3 comments/ 29780 views/ 11 favorites BabySitter has a Boyfriend By: Ashson Quite frankly, I don't consider the whole thing to have been my fault. OK, I know that the parents I sit for have their rules and that I'm supposed to obey them. I understand that. It's just that sometimes situations arise when you have to bend the rules a little. That was all I intended – to bend one little rule just a teeny bit. It all centred on Bobby, my boyfriend, and my love-life, or purported love-life. My parents were urging me to dump Bobby. "He's a born loser and working hard to make his birthright come true," was my Dad's opinion of Bobby, urging me to dump him at my earliest convenience, or even sooner. Mum's opinion wasn't quite so flattering. They just don't understand him. That was one side of the equation. On the other side was Bobby, urging me to go faster and farther than I currently wanted to. It hadn't reached the stage of put out or get out, but Bobby had this tendency to observe rather loudly that I was eighteen and I could chose to do what I wanted to and just because my parents were a bit square didn't mean I had to be. We can have some real fun if you just relax a bit, was his daily theme. What I wanted was a place where I could sit down and chat with Bobby without a), my parents hovering around to put in their two bits worth or b), Bobby being alone with me and pushing me hard for fulfilment. When I took the job of sitting for Bruce and Mary it seemed like an ideal place to have that little chat. I'd just wait until they'd gone out and the kids were asleep and then have Bobby come over so we could have that talk. That was the rule I wanted to bend. No visitors. But it wasn't as though he was coming over to play; it was just going to be a friendly little chat and he'd be on his way. So with the best intentions I tipped off Booby, giving him the address and telling him I'd send him a message when it was time to come around. That evening I went around to Bruce and Mary's place and settled in with the kids. Bruce and Mary toddled off to their party or whatever and the kids and I settled down into a standard routine. After a while the kids went to bed and zonked off. I gave them half an hour to settle in properly them sent Bobby a message. Another half hour passed and Bobby finally turned up. I suppose it took me about five seconds to work out that I'd erred. Perhaps it was the "Hey, we're finally going to get it on," that he greeted me with that gave me a clue. There again, maybe it was the fact that he smelled like a distillery, and a cheap one at that. If I'd had a choice I'd have slammed and bolted the door with Bobby on the other side but I'd been so happy to see him that I'd just opened the door wide and he barged right past me. "Hey, Baby, where's the bedroom," he demanded, and he was talking awfully loudly. "Quieten down a little, Bobby," I pleaded. "You'll wake the kids. We're not going to get it on, anyway. I wanted you here so that we could talk about where our relationship is going." "To bed, is where it's going. Now. I told the guys that I was finally getting it on with you tonight, so you got no choice." The hell I had no choice and what did he mean, he told the guys? Bobby was being loud and obnoxious and all of a sudden I was looking at him through Dad's eyes. Maybe Dad was right for a change. "Forget it, Bobby. It isn't happening. I wanted you to come here so that we could talk but I think you've had a little too much to drink. You'd better go home and sleep it off and we'll talk tomorrow." "Don't worry about a couple of drinks, honey," Bobby replied, his voice seeming louder than ever. "You'll find they don't slow me down any. Come on. No more hard to get." He made a grab for me but he was so uncoordinated that it was easy to evade his clumsy lunge. I was starting to get irritated and I wished he'd just shut up, or at least lower his voice somewhat. He was practically shouting. And I wasn't too enthralled with what he was now saying, either. He was starting to get abusive. To put the icing on the cake Emma's bedroom door opened and she came out, wanting to know what was going on. "Who's he," she asked. "I don't know him. We're not supposed to have visitors while Mum and Dad are out." "I know, honey," I said softly. "That's Bobby. A friend of mine. He just dropped in to see me. He's leaving now. You go back to bed while I see him out." I managed to steer Bobby towards the front door. He at least had enough brains left not to try to grab me with a ten year old child watching. I noticed that Emma was still standing watching as I ushered Bobby outside. "Um, how did you get here, Bobby?" I asked, viewing the absence of his car with mixed feelings. No car meant he wouldn't be driving. No car also meant I didn't know how he'd be leaving. "Caught a taxi," he said. He was, I noticed, visibly swaying in the open air. I steered him down to the front gate and got him to prop against an electric pole. "Stay there," I told him, speaking nice and firmly. "I'll call a taxi to come and get you." With that I raced back inside, closing and locking the front door in case Bobby decided to come back. "Bed," I growled at Emma, who was still in her doorway. She looked guilty and vanished, while I called for a taxi. Taxi on the way, I looked out the window and could see Bobby slumped against the pole. I'd keep one eye on him until the taxi arrived. First thing first, I went to see Emma. "You OK, honey?" I asked. "Bobby decided to drop by and see me. He's gone now. Why don't you go back to sleep. I'll stay here with you until you do, if you like." Emma muttered something and snuggled down into her bed. I sat on the bed next to her, talking softly, and she was asleep again very quickly. Kids are lucky that way. Leaving Emma's room I checked up on Bobby. It must have been a slow day taxi-wise, as there was one already there to pick him up. I'd warned them that the passenger had had a few and the driver was helping Bobby into the back. The driver stayed at the passenger door for a few moments before closing it and I saw him counting money as he walked around to the driver's side. Getting his fare in advance, I guessed. And would probably collect again when Bobby got home on the assumption that Bobby would forget he'd already paid. Such is life. So Bobby had come and gone and Emma was asleep and all was well. Except for my relationship with Bobby, which I think just crashed into a brick wall. I'd see him tipsy before, but never as obnoxiously tight as he was tonight. Thinking back over the times I'd been out with him I could now see that he was often tipsy. I think I might be well out of it. Things came crashing down on me five minutes later. The doorbell rang. Telling myself very firmly that it couldn't be Bobby, the taxi had taken him away, I still made sure to keep the security chain on when I opened the front door a little. The man there looked both familiar and strange, sort of like someone I should know but couldn't place. "You're Carly, the sitter?" he asked, and I nodded. "I'm Mark, Bruce's brother. Emma said there was a problem here. May I come in?" Politely requested, but I could hear the underlying determination. He was coming in to make sure that everything was OK and that was that. I could see the resemblance to Bruce now he'd identified himself, but I felt like being difficult. "Um, do you have some id?" I asked, smiling. Unsmiling he produced his driver's license. "If that's not enough you can have Emma confirm who I am," he said quietly. "Now, may I come in?" "Emma's asleep, and I don't want you waking her or her brother," I said firmly, while releasing the safety chain. "What's the problem?" "That's what I want to know," he told me. "Emma sent me a message saying your boyfriend was here and drunk as a skunk. Her words, not mine. She was scared and wanted me to come over." That little wretch. Still, I could see it from her point of view. Bobby had been loud and rude and a bit scary. "Ah, Bobby did drop by for a moment. He wanted to tell me something," I said. "Um, he did appear to have had a few drinks and I chased him away quickly. He was only here for a minute or so." "So he was here and he was drunk?" "Um, I guess, but I made him leave straight away." "You let him drive away drunk?" "No. I made him take a taxi. I had him wait outside while I called a taxi for him." "What was to stop him just getting in his car and leaving without waiting for the taxi?" "He didn't come in his car. He came by taxi," I pointed out. Duh. I didn't actually say duh, but I thought it. "I see. He caught a taxi here because he wanted to tell you something. He couldn't ring you and tell you? Why not have the taxi wait while he spoke to you." "I wanted to see him face to face and he didn't know how long our little talk would last." Geez Louise, what did it matter? He came, he went. "Oh. So you're saying you invited him over for this talk?" Had I said that? I guess I had, in a way. "Ah, I guess. There were some things I really needed to discuss with him. It doesn't matter now. The situation has been resolved." Even if Bobby didn't know he was being dumped. "You do know that according to Bruce's rules, you are not allowed to have guests over while you're sitting? Not even sober boyfriends." "Well, yes, but this was the only place I could think of that would be neutral ground and we could have a friendly little discussion to sort out some issues in our relationship. If he hadn't had a few everything would have been fine." "Drunk as a skunk suggests more than a few, but he shouldn't have been invited over, drunk or sober. True?" "I guess. OK, true. I shouldn't have asked him over. Are you going to tell Bruce and Mary?" "If I don't, Emma probably will. Can't help but think I'll need to. Actually, I'm more inclined to call your parents and let them know you've been inviting a drunken fool around to visit while sitting." That made me straighten up. Dad would go spare. He'd think I was sneaking around to see Bobby even though he'd told me to drop him. I hadn't been. I'd just wanted to have a discussion with him, that was all. If I was going to date him I'd do so openly, not sneak around. It was even more galling to think that Dad would think that now that I'd decided to dump Bobby after all. "You can't do that," I yelped. "Dad would kill me. I'll be grounded for months." "And who knows what a drunken boyfriend might do in someone else's house. You endangered both yourself and the children by having him here." Definitely myself. If Emma hadn't stuck her head out the door I might have had a real problem with Bobby. As it was, I'd been lucky, and I knew it. "I know, and I'm sorry. I never thought for one moment that he'd come and see me while plastered. But you can't call my dad." "I can, quite easily." "But can't you come up with some sort of punishment yourself without involving my parents. Maybe have me babysit for free for a few weeks." The swine had the gall to laugh as he took his mobile out of his pocket. "Ah, I suspect that seeing you broke the rules, Bruce might be a little reluctant to have you sit in the future." "Wait, wait, wait," I yelped. "Just wait a moment. Um, perhaps you could spank me or something." He looked me over, running his eyes up and down, taking note of what I considered to be a very reasonable figure. "Bit old for spanking, aren't you?" he asked. 'You're what, eighteen?" I nodded. "That's what I thought. If I went to spank you you'd be weeping and wailing even before your panties came down." Say what? Panties down? I'd sort of assumed that any spanking would be with me fully dressed, not me with a bare bottom. Bare other parts, too, I might add. "Wh-why would my panties need to come down?" "Because if I'm going to spank you I'd need to be able to see what is happening. Spanking a child is easy because you really only give them a gentle rap on the bottom to draw their attention to their misbehaviour. Spanking an adult it's wise to keep an eye on what you do. I'm sure you wouldn't want to be all bruised for the next week or so. I can't judge how red you are through jeans and panties, now can I?" Put like that it sounded reasonable. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. You're already whining about it and I haven't even told you to drop your jeans." He lifted his phone again and I hurried to stop him. "No! Wait! I was just asking, that was all. I'll take them off, honest." He paused, looking at me, then sighed. "OK. Take your jeans off. Leave your panties for now." Jeans I could manage. I was wearing sensible panties, anyway, and they'd cover me quite adequately. Maybe he wouldn't even bother to take them down. Fingers crossed. "If I spank you here," Mark told me, "you'd probably wake the kids when you start wailing and crying and they'd come out to see what's going on. I think we'd better move the spanking to Bruce's bedroom. It's reasonable soundproof I believe." Why soundproof the bedroom, I almost asked, then possible reasons suggested themselves and I blushed and kept my mouth shut. I trailed slowly behind Mark as he strolled down to the bedroom, not a care in the world, the swine. We entered the bedroom and the gates of hell closed behind me, trapping me. That's how it felt, anyway. Mark sat comfortably on the bed and looked at me. "Jeans," he said, his fingers lightly patting the air in a downwards motion. Now or never, I guessed. Thank god I wasn't wearing skin-tight jeans needing a major effort to wrestle off. These ones were only for casual work, not fashion, and they slipped off easily. Too easily. Typical of my frame of mind I was pleased that I didn't have to wrestle them off and feeling disgruntled because they came off so easily. And instead of feeling reasonably secure in my sensible panties I felt embarrassed to be wearing granny-pants. Mark didn't help. I saw the way his eyebrows rose when he spotted my bloomers, and the way his lips twitched as though he was dying to laugh at me. The hell with it, I decided. If they're coming off sooner or later it might as well be sooner. That'd stop any laughter. I slipped my panties down and stepped out of them, not looking at Mark. Let him look. My bush was very neatly trimmed, as it would be just too, too embarrassing to have the odd pube showing around the edge of your panties or bikini. A quick glance showed he didn't seem tempted to laugh anymore. Oddly enough, the look on his face both satisfied me and made me feel slightly nervous. I felt a twinge of heat flick through me. Embarrassment, of course. Nothing else. Facing Mark his face was quite bland. Maybe I'd just imagined what I thought I saw on his face. He held out a hand to me, patting his knee with the other one. He didn't even comment on the fact that I'd taken my panties off. I moved slowly over to him and he guided me forward and over his knee. There was something slightly odd about the way he had me bend over his knee. I was really only bending over one knee, while his other leg hooked between my legs, curling around one. It made sense, I suppose, as it stopped me from falling (or jumping) off his lap if I panicked. Not that I would - I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. I just felt I was in an extremely undignified position, and the way our legs were entangled meant that I was holding my legs further apart than I thought the occasion warranted. When you consider it, I don't suppose there is any dignified way to get your bottom spanked. "Are you ready?" asked Mark, his hand rubbing lightly over my bottom, causing a rush of more embarrassing heat inside me. "You can always change your mind and let me ring your parents. I'm sure they'll understand." Maybe they would and maybe they wouldn't, but I'd be grounded either way. I knew my father. "Just do it," I gritted through clenched teeth, tensing for what was to happen. What happened wasn't what I expected to happen. Did he give me a spank? Yes. Did it hurt? Well, sort of. It stung, but in a smarting manner more than actually hurting. The problem was that his hand didn't cup by buttock cheek when it landed. It cupped my pussy, quite neatly, too, before dragging along it until his hand was resting on my bottom once more. When his hand came down like that, smarting and sending another wave of heat through me, I was too astounded to say or do anything. I just lay there like a gawk, feeling his fingers dragging themselves lightly across my pussy. Was it a coincidence that his fingernails seemed to very light scratch against my labia? I think not. Because I was just lying there like a great gawk a second and then a third slap landed in exactly the same manner, including the leisurely dragging withdrawal of his hand from my privates. That's when I managed to make my protest. "Stop! What are you doing?" I wailed. "That's not my bottom." Another spank landed, same place. "I know it's not your bottom. I never said I'd restrict the spanking to your bottom and you never asked me to. You'll find that this serves the same purpose. I can see that you've already got a nice healthy flush there." Mark continued to spank me in the same manner and now I was in a quandary. Did I protest and insist he stop, which might mean that he'd call my father, or did I shut up and take it. Currently I was taking it without shutting up. I was making funny little noises and squirming back and forth, but I could only move so far and Mark was persistent. I had a nice healthy flush developing, according to Mark, but I couldn't help but feel my pussy was about to catch fire. The only reason it hadn't was because, shameful though it is to admit it, it was too wet to burn. I could feel the flow inside me, just as I could feel that burning heat. I was ready to burst into tears when Mark stopped and stood me onto my feet. I stood there for a moment, hands hovering in the air behind me. You could put your hands gently on a burning bottom, but on where I'd been spanked? No way! I was wondering if I should now be getting dressed again when I noticed what Mark was doing. He'd stood up right alongside me and, while I'd been flustered and nervous and wondering what now, he'd just unfastened his trousers and dropped them. Along with his shorts. Now I'll admit that I'd seem Bobby's cock before this. Heaven knows he used to whip it out at every chance and try to get me to touch it, and it had always seemed rather large to me. Now it was registering that Bobby was only an adolescent, while Mark was a fully grown male with a bit of beef on him. It was plain for me to see that large is relative, and Bobby wasn't even a distant cousin to Mark. Mark interrupted my stunned appraisal of his equipment by quietly telling me to bend over the bed. Bend over the bed? If I did that, he'd. . . "B-but if I bend over the bed, you're going to, ah, to, um. . ." Mark didn't say anything, just waited patiently, his erection swaying slightly like a snake trying to hypnotise its prey. I swallowed and plunged determinedly forward. "I suggested a spanking and that's all I agreed to," I said firmly, "even if you did have funny ideas of how to spank a woman. I never agreed to anything else." "Quite correct," came the reply. "Are you going to bend over?" "And if I don't, what happens?" I demanded. "I'll probably try to coax you into a blowjob or, at the very least, a hand job, but I'd sooner you bent over. You're all nicely warmed up and it would be a shame not to take advantage of it. Can't you just feel my cock already, easing past your lips and sliding into you?" I swallowed nervously, trying to concentrate on his words, not his erection. "So I don't have to bend over or do anything else?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. BabySitter has a Boyfriend "No. Spanking agreed on and delivered and end-of-story. Anything else is by mutual agreement." Thank god for that. I was so out of here. Before I could make a move towards my clothes Mark had his hand on my elbow and was turning me to face the bed. I stumbled slightly when his hand pressed lightly against my back and had to throw my arms forward to stop myself tripping. However he worked it, I found myself leaning against the bed. "I don't have to do this," I insisted, feeling his cock now pressed between my legs, rearing up to lean against my pussy. "Quite correct," said Mark, pushing up my top and unclipping my bra. "You can say stop at any time." Not satisfied with just pushing up my top and unclipping the bra Mark continued to push both items up and over my head until they dropped down my arms to rest on the bed. Now I was leaning on the bed completely naked, legs spread and a cock paying more than close attention to my goodies. The big question was, why? "I don't do this sort of thing," I told Mark. "That's why I was fighting with Bobby." "That just means you don't want to do it with him," came the calm reply. A pair of hands closed over my breasts and the fires licking through my loins were joined with heat in my mammaries. Mark started teasing my breasts, rousing them, while his cock just moved back and forth, rubbing lightly against my pussy. The points that puzzled me were why was I bending over the bed, permitting these liberties, instead of getting the hell out of there, and why was wasn't Mark taking even greater liberties? He wasn't actually trying to fuck me and I was sure that was what he intended. "Time, Carly," said Mark softly. "Wh-what do you mean?" "Take hold of me and steer me into position," came the quiet request. Me? I was supposed to help him take me? I just stood there, frozen, feeling his cock rubbing against me and his hands doing odd things to my breasts. Delightfully, I'll concede, but still odd as far as I was concerned. And I was supposed to steer him into position? How the hell was I supposed to know what to do? It couldn't be too hard, a little voice whispered to me. Everyone does it. Just move his cock so it's touching the right spot. Rather hesitantly I reached down and my hand closed over him. God! I could feel the heat and the hardness and the size of him. Did I dare steer this into my pussy? The point, I found, was moot. I'd already dragged the head along my slit and pressed it firmly against my swollen lips. I was certifiable, I knew it, but I was also ready for this. Mark had been waiting for this moment and he hadn't really needed my help and I damn well knew it. All I'd really done was signal my surrender, and his cock was quick to accept. It was surging into me as soon as it touched where my lips had flowered and parted, pushing briskly forward. Mark didn't pay much attention to being gentle breaking my hymen. He shoved through it and was halfway down my passage while I was still wailing and abusing him for the pain of losing my virginity. "Oh, hush up, woman," Mark said. "The pain's already gone and the pleasure is starting. Look forward, not back." To emphasise the point he gave an extra hard push and I could feel his cock bang home, nice and firm. Mark then started to demonstrate what he meant by pleasure, using my body as his chalkboard. He took me hard and he took me high. It was amazingly easy to fall into the ancient rhythm when the man conducting was doing such a sterling job. He started slowly, his cock dragging back out of me, then plunging eagerly home again. And wow! The feel of him coming into me was something else again. I hadn't really known what to expect and, now that it was happening, I wasn't sure that I believed it. I was on fire and Mark was stoking that fire with a long hard poker, pleasure surging through me every time he drove home. It only needed the faintest of hints from him for me to start humping my bottom, pushing back firmly, eagerly, to meet him. Moving with him only seemed to make it nicer and his hands on my breasts increased my pleasure. Mark got this nice tempo going and it was a case of, oh, bliss. He went on and on, sliding back and forth, bringing me increasing pleasure as the minutes passed. I was pushing to meet him, wanting him deeper with each stroke, telling him, "Yes, yes, yes," urging him to keep going. I could, I assure you take a whole lot more of this. A whole lot more was what I got and I over-estimated my stamina. Towards the end it wasn't a case of, "Yes, yes, yes," but more like, "Aaahhh," totally unsure if I was going to live or die. Mark made the choice for me and it wasn't for me to live. I was in a daze of pleasurable limbo, my whole body twanging under each thrust from Mark. At some stage his hands tightened upon my breasts and then he hit me harder than he'd ever done before. Not just once, but time after time after time, his cock pounding into me in a wondrously quick succession. I couldn't match what he was doing. I was too busy dying and floating away, giving an extra little shudder with each rapid stroke. Mark was, I guessed, having his climax, but that was OK. He'd just handed me mine. I could vaguely feel him lying heavily upon me but I was totally collapsed onto the bed, unable to even twitch a finger. After I was recovered and dressed, Mark had a warning for me. "I'll explain tonight's little contretemps with your boyfriend to Bruce and Mary," he said. "You'll find that there'll be no kickback. However, if you do any more sitting for Bruce just remember that I'm likely to drop in and check up on you." That was OK by me. I hadn't lost a good paying client and I wasn't going to get in trouble with my dad. As long as I was careful and obeyed the rules Mark would have no reason to complain. It wasn't until after he'd gone that I found myself wondering if Mark would observe the rules and, if he didn't, what would he do? I knew who he'd be doing it to.