My wife was interstate for a few weeks, visiting her mother. The old dear wasn’t well and wanted some company and Irene had bravely volunteered to go and visit. I did suggest that we make a family trip of it, driving up with the kids and spending my holidays there. She wouldn’t have a bar of it. Said the kids would be too much for her poor mother. The real reason, I suspected, was that she thought her mother would be too much for the poor kids. Whatever the reason, the result was that she went north and I took my holidays at home, babysitting.
Not that I spent all my time babysitting. I did manage to inveigle my parents into looking after their grand-children for the odd day here and there. The first Saturday night I also hired a babysitter, giving me a night off.
My wife’s standard babysitter is Muriel. A fat, pimply, teenager who is very good with small children. I rang her and asked if she was able to sit on the coming Saturday and she asked me to wait a moment and put me on hold. Not that they actually put me through to music or an answering machine. Rather, Muriel laid the phone on the table and bellowed for Becky. There followed a few moments of female bickering, mainly dominated by Muriel saying, “But you said.”
Then all was quiet and Muriel picked up the phone again.
“I’m so sorry, Mr Sanders,” she said, while I swallowed a curse. “I have measles and can’t babysit but my sister can. She’s has experience before and won’t mind filling in for me for one night, if that’s OK?”
“No, that will be fine, Muriel,” I assured her, just happy to have someone available. Then I had second thoughts. “Ah, Muriel, how much younger is she than you? I’m sure you understand that I want someone who is reasonable grown-up and responsible, like you.”
Thus suggesting that Muriel was a responsible adult so she wouldn’t be insulted if I turned her sister down.
“Oh, no worries there, Mr Sanders,” she assured me. “Becky is older than me and she doesn’t have a date this Saturday.”
Without being rude to the unknown Becky, if she resembled her sister her lack of a date didn’t really surprise me. Anyway, we agreed to times and wages and I rang off, happy to wait until Saturday rolled around and I could go out for a while.
So here I was on a Saturday evening, waiting for a fast, pimply, babysitter’s older sister to come around, and the doorbell rang. I answered the door and knew immediately that the young lady there had come to the wrong address. She was a little jewel, a blue-eyed blonde of about twenty, with pouting red lips and a body that undoubtedly caused accidents when she strolled down the street.
She was dressed in a provocative little skirt that seemed a shade on the tight side and had a blouse that must have shrunk in the wash. Surely she wouldn’t have bought one that stretched the buttons on the front to breaking point. Mind you, those buttons must have had double thread holding them on, because there was quite a lot of woman trying to bust loose.
“Hi,” she said happily. “I’m Becky. I assume that you’re Mr Sanders?”
“I am,” I assured her, wondering how on hell a girl like that didn’t have a date waiting on a Saturday night. “Come on in. You’re right on time.”
She came in and I saw why her skirt was so short. It was so tight (already noted with great interest) that if it had been any longer she wouldn’t have been able to walk. As it was she had to take small steps, with the skirt riding up as she did so. She was, I noticed, quite practiced at pushing it back down into place.
“Thank you for agreeing to fill in,” I said. “I’m surprised you didn’t have a date already.”
“I did,” she said airily, “but I’ve also got a black-mailing little sister. No problems. He’ll keep.”
I bet he would. Just as long as he didn’t come knocking on my door while I was gone. Becky must have guessed what I was thinking because she gave a little giggle.
“Don’t worry. He won’t be coming visiting while I’m on a job. I know better than to invite a boy over while I’m sitting. They could get all sorts of crazy ideas.”
They’d get ideas, all right, but I wouldn’t call them crazy. Natural and lustful, possibly, but not crazy.
I introduced Becky to the kids and then we had a cup of coffee and a chat while I just cautiously sounded her out. If necessary I’d cancel my night out and send her on her way. She sounded sensible enough. A little scatter-brained, possibly, but knowing what to do where kids and emergencies were concerned. I also found that I’d over-estimated her age. She’d only recently turned eighteen. I’d guessed twenty and had suspected that I was underestimating. Amazing how some women can look years older than they actually are when most women are trying for the reverse.
I finally went on my way, quietly confident that Becky would handle any problems that arose. She had my number in case of emergency, but I figured she’d be able to handle things. I left.
I returned, but this was a number of hours later. Somewhere between eleven and midnight. One point I’d like to make – I was not sloshed, drunk, tipsy, or in any way incapacitated by drink. I’d only had a couple of beers, enough to help me loosen up. Not by choice, I’ll admit, but I was driving.
I came into the house, making enough noise to let Becky know I was home. Sneaking in and scaring the shit out of her might be fun, but not nice. She was doing me a favour, giving up her Saturday night to sit for me.
She was in the kitchen when I got in.
“I’ve put the kettle on if you want some coffee,” she said.
I agreed that a cup of coffee wouldn’t go amiss and she told me to go and watch TV in the front room and she’d bring it in when it was ready. Having no objection to having a pretty young thing wait on me I went and tuned in the late night news and proceeded to explain to the newsman why politicians were idiots.
After a few minutes Beck came in, taking her little mincing steps while her skirt slowly edged upwards. She bent over to put the coffee mugs on the coffee table and in doing so flashed some lacy red panties at me. A young blonde, well stacked, with tight clothes, bending over while her skirt is riding high, revealing lacy red panties. Instant erection time. No wonder she thought boys got crazy ideas around her. Being a modest man, and not wanting to embarrass her (do other things to her maybe), I slipped my hand down my waist and rearranged the family jewels, hopefully to a less noticeable position, while she was bending over the table.
She settled on the couch next to me and we drank our coffee and chatted. She told me how well the kids behaved. I pointed out that they had been on their best behaviour with a strange babysitter. If she ever sat them again it might be a different story. She laughed and agreed.
One of her buttons, I observed, had given up the fight and popped free, giving a nice display of what was the beginning of what was probably quite impressive cleavage. I have to admit that that little bit of cleavage did nothing to lessen my erection.
I’m not sure exactly when Becky realised that I had an erection, but at some stage she noticed. I couldn’t understand why she suddenly was blushing slightly, but catching her eyes flicking down and then away I twigged. Well, there was nothing I could do about it, so I ignored it. I did find however, that knowing she knew I had an erection made it seem to get harder than ever. I was starting to suspect that I’d have to wave her goodbye seated on the couch.
If Becky had just ignored the fact that I had this little boner all would have been well. Trouble was she didn’t ignore it. Every so often she’d flick a glance downward and then away, giving a little blush each time she observed that the erection was still in place. It was starting to irritate me. Still, there was no real excuse for what I did next.
Her eyes dropped and flicked away and I gave a little sigh.
“Instead of trying to guess, why don’t you take a proper look,” I said, at the same time unzipping and springing the beast from its hiding place.
Boy. What colour is red? Her face flamed like a stop-light and I thought she was going to bolt. Instead of that she just sat there, frozen.
“Oh, how could you?” she finally managed to gasp. “Put it away.”
“You seemed curious,” I pointed out. “I’m just helping you out. Haven’t you seen one before? Your reaction seems to indicate that this is a new experience.”
From the way she looked and dressed and several off-hand remarks she’d made I had assumed that her virginity was long lost. I was changing my mind. No non-virgin would blush like that at seeing an erection.
“It’s quite harmless, you know. Why don’t you touch it and see what it feels like. Broaden your experience slightly for when you’re with a boyfriend who will expect you to know what to do when he shows you his pet.”
“Touch it? You’re kidding,” she gasped. “I don’t even want to look at it.”
Maybe not, but she was doing so. I’d never thought of a cock as being an eye-magnet, but that’s what mine was proving to be. She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away.
“Let me help you,” I murmured. That’s me, always willing to lend a helping hand. In this case the hand was hers and I helped it to reach over and close around me. No resistance encountered, I might add.
Her hot little hand clamped firmly around my cock, but that’s all it did. She didn’t try to move it at all, neither to explore, nor withdraw. The expression on her face was a sort of horrified amazement, stunned to find herself sitting there holding my cock.
I let it go for a few moments, watching her face clear as realisation of what was happening got through to her. She took a big breath and I guessed she was about to snatch her hand away.
“You are allowed to run your hand over it,” I suggested. “Get some idea of what a man’s erection is like. How does it feel?”
“Um, what? Oh. Ah, hot. Hard. I don’t know,” she mumbled.
“Why not just run your hand up and down lightly, getting a feel of it. Let your imagination run, thinking of what it would be like if a man was to actually use one of these on you. How do you think you would cope?”
She swallowed nervously, giving me a slightly hunted look.
“Ah, you’re not going to, um, I mean, ah. . .” she mumbled.
“I’m not going to use mine on you?” I asked, letting her see I was laughing slightly at the idea. “Not unless you really want me to. No, I’m just letting you get a feel. Get a little bit of harmless education.”
Looking on it as a learning experience seemed to calm Becky down. She now had a musing look on her face, and started actually feeling my erection instead of just clutching it. She took her time, getting a proper feel of me, proving to me that she was indeed a virgin. I don’t think she’d ever been brave enough to touch a cock before this, even though she undoubtedly had seen some and had naughty suggestions made to her. Those crazy ideas that she said boys get.
Her curiosity was allowed free rein, and she thoroughly explored my erection, giggling when I made a hissing noise when she brushed her hand roughly over the head of my cock. She wasn’t giving me a hand-job, please note. She was just doing some anatomical research. Not that her feathery little touches weren’t keeping me hard enough to shatter rocks if I cared to swing it about.
Whether she knew it or not, her research was also getting to her. Her nipples had peaked and she was breathing slightly harder. The way she squirmed restlessly a couple of times suggested to me that she was also getting aroused and wet. She finally snatched her hand away, face blushing, not looking at me.
“Put it away,” she muttered in a low voice.
“In a moment,” I replied. “First it’s my time to explore a little.”
She gave a gasp and a little squeak of protest, hands flashing to the hem of her dress and trying to pull it down an extra inch. That was OK. I wasn’t going there anyway. While her hands were safely out of the way I reached up and flicked open a few more of her blouse buttons, revealing the interesting cleavage I knew was there.
Her bra matched her panties. Red and lacy and a little on the abbreviated side. The bra didn’t support her breasts as such but, rather, it provided an attractive frame for them. My hands landed on her ribs and moved up, sliding under the bottom of the bra and forcing it up over her breasts while my hands took its place.
“What are you doing?” she squeaked, grabbing at my wrists. “Take your hands off me.”
I let her hands drag mine away, mainly because this gave me a fine view of a lovely pair of breasts, a symphony of white with pink tips proudly standing forth. Definitely no need for a bra’s support, while her nipples were enlarged to the point you could hang your coat on them.
Becky was now in a bit of a quandary. If she released my hands to try to cover her breasts, my hands would probably cover them first. If she didn’t release my hands then her breasts were on full display and I was making it obvious that I was both looking and enjoying the sight. It was plain that it was up to me to help her out of her predicament.
I leaned forward and caught one nipple with my lips, sucking gently. She squeaked and dropped my wrists, choosing to grab at my hair and try to pull my head away. She squeaked again when one released hand promptly closed around her other breast, enjoying the feel of it.
Becky was protesting as I played with and sucked on her breasts, but not very convincingly. Her hands were tangled in my hair and she was pulling at my head, but without putting any real effort into it. This changed when my free hand settled between her legs, pushing her tight skirt up a little and rubbing against her mons.
She squealed and jerked harder on my hair and I gave a small yelp and lifted my face away from her breasts. Her breasts were damp in places and I suspected that they might have a few bruises to show by the next day.
“Go easy,” I said, still rubbing her mons through her panties. “I am breakable, you know.”
“You, you,” she spluttered. “Just what do you think you’re playing at?”
“I’m not playing,” I quickly explained. “I’m seducing you.”
“No, you are fucking not,” she snapped. “Besides, you said you weren’t going to do anything like that.”
“I might even have meant it,” I assured her, “but probably not. As it is, with your breasts bouncing free and your panties around your ankles, what on earth do you think I intend doing?”
“My panties are not around my ankles,” Becky pointed out self-righteously. (After a quick glance to make sure.)
“Oh, sorry,” I said, reaching down and taking hold of them. Before she could protest I was tugging them down, making sure they went all the way down to her ankles while she gave an outraged little shriek. “There. Is that better?”
I was now rubbing her pussy, my hand against her naked flesh, pleased to notice that her legs were parted sufficiently to give me reasonable access.
“Will you stop that?” she gasped. “I don’t want you to seduce me.”
“That’s why it’s called seduction,” I explained. “You get persuaded to do something that you have no intention of doing. Don’t let it worry you. I won’t actually take you until you’re nice and ready.”
I leaned forward and captured a nipple with my teeth, biting gently.
“Don’t,” she said in a little wail. “I don’t want you to do this.”
“Actually, you do,” I said, lifting my head.
I took her hand and placed it back on my erection, feeling her close her hand around me. Then I just looked at her while my fingers slipped between her lips, probing inside her. She gulped and looked elsewhere, still muttering about how she didn’t want this, still holding my cock firmly in her hand.
I carried on with my stroking and nuzzling, agitating her breasts while warming her up down below. She was writhing slowly under my touch, still protesting, still denying, still holding tight to my cock.
I could actually see on her face the moment when she decided that, yes, she was going to let me do this. A careless finger had brushed a little closer to her clitoris than it should have and she’d almost bounced off the couch in shock. That was the turning point. She opened her mouth to scream at me to stop, or else, then closed it with a snap. She was breathing hard and I could see her indecision flickering across her face and then hardening into a final decision.
She was going to keep protesting, but only mildly, letting me overcome her feeble struggles and take her. That way she wasn’t responsible for what happened.
I didn’t see any need to defer the action once I knew she was going to yield. I eased her legs further apart, pried her hand off my cock, and knelt on the couch between her thighs. She was propped up on her elbows, watching as my cock moved towards her, gasping as it nudged against her lips, probing towards her passage.
Her lips were swollen and puffy, with her inner lips protruding and parted. I just leaned softly forward, the head of my cock pressing between her lips, seeing then yield and letting me enter. Becky was breathing hard, watching intently, quite forgetting to protest. I pressed forward.
She did give a small yelp when I popped her cherry, but that changed to a long drawn out, “Oh, my, god,” as I sank slowly but surely into her, my erection sheathing itself in her passage with one long slow thrust.
I held her pinned to the couch for a few moments, just letting her get used to the feel of my cock inside her. She was breathing hard, sort of staring past me into space as she contemplated what had happened. Finally I started to move in her.
I didn’t just start bouncing merrily away and hope she’d catch on. No, I just put a little pressure against her, then relaxed it. After doing this a few times I could feel her pressing back. This I decided was my cue to move things along. I started pulling back a little before pressing forward, only short strokes, but she responded, acquiescing nicely.
Slowly I built up the length of the strokes, murmuring encouragement to her, enjoying the feel of her as I drove into her. She started making little squeaks and squeals, gasping as the strokes grew longer and firmer. Slowly but surely it was getting to her and I felt like cheering when she made the switch.
There’s a hell of a difference between acquiescence and enthusiastic participation. She went from one to the other in an instant and suddenly it was a whole new ball game. The little noises she made went from surprise and wonder to delight and she was bucking under me, pressing up to meet me with an urgency that was begging for more, her legs lifting and wrapping around me, helping to pull me home.
What was a gentleman to do? I gave her more, driving in fiercely, delighting both of us with my actions. She was young and hot, untried but enthusiastic. What not to like? We came together eagerly, relishing the contact of body rubbing against body.
There’s a time when experience definitely makes a difference, and deflowering a virgin is one of them. Instead of a quick wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, that she might have got off a younger man, I was able to control the pace, keeping the action going while she moved steadily towards her climax. Mind you, I suspect I was sweating blood towards the end, desperately keeping going while wanting to scream and let fly.
Not having any previous experience with Becky I wasn’t able to pick the signs that she was about to climax. I was taken by surprise when it hit her. She just arched her back, her passage clamping around me, the sudden increase in pressure all that it took for me to start firing with all guns. I shuddered and jerked, releasing my seed deep inside her, while she shivered and shook and clung to me, softly wailing as she came.
All things considered I found that little episode an excellent way to finish off the evening. There was only one slightly sour note, but even that was more amusing than anything else. Would you believe Becky demanded a bonus in her pay for performing extra duties. I tried to point out that she should be paying me for giving her an interesting education but she wouldn’t have a bar of it. Extra duties meant extra remuneration.
I considered it undignified to quibble. I paid up. I also decided that if I ever had her sit for me again she would be learning a few more extra duties. I let her know that and she just smirked, putting her ill-gotten gains in her purse. Ah, well, time would tell.