welling with tears. You stood there, unsure of what to say. Part of you was shocked, but another part of you felt an unexpected sense of calm. You understood that Aimee hadn’t meant any harm, but still, the intrusion of your privacy was unsettling.
You took a deep breath, and moved toward the bed, trying to steady yourself. “It’s okay,” You said slowly, your voice low. “It’s just... private.” You weren’t sure what else to say. You had invited Aimee into your life in so many ways, but this felt like a step too far. Yet, as you looked at her—her genuine apology, her teary eyes, the nervous energy around her—you realized that you weren’t angry. It wasn’t just about the diary; it was about the strange way you felt drawn to her, how you had started to care for her in ways you hadn’t expected. “Just... respect my stuff next time, okay?” You added, your tone softening. "My journal is... I wrote... it was about...." Aimee nodded quickly, her cheeks still flushed. She blurted, “I promise I won’t do it again. I didn’t mean to cross any lines.” There was a vulnerability in her eyes now. She paused, looked down, and her voice softened, "Is that really how you feel about me?" You weren’t sure what it meant, but you knew one thing—you couldn’t quench your burning desire for her. You nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed. Despite the uncomfortable situation, you couldn’t deny the feelings you had for her.
Even if that moment had made things awkward, Aimee found her resolve in knowing how you truly felt about her. It confirmed the same feelings she had but couldn't express. Now, everything was made known; she had no fear. She rolled over and touched you, reached for your hand, guiding it, placing your fingers low on her flat tummy. You felt her, that soft muff of hair that had teased you mercilessly, standing guard over her most private parts. You knew what this meant. It's what you both had so intensely wanted but were afraid to act on. You tried not to overthink it. You just let it happen. Aimee released you from your fear, from the shackles of reservation, and of propriety. There was no longer any etiquette. She burst into erotic flames as you kissed her. She submitted completely, taking each other's arousal soaring to increasingly surpassing peaks. You took her and she had you—in all manner of intimacy of which you both had dreamed. It was perfect meshing, instant passion. It was sustained pleasure. You felt even more connected to her. The night was full of those repeated connections. It was beyond delight, beyond intimacy. It was heaven.
The morning after, Aimee was sleeping, naked and bathed in the soft, golden light of morning. The dogs had made their way on to the bed beside her, but neither of you were conscious, nor aware of it at the time. The morning seemed to make everything feel more real. You woke up with the perfect mix of excitement and serenity, as if the world had shifted just slightly. Everything felt new. Your thoughts were filled with the sounds of her climactic pleasure. You returned back to the way her eyes sparkled when she locked them onto yours at the moment of impact. Back to her ferocious wildness and her gentle embrace. You found yourself recalling all of last night's chemical reactions, the events, her perfect body, her vulnerability, her intimacy, her heartbeats, her breath. You wondered if she was now dreaming of the same. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of her sleeping in utter exhaustion.
As you stepped outside with the dogs, the air smelled sweeter, the sky looked brighter. You had found more than a dog-sitter. You had found a love that had risen like the new day.