BabySitter Undressed

I had need of a baby-sitter and had contacted Brenda. Not my normal sitter but she had filled in before and she turned out to be available for the night I needed her. I laid out my requirements and she laid out her pay rates and we came to an amicable agreement. Probably more amicable on her part than mine because her pay rates were higher than normal due to the short notice, but they weren't extortionate.

Brenda turned up at the required time and I realised that she'd matured somewhat since I'd last seen her. Like I said, not my normal sitter, so I don't see her very often. In the last six months she'd, ah, matured, is the word, I think. She was taller and her puppy fat had gone. Replacing her puppy fat were a number of delectable curves with padding in all the right places. I certainly wouldn't mind taking a closer look at some of that padding.

Don't get me wrong. She wasn't trying to show off her new curves. It was more of a case that she couldn't hide them. The weather was nice, not overly hot or cold, and Brenda had dressed with children in mind. She wore a flannelette shirt and track-suit pants. Both these items are loose clothing and normally quite useful to conceal your figure. In this case they were fighting a figure that didn't want to be concealed.

Her hips and behind managed to stretch her track-suit pants and her behind was well worth looking at. Her breasts also managed to fill her shirt quite nicely. She had the top two buttons undone, resulting in a hint of cleavage. Fortunately the shirt was loose enough to show considerably more cleavage went she leant forward, something she didn't do nearly enough of. When she was bouncing along chasing the kids I could see her breasts bouncing along under the shirt and was intrigued. A little too much bounce, I thought, indicative of no bra.

All too soon it was time for me to go. I'd have loved to have stayed and flirted with Brenda but she showed no real signs of wanting to flirt back, all her attention being on the children. Which is right and proper, seeing that was what she was being paid for. Damnit.

I went on my merry way and had an entertaining night. All good things must end, though, and eventually I wended my way back home. When I arrived I found the kids to be in bed, asleep, and Brenda on the couch, watching TV, half asleep. As she'd be driving back home I recommended some coffee before she left, just to wake her up a bit.

Over coffee I got Brenda talking. People love to talk, especially women, and their favourite subject is themselves. It didn't take me long to find out that Brenda had finished school and was currently looking for full time employment, finding that everyone wanted experienced staff. Still, she was confident that she'd find a job if she kept trying. She was nearly nineteen, which I already knew before I hired her. She owned her own car, courtesy of her parents buying her an old bomb. (Her father is a mechanic and keeps it on the road for her.)

She was also between boyfriends. From what I could gather her ex was an asshole, a would-be lothario, a cheat, a loser, and dead if she ever caught him alone in a dark alley. She must have sensed my amusement at her description of him because she gave me a glowering look. I just smirked at her, saying nothing, and she finally relaxed and laughed.

"I guess I do go a bit over-board when I talk about him," she admitted. "I guess he's OK, but he just isn't very mature."

"There must have been something OK about him," I observed, "or you wouldn't have gone out with him in the first place. It might just be that you've matured more than him. Girls do mature faster than boys, you know."

"Whatever," she said, dismissing her ex with a wave of her hand.

Shortly after that Brenda got up to depart. Being a polite host I naturally arose to escort her to the door. Just as we nearing the door she exclaimed, "My purse," and changed direction, ploughing straight into me. No damage. Her bumpers nicely cushioned the shock.

Red-faced and apologising Brenda darted into the front room to grab her purse off the coffee table. Turning back to the doorway she was about to make her departure but I held up a hand.

"Hold it just a moment, Brenda," I said, smiling as she came to a halt.

"I'm sorry," I told her, "but I've been wondering what these look like all evening. I'm afraid I just have to take a quick look."

What I was apologising for was the fact that I had started to undo the buttons on her shirt. From the astonished look on her face she was having trouble believing that I was actually doing so. That was fair enough. I was having trouble believing it and I was the one doing it.

Before she could get her wits together and start protesting the buttons were undone and I was moving the two sides well apart. I was quite pleased to see that I'd been correct in my no-bra assumption. The lovely pair of breast revealed certainly didn't need one.

"You can't do that," came the agonised protest as Brenda tried to free her shirt from my grasp, blushing like crazy.

"You mean I shouldn't," I corrected her, "and you're quite right, I shouldn't have. Unfortunately, I find I don't regret it in the slightest. You have lovely breasts. Do they feel as good as they look?"

I released my grip on her shirt as there were now much more interesting things to hold. I neatly cupped both her breasts, my thumbs seeking her nipples and gently rubbing them."

"That would be a yes, as to how nice they feel," I said softly, continuing to stroke them and ignoring Brenda's hands tugging at my wrists.

Her face, when I managed to look at it, was a contrast. She was blushing at the fact that her breasts were exposed and I was touching them. She was also gratified that I thought they were lovely to see and hold. She wasn't really worried or her hands would have been tugging at my wrists a lot harder and she'd have been moving backwards away from me. Effectively she was just standing there, letting me play, her protests for show rather than serious intent.

I ran my hands up off her breasts and over her shoulders, pushing her shirt off them, so that it slid down her arms a little way. From there my hands slid down her arms and captured her wrists, holding her arms away from her body, enjoying the sight.

"Do you eat peanuts?" I asked and Brenda looked at me as though I had gone nuts. (No pun intended.)

"What?"

"Peanuts," I repeated. "The thing with peanuts is that you can't eat just one. As soon as you have one you want another and another until they're all gone. You just can't stop yourself. Other things have the same effect. Taking off a girl's clothes seems to be one."

Releasing her wrists I took hold of her track-suit pants. She had an elasticized waist which meant that there were no awkward ties to undo. Either Brenda was awfully slow today or she wanted me to do this. I had pants and panties down past her knees before she even started to react.

Now Brenda looked really confused. Just like that she was effectively naked and I was looking at her with honest appreciation. Flattering, but! And it was a very big but. She was blushing like crazy and her hands were fluttering about, not sure whether she should be using them to cover herself, pull on her clothes, or slap me stupid. While she dithered I admired and touched forbidden places.

From where her pants were I ran my hand back up her body, along the inside of her legs for a start, brushing against her pussy, one finger slipping between her legs to stroke along her slit, then over her mons and back up to her breasts.

"Mr Jackson," she finally managed to say, sounding genuinely indignant.

"That's me," I acknowledged. "You do know that your entire body is quite exquisite, don't you? Lovely curves that just have to be traced."

"You have no right," she gasped.

"Of course I do," I protested. "Someone as lovely as you deserves to be seen and admired. It would be a crime for me not you look at you, especially dressed the way you are."

"That's the whole point," she snapped. "I'm supposed to be dressed. Not standing here while you pull my clothes off. How could you?"

"Very easily, actually. And a most rewarding experience it was."

My thumbs rolled her nipples around, nipples that were erect and appreciating the attention.

"Well, I'll thank you to back off and let me get dressed again," Brenda told me, trying to sound very firm.

"You have to be joking," I said with a smile. "You're not a virgin, are you?"

She blushed again, but didn't say anything, so I assumed the answer was no. If she was she'd have announced it most indignantly.

"In that case you know exactly what I'm going to do," I pointed out.

"What?" she said in a half scream. "But I don't want you to."

"Then you shouldn't have let me undress you," I said self-righteously. "Are you saying that you're a tease?"

"Let you? What do you mean, let you? I didn't let you. You just went ahead and did it."

"Details, details," I said airily, waving away such minor considerations. "The point is that you're naked and available and I'm totally ready to take unfair advantage of you."

I crouched down and pushed her pants and panties down as far as her ankles. Holding them there I tapped her leg and said, "Foot."

"I am not available," she told me, while at the same time lifting her foot clear from the pants. I tapped her other leg and she lifted it clear as well. For someone who wasn't available she certainly seemed to be losing her clothes easily. She'd hitched her shirt back up over her shoulders but still hadn't done up any of the buttons. That made it simple to push it off her shoulders and slide it down her arms again, this time pushing it past her wrists and dropping it onto the floor.

As far as I was concerned actions speak louder than words. Brenda might have been saying no, OK, she was saying no, but she had also allowing me to strip her without any resistance. Moreover, she'd had ample opportunity to do up the buttons on her shirt but hadn't bothered. And she'd stepped out of her pants when asked. She was agreeable and we both knew it.

Turning Brenda around I started walking her over to the couch. If she was going to say no and mean it, this was the time, especially as I was guiding her via my hand placed on her bottom. She moved along like a good little lamb, still saying that I couldn't do this to her, but I wasn't forcing her to walk. Yes, my hand was on her bottom, but more caressing it than propelling her forward.

Reaching the couch I sat her down, bent down to pick up her legs and lifted them, swivelling her around so she was lying back on the couch, her legs stretched along it. I considered her for a moment and then moved one leg off the couch, leaving her totally exposed. She blushed again (never known someone to blush so often) and hastily placed both hands over her groin in a sudden burst of modesty. I smiled at her and shook my head, indicating that she should move her hands away. She did so.

She was breathing hard and her nipples were erect and pointing at me. With her legs positioned the way they were I could see that her lips were swollen and slightly parted, waiting for my attention. I reached down and ran my hand over her mound, caressing her, feeling her response. She made an inarticulate little sound, her hips lifting slightly and pushing against my hand.

Standing, I slowly unfastened my trousers and let them drop, together with my shorts. Brenda was now looking at what I was offering her and she had what I can only describe as an oh-my-god look on her face. I sat on the couch next to her thigh, my hand once again on her mound, now rubbing it quite firmly.

"Last chance to change your mind," I told her. "In a few moments it will be way too late."

"What do you mean, change my mind?" she demanded indignantly. "I've been saying no ever since you started this nonsense."

"Well, yes, but you didn't mean it," I pointed out, a couple of fingers slipping between her lips. "Are you going to say it and mean it?"

What she said was something like, "Argh, you bastard," as my intruding fingers touched something sensitive. That didn't sound like no to me, although it did sound as though she meant it.

I was nicely positioned now. I eased her lips apart and steered my erection into position. I looked at her to see if she was going to get serious and back out but she wasn't looking at me. Not at my face, anyway. Her eyes were absolutely glued to my cock, watching with what I could only call eager anticipation. I pressed more firmly against her, feeling her flesh softly yielding, letting me in, and her eyes seemed to open wider.

I started pushing into her and her bottom lifted as she pushed just as determinedly to meet me. I slid neatly home, no muss, no fuss, as they say, burying myself fully inside her without sight not sound of a protest.

I didn't rest upon my laurels. My hands closed over her breasts, and I was already pulling back for my first real thrust. I banged in, hot and hard, and she rose to meet me, a guttural little cry escaping her. We establish an initial rhythm that was hard and fast, me putting everything I had into my thrusts, with Brenda matching my urgency.

And a fine time was had by all.

I was certainly enjoying myself, firm young flesh wrapped tightly around my cock, arousing me to an unheard of state. I just couldn't get enough of the girl. For her part, she definitely seemed to be enjoying herself, heaving herself up against me as I took her, bucking and clinging, eager little cries coming from her as we progressed.

Quite frankly, I surprised myself. The way I was feeling I wouldn't have been surprised if I'd totally disgraced myself by finishing way too fast. Somehow or other I managed to keep on going, holding back just that tiny bit, maximising both pleasure and duration. It was obvious to me that Brenda had no reservations and no intention of holding back in the slightest. She was gasping and carrying on, giving her all and expecting to receive the same.

I managed to judge my final run to a nicety. I was finally giving my all just as Brenda went up in flames, triggering my own climax as she proceeded to milk me dry.

We finally separated. She remained lying on the couch and I was sitting on the floor, leaning back against it.

"You had no right to do that," Brenda told me, speaking firmly. I suspect that it might have had more effect if I hadn't had my hand on her breast, stroking it.

"True," I agreed. One should always agree with a woman. Once you've agreed you can then change what they're thinking.

"Are you in a hurry to rush immediately home?" I asked.

"Why?" she asked, sounding suspicious. I don't know. The lack of trust in some people is appalling.

"Well, I just thought that I should apologise and the best way to apologise is to let you have a shower and then I'll take you to bed to make my apology really mean something."

I was shocked. I didn't know that a sweet young thing like Brenda would know that sort of language.

"You don't want an apology?" I asked her, surprised. (Well, maybe not all that surprised.)

She called me another rude name and then sighed.

"I might as well accept your apology," she decided. "But it had better be a most ardent one."

It would be. I would most certainly be putting some effort into it. I was quite prepared to apologise a couple of times if that was required.