I'm a Bad Babysitter

It was yet another Friday. In general I'd prefer to find some party or night club, drink myself senseless and find some guy to bed. Unfortunately there was a problem, and his name was Mr. Moore.

He was a single guy with two kids. I still haven't asked what happened to their mother. He works as some kind of software engineer. For a guy in his mid-forties he's pretty good looking. Not an inch of fat on him. His hair had long since gone more-salt-than-pepper.

He called me on Tuesday night.

“Emily,” he said, “I'm gonna need a sitter for Friday. You available?”

Ordinarily I'd say yes. Mr. Moore pays better than most of the other dads, but I was excited for this party.

“I got invited to a party and I really want to go—”

Mr. Moore said, “Look, my kids will complain way less if you babysit them. Can I just give you double money? I'm gonna probably be out till two AM at the earliest...”

Dollar signs flashed in my mind.

“Okay,” I said.

“Be here at eight.”

I still regretted losing my Friday night, but if he was going to be gone till two in the morning that gave me at

least some chance to salvage the night.

When I arrived I found him doused with cologne and his hair slicked back in some ancient style. It wasn't very hard to figure out where he was going.

“Have fun with your lady friend,” I said as he walked out the door.

He grinned wide and said, “I intend do.”

If I wanted some free time I knew I had to exhaust the kids. I spent the next two hours chashing them around the house, never letting them stop for a second. Once the last bit of their energy faded I put them to bed.

Ben's kind of an asshole, but he always has the best stuff. And he'll accept... services... in lieu of money. I waited twenty minutes for one of the kids to wake up and demand milk and cookies, but they didn't. Satisfied, I called Ben on my cell phone.

“Yo,” he said.

“It's Emily. You still got those brownies?” I said.

“A few,” he said.

“Could you bring me some?”

Ben said, “Are you paying?”

“In a way,” I cooed.

“All right. Where are you?”

I went down to the foyer to wait for him. Couldn't have him ringing the door bell. Might wake up Tony and Jeremy. A few minutes later he arrived.

He parked in his beat up old Thunderbird and got out. He was dressed in black jeans, a denim jacket and carried a small leather bag. Once he neared the door I opened it up and invited him inside.

“I've got three brownies,” he said, “They're really strong. You'll only want to eat half, maybe even a quarter at a time.”

I pressed my lips to his and stuck my tongue down my throat.

“Fuckin A,” he said.

I motioned for him to sit on the love seat in the living room. He sat down, leaned back and spread his legs. I knelt in front of him.

His cock pressed against his jeans.

I unbuttoned his fly and unzipped his pants. I pulled his shorts down under his cock.

Another thing that I appreciated about Ben was that he was always ready. He loved nothing more than getting blown by me. Now, I wouldn't date a guy like that, but it's nice to have that little feeling of power.

I lowered my face to the same level of his cock. It pulsed. I could tell how badly he wanted me.

My lips parted and I engulfed him.

I sucked him slowly to start. His head lolled back and a weak groan escaped his lips. He bucked his lips in time with my the rhythm I built up.

The front door swung open, clattering against the wall. Heavy footsteps entered the foyer. I looked up.

In all the years I'd been babysitting for Mr. Moore he'd never arrived home early. Once I'd grown up a little bit and understood more about the world I assumed that he was just a terrific lay. No woman would throw him out of her bed. Yet here he was, at least three hours earlier than he said he'd be.

He caught a look at me and stomped into the living room.

Ben heard all this and stood up, suddenly. His cock slopped out of my mouth. Quickly, he zipped his pants back up and charged past Mr. Moore, muttered, “Gotta go...”

I said, “I—I can explain.”

Mr. Moore's voice was low. He didn't want to wake his kids. But the tone of his voice told me everything I needed to know. Rage.

“Who the fuck was that little pencil dick?”

“I went to high school with him. He's an old friend—”

“Why were you sucking his cock?”

“I,” I fought myself for an excuse but nothing came. Finally, I said, “I didn't think you'd be home so soon.”

Fear and sorrow shot through me. I honestly liked Mr. Moore, and I wouldn't ordinarily something like this. But I hadn't partied properly in a few months. I looked forward to sucking a cock and eating a few pot brownies.

Simple pleasures.

Mr. Moore bubbled with rage. Fire burned through his eyes.

I said, “I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

I stood up. Pangs of regret ached down my spine. I could barely breathe. I wrapped my arms around Mr. Moore and tears trickled out of my eyes.

“I'm nineteen,” I said, “I make bad decisions sometimes. I promise I won't do it again. Is there anything I can do to make you believe me?”

I brushed against his body. His cock stood rigid against his pants, but as I touched it he pushed me away.

That didn't stop me. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my head in his chest. And I brushed his cock again.

His body tensed.

“God,” he growled, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I don't want you angry at me.”

He muttered, “You made me do this.”

Mr. Moore rolled forward, pinned me against his shoulder, and lifted me up. He grabbed my ass with one hand to support my weight. Not missing a beat, he walked through the dining room and to the staircase. He stepped quickly, quietly, forcefully up the stairs.

What was he doing?

I've got to admit, I was a little bit scared. I'd never seen him act like this before.

He gently pushed open his bedroom. Mr. Moore approached his bed and threw me down. He turned around and closed the door, then shifted a bureau to keep it shut.

Now it seemed obvious.

He turned around and stared at me for a moment. He seemed to be looking for some kind of encouragement.

Did I want this? That was a hell of a question. I'd never thought about him sexually before, even if I did think him good looking. His grip was strong. Looking him in the eye, it was hard to oppose him.

He approached the bed and grabbed my ankles. He dragged me to the edge of the bed. He hands shot up my legs and unbuckled my jeans. With one quick motion he pulled my jeans and panties up and over my legs.

Mr. Moore unbuckled his pants and slowly lowered them down over his thighs. His cock was beastly, longer and thicker than any guy I'd ever seen. He pressed his cock head against my clit.

He held it there for a moment and stared into my eyes. Long since, he'd been consumed with passion and rage. Slowly, he slid his cock down across my lips and placed it at at the entrance to my cunt.

Have you ever wanted something you knew you shouldn't have? What Mr. Moore was doing, that was horrible right? Morally wrong. Except I could feel him, feel his hunger for me. He needed me and I needed that.

I squirmed, trying to pull myself toward him. Trying to pull his cock inside me.

He smiled mischievously.

Mr. Moore slammed me back down on the bed. His strong hands wrapped tightly around my waist. Only once he was certain I wouldn't move anymore did he begin.

He slammed his cock all the way in without warning. I was wet, but not enough. I stretched and struggled with his cock. It was too big and he forced his way in too fast. It burned.

But the fire in his eyes said that he wouldn't stop. He was beyond logic, beyond thought. The need to fuck me had filled his mind. He pumped his hips back and forth, slamming his cock into me with all his might.

The first few strokes hurt. A terrible friction built up inside me.

But my body knew what to do. With every pump I grew wetter. I was drenched. His cock slid more easily in and out of me.

The pain had long since faded. A tide of pleasure shot through my body, every stroke splashing it deeper inside me, higher up my spine.

“Fuck me,” I moaned.

Every nerve in my body tingled with every stroke of his cock.

He stared at me. Mr. Moore's face was twisted into a snarl.

Shaking, I lead my hand up my body, around his powerful hands, still pinned against my hips, and down toward my pussy. I reached one finger out. Curled my toes...

Mr. Moore slapped my wrist away.

I couldn't help myself. My hand curled back around, up and around his hand and slid back toward my cunt.

Mr. Moore slapped my hand away again. His eyes burned with passion and rage. He pulled his cock out of me.

“No,” I said.

With a quick movement he grabbed my legs and flipped me over. He pulled me a little off the bed. Mr. Moore traced a line up my body with is hands, reached my shoulders, then his fingers shot down my arms.

He wrapped his fingers around my wrists and spun my arms up and around my back. He switched his grip so that he pinned both my hands with one hand.

“You're a nasty little slut,” he whispered.

“Fuck me,” I moaned.

I watched him in the mirror. He raised his hand to shoulder level.

He hand swung down and slammed against my ass. A tiny slap erupted around the room. He raised his hand and spanked me again.

I had been bad, hadn't I? I deserved this.

Mr. Moore spanked me again.

He bent down against my back, slightly to my side, and lowered his lips to my ears.

“I'm only doing this because I care about you, Emily,” he whispered, “You can't just go slutting around with every guy with a cock.”

He spanked me again.

“Please, fuck me,” I said.

Mr. Moore said, “You said the magic word.”

He pulled himself erect once more. Slowly, carefully, he positioned himself behind me. He grabbed his cock and slid it between my legs. He pushed it upward. It grazed against my lips. He pushed it upward. His cock head slit against my clit. It rubbed side to side against me.

Sparks tingled across my body.

He pulled his cock back and worked it into the base of my entrance. Mr. Moore slammed his cock inside me again.

Each pump contained the full force of his body. I was still lubricated, but the sudden intensity surprised me. I squirmed against him. It took me a moment to adjust. Finally, after five strokes the tides of pleasure began to wash over me once again.

Mr. Moore leaned on me, pinning both arms even harder against me. My fingers wriggled.

His other hand traced a path up my body, up my ass, to the small of my back, up and over my arms, back down and over my back. Finally, his hand stopped. I couldn't feel it against me.

My head jerked back, pulled by my hair.

His fingers curled into a twisted knot.

He pulled my hair at random, not fitting into the fast and rough rhythm of him fucking me.

It should have hurt, like the spanking, but Mr. Moore was right. I was a naughty girl. I drank too much, partied too much, smoked up too much. I fucked too much.

Mr. Moore's peculiar form of punishment... it felt incredible.

Without warning, he stopped pulling my hair. A frenzy came over him. His already fast, firm, harsh pace increased with every stroke.

Harder. Faster.

I squirmed on his cock. I did everything I could to give him pleasure. To give back the wave of feeling consuming me more and more with every stroke. His fucking brought me so close, but I knew he was the only one to deserve—

He stopped cold.

Heavy breathes escaped his lips. He moaned.

“Are—are you alright?” I said.

I looked at his face through the bedroom mirror. His eyes were closed. His face blank.

He reached his hand up and around my leg. His fingers reached down across my tightly shaven pubes and suddenly he touched my clit.

His fingers slid around freely, up down and around. He barely touched me.

A tidal wave of pleasure slammed against the coast of my consciousness. I squirmed and fought and struggled. I writhed on his cock.

He held himself perfectly still. The feeling—it was too much. I couldn't control myself, even if I tried. Muscles fired at random across my body.

I slammed myself against Mr. Moore. I pulled myself away. I did five different things every second with no rhyme or reason. The feeling of his cock inside me—the feeling of his fingers on my clit—the world exploded in a volcano.

I've never done that before. I gushed. I squirted.

Cum poured out of my cunt and dribbled down my legs.

Mr. Moore grunted.

He pulled his cock out of me.

I fought to catch my breath. He grabbed my hips and threw me up onto the bed. I rolled onto my back.

Mr. Moore climbed onto the bed. He motioned for me to flip over. Once I did he crawled over and straddled me. He took my hand and wrapped it around his cock.

Everything still seemed muted. Desaturated. I gently rubbed his cock.

He rolled his hips back and fucked my hand. A twitch developed at the side of his left eye. He grabbed my wrist and motioned for me to go faster. I followed his lead.

My hand shot across his cock, faster and faster. With both hands he squeezed my fingers. I tightened my fist.

And he fucked my hand harder.

His eyes shot open in surprise. A grunt escaped his lips.

Mr. Moore's cock trembled. A thick, gooey strand of cum shot from his cock and splattered across my shirt. His cock pulsed and more cum oozed out.

He collapsed backward onto the bed.

I reached down and dipped my fingers into his cum. I examined it for a moment, twisted my fingers in the light.

Mr. Moore's face turned toward me, his eyes smoldering embers.

I stretched my arm down my body and touched his cum on my fingers to my cum dripping down my legs. I mixed them together against my thigh and raised my hand once more.

I'd cummed before. I mean, I've had orgasms, but never with that force. And never with my own cum along with it.

Mr. Moore smiled.

I rolled myself over and crawled next to him. I laid my head on his chest.

I said, “That was amazing.”

He said, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost control.”

“I shouldn't have sucked Ben's cock in your house.”

Gently, he kissed my forehead.

“If you don't mind me asking,” I said, “What happened to you tonight. Why are you home so early?”

“I was supposed to meet with an old fuckbuddy,” said Mr. Moore, “but she found religion or some bullshit. When I got home... I was incredibly horny. I needed to cum.”

I traced my hand down his body and patted his cock.

“Her loss is my gain,” I said.

He smiled.

Mr. Moore said, “So you're okay with the fact that I dragged you upstairs, tore your pants off and had my way with you?”

I said, “I've been fucked a lot of times by a lot of different boys. I've never been fucked by a man like you. That was intense. You were insane.”

His cock stirred.

“So you'd like to try this again?” he said.

My friends wouldn't understand. Well, maybe a couple, but most of them wouldn't touch a guy older than twenty-five. My parents would be horrified.

But then again, I could always come over and “babysit” any time.

I said, “Maybe next time we can try with a little more romance.”

About the Author

Wynne Burroughs works as a nurse at a large hospital in Boston. She's Pagan, bi, poly and proud. She's been writing sexy stories for herself and her partners for a dozen years or so, and now she's finally decided to see what the rest of the world thinks about them.