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BabySitter's Bath

By: Ashson



I love sitting for Carly Adams. She's got this huge bathroom with all mod cons. The whole thing is tiles and mirrors and glass. It even has a drain in the middle of the floor, so if you slosh water out of the bath it doesn't matter.

The first time I ever sat for Carly I'd asked if I could use their bathroom after the kids had gone done for the night, and she'd laughed and said no problem, just leave it clean and tidy. And that was easy to do. Just a quick wipe of the tiles with a towel and everything was fine.

I was sitting for them one warmish summer's night. The kids were in bed and asleep. I'd half-filled the bath with warmish water, hot enough to feel good, cool enough to not overheat me on a hot night, added bubble bath and dived in. Not literally, of course, even though the bath seemed big enough. More like a mini swimming pool than a bath.

After a quick wash, I started clowning around in the water. I'd push myself along the bottom, sending waves cascading up and down the bath. I didn't need to worry about spills because the splashes just swished straight down the floor drain. 

I'd switched to lying on my tummy, making more waves by bobbing up and down, when I received a swat on the bottom. It wasn't a hard swat, more of a friendly swat, a way of saying hi. If I'd been dressed and walking around I wouldn't have done more than turn around and given the swatter a firm look.

But I wasn't dressed and walking around, was I? I was naked in the bath, with my bottom sticking high in the air as I prepared to make a big splash, and I was supposed to be alone. Not providing a show for anyone who might be passing through the bathroom. 

You can understand that I felt just a little disconcerted. I squealed, promptly getting a mouth full of water, because while my bottom was up, my head was down. Choking and spluttering I rolled over onto my back, realised immediately that I was now showing off even more of my charms, and curled up into a ball, still spluttering and trying to see who had swatted me.

I had vague hopes that I'd see Carly there, laughing at my antics. No such luck. There was this man there and I'd never seen him before in my life.

"Whatcha doin', kid?" he said, and he was most definitely laughing at me.

"I'm in the bath," I shrieked. "Who are you? Never mind, just get out. And I'm not a kid."

"I was speaking figuratively, kid," he said. "The way you were clowning around I thought you were a kid. Then I saw your hips and decided that they were a little too well developed to belong to a kid. I'm Carly's dad, by the way."

Too well developed? What did that mean.

"Are you saying I've got a fat bottom?" I asked suspiciously, feeling I'd been insulted.

"Not really. From what I saw, and I'll admit I saw a lot, you have a very nice bottom. How old are you, kid?"

"I'm not a kid. I'm nearly twenty," I pointed out.

"Really? How near?"

I glared at him, then sighed. 

"Oh, about another eighteen months," I admitted. "Um, do you mind leaving so I can get out and get dried?"

"Don't let me stop you," he replied, not moving.

I just looked at him, and he looked back, smiling.

"Tell you what, kid," he finally said. "I didn't get a proper look at what appears to be a very nice chest, what with you splashing and waving your arms and legs around and all. You sit up nicely with your arms by your side and I'll consider going into the other room and wait until you're decent.

Not," he added thoughtfully, "that you don't look pretty good just curled up like that."

I wanted to rant and rave at him, but you can't do a good rant while clutching your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. To do a good rant and rave you need to be able to wave your arms around and stamp your feet. My choices seemed to be to sit in water that suddenly seemed cold, or sit up as he suggested. Figuring that the swine could outwait me, the choices quickly narrowed down to one.

I sat up, arms by side, but you can be damn sure my hands were folded in my lap. Breasts were all he'd see, the old perv.

He was nodding appreciatively. 

"Very nice," he murmured. "Very nice indeed."

If he'd left it at that I would probably have felt slight flattered, but did he leave it at that? He did not. Would you believe he reached down and cupped one of my breasts, running a thumb across the nipple until it was standing proud? And then he moved to the other breast and did the same. I just sat there, mouth open. I couldn't believe his gall.

Did he then turn and leave the bathroom? He did not.

"You said you would now go into the other room," I gently reminded him.

"Not exactly," he pointed out. "I said I would consider it, and after careful consideration it seems like a lousy idea."

Now what did I do? For a start, I covered my breasts again. How long was he going to keep me trapped here?

Not long it turned out. He reached for a towel and held it up. It was a big fluffy towel and right then I wanted it more than I've ever wanted anything. He dangled it, just out of reach.

"OK, kid, hop out now. I'll even pat you dry."

I was furious, but what could I do. The man was just so arrogantly sure of himself that argument would be useless. Reluctantly I got out of the bath, feeling even angrier when I saw that both my nipples were still standing proud. I have to admit it. The old bastard's consummate arrogance was getting to me.

I waited for him to pass me the towel. Rather, I waited, hoping he would pass me the towel, but suspecting he would use the opportunity to pat me dry the way he said he would. 

He did neither. He just stood there, running his eyes over me. I'll swear I could feel his eyes actually touching me, probing my secret places. I was breathing a little harder now and if he didn't get a move on with that towel I would be doing a rant and rave.

"You know, I can't quite decide," he said. "Part of me wants to pat you dry and then carry you off to the nearest bed. The other part wants to lay you on the floor right here and now and take you while you're all wet and slippery."

I went scarlet and it suddenly dawned on me that the odd feeling I was having was arousal. This man was seriously getting to me and I had no idea why. I'd had lots of boys chase me without really impinging on my consciousness. I mean, I always just considered then to there. 

So why was I so aware of Carly's dad? He was in his forties, for crying out loud. I took a deep breath and tried to ignore his comments. Well, I guess I couldn't ignore them, but I could let him know his hopes weren't going anywhere.

"I'm sorry to dash your hopes, sir," I said politely, "but I don't sleep around. I'm still a virgin and I'm staying that way."

"Don't call me sir. Call me Adam. And don't worry about your virginity. All women suffer from it but they find it's a temporary condition."

He suddenly flicked the towel out full length and let it drift to the floor.

"Wet and slippery seems a good idea to me. Lie down on the towel. It'll be warmer and softer than the tiles."

Adam had to be mad to even consider the possibility that I was going to lie down on the towel just because he told me to. Who did he think he was? God's gift to women? I was going to take another towel and just walk out the door. I'd get dressed in the kid's room. He wouldn't dare make a scene there and wake up the kids.

Even as I was planning this course of action I found myself settling down onto the towel. A little voice was screaming, idiot, get up and run, but I was just ignoring it. Don't ask me what I was doing. I didn't have the vaguest idea. For some reason it just seemed right to do what I was told in this situation.

Adam calmly stripped of his trousers and I finally had a good look at a man's erection. I had seen some before, usually sticking coyly out of some boy's trousers why he tried to explain why it would be a good idea for me to touch it in any way he cared to imagine. I had actually touched a couple. It seemed to drive boys slightly nuts.

This one, however, was the first one I'd seen where the owner seemed determined to use it on me properly. It seemed awfully large when I thought about where he wanted to put it. I just gulped and looked away.

Adam settled down next to me. I refused to look at him but then found myself watching his hands as he started stroking my breasts. His hands looked awfully dark against my white flesh, and he was gently squeezing my breasts and teasing my nipples. I was so dreadfully conscious of my breasts. They felt swollen and sensitive and Adam's touching was confusing me.

Even worse I could feel that damned thing of his poking me in the side. I tried to move away from it and I could feel him chuckling, his chest vibrating. Until then I hadn't even noticed I was leaning against his chest. 

Adam took my hand and moved it, placing it upon his erection. My hand closed over it and I could feel it. I don't think my fingers even met when wrapped around it. I found myself squeezing it and it felt hard and hot. Do men get a fever in their cock when they're erect? 

For that matter, I thought I was getting a fever. I was starting to feel hot, and getting hotter all the time. 

My hand started running up and down Adam's cock, trying to feel just how large it really was. Then a hand touched me and I squeaked like a mouse. I knew that he'd touch me privately at some stage but it still came as a shock when his hand closed over me, cupping my mound and squeezing.

It was about that stage that I started to lose track of what was going on. Hands seemed to be on my breasts and on my mound and cupping my bottom and just touching me everywhere. An octopus couldn't have touched me in so many places, seemingly all at once.

I now knew I was definitely feeling sick. I had to be. I could feel my temperature skyrocketing. I was burning. Couldn't Adam sense that I must be ill? Apparently not, because he just kept touching.

I wasn't thinking at all when Adam decided to ravish me. I just lay there watching as he moved my legs well apart, kneeling between them. All I had to do was say no, but I didn't even consider it. I just waited, knowing what he was going to do.

I could feel him moving my lips slightly apart, then the tip of his cock vanished between my legs and I could feel it touching me. I held my breath and Adam started moving into me. He pushed firmly forward and I could feel him inside me, taking me over. Something gave and he was moving swiftly into my vaginal passage. Hey, that was my hymen going, came the thought. I thought that was supposed to hurt?

Whatever. At that stage I didn't give a damn. I was just interested in what Adam's cock was doing inside me. It was filling me, going in deeper that I though a cock would go, making my passage stretch to accommodate him. 

If I'd ever stopped to really think about it I'd have thought a penis would just come in a little way, move back and forth a bit and spill its load. I had not envisaged a full sized cock sinking so deep into me that I seemed to be tiny me perched on a mountain. Adam felt huge inside me.

As for that move back and forth a bit. Ha. I laugh. One moment I was full of cock and the next it was being dragged back out. It seemed to take longer coming out than going in. I was just thinking, is that all, when all hell broke loose. Adam came screaming back into me, ramming his cock all the way home. Actually, Adam did the ramming. I did the screaming.

After a few repeats Adam told me to quit yowling and start moving. It dawned on me that what he was doing wasn't actually hurting. It really felt pretty good. I was only squealing from surprise, not pain. And what did he mean, start moving?

Oh, yes. I was supposed to push against him when he came in. I quailed slightly, when I thought about having to push myself against that cock. But Adam said I had to, so I didn't have a choice, now did I?

Next time Adam pushed into me I was ready and pushed firmly against him. He promptly shot straight into me, twice as fast as when I just lay there, and it felt fantastic. Now I was really ready to push against him and I was very quickly bucking under him in a most enthusiastic manner. 

It wasn't long before I was gasping and squealing again, but this time my squeals were pure pleasure. I was having a wonderful time. I saw no reason why we couldn't just keep on doing this until Carla got home. It would sure help to pass the time and it was so much better than TV.

Adam kept on pumping into me and I gleefully met him, and things seemed to be slowly getting faster and faster. Then Adam gave this shout and really started pumping into me. 

Oh, yes. Spill its load, I'd thought. Adam's load just blasted into me, absolutely splashing around me, hot and heavy. By the time the second splash hit me I'd lost it. I just shrieked and somehow or other I seemed to clamp onto Adam's cock. My legs were kicking into the air as I squealed and writhed under him. If I'd been watching I'd have been embarrassed for myself. As it was, all I could do was hope to live through it.

When I finally sorted myself out I found Adam was standing in the shower, whistling. Me, I was going back in the bath. I reached over and turned on the hot tap, hard. Adam promptly howled, but sod him. A cold shower would do him good. He should have had one earlier. He dried and dressed and left the bathroom while I finished my bath more casually.

Dried and dressed I finally wandered out and found Adam in the front room. I could not understand it. I really couldn't. Why the hell had I let him get away with that. It wasn't as though he was a Casanova. He was just a normal looking man. Not one that I would normally even look at.

I couldn't help myself. I had to know. There must be some reason.

"Why, I demanded, did you do that? For that matter, why did I let you?"

"Well, from my point of view the answer is easy. You were young and lovely and I wanted you. For you, I think you'll find the answer is a little more complex. What would you say if I told you to take off your clothes again?"

"Ah, get stuffed, probably," I replied, "or maybe I wouldn't be that polite."

"That's what I think, too. However, if I caught you naked again, do you know what would happen?"

I shook my head.

"You would do as you were told. You're sexually submissive and will obey the dictates of your partner. When you're naked any man who projects confidence is your master. You're geared to obey him. So don't let any boy take off your clothes unless you're prepared to go all the way."

An embarrassing thing to learn about yourself. Also interesting. If a man has a good imagination I could have some very interesting times as I wouldn't be objecting. I'd have to be careful, but things could be fun. I'd be in control right up until I was naked.

"I didn't want you to have sex with me," I pointed out. "Does that mean you raped me?"

Adam grinned and shook his head. "No. I may have taken unfair advantage but you actually agreed. Reluctantly, maybe, but you were willing and cooperative. Now, if I'd forcibly stripped you, that would have made it rape.

So. I'm rested up. Want to investigate how submissive you can be?"

My tummy turned over and I shivered but shook my head.

"I'll pass," I mumbled. 

It occurred to me that I used that nice big bath every time I sat for Carly and I sat for her at least once every couple of weeks. Would I find myself in a similar situation in the future? Time would tell, I guess.

Babysitter's Bathroom



Cathy liked baby-sitting for the Anderson's. Michelle was a lovely woman and the kids were sweet and generally well behaved. They had their moments, but all kids did at some stage. And Brian, Michelle's husband, was a hunk. She adored him. He was fun and flirtatious, but never went beyond the line of what was proper.

When asked if she could sit one Friday night and sleep over, Cathy didn't hesitate. Even though she was nineteen and had the chance of a date, she let it go. The Anderson's did pay well, after all.

Cathy fronted up at the Anderson's place around eight. By eight-thirty Michelle and Brian had gone and Cathy was watching a DVD with the two children. Nine-thirty rolled by and the children were in bed asleep, and by ten-thirty Cathy had retired to the guest room and was also asleep.

The night was peaceful. Nothing disturbed the sleep of Cathy or the children. Even Michelle and Brian returning in the early hours didn't disturb the household's peaceful slumber.

Cathy woke at six but snuggled down for a bit longer. Soon she heard some noises from the master bedroom and, guessing Michelle and Brian were up and about, Cathy sighed, stretched and got out of bed.

Deciding a shower wouldn't go astray Cathy wandered over to the bathroom and walked in; just in time to see Brian, in all his glory, drying himself.

Cathy stood for a moment stunned, and was about to stammer an apology when she was taken aback a second time. Before her startled eyes, Brian's cock seemed to suddenly swell, stretch and stand tall, gently waving at her.

"Michelle likes the en suite to herself in the morning," said an amused Brian. "That's why I always use this bathroom."

"Oh! Oh, my god, I'm sorry. I didn't think. I should have knocked," stammered Cathy, desperately drawing her eyes away from that intriguing erection.

She started backing out of the bathroom when Brian stopped her.

"Don't you usually shake hands on first acquaintance?" he teased her.

"Wh-what?" asked Cathy confused, and then blushing as Brian dropped his eyes down significantly.

"Ah, um," dithered Cathy, not quite believing what he was daring her to do. Gulping nervously she reached out and took hold of Brian's erection, holding it firmly. "Now what?" she wondered.

"There again, seeing you're a woman, you probably give a quick kiss when meeting a friend," came the laconic observation.

He was kidding, surely, thought Cathy. Teasing brute. She decided to call his bluff.

"You're quite right," she cooed, sinking down onto her knees and moving her mouth over to drop a quick kiss on the head of his cock.

"You're old enough to open your mouth when you kiss someone, aren't you?" came the teasing prompt.

Cathy flicked a glance up at Brian, noting the laughter on his face. "Laugh this off," she muttered to herself.

Opening her mouth Cathy moved down upon his cock, taking hold of it orally. Then she started teasing it. It was bloody obvious to Brian that she'd done this sort of thing before. He gasped as her head bobbed up and down, her tongue teasing him, her teeth lightly grating across the head of his cock.

It only took a few moments and Brian found himself sweating lightly. If she continued like this he'd be coming in her mouth before he'd really had any fun. Time to see how deeply she was willing to play.

"OK. Enough of that," Brian said, pulling away from Cathy, and she rose gracefully to her feet, smiling triumphantly. She'd called his bluff and he'd backed off.

He just hadn't backed off very far, she found out. Brian reached out and took hold of her pyjama top at the waist. His hands moved briskly in opposite directions, popping the buttons as he tugged. While most of the buttons just popped open, at least one came right off, pinging against the mirror on the wall. 

Brian held Cathy's pyjama top apart, admiring her breasts. While Cathy watched, in a case of mild shock, he let go her top and captured her breasts. Now it was his turn to tease. 

Cathy saw Brian's head bend and then his mouth was suckling on her breast. She gasped, her hands clutching his hair, wanting to pull him away but enjoying the feeling too much to do so immediately. She gasped again as his hand squeezed and stroked her other breast, while his teeth were gently worrying her nipple.

Cathy was breathing hard when Brian finally raised his head. Her breasts felt swollen, and she was acutely conscious of the fact that she was a woman and that he was a man. And naked.

"Turn round and lean against the bath," Brian said softly.

"Why?" asked Cathy.

She knew why. If she did that, he'd pull down her pyjama pants, she just knew it. And with those down, would he just touch her or would he do more? She had this funny feeling that he wasn't going to be content with just touching. Not with his cock standing out like that.

"You know why," came the soft reply.

"And if I don't?" Cathy wondered.

"Then I win and I'll leave you to your shower," came the seductive murmur, "But if you do, we both win."

Breathing hard, Cathy slowly turned and leaned forward, bracing her arms against the rim of the bath and waiting. Hands closed around her waist and started downwards, pushing her pyjama pants before them.

Cathy waited, nerves on tenterhooks. Brian wouldn't really have sex with her, she was sure of it. After all, Michelle was home, even if she was in the en suite. He'd just touch her up, that's all.

She nearly screamed when Brian's hand close over her mound and gently massaged it. Clenching her teeth let only a squeak escape, and then she giggled nervously at the sound. She gasped as she felt Brian slip a finger between her lips, probing deep within. He'd stop soon, she told herself. Very soon.

Brian continued to massage and tease Cathy's mound with one hand, while his other came around to find her breasts. Soon Cathy found herself under assault both fore and aft as Brian teased and tantalised.

When Brian eventually removed his hand from her mound Cathy gave a small sigh, unsure if it was from relief or disappointment. Then she gave a stifled squeal as she found Brian was only replacing his hand with something else.

This is not happening, she told herself as she felt Brian pushing slowly past her lips. He's not doing this, she repeated to herself, feeling him sliding deeper into her. Oh, god, he is. What do I do?

What she did, Cathy found, was to push back against the erection that was invading her, helping to ease it into position. Brian's hands dropped to her hips for a moment, steadying her while he gave one last firm push, driving fully home.

Cathy gasped as she felt Brian's groin press firmly against her bottom, his cock fully sheathed within her. She gasped again as his hands came around her to claim her breasts. She stood there, trembling slightly, still not really believing that they were doing this.

Belief came to her swiftly as Brian pulled back and drove home again, hitting her powerfully. He was a big man, a strong man, and when he put some effort into it Cathy definitely felt the results of his size and strength. She braced herself harder against the tub, and in sheer self-defence pushed back hard against Brian when he thrust home again.

If Brian had required further encouragement (which Cathy did not consider a possibility) that eager response to his thrust was it. He set to work with a will, pounding Cathy long and hard, while Cathy worked just as hard meeting his every thrust.

I, decided Cathy after a while, am going to have bruises on both my breasts and my pussy. She was starting to feel if her pussy was being deliberately tenderised by the pounding it was taking. Not that she was objecting. Her excitement levels were climbing to the sky, and she could feel the effects of Brian's actions throughout her body. Her every nerve seemed to be reacting to his energetic love-making, screaming for more.

More was what she got, as Brian decided to turn the heat up a notch. Cathy's bobbing bottom could barely keep up with the pace and she was gasping audibly as they moved together.

Cathy could feel her climax approaching and she was making funny little noises, mewing with need as Brian took her ever higher. She could feel him tensing up and knew what was coming; him. 

Her breath left her soundlessly as she felt Brian explode inside her and then she was holding onto him desperately as everything seemed to dissolve around her. She sagged bonelessly forward, held up more by Brian inside her and his arms around her than by her own efforts.

Cathy came to her senses fast when she felt the shower pouring onto her. Brian laughed at her squeak of shock, and she glared at him as he ran a sponge over her.

"Have your shower," he told her. "You look like you need one."

Then he was drying himself off again and was gone, leaving her leaning against the shower wall, wondering what on earth had got into her. Besides Brian, that is.

An hour later Cathy was in the children's bedroom, laughing and teasing them as she got them up and dressed. There was more chattering and laughter when Michelle entered to greet her children.

"I might have known you'd already be up and attending to them," Michelle said to Cathy. "Brian was saying he was impressed at how you always seem to be willing to do that little bit extra."



BabySitter's Bathsheet



I had a special sitting assignment with the Richard's that was to last all weekend, with me sleeping over on Friday and Saturday. Apparently the Richard's had a big deal going on at their factory all weekend and they had no idea when they'd be home and could expect to be called back to the factory at a moment's notice.

I quite like sitting for the Richard's. Mel and Barry were nice and the kids weren't too much trouble. Typical pre-teens, they could get up to mischief if you just happened to look the wrong way for a moment too long, but amenable to discipline. Not like some little shits I've had to sit.

Another advantage of sitting for the Richard's and staying overnight meant that I got to shower there and use their towels. They're not actually towels, but what they call bath-sheets. They're enormous. And the softest fluffiest towels I've ever come across. When I get married, one of the things on my wedding-present list is going to be this type of towel. They are fantastic.

Anyway, come Friday evening I'm around there, leaning on the kids to go to bed, which they did. I then lent on them to go back to bed, which they did. After that I made threatening noises about what would happen if they didn't go to bed and stay in bed, and they finally went and stayed. I switched their lights off, switched them off again and explained that I didn't believe in lights that turned themselves on. After a while, peace reigned.

I was still up when Mel and Barry arrived home, and they both looked buggered. They simply acknowledged my presence and said they were going to bed, as they had to be up early. They vanished and after a while I decided that I should seriously consider going to bed myself.

First things first, and I wanted a shower. I headed for the bathroom and had one, wrapping myself in one of the bath-sheets afterwards. Those things were a serious luxury item. My nightwear is somewhat on the skimpy side, so I didn't intend to wear it wandering around the house. Instead I wrapped one of those bath-sheets around me and headed back to the guest room.

For some reason, Barry was up. He came down the hall, dressed in his pyjamas, just as I was heading up it. I blushed, not expecting to be caught just wearing a towel, and darted past him and into my room.

I was walking over to the bed, already unwinding the bath sheet, when I heard the door bang closed behind me. I didn't think anything of it for a moment, and then it occurred to me that the door had taken its own sweet time closing.

I turned around, just idly curious, and by this time I'd unwrapped the bath sheet and was holding it wide with both hands, in the process of getting rid of it. The result was that when I found that Barry had followed me into the room I was standing there naked, holding the towel open, as if I was deliberately flashing him.

I blushed and took a step or two backwards, or tried to, anyway. The first step backwards brought me right to the edge of the bed and the second step meant that the bed caught me behind my knees and sent me toppling backwards, finishing up flat on my back with my arms wide and the towel under me.

What was worse was that Barry followed me, moving closer to the bed as I went backwards, and he was now standing at the edge of the bed, between my unfortunately parted legs. Talk about putting myself on full display.

I let out a little squeak and my hands automatically tried to cover me. Barry gave me this frown and held up a finger in warning, effectively freezing me on the spot. I'd love to know how he managed that. It'd be so useful against some of the kids I sit.

I'm lying there looking up at him, face burning with mortification, and he's looking down at me with what I could only guess to be sincere appreciation. It was flattering to be looked at like that, but still.

I hate to have to admit it, but it was also exciting. I was naked on a bed and an older man was looking at me, admiring me. I could feel a touch of heat low down and I fervently hoped that he didn't notice my nipples were reacting to him.

I should've guessed he would. He just reached down and touched each one. All he did was flick a fingertip over them and they both practically waved to him. And I could feel that light touch all the way down to my groin and that growing pool of heat.

Now, seriously, I expected that Barry would leave, probably with an apology. I assumed that he'd followed me into the bedroom because he wanted to tell me something. Catching me naked was just an accident. (A bonus from his point of view, I guess.)

What he actually did was teach me something about men's clothing. Did you know men's pyjamas often have what is known as an open fly? This means that there are no buttons or zips used to close the thing. Permanently open, is what it is, and if your erection wants to pop out there is nothing to stop it. Barry's wanted to pop out.

Things had moved from bad to worse. Not only was I naked and laid out before him like a Christmas gift, but his cock was standing up, right next to my pussy. All Barry had to do was push. Which he did. He just put one hand down to direct his cock and gave a gentle push and the next thing I know I've got a cock sliding into me.

I couldn't fucking believe it. One moment I'm snuggled up in a luxury bath-sheet, the next I'm flat on my back with a cock making itself at home. I must have been even more excited than I thought, because he had no problems just sliding all the way in.

Now I'm nearly nineteen. I'm not a virgin. I know what men do to women and I don't mind it being done to me. With my consent, of course. One thing I've noticed is that men always seem to be in a hurry when they do it. Apparently that was my inexperience speaking.

Barry just started sliding in and out, keeping up a nice steady pace. He wasn't all, ah, ah, ah, gotta fuck, gotta fuck, gotta fuck. He just slid into me and withdrew, in again and out again. A 'let's just see what happens, shall we', sort of approach.

I'm staring at him stunned, horrified that he was doing this and mortified that I wasn't protesting. I just couldn't seem to help it. It was happening and protesting at this stage would have been just a little late, don't you think?

The trouble, I soon found, was that it was going to keep on happening. Barry didn't slow down his stroke play, but neither did he increase it. He just went on and on at the same boring pace. 

I'll be honest with you. At the start it did seem a little boring. Yes, he had his cock in me and was fucking me, but it wasn't a case where you could say he was busy fucking me. He just seemed to be doing it as something to fill in time. 

Time passed and Barry fucked, and slowly I started to get excited. Obviously I'd been a little aroused at the start to allow him such easy access, but he'd done little to increase that arousal. Or so I initially thought. That continuous sliding in and out was getting to me, slowly heating me up, making me acutely conscious of my pussy and what it was for.

There followed a period where things were exciting. Barry was taking me (albeit slowly), and I was now aroused and enjoying it. I was looking forward to an exciting finale. Then I entered a period where I was expecting the finale and not getting it. I was getting restless. I was gasping and making funny noises, trying to get across a sense of urgency. 

I didn't succeed. Barry just kept on taking me in his own fashion. Instead of driving me to a climax, he was driving me out of my mind. I wanted to scream at him to, "hurry it up, damn it," but I couldn't. Not really. I mean, technically, I'm pretty sure it was rape, and I'm absolutely sure that you're not supposed to give a rapist instructions on what to do. If they didn't know what to do, they shouldn't be raping people. 

That didn't help me at all. Barry was still taking me. Was he going to go all night? I was starting to see myself being found in the morning, a gibbering wreck, with Barry still plying his trade.

I finally felt the signs of a climax approaching. My body had had enough and was going to let rip regardless. I was starting to gasp loudly, letting out a soft cry of need, and then Barry suddenly banged hard into me. I lost it. I shuddered and climaxed, and I was too wound up even to scream. I just got swept away, feeling him having his own climax, but that was the merest incidental compared to what was happening to me.

I passed out completely. When I came out of it I was lying on the bath-sheet, on the bed. Barry was gone. I was also quite dry, not even sweaty, as though I'd been carefully wiped down and patted dry. I was exhausted. I just crept under the blankets and slept.

I woke in the morning, refreshed and bounced out of bed. Then I remembered what had happened. It all seemed so dreamlike now. Had that really happened? Barry just walking up to me and raping me and me just lying there, not resisting? It all seemed so surreal. It had to have been a bad dream. Well, remembering parts of it, a dream, anyway. That sort of thing just didn't happen. Trying to fasten my mind upon it I found I couldn't remember a single word being spoken. Definitely a surreal episode.

I dressed quickly and headed for the kitchen for breakfast. Mel and Barry were there, scoffing down some cereal and drinking coffee. They both nodded at me as I came in, but that was all the attention I got. There was absolutely no indication from Barry that he'd jumped me the night before. Not even a blink out of place. I shook my head. It had to have been a dream, but it had seemed so real.

Then Mel and Barry were gone and I was busy organising breakfast for the kids, after first prying them out of their beds. Kids eternally complain that they have to go to bed when they don't want to and they have to get up when they don't want to.

The rest of the day passed quite calmly. I didn't have to watch the kids every minute of the day. I just had to be there if needed and ensure they touched bases with me if they went to a friend's place or the park. And feed them at regular intervals, which goes without saying.

That night I fed the brutes, ensured that they had showers and managed to nail them to their beds long enough for them to fall asleep. Then I was free to watch TV and idle my time away. 

It was quite late when the Mel and Barry returned, and they looked easily as tired as the day before. Looking at the way they were drooping it was even easier to think that I'd just had a rather erotic dream. The way Barry looked he wouldn't have been able to even get it up, let alone use it. He was done.

They shot through to bed and I settled down to finish watching my show. After that it was a shower and bed for me. Coming out of the bathroom I couldn't help myself. I checked to make sure that the hallway was clear before I darted down to my room. Once safely in my room I took off the bath-sheet and tossed it onto the bed. 

Then I let out a startled squeak as a hand covered my bottom and started urging me over to the bed. Twisting my head I could see Barry there, smiling blandly as he hustled me over to the bed. I was damned if I was just going to spread myself out on the bed the way I remembered from the previous night, and as soon as I reached the bed I scrambled up onto it.

It seems that that was what Barry had wanted. He followed me onto the bed, catching one leg to hold me still, then taking hold of my hips and hoisting my bottom up into the air. Just like that I was on all fours, bottom high, and guess what was pressing against my pussy.

I think that, by law, all men's pyjamas should have flies that are welded shut. Those open flies just let too many things escape unhindered.

I was totally unprepared for what was happening, but did that worry Barry? Not in the slightest. His cock just leaned confidently against my pussy, right where my lips would flower and open, and waited. 

I could feel him there, just holding a slight pressure against me, apparently assuming that my body would yield and admit him. And it did, damn his eyes. Not straight away, but my awareness of what was touching me, and my knowledge of what he wanted, acted on me to stir my pussy into a slightly aroused state. 

That slight arousal was all he required. As soon as my pussy started reacting to his cock's presence he started pushing forward. It was a vicious cycle. My pussy aroused slightly and he pushed forward. My pussy then said, "well, hullo, big boy," and got even more aroused, which let him push forward a bit more. And so it went on until I was neatly impaled.

The worst part of the whole thing was that I knew what he was going to do. Or perhaps I should say, what he wasn't going to do. He wasn't going to hurry, I just knew it. He was going to repeat the previous night's experience, an experience that most certainly wasn't a dream, and one that would seem to stretch on for hours.

Right from that first stroke I knew I was right. He moved almost lethargically, as though the whole thing was almost too much effort. In which case, damn it, why was he doing it? If a man wants to have sex he should at least have the decency to get right down to doing the job. It wasn't as though I'd asked him to, heaven knows.

There was one difference this time around, apart from the position. Or because of the position. Because I was on all fours, with him behind me, my breasts were dangling below me. Barry reached around and gathered then up and proceeded to torment them, slowly, as per his screwing.

He teased and tantalised, gently massaging, rubbing my nipples, drawing his fingertips across my breasts in a feather-light caress that made then want to curl up. Have you ever had someone just lightly draw their fingernails across your tummy, and it feels as though they're doing it inside you. That's what it felt like when he brushed my breasts, oh, so very lightly.

And all those little touches were generating beads of heat and excitement that travelled straight to my groin, joining the insidious excitement his cock was stirring up.

And he would not stop. He just kept on and on, rapidly reducing me to a writhing mass of screaming nerves, absolutely quivering with need, desperate for relief.

Which he wouldn't give me. I think I was almost crying towards the end, I was that needy. When I finally felt my climax coming, despite anything he could do to stop it, I almost cheered. I would have cheered, but I had no voice. I just let out a shuddering groan and collapsed, knowing that at the very end he had accelerated, quite willing to have his own climax. It was just mine he had seemed reluctant to give.

When I recovered I was alone again and just managed to crawl into bed. But the next morning would be different. He'd see. Oddly, the thought came to me as I drifted off, that the whole thing had been silent again, except for any sound I might have made. Barry hadn't said a word.

In the morning I dressed and headed to the kitchen for breakfast and a showdown. Mel and Barry were already there, relaxed and cheerful. I started the conversation carefully.

"You seem very relaxed this morning," I observed.

Mel smiled, happy as Larry.

"Uh-huh. Everything at the factory is done and it all went perfectly. It's such a tremendous relief. Barry will finally be able to get a proper night's sleep, and so will I."

"Um, Barry not been sleeping at night," I asked pointedly, giving him a look.

"Oh, he's been sleeping," said Mel, "but he's also been sleepwalking. When we go to bed we never know where he's going to be the next morning. He just rises in the middle of the night and wanders off. One night I found him playing games at two in the morning. Children's games, on the internet, of all things. I just steered him back to bed and he never even knew until I told him about it."

So what did I say to that? "Barry's been coming into my room and bonking me in the middle of the night?" Wouldn't that go down a treat? I guess sleepwalking would also explain his total silence. He probably thought he was dreaming.

I bit my lips. There wasn't anything I could do really. And it wasn't as if I'd be sleeping here again now that the factory stuff was sorted out. I looked over at where Barry was sitting back, relaxed and smiling with his coffee in his hand.

He just looked back at me, smiling blandly, the lying swine. He knew what he'd been doing. He damn well knew, and there was no way I would be able to prove it was deliberate. If I accused him he would be so remorseful and apologetic, and Mel would be horrified. And if I tried to say he did it deliberately I'd look like a nasty conniving bitch. 

I smiled at him, letting him know he was a rotten swine, and his smile just got broader, promising erotic torture if he ever got the chance. What was worse, when he looked at me like that I could feel the fires starting to burn. Oh, boy. Definitely time for me to be heading home.