BabySitter Bribe

When I was sixteen I had a perfect figure. The trouble was that the number assigned to that figure was the number one. Flat of chest and flat of bottom, that was me, while all my friends were blossoming with boobs and butts and noticeable hips. I did what all girls my age do in such a situation. I ate. By the time I reached seventeen my figure was heading from a one to a zero and my mother made me go on a diet. A proper diet, not one of those fad ones.

The result of this was that I slimmed down again. Nature had not finished with me though. I woke up one morning to find my breasts had changed from an A- to an A+. That was the start of a torrid few months for me. I was snarky and sulky and seemed to be changing every day. By the time I reached eighteen you’d hardly realise I was the same girl.

I had boobs. Large, shapely, ones at that. I had a bottom and nicely defined hips. Boys who used to flee when they saw me coming were now approaching from all directions. I had to carry my grandmother’s walking stick with me when I went out just to beat the boys away. Did I mention my hair? Gone was the mousey blonde, nature deciding a platinum blonde was better for me. My hair dresser gave me some advice on shampoo and conditioner and my hair was silky and full bodied, just like the rest of my figure. And to top it all off my sunny nature had reasserted itself.

Not everything was sweetness and light with the new me. For one thing, my income took a hit. I’d been baby-sitting since the age of fifteen and had a number of parents who called me regularly. Some of the mothers took a look at me and quietly dropped me from their list of eligible sitters. Some of the fathers made moves on me and I dropped them from my list of eligible families to sit for. All things considered I was looking at saying, “Do you want fries with that?” in the very near future.

Some of my friends gave me references to help expand my sit-for list and also let me know which fathers to avoid at all costs. I finally got a tip that a new family in the area needed a sitter. The man was a single parent which made me tentatively chalk him in the no-sit box but a couple of girls I knew vouched for him. They’d both sat for him before with no problems and were quite willing to sit for him again, so I let them use me as an emergency sitter. Not that emergency sitters get called often. Prices are higher for emergencies.

All I really knew about Allan was that he was big and friendly and had two adorable little girls. Real sweeties and easy to sit for was my information. Becky had passed Allan over to me as her emergency as she came down with a severe case of date-with-a-honey. Seeing she was ditching the guy at the last moment I was sitting for normal rates as it wouldn’t have been fair to charge him for Becky’s misbehaviour. (Mind you, if he’d been at fault I’d have been quite willing to charge him double if I could get it.)

Allan answered the door and I nearly turned and bolted. When I’d been told big I hadn’t been told how big. The man was huge. He looked big enough and mean enough to wrestle a grizzly bear and win. What stopped me running were the decorations on his arms. For a moment I thought they were a pair of miniature children, then I realised they were normal children, a couple of twin girls of about age four. They just looked extra tiny compared to their father.

“Hi, I’m Elaine,” I said, all smiles. They really were two of the cutest kids I’d ever seen. Again, this was probably the contrast between them and the monster man they called daddy.

After that slightly nervous start by me we got on quite well. Allan was nice, a genuine Teddy bear type of man, and the twins were marvellous. We waved Allan good bye and played until their bedtime and they went down like lambs. All kids should be this easy to look after.

An hour later Michelle woke up and wanted daddy. She wanted daddy very loudly. Bethany woke up and cried in sympathy for Michelle’s crying. I calmed Michelle down and then concentrated on Bethany. Michelle started crying again. Why was she upset this time? Just crying in sympathy for Bethany.

I finally managed to calm both the girls down and they slept the sleep of two evil little fiends in angelic disguise. I was exhausted. No wonder Allan needed the occasional night out.

I relaxed and watched the tellie for the rest of the evening. It was nearly midnight when Allen returned and he was in a happy mood. This is not to imply he was tipsy or anything. I don’t think he was. He was just very relaxed and in a very good mood.

The first think he did was make some coffee. I took a sip and boy, did that coffee have a kick. I looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Irish coffee,” he told me. “Add a touch of Baileys and you can’t get a finer drink. Don’t worry about the kick. There isn’t enough alcohol in it to get a baby tipsy.”

I drank my coffee and related my experiences with the children. He was sympathetic about them waking and crying but he was also silently laughing, damn him. Couldn’t blame him I suppose. It is funny when something like that happens to someone else. He was also right about the coffee. It tasted marvellous.

After Allen had finished his coffee he hauled out his wallet and dished out my pay. I counted it carefully, to his amusement, before putting it in my purse.

“Some parents try to short-change you,” I told him. “I always count it straight away so that I can explain that they miscounted. It looks petty to try and get back the ten you were short-changed the next day.”

“A sensible attitude,” he agreed. “Oddly enough I did exactly the same think only half an hour ago.”

He grinned when I looked a little surprised.

“When I was leaving the club I stuck a dollar in one of the poker machines. I couldn’t have been more surprised when lights started flashing and bells started ringing. I almost expected balloons and confetti to rain down upon me. I hit a very nice jackpot. Quite a nice wad of notes they had to give me. They suggested a cheque but I told them I preferred cash.”

Lucky bastard, was my immediate thought. Why couldn’t that have been me? (Probably because I’m too cheap to put my money into one of those machines.)

“Driving home,” he said, “I thought of you. You’re a very lovely young lady. It occurred to me that what I really needed to top this night off was to take off your clothes and make love to you. I know it’s not part of your normal duties so naturally I’d give you a nice bonus to go with your pay.”

Talk about being taken aback. I couldn’t believe what he’d just said.

“Are you asking me to have sex with you for money?” I asked, aghast. “What do you think I am? Why I’ve never heard of such a thing. I just don’t do that stuff.”

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“Don’t be so quick to get the wrong impression. Yes, I want to have sex with you. No, I’m not going to try to bribe you to have sex with me. I just feel that it would be a wonderful way to finish off the evening. The money would just be a bonus for you.”

Even while Allan was speaking he was extracting a couple more notes from his wallet and laying them on the table. I couldn’t help looking at them and thinking of what I could buy. Still, I managed to shake my head.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” I muttered. “I mean, I’ve never done that sort of thing.”

“You’re a virgin?” he asked, leaving me wondering if he’d insulted me or not. Was I insulted because he thought I wasn’t or was I insulted by the fact that he’d presumed I wasn’t. Or was I insulted by the fact that he thoughtfully laid down a couple more notes on the table.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said in a very small voice. Just say no, a little voice inside me screamed. “I wouldn’t know what to do, anyway.”

“That’s OK. I do and I’ll be happy to show you,” Allan said, and his voice sort of washed over me like warm treacle. What harm, his tone seemed to say, would there be in doing this. Trust me, was implicit in that low growl. “You just stand there and let me take care of you.”

Allan had sort of drifted around to my side of the table and was standing in front of me. His hand was at the front of my blouse, touching the buttons, flicking them open with the greatest of ease. He parted my blouse and looked at my breasts with approval. I was wearing a lacy half-cup bra and he started tracing the edge of the cups, his finger raising little shivers as he trailed it across my breast.

The edge of the bra just covered my nipples. At least it did when he initially trailed his finger across my breasts. When he stopped and reversed direction I found his finger actually lightly pressing against my nipple as it passed. Had he pushed the bra down a little or had my nipples popped over the edge when they stood out, because that’s what they were now doing.

His arms went around me and he very deftly unhooked my bra, easing the straps and my blouse off my shoulders, brushing them down my arms. Almost before I knew it my blouse and bra were off, lying on the table, and his hands were cupping my breasts, stroking them, his thumbs playing with my nipples as if they were miniature joysticks. You might note that I said ‘almost’ before I knew it. There’s a world of difference between not knowing and almost not knowing, and I was wildly aware of my breasts being exposed to his view. I could feel them swelling, letting me know that they liked the attention they were getting. It felt nice. Why shouldn’t I let him touch them?

He bent his head and started kissing my breasts, tasting them and sucking on my nipples. I was twisting about slightly, not quite knowing what to make of this. I’ve had boys go the grope before, touching my breasts and trying to touch other places, but I’ve never been in a situation where my breasts were exposed and a man was eating them. It felt strange and was an immense distraction.

It was such a distraction that when I felt material brushing against my legs I just ignored it. Legs? Material? No alarm bells rang. It wasn’t until I felt Allan’s hands slip under my panties that I found he’d unhooked the catch on my skirt and it had dropped. Way too late for me to protest. He had both hands firmly clasped to my bottom, holding me against him while he rubbed my cheeks, all the time continuing his nuzzling of my breasts.

I dithered for a moment and then made up my mind. This just would not do.

“Um, Allen, I think you should move your hands,” I told him, trying to sound firm but suspecting I sounded nervous. Nobody could have been more surprised than me when he did so. Trouble was – he moved them in a way I hadn’t anticipated. His hands brushed down from my bottom, sliding down my legs. That was a plus. His hands were inside my panties so they moved down with his hands and that was a huge minus. His hands came sliding back up and my panties stayed down. What’s more his hands came sliding up the front of my legs and you can guess where they settled. Well one of them did. The other slid around to my bottom, holding me against him.

My tummy was now pressed against him. I was effectively naked. A pair of skimpy panties wrapped around your knees did not count as clothing. He was still fully dressed but that didn’t stop me from feeling what was beneath his clothes. I may have been wrong but I was fairly sure he didn’t have a police-baton inside his trousers.

“Allen,” I said in a half wail, not knowing what else to say. Maybe it was the tone of my voice but he lifted his head away from my breasts and released his hold on me. Well, he didn’t release it fully. He put a hand on my shoulder and took a step back and looked at me. I don’t mean that he just looked at me but rather that he LOOKED. His eyes travelled over me from head to toe, his eye lingering on all the interesting bits.

“Lose the panties,” he told me, shaking his head a little, and like an idiot I did, pushing them further down and stepping out of them. I should have been pulling them up and telling him to go away.

“You are magnificent,” he told me. “Come along.”

He escorted me into the front room and sat down on the couch, drawing me down onto his lap. Then his hands were all over me again. Breasts, pussy, and all places in between. His mouth was on my face, dropping butterfly kisses, moving down across my neck and onto my breasts. I didn’t exactly panic but it was a near thing. I pushed his hand away from where it was doing unspeakable things to my pussy. Things I’d never imagined a man would do.

Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed at his hand. He took advantage of that by catching my hand and moving it between us. I hadn’t realised but he’d unzipped while walking me into the front room. Now I found my hand being pressed that aforementioned police baton. It was hot and hard and silky smooth, with nothing wooden about it apart from its unyielding rigidity. My hand closed around it and I just couldn’t seem to let go. His hand was back where it shouldn’t be, touching and probing.

It was bad enough having Allan rubbing my mons and points south. When his fingers slipped between my lips I nearly screamed. If I hadn’t been so busy holding his cock so it couldn’t attack me I’d most certainly have pushed his hand away. As it was I thought I behaved with as much decorum as could be expected under the circumstances. It just wasn’t my fault that he started stroking me around the area of my clitoris. I couldn’t help but scream when he did that.

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I might point out that my state of mind wasn’t helped by him laughing and touching me there again. I was trying to squirm away from him. I found myself breathing hard and I was feeling dreadfully hot. His air conditioner must have broken down. I pointed out that it was starting to feel hot in here and for some reason he just laughed again.

Apparently my feeling hot meant something to Allan. He suddenly stood up, still holding me, turned around, and laid me on the couch, my head resting on one of the arms. With that he dropped his trousers and whipped off his top and his resemblance to a bear was even greater. I’d never seen a more hairy man. Hairy, nothing. His pelt was more a thick black coat of fur.

He brushed one of my legs to the side, off the couch, needing that space for himself. He was kneeling between my thighs and his erection was standing out as a rigid shaft. Everything abruptly became a lot more real as it dawned on me that he really was going to fuck me. He was going to stick that whacking great cock inside me. You get the weirdest reactions to things at times.

I looked at him, looked down at his cock, and even though I was the one who said it I couldn’t credit what I did say.

“Thank god it’s not covered in fur,” I said, staring rather helplessly at his shaft.

It wasn’t funny and he had no right to laugh. I was almost petrified. I mean, the size of that thing. I was of average size. Allen wasn’t. By extension you can guess that his cock wasn’t either. At least, I didn’t think so, not that I had much to compare it to. I had seen an erection before this. Find me a girl of eighteen who hasn’t seen one, willingly or otherwise, and I’ll find you someone who has been hiding in a convent.

Up until now it had been rather fun and I’d been feeling quite excited and grown up. Now I was as nervous as a kitten. Things were about to get real and I couldn’t see any way of stopping it. Assuming I wanted to stop it. I wasn’t certain that I did. There again, I wasn’t certain that I didn’t. I was looking at his cock as it approached me, trying to work out the pros and cons for stopping or non-stopping and he stuck it in me.

Now I’m not saying that he just rammed it home inside me, because he didn’t. His cock seemed to just twitch my lips apart a little bit (or a lot, to fit that thing in) and I could feel him coming inside me. My heart just stopped on me. So did my breath. I just died, watching it pushing its way inside me. Then it was nudging up against my hymen and breath and heart started up as if I’d been jabbed with a pin.

I was somehow expecting him to push firmly forward, popping my cherry and moving on triumphantly. Instead he drew back a little and then back in again. He kept up this small seesawing motion for a short while and it was doing peculiar things to me. When he finally pushed that little bit harder and broke through I didn’t even notice. Well, I noticed, but I didn’t care. It just seemed to me to be a case of thank goodness that’s done and now he can get on with it.

He didn’t change the style of entering me, the seesawing motion continuing. The big difference now was that each time he came in he came in a little bit deeper and I could feel myself constantly adjusting to take him. Back and forth he went, each stroke moving towards the heart of me, making me his, and quite frankly, it felt wonderful.

I hardly noticed when he was fully inside me. Oh, I noticed what he was doing to me, make no mistake about that, but there was no difference from when he was moving back and forth and slowly advancing and when he was moving back and forth and going all the way home with each stroke. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was teasing me into moving with him I would have just laid there, enjoying what was happening.

I started doing as he said, lifting my hips and pushing to meet him and I found it did make a difference. I was now an active part of what we were doing, helping him to transfix me on his cock with every thrust. There was a different level of excitement, too. I felt so alive, so aware of his maleness, his hard strength against my soft body. I’d always thought myself fit and firm but under his incessant pounding I was weak as water, my body happily yielding to his driving need.

He wasn’t neglecting the rest of my body, either. His hands were playing with my breasts, roughly at times but with an underlying gentleness that made it all the more exciting. At the same time he was kissing my face, my lips, my throat. I was clinging onto him, kissing anything within reach, babbling some sort of nonsense all the while.

For a while there it was all exciting feelings. The longer he went on the hotter and more excited I got. Towards the end, even if I didn’t know the end was coming, I was just frantically clinging to him, saying yes repeatedly, even if I didn’t know what I was agreeing to. I found out when he started moving faster.

It was a shock, really. One moment I hadn’t known that he could move faster, the next he was going at it like a demented dervish. I barely had time to scream and the world seemed to explode inside me. I didn’t have the faintest idea what was going on around me because of this wild burst of fire and fury ripping through me, picking me up and just carrying me away. I’d known about climaxes but good lord, I hadn’t known.

Afterwards he told me just how wonderful I’d been. A natural ability that had probably spoiled him for all other women. Sheer flattery, I know, but it felt nice to have him say it. He told me to have a quick shower while he made some more coffee, so I did.

We had our coffee, just plain this time, because I was driving, he said. I also picked up the present he’d left next to my coffee cup. No! I didn’t count it. It was a present, not payment. You don’t count presents. It’s rude.

Anyway I eventually headed off home. He’s already tentatively booked me to babysit next week. Just to babysit, I told him, and he agreed. So I’ll be seeing him next week to look after the girls, but that is all that will happen.

Updated: December 20, 2016 — 7:00 PM

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