BabySitter Nude

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She needed a towel so she fetched one.
4.1k words
4.24
92.3k
32

Part 66 of the 142 part series

Updated 10/10/2022
Created 06/07/2013
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Ashson
Ashson
8,508 Followers

I enjoy baby-sitting but it can be a pain in the neck sometimes. Today was one of those days. It had been hot and humid and the kids had been grumpy. They'd been reluctant to eat their dinner and didn't want to play, or to watch TV, or to read a book, or to lie down. They did want to whinge and fight and complain that it was hot and that there was nothing to do.

After dinner I finished up dumping them both in a cool bath and let them play in the water. I'd have to mop up the bathroom afterwards but it would be worth it for some relative peace and quiet.

Eventually the little monsters quietened down. I hauled them out of the bath, put them in pyjamas, and tucked them into bed. Heaven be thanked, they both went to sleep. I guess the heat and humidity and the whinging and fighting had worn them out. I spent the next half hour just keeping an eye on them, making sure they were really asleep.

Satisfied with the way the kids were sleeping I adjourned to the bathroom and considered the mess. How two small children can make such a mess is beyond me. Practice, I guess. Whatever, the mess was my responsibility so I set to work cleaning it up.

When I'd finished the bathroom was in a pristine condition and I was a mess. A bedraggled, wet, grubby, mess. Fortunately, I had a solution for this problem. When I do a baby-sitting gig I always take a bag with a complete change of clothing with me. I mean, if a baby craps liquid manure down the front of your blouse you obviously are going to want to change it. Small children, I have found, tend to release obnoxious fluids from all their bodily orifices, more often than not releasing them onto the baby-sitter.

The way I saw it a nice shower and a complete change of clothes and I'd be right for the night. I could sit back and relax, watching TV in relative comfort. I headed for the bathroom. My nice pristinely clean bathroom. (Stopping to make sure the little darlings were still snoring their little heads off. They were, thank god.)

In the bathroom I stripped off. I'd been perspiring so hard that all my clothes were wet and smelly, even my undies. I'd be stuffing those things into a plastic bag before taking them home otherwise they'd stink up my case.

I had a shower. I had the water set somewhere between warm and cool and just let it drizzle over me. It was wonderful. Having shortish hair I didn't worry too much about getting it wet. That's not to say I was going to thoroughly wash it; I just let some of that cool drizzle play over it.

I got out of the shower feeling so much better. Then I found I'd made just one tiny error when I'd turned the kid's swamp into a pristine bathroom. I'd forgotten to replace the towels. So there I was, wet and naked and not a towel in sight. I was not, absolutely not, going to put on any of those slimy clothes I'd already dumped. The solution was easy. I'd just take a few steps down the hall and grab a towel out of the linen closet and dry off in the spare room, which was where my case and change of clothes were. It wasn't as though there was anyone else home apart from the kids and they were asleep and wouldn't give a damn what I wore if they weren't. Elsie and Tim weren't due home for ages.

I stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall and everything went to hell with that simple move. Mick, Elsie's little brother, was walking down the hall towards me and I'd just stepped out in front of him, naked and wet. When I say little he was younger than Elsie (and me for that matter) but he was still eighteen and considered himself a real stud. I, and the girls I know, consider him to be a real dork. He's the sort of full-of-himself idiot that makes your natural idiot look smart.

I dived for the linen cupboard but he guessed what I was doing and he was closer to it. He just stepped in front of it, giggling like crazy as he looked at me. I'll bet the stupid clown creamed his pants when he realised I was naked. I turned around to dive back into the bathroom but he grabbed my arm and tried to turn me to face him.

I was clawing at his hand and swearing at him and he was sniggering at me, telling me to turn around and kiss him. In his dreams or my nightmares, maybe, but nowhere else.

"What the fuck are you doing here, anyway?" I snarled. "If you don't get you hand off me I'm going to emasculate you."

That's the point at which there was a loud slapping sound and a yell from Mick.

"He's here because I had to come and drop some stuff off for Elsie," said another male voice. "Get in the car, you little turd, and don't get out again."

Mick shot through at a rate of knots, holding one hand to his ear, which is where his father clouted him, I assumed. Now I was alone with his father, although still wet and naked.

I heard the closet door open.

"I assume you were wanting a towel?" said Elsie's father, sounding far too amused for my piece of mind.

Turning my head towards him a little I could see him holding out a towel and I turned partway to grab it. That rotten man dropped the towel at the last moment, catching my hand, rather than my hand catching the towel. He just pulled and effectively turned me around to face him, with me trying to cover all my charms with a single hand and crossed legs.

"Very nice," he said, looking me over. "I can understand why Mick would want to kiss you. I doubt that he's seen many girls naked."

"Not live ones," I muttered. "Do you mind?"

I was trying to pull my hand free from his grip but he wasn't letting go. I try to respect my elders but he was coming close to getting a real mouthful. Once again I was saved by a male voice.

"Mick is just an idiot," grumbled the voice, "but you're a married man and if think Mick won't tell mum that you were alone with a naked lady, think again."

For some reason as soon as I stepped into the hallway it turned into Main Street at rush hour. This new voice belonged to Steve, Elsie's other brother. Apparently the three of them had turned up at once. Steve bent and picked up the towel, offering it to me, not that I had a hand free that I was willing to use to grab it.

"Why don't you go and take Mick home," Steve said, still holding out the towel. "I'll remain here and help Tim shift the stuff when he gets home. I see no need for you and Mick to linger."

Steve's father laughed and released my hand.

"I'll see you at home," he said, turning and strolling off.

I promptly grabbed the towel out of Steve's hand and wrapped it around me. I heard the front door bang closed while I was wrapping it around me.

Finally covered I relaxed.

"Thank you," I said to Steve. "That was so embarrassing."

"You should have checked there were towels available before you had your shower," Steve said with a grin.

"There were," I grumbled, "but I used them all cleaning up after the kids and forgot to replace them."

He laughed at me, admitting that he'd known the kids to make the occasional mess.

I heard a car start up outside and assumed that his father and Mick were now on their way home, and that made me relax even more.

"If you'll excuse me," I said, "I'm just going to get dried and dressed," jerking my thumb in the direction of the spare room as I spoke.

"No," he said.

"Excuse me?" I asked, puzzled.

"I said no, meaning I'm not excusing you," he said, smiling brilliantly.

He could afford to smile. He was now holding the towel again, having whipped it off me before I even knew what he was about. I gasped and snatched at it and he callously dropped it just before I could reach it. He also imitated his father in the way he managed to catch my hand. He did better that his father in also reaching out and catching my other hand, promptly holding my hands wide to either side of me.

He pushed my hands behind my back and pulled me towards him at the same time. My naked body was now pressed firmly against him. He released my hands, his hands dropping down to cup my bottom, rubbing it while at the same time holding me close against him. I took advantage of the fact that I had free hands to try to push him away from me.

That worked real well, I don't think. I wanted to put my hands against his chest and push but I couldn't reach his chest. My own blasted breasts were squished against him, and there was no room for my hands. All I could do was pluck uselessly at his shirt.

"Pull my shirt open," he told me, and I flatly refused. No way was I doing what he wanted.

He slapped my bottom. Would you believe it? The callous brute just slapped my bottom.

"Pull my shirt open," he told me again, and I angrily grabbed hold of it and ripped it open, hoping I was tearing all the buttons off while I did so. It turned out the shirt didn't have buttons, just a row of press-studs which popped open with sickening ease, resulting in my breasts (which were bare, remember) rubbing against his chest, which was also bare, if you discount the fur rug he had there.

His hands were rubbing against my bottom, going a little lower than they should for my peace of mind. Not that there was anything the least peaceful about what he was doing. At the same time he was moving his chest slightly, causing my breasts to rub back and forth across his chest, teasing my nipples and tickling my breasts with that fur.

Did I mention that the swine was kissing me? Well he was. Not that I was returning his kisses. At least, not very much. I felt very nervous when one of his hands left my bottom and slid around the front. I could feel his knuckles grazing my mons. I instinctively pulled away from his hand, putting more room between us, feeling slightly surprised when he didn't try to pull me closer once more. After a few moments his hand drifted back around my bottom and I started to relax a little, even as I felt him pulling me closer once more.

That rotten swine. That unspeakable mongrel. Do you know what he was doing when his knuckles were grazing my mons? He was undoing his trousers, that's what. That's why he didn't pull me closer, he was giving himself some room to work. Now that he had pulled me flush against him I was confused for a moment. I thought his arm was still between us, but with two hands clutching my bottom it couldn't be, could it?

I had a blinding flash of the obvious. If his arms were behind me then something else was in front of me and I hadn't noticed him carrying a baseball bat around. OK, so it probably wasn't as big as a baseball bat but that was the impression I had when I realised what it was.

Now I will go so far as to admit I may have seen a man's erection. The little darlings do have a propensity for whipping them out and waving them at you, hoping you'll take pity on the poor little things and pat them. So far I have refrained from succumbing to that temptation, probably because the specimens I've seen weren't very tempting. I have never in my life found one plastered against my stomach. My naked stomach.

I pulled back as far as I could and finally had room to push my hands between my breasts and his chest. With that leverage I pushed really hard, trying to get some distance between us. I thought it was working for a moment as the space between us widened, then I found my legs getting tangled with his and I was falling backwards.

I gave out a small squeal, thinking I was going to fall flat on my back. I guess I did in a way but it was a controlled fall and Steve was the one controlling it. He had me lying down before I even caught on to what he was doing and he was on the floor next to me, one of his legs between mine, holding them apart. (That thing of his was also resting on my side and I was determinedly not looking at it. I could feel how big it was. I didn't need the evidence of my eyes to frighten me even more.

"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded.

"Nothing you haven't done before," he assured me, but I didn't feel the least reassured.

"If you're going to try to do what I think you're trying to do then you're wrong," I told him firmly.

He was silent for a moment while he thought that through.

"So if I get your drift properly you're saying you don't do this sort of thing. Not yet, anyway."

I nodded, wondering how he'd take that news.

"Pity, but I won't force you. I am still going to play with you for a while, just letting you gain an appreciation of what will one day come your way. Seeing you'll be getting off light you might as well relax a little. Why don't you hold this while I pet you? It doesn't commit you to anything."

He pushed my hand down onto his cock and forced it closed around it. I wanted to snatch my hand away but didn't quite have the nerve. Besides, if I was holding it I at least knew where it was.

"Ah, you mean that you're not going to try to, ah, to, um. . ."

"Fuck you? Is that what you're trying to ask so delicately? The answer is not, I won't, but it's a good thing you warned me."

Well, that was a relief, I think. How would I have felt if he'd tried to force me? Scared that he was making me, that was for sure, but possibly a little relieved that the decision had been taken from me and I wouldn't need to feel guilty about doing it. As it was, a bit of touching wasn't going to kill me and it might be quite interesting. After all, he was insisting and it wasn't as though I could stop him. None of the touching would be my fault. Even my holding his cock was really only a type of self-defence, wasn't it?

His hands were all over me. It was just a case of him stroking me, at first, his hands running up and down my body. OK, he did run his hands across my breasts and grazed my mound on the way past, but it was just a pleasant stroking. I'm not sure when it changed. I just seemed to realise that he was spending a lot of time fondling my breasts and teasing my nipples, but it was still all very pleasant and I quite liked it.

I was a lot less sure if I liked it when his hand started massaging my mound. That was a very intimate place to be touching me and his hand was rubbing back and forth and from side to side. His fingers were trailing along between my lips, actually touching me inside and that felt very strange. Even more so when his fingers happened to dart quite deeply into me. Boy, my eyes opened wide when he did that.

He kept it up, too. Touching, stroking, more touching. He was also giving a little running commentary as he went, about how sweet and soft I felt, how beautiful I was. Not that I was believing him, of course, but it didn't hurt to hear it.

One thing he said really got to me. I didn't take in his meaning at first but then I did. "Your clitoris is around here," he said softly and while I was thinking, "So what?" he delicately probed what turned out to be a very sensitive area. I'll swear my whole body bounced off the floor I was so shocked. He just laughed.

Quite frankly I was just about a quivering wreck before he moved onto the next stage of his teasing. I got a little nervous when he suddenly pulled his cock free from my hand and positioned himself between my thighs. To tell the truth I hadn't realised that my legs had been so widely parted. Talk about displaying everything you had. The main thing that was concerning me was the thing that he had on display. His erection looked every bit as large as I thought it would.

"You said," I started to say, no doubt my nervousness showing. He held up a hand to interrupt me.

"I know. Take it easy. I'm just going to show you what it feels like when a cock strokes your lips. If you like to hitch yourself up onto your elbows you can actually watch it happen."

I didn't like but my nerves and curiosity insisted. I was quite shocked when I looked at my mound. It seemed all swollen and puffy and my inner lips were protruding. I'll swear it didn't normally look like that. He stroked the bulbous head of his cock up and down, rubbing it against my lips. It felt really strange, especially as I was watching. It seemed to me that my lips were rather damp and his brushing his cock against them was making it damp and putting a glistening sheen to it.

After teasing my lips a bit more he put a hand down there and spread my lips apart.

"If I was going to fuck you," he said casually, "I'd be pushing my cock in just here, and pushing it quite forcefully." To demonstrate he rested his cock against the space he'd provided. Then he took his hand away and my lips just seemed to close over the head of his cock.

"I'm not touching it, of course, but your cherry is just about next to my cock. If I was going to pop it I'd probably do something like this."

With that he gave a little push and I saw and felt, god did I ever feel, his cock slide a little deeper. Something gave way with a sting and I yelped, confused.

"Oops," Steve said in a most callous way. "It appears that I have accidentally popped your cherry."

I was staring at him in a state of shock, not knowing where to look. At his lying face or his treacherous cock. 'Accident' my sweet fanny.

"You, you, . . ." I spluttered, not knowing what to say.

"Ah well, seeing that we've gone this far it just wouldn't be fair to you not to continue," he told me, with me not believing my ears. Not fair to me!? Who did he think he was kidding?

Not that my opinion counted for anything. Now that he had started he wasn't stopping. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his cock pushing its way inside me. That was probably a mistake as with my eyes closed I had nothing to distract me from the feeling of him moving deeper into me. I was now even more aware of what was happening, my body being forced to accommodate an intruder, and a very large intruder from the feel of it.

The whole thing felt very strange. For that matter the whole experience was strange. I'd never expected anything like this when I agreed to baby-sit. He kept coming and coming, filling me up until I thought something would have to burst just to make room for him. He gave this last little push and I could feel his hairy groin rubbing against me. I was now aware that his hands were back on my breasts, rubbing them, playing with them.

"Now just relax and move with me," he tells me and that statement was a whole lot of useless. Which does he want? Me to relax, which would be quite a feat seeing I was sort of tense from having a foot or so of dick stuffed into me, or me to move, in which case, move where?

I just lay there, nervously tense, and his cock started doing strange things to my nerves. He was, I finally realised, moving it back and forth inside me, and each little movement seemed to scrape against unknown nerves, sending little shivers deep into me. And I was feeling hot, and getting hotter by the moment.

After a few moments he stopped what he was doing which was a bit of a relief.

"Listen, girl, when I say move with me the idea is that you push to meet me when I'm coming in. You can do that, can't you?"

I suppose I could but why should I? I asked him that.

"Because," he said with a sigh, "you'll find it makes things go more easily. I'll move slowly so you can learn."

I didn't particularly want to learn but it didn't look as though I was getting much choice, so the next time he pushed into me I reluctantly pushed up to meet him. My god - those little shivers I'd been getting seemed to redouble when I did that.

Did I mention that those little shivers weren't exactly disagreeable? They were quite, ah, interesting, making me feel most strange. I found I didn't mind those shivers at all and could quite happily keep them coming.

Whatever he was doing to me it was accumulative, getting more and more intense as he kept on wriggling his cock inside me. I was gasping and trying to catch my breath. I felt like screaming. The trouble was that I was ignorant about how I was supposed to feel and what I was supposed to do. Moving with him was one thing, because it seemed to make everything better, but screaming? It was a case of if he wanted me to I wasn't going to, but if he preferred me to stay quiet I was going to scream. I just didn't know which option to go with. I finally kept quiet because I didn't want to wake the kids. I knew who'd have to put them to sleep again.

Ashson
Ashson
8,508 Followers
12